Things have been washing up on the shores of alien seas. Wretched, dying things, with brains of pulp.
Thousands of red crabs, smaller than a fist, scuttle over the almost dead, stripping flesh. The frothing salt water is stained with blood, but not for long. Soon there is nothing but sand and bones.
Our soldiers. Our bio-weapon. Turned on each other and scattered through a hundred star systems.
The humans think us defeated, but they are wrong. We have played this game a thousand times before.
As our ships slip into orbit around Earth, I spread my wings and howl.
Author bio: When the invasion comes John Xero will be safely holed up with a big stack of books. He will live tweet the fall of civilisation.