>>5876692“You have eyes and ears”. Do insects even have ear? “We have claws. Guide our strikes so they may ever hit true.” That request does not sound as smooth coming out of your mouth as it did in your head. Maybe you should have practiced speaking Venusian more, shame it was such a small portion of the course's grade back in college. On the edge of your vision, Silas nods quietly. Of course, your most urgent need is engine repairs; however, he knows that can be negotiated later. Persuading Yamir to give up information, the invisible ammunition of this cold war, would be far more difficult. Best to get the most of this offer while it lasts.
The hivekeeper's antennae swing rhythmically back and forth, its controller deep in thought. As they come to a stop, he pronounces his answer, “Very well then, Thornton the Commander.” He must be intentionally ignoring your request to be called by your first name. “What do you want to know?” The hivekeeper looks over to Silas. “You do not have to answer immediately, if you want to consult with your servant-labourer first.” Silas jerks and almost breaks your wrist when you attempt to stop him from drawing his plasma derringer. Thankfully the split-second of delay was enough to let the logical part of his brain asserted itself again. “Keep calm. He must be testing you.” Silas mutters some profanities under his breath, still unwilling to loosen his grip on the gun. Before the situation can escalate, you bow to Yamir one last time, “I ask you for leave then, Hivekeeper Yamir-Hysret. We will have an answer by the day after tomorrow.” He signals his assent by chittering orders at his guards to escort you back to your ship. Your body blocks the line of sight between the two, man and bug, as you gently nudge Silas towards the hall's entrance.
Silas is visibly unhappy as he walks a slight distance behind you down the way you have come earlier. It is less anger, however, and more, how to put it, disappointment, a sunken helplessness. At whom, at what, you can only guess. Even as you change your clothes in the quarantine section set up by your medical officer, his mood has barely improved.
