He broke off abruptly. Racing toward them along a raised, curving walkway was an A'jeii clad in a brilliant one-piece tunic or jumpsuit fashioned from some pale lime-hued material. When the light in the control center hit the fabric just right, it gleamed like green chrome. Though for all Dev knew, the short biped’s attitude and expression might be indicative of anything from amusement to indifference, his initial reaction was that the alien appeared agitated. Halting just short of their tentacled guide, the A'jeii raised an arm and began thrusting it repeatedly at the Olone.

Certainly seems indicative of agitation. Dev tried his best not to imprint human attributes onto the alien.

“What’s going on?” In the absence of any knowledge whatsoever of the words that were being exchanged by the two aliens, Jakob Zimmer was working hard to follow the conversation by studying gestures and reactions. With some hesitation he finally felt compelled to ask, “Is something the matter?”

Turning his body in the linguist’s direction, Vantolos replied (rather hastily, Dev thought), “No, no, everything is fine. I am absorbing some minor new information that …”

Shocking everyone, the much smaller A'jeii in the brilliantine ensemble took a step forward and with the three stiffened fingers of its right hand jabbed the Olone directly in the center of his cylindrical torso. Vantolos’s pupils contracted, and a strained whistle emerged from his interior. Dev noted that at the same time, the moving shapes beneath his tunic fled from his ventral side around to his back. The A'jeii continued jabbering rapidly while gesturing repeatedly. Having expended itself on the now silent Olone, it turned to face the cluster of fascinated but bewildered humans. When it spoke, its voice was unexpectedly sonorous for such a small being.

“Gish mar anodol ni …” The alien paused, then began again. Throughout it all, Vantolos stood off to one side. With all four tentacles remaining on the deck to support the body, the Olone had begun bobbing up and down like an agitated crab.

“Excuse me, I sorry.” Not nearly as fluent as Vantolos, the A'jeii struggled with the unfamiliar alien speech. “I not trained in contact like undercooked untidiness over there.” A hand gestured at the Olone. Ever one to note details, Dev saw that instead of the curving lines that streaked a human palm, the A'jeii’s was marked by concentric circles.

“Vantolos,” a wary Zimmer inquired of their guide, “who is this speaking to us? And are you certain nothing is wrong?”

Collecting himself, the Olone raised one tentacle and gestured. “That is Syrenii. You would call her the ship’s ‘Captain.’”

Reed’s brow furrowed. “So then, you’re not in charge here?”

“I?” Two tentacles rose from the floor to dance in the air. “I am Vantolos, the interlocutor. Contact specialist. You are speaking of the one in charge.”