"Can you think of a better means of ending wars—foolish wastes!—than an absolute weapon? We have changed the whole picture of war!"
"But not changed men!"
There ensued a moment without talk.
Chris presently said, "This weapon. Where it falls, the genes of men will be broken. Perhaps their children—perhaps their grandchildren—will carry the heritage. Headless bodies. Eyeless faces. There—teeth everywhere. And yonder—no voice. Generation after generation, for a thousand years—this great invention will go on waging your present war, doctor, against the unborn."
The colonel grabbed the scientist's arm. "Is that true?"
Sopho shrugged. "In a certain per cent of cases, where radiation is extreme but not fatal—naturally, the reproductive capacity will display unpredictable, permanent damage. Recessive damage. When, however, two persons mate who exhibit matching gene deterioriation—then—as this man says—"
The colonel's hand dropped. "I didn't know," he murmured. "Not certainly. I didn't even know that you men were sure."
Learned spoke. "War against the generations! Good—!" He checked himself.
Chris said, "Have you that right?"
Sopho replied angrily, "That's a right implicit in any war! If you kill a soldier—you destroy all his potential progeny—not simply endanger a few of them. The same fact applies to civilians."