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@@@@@Every time he thinks he's got it cracked, it goes south againHe's tried everything he can think of, but he can't save them from getting turned into oatmealYour souls don't respond to injected sedation? or poison My voice came out rough with new horrorOur chemical makeup is completely different ?Once, one of yours seemed to guess what was going to happenBefore Doc could knock the human out, the silver thingy tore up his brain from the insideCourse, we didn't know that until Doc opened him upThe guy just collapsed I was surprised, strangely impressedThat soul must have been very braveI had not had the courage to take that step, even in the beginning when I was sure they were going to try to torture this very information from meI didn't imagine they would try to slash the answer out for themselves; that course was so obviously doomed to failure, it had never occurred to me ?Jeb, we are relatively tiny creatures, utterly dependent on unwilling hostsWe wouldn't have lasted very long if we didn't have some defenses ?I'm not denying that your kind have a right to those defensesI'm just telling you that we're gonna keep fighting back, however we canWe don't mean to cause anyone painWe're makin' this up as we goBut wewill keep fighting We looked at each other ?Then maybe youshould have Doc slice me upWhat else am I good for?? ?Now, nowDon't be silly, WandaWe humans aren't so logical as all tha

@@@@@Wakara unfolded his translation, read it over again for a moment The sun was red in its setting tonight, red with the blood of our soldiers who died todayTomorrow my blood shall be in itThis night I cannot sleepI find myself weepingI have thought achingly of my childhood, and I remember the boys, my school friends, and the games we have playedI think of the year I have spent with my grandparents in the prefecture of ChoshiI think, I am born and I dieI am born, I live, and I am to die, I think on this night I do not believe in the Emperor, His Most Exalted, I must confess it I ask myself -- WHY? I am born, I am to dieWHY? WHY? What is the meaning? Wakara shrugged againA thinker, a poet; there were many Japanese like himAnd yet they died like anything but poets, died in mass ecstatic outbursts, communal frenziesNAZE, NAZE DESU KA? Ishimara had written in huge trembling characters, WHY, WHY IS IT? and he had gone out and been killed in the river on the night of the big Japanese attackHe had fallen, shrieking, no doubt, a unit in an anonymous exalted massWho could comprehend it fully? Wakara wondered When he had been in Japan as a child of twelve, it had seemed the most wonderful and beautiful country he had ever seenEverything was so small; it was a country built for the size of a twelve-year-oldWakara knew Choshi where Ishimara had spent a year with his grandparents; perhaps he had even spoken once to Ishimara's grandparentsAnd in the peninsula at Choshi, in two miles, one could see everythingThere were great cliffs which dropped several hundred feet into the Pacific, there were miniature wooded groves, as perfect, as tailored as emeralds, there were tiny fishing towns constructed of gray wood and rocks, there were rice paddies and mournful low foothills, and the cramped choked streets of the city of Choshi with its smells of fish tripe and human dung, the crowded bloody docks of the fishing wharvesNothing went to wasteAll the land had been manicured for a thousand years Wakara put out his cigarette in the sand and scratched at his thin mustache