And in the end, when the persuasion did not seem work - they always attacked. No matter the odds, in spite of Sinclair’s weapon - they rushed headlong and assailed the man.

But they were no fighters - just a bunch of creatures hopelessly rushing him with an unclear goal in mind. Attack him, die...To achieve what? To overwhelm him by sheer numbers? But then why attack one by one and not make an ambush and finish him altogether? They didn’t seem to care. And even showing some signs of intelligence, their behavior still didn’t make any sense to Sinclair. Their self-sacrifices were hardly any challenge to him - he did not even unsheathe his gun - the cutter did the job pretty well. The bodies of the green men were jelly-like and vulnerable. It didn’t look like they were forced to go at him and die - it was rather a strange ritual or some act of personal loyalty toward the one they referred to as “the Hubmaster.” Whoever he was - Mara was now his captive - of that Sinclair was sure.