A projector screen showed the black-and-white heat signatures of people in a compound as seen from a gun-ship flying overhead. Small white human shapes scurried about like characters in a video game while a trail of white dots chased them until they touched the human shapes, causing them to stop, bounce in inhuman-like movements, or disappear altogether. The pilot’s voice was piped in for the play-by-play. Walton had watched, and though he figured the men the pilots killed were terrorists; the human equivalent of rabid dogs, and were to be put down without mercy, he was uncomfortable with the
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