"Eh... You know how, at the end of the growing season, the farmers bring in the crops?" She set a row of little cooked carrots all soft and butter-sweet, standing up in the soft potato mash, "Let it grow up big, then cut it down for consumption."

Chop chop chop, all onto the fork and down the hatch. No more carrots. No more people. Shepard continues, even as she chews, gesturing rudely with her fork.

"Like that, but instead of rice or wheat, it's people. Whole worlds of people, millions, billions. Then they leave, wait for new civilizations to flourish and grow, and the repeat forever. Or until someone stops them. That's our war."