“Come in,” he said, loud enough for the computer to hear and key the door sequence.

Footsteps approached and stopped on the other side of the desk, so Weston looked up and nodded when he saw whom it was.

“At ease, Commander.”

Commander Roberts settled back and eyed the holographic starscape with mild interest for a moment before speaking. “Sir, have you considered our next transition coordinates?”

Weston’s lips twisted, but he’d been expecting that question. “May I presume that you have a suggestion, Commander?”

“I don’t see how it’s a choice, sir,” Roberts said frankly. “Things have gone far enough…Captain, it’s time to go home.”

Weston sighed, then stepped back and waved a hand at the holograph. “Do you recognize this, Commander?”

“Sir?” Roberts looked confused for a moment. Then he shrugged. “It’s a star map, I presume?”

“Yes. But more specifically, it’s of a section of the galactic arm that Earth lies in,” Weston told him, reaching into the holograph and triggering a preset program. “Right…here.”

A star lit up, bright blue, out along the edge of the map closest to Roberts, and the commander glanced at it with slightly more interest.

“The attacks we’ve encountered occurred here, here, and here,” Weston said, gesturing as the program lit up three more stars in fiery red.

One of them, Roberts noted, was quite close to the blue point.

“That’s where we found Milla,” Weston told him. “Forty-five light-years from the Sol System. This one…is fifty-eight light-years from home.”

Roberts nodded as Weston pointed out the second light.

“This one,” Weston nodded to the third, “is where we are now. Port Fey. Almost ninety light-years and the latest attack of which we’re aware. Tell me, Commander, do you see what I see?”

Commander Roberts frowned, suddenly looking closer at the four stars that were highlighted. Finally, he shook his head and looked back up at the captain. “Sir?”

“Do you remember the brief that I had filed concerning Milla’s story?” Weston asked.

“Of course.”

“The Drasin haven’t been seen for thousands of years, according to her. That implies a lot of space for a spacefaring civilization to move around in. So tell me, Commander”—Weston lit up a swath of light across the galaxy of stars with a gesture—“why is the front in their war on this side of Milla’s people?”

Commander Roberts blinked and actually paled as he registered what the captain was saying. The attacks had moved inward from Earth’s direction, moving more or less away from Earth and into the area of space controlled by the Colonials. Roberts let out a long breath. “So either they’re conducting a massive preplanned attack from all sides or—”

“Or their home world lies somewhere much closer to Earth than I’d like,” Weston finished for him.

“Sir, this is all the more reason to return home,” Roberts stated. “We have to warn the Admiralty and get production started on more ships.”

Weston shook his head. “I don’t think so, Commander. Not quite yet.”