Seek them out, he said. Try to recall incidents, accidents, that made no sense to you. Try to remember instances of lack of pain. I'm sorry I can't give you more identifying traits, but that's all we know so far. Except the lack of pores, the heightened senses.
There will be trouble. I feel sure there will be bloodshed. Don't quail, don't despair. We'll beat them. We're essentially a decent race and from all indications they are devious, malevolent, and evil.
And we outnumber them, that's pretty certain.
Don't flinch. Don't hesitate. Seek them out. Capture them, kill them, but find them!
He was really a little proud of himself as the telecast ended. He even felt light-headed again, and ascribed it to pride.
McEldownie clapped him on the shoulder. "Well, boy, if this mess pans out okay, you and I can take our pick of soft government posts, or retire on the bounty of a grateful world. Let's see what the gang thought of it."
He unlocked the door and opened it. Brave stood on the threshold, his dark face bewildered; the others crowded behind him, worried, tense. "Alan," said his friend, "what went wrong?"
Alan's belly shrank back and sweat broke out on his palms. "What do you mean, Brave? Didn't it go on the air?"
"It must have," Jim said. "I was watching a monitor."
"It went on, all right." Brave sighed. He looked as beaten as an Indian can ever look. "I should have guessed they wouldn't let you do it. They'd get to you some way, both of you."