We are not so different, you and I.

You sacrifice yourself daily to protect your people. I entrust myself to the mercy of those who should be my prey in order to help what is left of my own.

No, we are not so different.

Perhaps my moral code does not always stand up to your judgment. But you understand — you have had to make such decisions before. Perhaps you are disgusted by my race. But the feeling is mutual. Perhaps you question the prudence of our alliance. But you have trusted me this far.

What will happen when this war nears its end?

I admit my motives may have been selfish when I rescued you from your dank and rotting cell. You were a skilled fighter — I saw a warrior constantly watching, searching for the enemy's weakness, even as you lay listless, bound in chains. I knew you had a promising future.

Of course, it was not so poetic at the time. I was dying; so were you. I merely made the most of the opportunity before me.

Thus, predator and prey came together as one, and you were allowed to live to speak of it.

And so you, Sheppard, put the safety of your people, indeed of your world, in my hands (figuratively, of course). Somehow through this strange alliance we have become brothers in arms.

So, you see, we are very much alike, despite our physical differences.

But once this war is over, one of us must be destroyed by the other.

I should think that by now you are prepared for either outcome.

From here I can only bid you the best of luck, my brother.