I hitched up my mental bootstraps and inched closer to the …thing, I suppose.

I don’t know what made me even try, but I said, “You ok?â€?

“Does it LOOK like I’m ok?â€? the thing burbled at me.

It was like hearing two conversations at once. Like when your co-pilot is talking to you about his latest sexual adventures while the commtroller in the port speaks codes and incomprehensible computer gibberish into your other earbud.

This thing was actually giving me the stink eye. Literally.

“Did I stutter?â€? it said, with the same frission of gibberish and GalStan.

“Uhhh. No,â€? I managed, in my own brand of GalStan.

I mean, what would YOU say to the mountainous form of a too many eyed, greasy blurbly creature that you find in your hallway, or airlock, or wherever you may have found it?