“We will proceed gladly. A shuttle will be on its way. End of communications.”
“The bare minimum you could do is contact with Home about these little diplomatic affairs you have with intruders, you know?”
“For what? For them to take weeks to arrive here, and do some stupid decision? Let me ask you a question, soldier, who has here more experience with alien contacts? The bureaucrats who haven’t lifted their asses from their seats or been in the fire of battle, our ourselves?”
“You are a captain, not a diplomat. You are trained to kill, not talk.”
“And why don’t you tell Home about my little adventures, and we see how long they take to dismiss you?”
“I can’t say I don’t enjoy going against them, but just so you know, no matter how friends we are, and that I’m your inferior, I’m not falling with you if they decide that we have gone too far.”
“I don’t plan on that. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure to send Home a report. You! What’s your name?!”
The soldier to which the command was directed to was suddenly snapped from the fantasy in his head, fed by the outstanding size of the alien ship in his view.
“U-uh, Groydrus, sir!”
“You are coming with us, we need someone who records the conversations.”
An illusion glimmer appeared in his eyes, upon hearing such a jarring order, one akin to the one provoked when receiving a gift, as he stumbles from his seat with a portable screen.
“S-sir, yes sir! On my way, sir!”