“Milla?”

Milla jumped up, her eyes widening when she saw two men step into the room without their rather bulky suits. Are these the same two men?

“I suppose I should reintroduce myself. I’m Dr. Palin. This is the captain of the Odyssey, Eric Weston.”

The captain…This will be a more serious session than the previous one. Hopefully we can settle the captain’s concerns so I can get back to my duty, she thought as she looked to the captain, appraising him.

He was tall, taller than most people she knew, though not quite the tallest man she’d ever seen. She’d met the commandant of the Colonial Ground Forces once, and he would actually tower over this Captain Weston. Milla put that aside after a moment and turned her focus on the captain again, taking in his appearance. His close-trimmed black hair hugged his head, his face was stern, and she realized that he was, in turn, appraising her. The thought discomforted her for a moment, but she quickly regained her poise.

“Captaine Weston.” Her head nodded respectfully in greeting.

“Ithan Chans.” Weston imitated her slight nod and returned the greeting.

“I’m honored by your use of my title, Captaine. Dr. Palin never seems to refer to me in any way except as ‘dear.’ Which the computer informs me is a quadruped of some type.” Milla smiled with a confused air about her.

Palin stammered a moment, trying to explain himself before Weston stepped in. “Actually, the word has several different meanings, which are differentiated by spelling. In this case, it is a term of affection older people use in reference to those younger than themselves.”

“I see.” Milla threw a look at Palin, enjoying the red tinge his face had assumed.

“Milla, could you please tell us what happened to the ship you were traveling on?” Weston asked.

She looked at the captain, trying to gauge him, but found herself unable to pierce his outward demeanor. She decided to go with the simple truth.

“I wasn’t traveling. I was serving aboard the space vessel Carlache and we were attacked.”

“We had gathered that much. Would you be so kind as to tell us by whom and why they decided to reduce a fleet of your vessels to scrap?”

Milla winced at that. She had known that it was unlikely any had survived the massacre, but it pained her to think of her comrades floating dead in the inhospitable depths of this radiation-seared system.

“They are called Drasin, and they attack us because it is their way. They are born to kill, they were created to kill, and they do it very well.”

Dr. Palin glanced over at the hard shell that had formed across the captain’s face. He knew that Weston was contemplating the implications of Milla’s story, if it were true. Palin himself shuddered at the thought of a race of born killers stalking the galaxy, the nightmare of a thousand horror stories since the birth of science fiction. The idea that it may be true would cause havoc at home.