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The president glanced around the table, pausing at each person in turn. “Be seated, everyone. Perhaps we have been a little too insular as we stay holed up in meetings, deciding who lives and who dies. Perhaps we might benefit from the wisdom of a civilian scientist.”

David sat down, exhaling with some relief and chagrin, but certainly not willing to let the matter rest. “Thank you, Mr. President,” he said softly. “I apologize for my outburst. But I strongly object to the notion that wiping out a half million people in a military campaign is morally sound.”

Thelin considered him with a solemn expression, almost signifying pity. “David…war by its nature is inherently immoral. But consider this. If we should instead proceed with the planned invasion of Qo’noS, the number of expected casualties is just as high, if not higher. Would you rather half of that number be Starfleet’s finest men and women?”

“I refuse to accept that these are the only options!” David exclaimed. “It’s a false dichotomy. We could…we could bargain with the Genesis technology. You said yourself that the Klingons are spending way too many resources defending their gains. They might be willing to surrender Earth voluntarily.”

“This is about more than just Earth, David,” Thelin replied. “Besides, if there is one thing we do understand about the Klingon culture, it’s that they will not surrender unless it would be more honorable than continuing to fight…and only the threat of complete annihilation would make it so. That is the reason for this show of force, to crush their spirit, to make their efforts seem hopeless…this may be the only way. Yes, we may kill a half million people now, but a swift end to the war could save billions of lives in the long run.”

“They won’t surrender,” David said. “They’ll call your bluff. They’ll know that you would never use this weapon against Qo’noS.”

He paused. The awkward silence that David received in response to his argument hit him like a phaser blast to the chest. He suddenly felt dizzy. “Oh, no…” he mumbled. “You couldn’t. You wouldn’t commit an act of genocide against an entire race of people. You couldn’t…”

“Doctor,” Ra-ghoratreii said gently. “We’re talking about the survival of the Federation.”

David turned to T’Pragh. “You! You can’t possibly agree with this. Where’s the Vulcan logic in this course of action?”

T’Pragh raised an eyebrow. “The Vulcan High Command has debated this very issue at great length. And should such a decision come to pass, while regrettable, it is logical that extreme sacrifices must be made if it will serve the greater good.”

“The greater good?” David replied, incredulous. “The greater good? I don’t understand any of you. Where is the good in a future where the Genesis technology is an established facet of warfare? Where is the good in a universe that for all eternity will be teetering on the brink of Armageddon?”

“The universe will adjust,” Thelin said. “Throughout the history of warfare, it always has. The question is where the good would be found in a universe without the Federation.”

David felt a tightness in his chest, feelings of panic and hopelessness invading his mind. His breath caught in his throat and he choked back a sob. He could no longer raise his head to look Thelin in the eye.

“David,” Thelin continued. “Your father spent his life protecting the Federation. He knew that sacrifices in the present are often necessary if we are ever to see any future reward.”

Anger suddenly welled up in David’s chest. “Don’t you do that,” he said through clenched teeth. “Don’t you dare use my father’s name to say that the ends justify your means. You have no right.”

“I have every right, Doctor,” Thelin said with mild indignation. “I knew your father better than you can possibly imagine.”

“My father believed in justice and forgiveness!” David spat back. “Not in condemning an entire race to die. He would never have…he would never…” And the words left him. He collapsed back into