"I was thinking, too," said Greg, "that at his order thousands of people were mercilessly shot down back in the Solar System. Stood against a wall and mowed down. Others were killed like wild animals in the street. Thousands of them."
He moved slowly toward Stutsman and the man cringed.
"Stutsman," he said, "you're a butcher. You're a stench in the nostrils of humanity. You aren't fit to live."
"Those," said Craven, "are my sentiments exactly."
"You hate me," screamed Stutsman. "All of you hate me. You are doing this because you hate me."
"Everyone hates you, Stutsman," said Greg. "Every living person hates you. You have a cloud of hate hanging over you as black and wide as space."
The man closed his eyes, trying to break free of the bonds.
"Bring me a spacesuit," snapped Greg, watching Stutsman's face.
Craven brought it and dropped it at Stutsman's feet.