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Only Sazahk escaped the anxious boredom, flitting in and out and around the control room with Dominic Turner on his tablet, chattering about organic structures, and perception systems, and control flows, and a thousand other things Fal’ran didn’t understand.
He understood one thing, though. “The attacks were distractions.”
Patrick didn’t make a noise of surprise and didn’t get pulled from his thoughts. He nodded as though he’d been turning the same topic over his in his own head. “While they searched for a place to establish their Nest.”
“Do you think they found one?” Fal’ran watched Sazahk poke a squishy thing on one control panel and point the tablet’s camera toward the lights that flickered on the opposite wall. “Should he be doing that?”
Bar’in had the same thought and dropped the energy rifle into his lap. “Sazahk, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“It’s fine, and this is important.” Sazahk didn’t look up from poking the next fleshy button. “We need to know how they communicate, both at short range and long. For long range, we’d really have to get our hands on two ships, but that seems like too much to ask for right now, even though that’s the real question.”
“Why don’t you ask them?” Bar’in jerked his chin at the Insect woman. “Excuse me, miss, my friend here is extremely interested in your technology and biology, in a fairly non-creepy way. Would you care to enlighten him about anything?”
The Insect woman shot Bar’in a narrow-eyed scowl, but Sazahk lifted his head with light green blooming over his throat. “Would you?”
The woman clicked her mandibles. “I would not.”
Fal’ran’s eyebrows shot up at her heavily accented but understandable Universal. Bar’in said she’d translated for him, but it jarred his ears to hear Universal issue from such an alien mouth.
Sazahk’s face fell. “That’s understandable. We’re at war for all intents and purposes, and knowledge is power and all that.”
“If you’re in a talkative mood though, ma’am, I owe you my thanks.” Patrick climbed to his feet and walked over. Tar straightened up, but Patrick waved him down, and crouched in front of the woman. “You told them to stop torturing me.”
“I didn’t do it for you.” The woman swept her eyes up and down him.
“I know, but it’s appreciated, anyway.” Patrick sat before her and crossed his legs. He nodded his head toward where he’d stood and argued against destroying the Colony Ship. “You heard my conversation with our leaders earlier.”
“I did.” The woman flicked an antenna. “Do you expect my thanks now?”
“No.” Patrick shook his head. “But I’d like your help.”
The woman burst into a series of clicks and chittering. It took Fal’ran a few seconds to realize the sound was laughter. “My help? Destroying my family? I would die first.”
Patrick didn’t show any frustration at the woman’s refusal. “I don’t want to destroy your family. I want to avoid bloodshed altogether, if I can.”
The woman crossed her arms. “You can’t.”
“No, probably not,” Patrick agreed. “But I don’t want to kill your children or your Princess, and you heard my countrymen—” he jerked his head toward where the tablet had sat “—if I can’t get your leaders to sit down and negotiate with me, they will empty the entirety of our arsenal into your Colony Ship and it will be destroyed in the largest explosion this sector has seen since the Qesh destroyed themselves.”
The cluster of Insects clicked and hissed when Patrick finished and the woman said a few words to them in their own language, too quietly for Fal’ran’s translator to pick up.
After calming her people, the Insect rounded on Patrick. “You underestimate us.”
“Maybe.” Patrick shrugged. “But that doesn’t change anything I just said.”
The woman didn’t reply for a few moments, clicking her mandibles quietly. After one last decisive click, she uncrossed her arms. “What do you want my help doing?”
“When we dock, I want you to take me and my men to your leaders.” Patrick's shoulders loosened, and Fal’ran realized how tense they’d been. “Don’t make us fight through an unfamiliar ship.”
“You leave your guns here,” the woman said quickly, and Patrick barked a laugh.
“No.” He gave her an apologetic half smile. “No, we’ll definitely be bringing our guns, but we’ll try not to use them.”
The woman stared at him, her huge black eyes reflecting the lights of the room. She clicked her mandibles again and after a few more long moments, spoke, “Your name is Patrick Smith?”
“That’s right.”
“Battalion Four, Squad M?”
