“Sir.” Roberts looked quite grim. “If I may ask?”

“You may…In fact, I’d be disappointed if you didn’t,” Weston said, his tone light.

“Then, pardon my language, but why the hell not?”

“Because it would be pointless, Commander,” Weston told him. “Either we would arrive far, far too late, because Earth simply does not have the resources to defend itself now or at any point in the near future, or there is simply no rush.”

Roberts stared at him for a moment, not quite believing what he’d heard.

“Have you had a chance to look at the power estimates we registered from the alien ship, Commander?” Weston asked.

“Not yet, sir. I was busy…”

Weston nodded. “I know. I’m not implying anything, Commander. Just wondering if you’d had time. You should look at them. They’re…revelatory.”

“Sir?”

“The first beam the ship fired”—Weston paused, until he saw Roberts nod—“exceeded the entire output of our reactor by over three times.”

“What?” Roberts had known that it was powerful, but not by that much. “Sir, that’s insane. You’re talking about more power than—”

“Than our entire fleet is capable of putting out. And damned few of them are equipped with our armor,” Weston said. “And besides that, if Milla was telling us the truth—and I have no reason to doubt her—then the Drasin have committed at least twenty identical ships to this war.”

Roberts took a breath, nodding. He wasn’t questioning the story of Miss Chans, either; too much of it had been proven true now.

“So, assuming a worst-case scenario, how many of those do you think we could intercept if they attacked Earth?”

Roberts took a deep breath, thinking hard. Finally, he sighed and looked up. “If we abandon Demos and the outlying bases, no more than two on our own. Assuming that they were intent on getting to the planet. The fleet might be able to take another two, maybe three.”

Weston nodded. “I guessed slightly more, but I assumed that we could get the Block to point their guns somewhere other than at our heads.”

Roberts winced. He’d forgotten to calculate for the Block’s fleet, meager though it was. Even so, he decided, it wouldn’t make much difference. Block ships didn’t have the reactive armor and would go up like matchbooks under laser fire that powerful.

Still, he nodded, accepting the captain’s correction.

“No, Commander. I think I may just have to plot another course,” Weston said after a moment, then checked the time and corrected himself. “After we complete one last duty in this system. Come along, Commander, and I’ll explain my intentions along the way.”

Milla was wandering through habitat two, head down, deep in thought, when she ran into a solid form and was sent sprawling to the floor.

“Oh, dear me…I am sorry.”

The man she had run into looked up and his eyes widened in surprise. “Miss Chans, are you all right?”

Milla’s second glance identified him as Dr. Palin. “Yes, Docteur, I am fine. I apologize; I was not looking where I was going.”