“Kurzweil One, go weapons hot. Destroy the shuttle.”
“1984, we don’t have the -”
“Do not question my orders. We cannot risk those rebels getting hold of noncon production capability.”
“They’re civilians!”
“They’re legitimate targets. Fire now while you have control of the missile battery.”
“I can’t do that,” I said, letting go of the controls. “They pose no threat to us.”

“That’s a shame, Reckall, because I really thought you might make the right choice there.”
I turned and was knocked out of the chair by a shot from Hart’s sidearm, the explosive charge sending me sprawling across the room. I struggled to get up, but the suit was dark and dead against my struggling.

“See, the thing is,” Hart noted, locking in the targeting data from the 1984, “they don’t pose a threat to us now, but they will in the future. What is it they say? A ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure? This is nearly two tons of prevention, and worth more cure than you could ever bring.”