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The intrepid spirit in her was happy. Living the dream. But the other part of her, the side that missed human contact and yearned for the feel of green grass beneath her feet and the caress of a fresh breeze against her face, wasn’t so happy.
I took heart in the fact that we all died here for a reason. That was more than most men could say.
Men like us, we’re born to lead. We go through hell and we keep going. Even when we’re cornered, trapped beyond any hope of rescue, our minds are grinding and churning, trying to find a way out. And usually we do, despite the odds, and despite how hopeless everything seems. We have nerves—and balls—of steel. It’s why men follow us. We lead them when and where no one else can.”
“The best leaders are those who don’t want the job. Those who are afraid of losing the men under them. It’s that guilt, that fear of loss, that makes them such damn good leaders in the first place. It forces them to think real hard before every decision they make.”
When humanity was at stake, when our very lives were at stake, when it was kill or be killed, the survival instinct overrode all.
