"Oh, are you talking about the governor's daughters?" Rasped out Delila as her tall, thin frame approached the group. Her voice was the only vaguely feminine thing about her. The rest was shrouded in black billowing hooded robes and a imposing full face helmet. "I heard at least one of them had the Bleeding Hide Rot. Rather notorious on that planet. You ought to get yourself checked out, Cortez."<br/><br/>Delila always seemed to know how exactly things could go wrong. She was quick to point out every source of imminent death that threatened her ship and crew. The ability to share her pessimistic views was mandated in her contract, along with the ability to address the crew once every three months (though that privilege was always used to spread her misery as far as it could go). Thankfully, Delila's predictions of certain doom were mostly wrong.<br/><br/>Mostly.