The pilot, co-pilot, navigator and bombardier gathered in the cockpit. We are doing only what's needed, the pilot said. The co-pilot agreed. Society can't call itself civilized if it tolerates their existence, he said. This mission will soften them up for the land invasion, added the navigator.
Only the bombardier was silent.
Are you having second thoughts, asked the pilot.
My cousin plays the oboe, replied the bombardier. I worry this sort of action will spread.
Nonsense, barked the co-pilot. This is a one time mission. Those down there chose to do what they do. No one forced them. Every day they commit artistic blasphemy.
This will give hope to future generations, said the navigator. Two minutes to target.
How stupid could they be to clump together like that, knowing public opinion? muttered the pilot.
Thousands of feet below, ensconced in a sprawling building, hundreds of accordion players gathered for their yearly convention.
The crew knew if this was successful, if the battle was won by ground forces, cabaret singers would be next. Even the bombardier approved of that.
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