Al smiled concernedly at Jasper as he thwacked his head on the underside of the table. "You alright?" he called after him as he walked towards the back hallway.
He turned to Zorish, "No offense taken. It's just that in a surprisingly high number of languages from around the cosmos, the words for "AI" and the name "Al" share some superficial similarities. I've always been a sucker for a bad pun." Zorish asked whether Jasper was always 'so eloquent.' Al smiled, "I haven't known him long, so I'm not sure if he's just out of his element here or what. He's not always the smoothest guy, it's true, but I like him a lot. Nice, smart dude, that one."
"So," he rested his chin in his hands and his elbows on the table and fixed Zorish with a smile that was somehow at once a melodramatic facsimile of intense interest, and totally sincere. "I've been meaning to ask someone around here; what is it Yeerks do for fun?"
Salem reached out and grabbed the container from who he still thought was Corliss. "Thanks," he muttered. He turned to Illim to say something about how he'd return to discuss things with him, but the Yeerk said something about 'ruining our opportunity' and stormed into the ship. Salem raised his eyebrows as he watched Derrel's form retreat inside. Had Illim been planning to hold the Malleon hostage, then? Salem found himself wondering if maybe Illim wasn't the mastermind behind this little group he was growing to dislike so much after all.
He turned and walked back to his ship. If Illim wanted to find him, he could do so on his own time. As he passed Efaen, he smiled and gave her a slight nod.
He walked back up the ramp to his ship and to the workbench-like raised platform near the middle of the room. He set the container on it, fed the 'tube' into a hole that'd appeared in the bench, and said aloud, "Alright, you guys can transfer back into the ship now." The clear 'jar' began to empty of the greenish-grey substance that had accumulated within, but Salem didn't stay to watch. He turned to the wall and began pulling up displays with thought-spoken commands to the ship. A number of different displays spread out across the wall in front of him. Most of the displays summarized what the ship's computer had recorded recently- movement of the bar's patrons, transmissions sent within the vicinity. He spent a particularly long amount of time looking at the display that showed how analysis of the rebels' communications was coming along. It wasn't looking promising so far, but with enough time, it looked like he had enough information to be able to contact them even without the help of Corliss and Illim.
As he looked at the screens, he spoke, "Hey, Mar. That took a bit longer than I expected. If you're ready for a... flying lesson, I've definitely got time now." He smirked as he said 'flying lesson.' It was not something he ever expected to hear himself asking for, especially in the sense he meant it now.
