"We are compassionate and sympathetic. It is a characteristic—you would call it a virtue—of the higher forms of intellect—of which we are the ultimate at present."
"And—?"
"You were in need of help. That you became hurt while attempting to harm us is of no importance. We respect the fact that you think unlike us and can be expected to act differently—or to our disinterest if you can. Since you were hurt, we aided you, even though you might be classified as a spy."
Jason Charless shrugged cynically. "And I presume that you brought me back to life and will heal me so that I can be properly executed?"
"We consider espionage a normal part of strife and therefore consider it no more odious than active fighting."
"Well—just who and what are you?"
"We are higher forms of life, the coming rulers of the universe you know."
"You?" scorned Jason Charless, looking at the machine.
"I am not representative of the race," replied the machine.
"Then who or what is?" demanded Charless angrily.