“I’m not having a seizure!” Rogers cried. “Can’t you read between the lines at all?”

“What lines are we talking about?” Deet said. “I don’t see any lines.”

Rogers hopped up and down, pointing at Deet. “You see what I mean? He can’t see any lines! He can’t see any lines! ”

The droids don’t understand metaphor and figures of speech! Rogers wanted to shout. Even if they were listening to every word he said, even if the entire AIGCS reassembled right in front of him—they would have no idea what he was talking about.

The problem was, apparently, neither did anyone else.

“What kind of crazy did you wake up with this morning?” the Viking said. “Droids don’t eat things, Rogers.”

“Except data,” Mailn said, laughing.

Rogers pointed at her, then tapped his nose.

“Are we playing charades?” McSchmidt said.

Rogers rolled his eyes. “No, we’re not playing charades. We’re playing open your god-damn ears and try to figure out what I’m trying to tell you because maybe something important is preventing me from saying it straight at this very moment.”

The three other humans stared at him blankly. Rogers was ready to throw up his hands and listen to Klein orate him to death, abandoning the Flagship to whatever fate the droids had in store for it, but after a moment, Mailn’s eyebrows shot up.

“So, you’re saying that Deet plugged in and ate a meal that he didn’t like,” she said.

“Yes!” Rogers said, wanting to fall to his knees and cry after hugging that brilliant, brilliant woman. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. I’m saying that Deet ate something that could potentially, I don’t know, kill us all.”

McSchmidt’s eyes widened. “He ate a bomb?”

Rogers slapped his forehead. “Are you seriously an intelligence officer?”

“You put me there,” McSchmidt mumbled.

The Viking shrugged. “Well, I still have no idea what either of you are talking about.”

“I’m starting to wonder if I understand human communication protocol at all,” Deet said.

Mailn held up a hand. “Just try to follow,” she said. “I think I’ve got this. Go ahead, Rogers. Tell us all about this meal.”

“Right,” Rogers said. “Let’s keep walking. I want to get back to the command deck and I want all of you to come with me.”

The confused human/droid coterie ambled along the hallway, Rogers taking them as quickly as he could. If there were as many sensors as Deet had alluded to, maybe he could obfuscate his speech even more by passing through many of them. Rogers had no idea if that would work, but he also had to go to the bathroom (his stomach was still getting used to eating normal food again).

“So,” Rogers said, “Deet’s meal was terrible. Apparently, the chefs are trying to poison him. Or us.”

“What the EXPLETIVE are you people talking about?” Deet said.

“Just pipe down for a minute, Deet,” Rogers said. “In fact, I want you to tell me the moment you start to understand exactly what the expletive we’re talking about. Got it?”