As the door shut the two officers stared at each other for some time.  Finally the Hume spoke.
"Commander," he began, "I know very well why you are here.  There was an incident last night between one of my officers and some of yours, a regrettable incident.  I was delayed in coming to you because I was busy reviewing some evidence in this matter. I would appreciate it if you would wait some time before making your accusations, as I feel you should see this evidence before either of us makes charges against the other's crew."
Commander Retos straightened.  "By The Great Ones, sir, I see no reason to delay. My officers have informed me of the circumstances as they occurred and I swear by the Emperor, justice will be done for them. I do not know what your officer has told you, but I know what mine have said, and on my honor I stand by it as truth."
"Very well," the Warlock replied.  "Let me hear their version."
"They left the ship last night in a peaceful mood, sir, seeking no discourse.  They spent several hours at a pleasure center called The Blue Dancer, where they were accosted and insulted by one of your officers. When they confronted him he left. When they left a short time later, he waylaid them in the street, discharging his weapon, killing one of my men and wounding another.  THAT is the charge I place against your officer.  Now, sir, what has yours told you?"
"Nothing, sir," the Warlock replied, "he has not had the opportunity to defend himself as he is currently under medical care."
The Warlock went to the wall and opened a drawer.  He withdrew an Imperial dagger and tossed it on the table.  The Commander looked down at it.  "I was informed one of my officers attempted to defend himself," the Commander continued.
"I'm sure you were!"  the Warlock snapped.  "Again, Commander, I ask you for the courtesy of some patience.  If you will only review the evidence I have to show you, this whole matter can be resolved.  We are a people that do not seek vengeance, but we, too, demand justice.  Give me some time; half an hour."
The Commander stared at the dagger, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.  "Very well," he finally said.  "I will give you your half hour."
The Warlock smiled.  "Good!"  he said.  "Do sit down, man.  Must we face each other like two cats ready to strike?"
The Commander pulled out a chair from the table and seated himself.  He looked nervously at the dagger on the table as the Warlock sat.  Seeking something to fill the time he thought of a question that might reveal a little bit more of his adversary's character.  "Your gracious Second Officer said he and most of his crew are Texans.  Are you from that valiant fighting world, also?"
The Warlock smiled.  "Hardly!"  he answered.  I'm a Maineac, a Mainer, an artificially created planet in what you call The Western Sector!"
"Ah!  Yes!"  the Commander announced.  "A small skirmish of some renown was fought there, during the war.  You would've been too young, though, to take part."
"Oh, I was only thirteen," the Warlock answered, "but I took part. We knew  you were coming and that we were outnumbered better than four to one, so we pushed six large asteroids into orbit and armed them with every weapon we could find from stores. I helped man the circuitry of an ancient impulse cannon.
Your Commanders were pretty smart.  The first couple of waves they stayed away but the third time they came in close.  We opened up with everything we had....destroyed most of them.  Our cannon was knocked out twice.  We managed to get it back up.  The second time I had to take the firing seat. I was the only one left alive.  I didn't do much, just pounded in the coordinates firing control gave me, fired three quick bursts, and shifted to the next.
Three times I saw a bright flash in those bursts, and I knew what each of those flashes meant.  How many men did a ship of that class carry....forty-five, forty- five living, breathing, souls blasted from existence!  I didn't tell firing control I was running out of air.  They didn't tell me mine was the only weapon still firing.  But when it was over, and they managed to rescue me, everybody started calling me a hero....a HERO!!"
The Warlock's words faded off, lost in a distant memory.  The Commander knew what he was feeling and he tried to find words.  "They were warriors," he comforted, "they expected you to do your best, and you did it.  One cannot feel badly for that.  That is something that always fascinates me about your  people.  I have run into it again and again. You do not like being warriors but you are the best WE have ever met.  Your children, best, are seasoned veterans and it is a quality I wish I could understand."
He was interrupted by the door buzzer. "Come in!"  the Commander called. The door opened and a beautiful dark skinned woman entered, pushing a cart.  "Your lunch, sir!"  she announced. The Commander stared wide eyed as his host rose.
"Commander," the Warlock introduced, "Lieutenant Jackie Whitman, my chief cook and supply officer.  She is concerned about my weight and often brings my meals. I am sure your presence has also peaked her curiosity."
The Commander rose and bowed.  "I will never," he announced, "understand human reasoning as to put a woman of such extreme beauty in harm's way on a ship of war!  But in this particular incident I am grateful for their laxity!!"
The Lieutenant smiled.  "I will take that, sir," she blushed, "as the most gracious of compliments.  I've seasoned your hot dogs as you like, sir," she told the Warlock, "but not knowing the Commander I brought mustard and catchup.  I, however, chose cheese dressing for the salad.  I broke into your store of root beer for the occasion and threw in some of my nacho chips.  Go easy, Captain!"
"That is enough, Lieutenant," the Captain barked.  After sitting out the food the Lieutenant bowed politely and left.