“And they drag it all underground?”

“Yes, sir.”

Weston shook his head. “They must have miles of tunnels built, but it doesn’t make sense.”

“Sir?”

“According to Milla, this world was only invaded a short while ago,” Weston explained. “Maybe less than a month, depending on how long she was floating out there before we picked her up.”

“Damn,” Roberts muttered, but with a hint of real emotion. “That’s scary, sir. But they do have the numbers in place to—”

“That’s just it, Commander,” Weston interrupted him. “According to her, there were only a few of them in the city after the invasion. Maybe they were just underground by then, but if she’s right…”

“Then these things take the expression ‘go forth and multiply’ to a whole new level.” Roberts frowned, looking again at the screen.

“Right you are, Commander,” Weston said. “Right you are.”

Milla Chans looked around her cabin, deep in thought. It was small but well appointed, she decided. Everything she needed was here, including access to food and water services, as well as a place to sleep and wash up. The colors were simple, even drab, she supposed, but the room had a feel of newness to it, like she was the first person to inhabit the space.

On one of her ships she’d have more room, but for the moment, this would suffice. At least it had shower facilities.

Palin had just left, along with the man he’d called a “quartermaster,” but had promised to return with acceptable clothing. In the meantime, she’d been advised to clean up, and she intended to do just that.

There were backward parts of the colonies that still used running water, so she wasn’t surprised when she saw the Odyssey did as well. She’d prefer a cleanser, but this would do in a pinch.

The soap, on the other hand, was a bit strange. She decided it would take some getting used to, but it smelled okay and the lather was interesting, if nothing else.

She shed the flimsy gown that had replaced her spacer gear, wondering what had happened to the gear. She stepped into the shower and punched in temperature settings. The water cascaded over her, causing her to flinch from the heat. But she eased back into it once her skin acclimated.

Cleansers feel better, she thought. I hope they didn’t destroy my spacer equipment. That takes weeks to form.

She shook her head and grabbed the soap. It smelled different under the water, she thought, but it always paid to adjust to the local customs.

Especially when you’ve been rescued by them.

“Is this information verified?” Weston looked up from the PDA he’d been scanning.

“No, sir. It’s just an educated guess on the computer’s part,” Roberts said, shaking his head. “There’s no way to be absolutely certain of the growth rate, but…”

“But?” Weston raised an eyebrow.