That's not an accent she's remotely familiar with. An off-worlder, she thinks, her little spark of hope burning a little brighter - because if one of the mercenaries is here, alive, then the rest of the mercenaries have a vested interest in coming here and helping to rescue him. They'll not just turn tail and run from a situation that's worse than expected. They'll come for their own.

"Yeah," she says, and draws breath to identify herself - and then she actually stops to think. Off-worlder, maybe. Or maybe it's someone mimicking an off-worlder's accent to try to get her to out herself as the mercenaries' contact. Learning all they need from her without even resorting to torture. And even if that's not the case, someone's probably listening in, aren't they? No; she's got to be careful.

"I'm Lizzie." A name to match the forged identity documents in her pocket. The false name she gave the mercenaries was Clara. "I don't know what's going on. I just saw something mad, like some ship descending from the sky, and then I ended up getting stunned and now I'm here. Have you got any idea what's happened?"

In case this is her contact, though, she tries to leave little clues. Here's one: she speaks levelly, calmly, and tries to pitch her voice exactly like it was in the plea for help that she sent to the Dendarii. If this particular off-worlder even heard that recording.