I interjected, “And for some reason, you’ve called it the Earth Conversion Project?”

Karen’s face went from relaxed to stony. I think. I had to remind myself that reading the facial expressions of an alien probably came with huge error bars, but her face definitely had changed. Which meant I’d scored a hit of some kind.

“I’m not familiar with that phrase.”

I held up her thumb drive. “It was on your PowerPoint presentation for the seminar. Want to try again?”

Now there was a definite reaction—a momentary expression of rage. Again, I think. But bared teeth and narrowed eyes wasn’t just arbitrary signaling, like an ear-waggle or something. There would be good strategic biological reasons for showing your weapons in a threat display and protecting your eyeballs. Oh, and it turned out Loranna had fangs. Worth noting.

“You’re making a very large mistake,” she said. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

Nat stepped forward. “To be honest, Karen, after the secret aliens thing, and the Earth Conversion thing, I’m betting anything else you might want to throw at us would be anticlimactic.”

Karen showed her teeth again and said something guttural. In my cling-on, Sheldon said, “That was Lorannic. She was discussing your ancestry and promising her personal attention to your comfort at some future point.”

I chuckled. “Comfort. I’m sure.”

Karen cocked her head. “You understand Lorannic? Interesting. If you’re Gen, you’re the shortest Gen I’ve ever seen.”

She looked up and spoke to the air, which I found interesting. “Ship, please open my stateroom door.”

“Authorization not recognized,” Sheldon replied in a flat tone. At the same moment, he said over the cling-on, “She doesn’t need to know I’m sentient.”

Now Karen focused on Nat. “You know you’re out of a job, right? And times are tough, especially in this rinky-dink town. Gonna be tough paying for your father’s medical.” She paused and smiled. “Of course, you’ll be dead, so maybe it won’t matter so much.”

“Your threats are empty until you get out of here,” Nat replied. I could see anger on her face, though. The comment about her father had scored a hit.

“Even if I don’t,” Karen said, “you’ve seen the Gantt chart. You have five years. At the most.” Her expression shifted into what was presumably supposed to be a smile, but on a Lorannic face it looked more like hunger. “Listen, that can change. This is nothing personal. We’re businesspeople. If you release me, I guarantee you not only a raise and better job title, but also a place in the protected zones once our plans enter the final phases.” She glanced at Patrick and me. “And your friends as well. Family, too.”

“And we should believe you?”