“They are…Drasin,” Milla said softly, pronouncing the word Drah-sin. “I…I had no idea that they would become so numerous…so fast.”

“What are they, Ithan?” Weston whispered. “It’s obvious they didn’t build that city. So what are they…and who built the city?”

“My people did,” Milla said, sounding almost helpless. “This was one of our…colonies…for…foodstuffs.”

“Agricultural,” Palin supplied.

“Quah,” Milla replied, nodding, though the word had not been caught by the translator.

“She means yes,” Palin said, keying the word in. “It’s slang…like yeah or yep.”

“I understand, Doctor,” Weston said. “Miss Chans…Milla…What happened here?”

Milla took a shallow, ragged breath, staring at the screen as her eyes filled with tears. She closed them so as to shut out the horrible scene.

“Very well, Captain, I shall relate my story to you…to the best of my ability,” she said, her voice quivering.

“Thank you, Miss Chans,” Weston said softly.

She took a deep breath and began to speak.

CHAPTER 8

Weeks earlier, aboard the stellar cruiser Carlache

“LIEUTENANT CHANS!”

The deck of the Carlache hummed under her as Milla Chans spun on her heel and found herself staring at her new commanding officer. “Yes, Commander Rath?”

“Lieutenant, I need you to work with Stavrim and Mailyn for the next several days. They need your expertise with the new weapons systems we’ve installed.” The commander scowled at the word weapons, as if it tasted bitter to him.

“I’ll contact them right away, Commander.” Milla understood his distaste, even if she didn’t share it.

Why do all commanding officers act insulted when they’re forced to equip their ships with weapon systems? Well, all except the captain, and even he doesn’t like them. Milla strode off, heading for the new control room to find crewmen Stavrim and Mailyn. Preparations had been progressing well over the past few months, since the tachyon burst from the frontier had changed her culture forever.

It still felt like a dream to her. The transmission hadn’t contained any information. Not even the most basic of modulation. It had been nothing more than a trip wire of sorts. A warning, or alarm, given by a system so ancient that no one had known it was there until the Central World-Mind began giving the strangest orders.

No one questioned the orders at first, though they had been out of character for the World-Mind. Production on transports had slowed as new plans were spit out of the ancient database. Plans that no ship had included in centuries.

Weapons.

Milla shook her head, clearing it as she stepped into the control room and looked around.

“Ah, Lieutenant. We are having some difficulties adjusting the target-acquisition system that was recently installed.”

Milla frowned, shaking her head. “Have you tried reintegrating the software? All those circuits should have been triple-checked before installation.”

Stavrim had the good grace to look chastised. “No, we didn’t. No one here is checked out on the software.”