They tried to steal our seeds but since they accidentally blew them up, they got jack-shit for their trouble. They got some of our crop but not enough to starve us out any time soon.” Mike asked, “How many died?” “We’ve counted almost a hundred dead on our side and about the same on theirs. Paul’s interrogating the only surviving alien right now.” “Where is he?” Kristy pointed at a house. “In there.” By the time Mike and Melanie approached the house, Paul was exiting it. He had pale yellow ooze spattered on his clothes and his knuckles were raw. He jovially said, “I don’t know my own strength,” as he walked away. They heard him laughing to himself. Inside the house was a lanky alien, dead as a doornail. Pale yellow blood pooled from under its crumpled body. It had a mechanized suit on that was remarkably similar to the ones they had, except that it was shaped for its tall, thin frame and it had different markings and colorations.
