Because, my stupid darling, I didn't dare wait. (In rereading this, it sounds as if I sought to be assassinated in some mystic The King Must Die sense. I could not let Llita work out with us until I devised a plastron to protect her tits-necessary; she was a bit oversized in that department, and we could have hurt her without intending to. So I want to help.
Gas chambers and a stink of burning flesh in planned viciousness- A stench that lasted through the centuries- But there was no way to tell Gramp and Maureen any of this. Some find it in a trap, another in a fight it cannot win, some happy few in a quiet place to wait for the end. I could easily bear an implanted clone from my own tissue, and so could Lor-although we might swap clones. After years of high-tension political struggles, we were settled and happy.
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