"There's a—call it—a bridge in our minds. It's just recently been closed."
(It was ten minutes before the larger transmitter was to be turned off for twelve hours.)
Walt decided on the pitcher. The answer to her question was suddenly obvious. "That means we're ready to invade."
She watched him very closely. Her fingers tapped her knee. "... you said you were on a ship?"
It's almost time to kill her, he thought. I'm sorry, he wanted to say: but I really must. "Yes. A space station."
"How many of you are there?"
"Twenty-seven; twenty-eight, counting me."
"That's not many. Not enough." She bent forward. "You said you saw a Lyrian female on the ship. I think there's another group of Lyrians on the ship. I think they're going to invade first. That's the war your group is supposed to come in on the end of. You're going to be used as a clean-up group."
"Forential would have told us," Walt said.
"The question is: Why didn't he tell you?"