[ He picks up on what he can through his concentration, but it takes most of his mind to summon up the memories. Thomas's emotions are a muted affair, static at the back of a song on the radio. Some of it rings familiar, enough that Ian's got a hint his world might not be a much better place.

Sorry, kid.

He blows out a soft breath, his brow wrinkles, and as earnestly as he can manage he says: ]

Aliens.

[ In a word, to sum it up concisely. ]

First contact. They showed up, they decided we didn't deserve what we had, and they started ripping it away from us. You fight, you die. You submit, you go to a work camp that's almost worse than dying. Survivors live on the fringes, rural areas. Trying to just... keep going.

[ For as long as they could, until the invasive species took everything that made the planet habitable and - who knows, torched the rest? He hopes he never finds out. ]