High above the Earth, Ship drifted.  Invisible and cool, it went unnoticed by the primitive earth science of that time.  Within its dim corridors there was only the hiss of ventilation and the slither of the crew.

A tentacle brushed a panel and a generator began to hum throughout Ship.  The great Eye of Ship, passively gathering all manner of emissions from the planet, began to employ its refractors and magnifiers on the lights of a major city.  The blur of its dust became a grid.  The grid became an oval crowded with humanity.  The crowd became a few humans, gathering in the open.  The gathering became one man.

The tentacle shimmied across a dial, and the energies of Ship were focused down, and then Beyond...

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Jay Cutler awoke in a padded chair.  Not only was this not Soldier Field, but the GRAVITY was wrong... He limped over to the only light in the cabin, a glowing console.  As he read the strange symbols on the switches, he was stung by a headache as fierce as the pain in his knee.  Through his tears he realized he could read the controls...he knew, without memory, but still it was in his brain, that this was a Partaxian command bomber and he was at the control station.

Cutler opened the viewer.  Below him was a golden world ('Ittan, Wardancer sector HQ' said his pain) and dotted across its face were blips of metal ('the Partaxian bomber fleet' his headache told him).  As he watched, a row of blips swung out of formation and dived.

Slashes of blinding light sparkled from Ittan.  The metal blips divided in flowers of flame and debris.

A second wave dived down.

Cutler watched the slaughter in horror.  Not a bomber got through.  On the golden sands of Ittan, it was raining men...

He slapped the Recall button.

An alarm hooted. Behind him a hologram sprang into being.  An alien, but stately and dignified, in ornate robes and with gold fringes on the ridges of its face.

"What are you!" boomed the alien.  "You are not commander Sordak! How dare you break off our attack?"

"I am Jay Cutler, son of Earth!" shouted Cutler. "Your vicious war must cease!"

"You do not understand, Cutler" boomed the alien.  "I do not know how you came here, but you must have come far not to know of the criminal war waged by the Wardancers on my people.  We have fought for six generations to own the skies over Ittan.  Now we will build a lasting peace wtih the destruction of the forward base of the Murder Fleet!"

"No struggle is worth this destruction!" howled Cutler.  "I understand competition but your differences cannot be solved by violence!"

"Are you so naive as to think peace can be wished into being?" asked the alien.  "We have talked for centuries! Now comes the righteous struggle for ultimate victory!"

"There is no prize sweeter than peace!" hollered Cutler.  "The illusion of victory is not worth death and injury to life!  Sooner or later you'll be fighting again to defend your gains!  The cycle must be broken! I must take on that choice!"

"Curse you Jay Cutler" sobbed the alien. "Generations unborn will damn you for pissing away our glorious triumph.  Your name will be synonymous with cowardly failure."

"If that is the price I must pay for my destiny," whispered Cutler through his snotty tears, "then so be it."

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Within Ship, there was gurgled applause.  The Ship lurked over Earth, waiting for further successful Ops.