Reed tightened his grip around the A'jeii’s chest. “She stays close and warm until we get some answers from you. Also, a promise not to retaliate against me or my companions when I let her go.” A thin smile creased his face. “Understand that there’s nothing malicious in what I’m doing. I’m just engaging in an old and tried human method of negotiation. Of all the beings on this ship surely you can appreciate that.”

“I can be loud, but I am not inclined to employ physical violence as a means of persuasion,” the Olone retorted.

“No.” Reed’s smile widened. “You leave that to the Kaijank.”

If the implication behind the big man’s reply irritated the Olone, he gave no sign. “What is it you wish to know?”

Careful to maintain his grip on the squirming A'jeii supervisor, Reed met the Olone’s slitted gaze. “We know that your negotiations down below didn’t go well. We know that something peculiar happened when Dev showed himself to the Mozehna.” He glanced over at his uneasy younger colleague. “Dev thinks the Mozehna might have reacted the way they did because they recognized him. Or rather, his species. Our species.”

“That is absurd!” Vantolos snapped. “It would imply that the Mozehna had encountered your kind before.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what it would imply.” Reed didn’t equivocate. Maybe he didn’t possess the Zimmers’ rarefied academic background, but he was perfectly capable when it came to applying logic. “It would imply either that some Mozehna had been to Earth, or that Dev isn’t the first human they’ve seen. Which is it, squid-boy?”

“Your appellation is foreign to my knowledge of your language. As to your dual query, the answer is neither. It has to be neither. Ah!”

Scuttling backward several steps, the Olone made room for the arrival of a very imposing automaton. With an outward patina that shaded to dark bronze, it was several heads taller than the Kaijank. The body was composed of half a dozen vertically aligned cylinders mounted atop a circular base that hovered several centimeters above the deck. Emerging from the upper center of the synced cylinders, a flexible metallic neck terminated in a globular head. Glowing softly yellow, two round lenses inclined in Reed’s direction. As Dev and the Zimmers backed away, a pair of sharply tapering cones emerged from one of the six cylinders.

“Let the supervisor go now,” Vantolos said tersely, “or you will die. It is to be regretted.”

A grim-faced Reed pressed the sharp edge of the knife tighter still against Tilenyii’s throat and the supervisor let out an anxious wheeze. “What’s it going to do? Disintegrate me? Envelop me in a cloud of poison gas? Electrocution? Regardless of the method, I bet I can cut this female’s throat before I lose consciousness.”

“I do not think you can,” Vantolos replied.