Read The Human Division #11: A Problem of Proportion for Free Online

friend, then I have a request.
    “Name it,” Wilson said.
    You are a soldier. You’ve killed before.
    “It’s not a point of pride,” Wilson said. “But yes.”
    I’m going to die because people who don’t care about me have used me and then thrown me away. I’d prefer to leave on my own terms.
    “You want me to help you,” Wilson said.
    If you can. I’m not asking you to do it yourself. If this box is as sensitive as you say it is, if I die, the bomb could go off. I don’t want you anywhere near when it does. But I think you could find another way.
    “I imagine I could,” Wilson said. “Or at the very least I could try.”
    For your trouble, let me offer you this.
    There was a data ping on Wilson’s BrainPal: an encrypted file, in a format he wasn’t familiar with.
    When I had completed my mission—when I had killed your ship and the Conclave ship—I was to feed this into the ship’s guidance system. It’s coordinates for my return trip. Maybe you’ll find whoever’s behind this there.
    “Thank you,” Wilson said. “That’s incredibly helpful.”
    When you find them, blow them up a little for me.
    Wilson grinned. “You got it,” he said.
    There’s not much time before the emergency power is entirely used up.
    “I’ll have to leave you,” Wilson said. “Which means that no matter what happens I’m not coming back.”
    I wouldn’t want you here no matter what happens. You’ll stay in contact with me?
    “Yes, of course,” Wilson said.
    Then you should go now. And hurry, because there’s not a lot of time left.

    “This isn’t going to be a popular sentiment, but he’s going to die anyway,” said Captain Fotew. “We don’t have to expend the effort.”
    “Are you suddenly on a budget, Captain?” Wilson asked. “Can the Conclave no longer afford a missile or a particle beam?” They were on the bridge of the Nurimal, along with Abumwe and Sorvalh.
    “I said it wouldn’t be a popular sentiment,” Fotew said. “But someone ought to point it out, at least.”
    “Rayth Ablant has given us vital information about the whereabouts of the people directing him,” Wilson said, and pointed toward the bridge’s communications and science station, where the science officer was already busily attempting to crack the encryption on the orders. “He’s been cooperative with us since our engagement with his ship.”
    “It’s not as if he had much of a choice in that,” Fotew said.
    “Of course he had a choice,” Wilson said. “If he hadn’t signaled to Corporal Carn, we wouldn’t know he was there. We wouldn’t know that some organization out there is taking the Conclave’s missing ships and turning them into glorified armed drones. We wouldn’t know that whoever this group is, they’re a threat to both the Conclave and the Colonial Union equally. And we wouldn’t know that neither of our governments is engaging in a stealth war with the other.”
    “We still don’t know that last one, Lieutenant Wilson,” Sorvalh said. “Because we still don’t know the who . We still don’t know the players in this game.”
    “Not yet,” Wilson said, motioning back to the science station. “But depending how good your code cracker is over there, this may be a temporary problem. And for the moment, at least, our governments are sharing information, since you’ve gotten that information from me.”
    “But this is a problem of proportion, isn’t it?” Sorvalh said. “Is what we learn from you going to be worth everything we’ve expended to learn it? Is what we lose by granting Rayth Ablant his death more than we gain by, for example, what remains of his box when the explosion is over? There’s still a lot we could learn from the debris.”
    Wilson looked over to Abumwe pleadingly. “Councillor,” Abumwe said, “not too long ago you chose to surrender your vessel to us. Lieutenant Wilson here refused your surrender. You praised him for his thinking then. Consider his thinking