Bodies littered the streets.

The Irkens rarely took prisoners. It was a needless, irrational risk, and they never behaved irrationally. They found their enemy repulsive but they didn't hate, didn't rape or torture for fun. Every action resulted from logic—from cause and effect.

In many ways, they were better than human beings.

Dib stood over a small child lying face-up in the ditch, blood leaking from a precise wound on its forehead. Open eyes watched the sky forever in naïve confusion; he extended a hand to guide them closed. Perfect? Inhuman?

In many ways, the Irkens were so much worse.