"I don't get this," the table-leaner locked arms across his chest as he spoke with a puzzled expression on his face. His voice was low, flat yet courteous. "We may as well get the formalities out of the way. Who are we? Names will do for starters. I'm Brad."
Faces relaxed a mite. One of the women sat on a bench. The ice may have cracked, but the silence held. Brad had their attention.
Seconds passed.
"Hodak."
The word welled up as a growl, low and rumbling from a squat, muscular man. His deeply embedded eyes circled the room from under a boulder-brow that bridged the space beneath his bald pate to blend with the stub nose, wide mouth and crinkled skin of a seemingly amiable face.
"I'm Zolan," said the third male. He was of medium height, slight of build, waxy features and a high brow with the pallid complexion of a spacer. As alert and tense as a coiled spring, Zolan leaned against a bulkhead, eyes moving rapidly from Brad to Hodak to the walls to fix on an opposite bulkhead.
"That takes care of the men." A woman's voice, melodious, dulcet. "I'm Adari."
Sturdy, tightly curled hair and chocolate-toned skin. Her soft, rounded features were dimpled, cheerful, animated. Standing near a sleep enclosure, her grin was infectious. She brought long-absent grins, twinkles and nods from the others.
Repeating her name slowly, she smiled invitingly at the petite woman seated on a nearby bench.
"My, aren't we cautious," the little one said as she looked up and returned Adari's grin. "I am Kumiko," she shifted her eyes to take in the others, "and I regret to say that I am not particularly pleased to be among you." She paused, looked down. "Nothing personal, mind you, it's just that I did have other hopes."