“It’s dying!” Martha cried, holding the tiny alien tenderly in her cupped hands. “Doctor, do something!”
“I can’t. They only live a very short time, a matter of days; that’s the way it is with their kind.”
“But they’re so beautiful!” Everywhere Martha looked, there were more of the colourful, jewel-bright creatures, a cross between butterflies, hummingbirds, and fireflies, and every last one of them appeared to be dying.
“But if they all die out…”
“They’re already carrying their young inside themselves. Soon they’ll hatch. It’s the cycle of life, Martha. They must die for the next generation to live.”