Living so long with Martians had taught Angelo to pick his battles wisely. Or to nuke them from orbit. But given the political backwash of a shot at the dirty little planet over which they floated, the latter was not exactly an option.

Also, he was rather enjoying talking to someone so novel. Tianxia and their crystal towers! Fascinating. But her next question rather confused him. Shore leave? What-- ohhhh. "Of course. There is no shore, however I suppose the concept is similar. Do your people ship by water, then?"

It occured to him a moment later why she might be asking such a question. And while they were not permitted to land on earth they were also not permitted to do any of the other things that earned them a living. They were not exactly on the side of the law, here. Then again, earth was a dangerous place, and odds were good that there was nothing of value to them there. Then again again, how would they know?

One way to find out, he supposed. "I'd like to hear more about these towers. What manner of crystal is used to build them?" A transparent (presumably) mineral strong enough to support the weight of a building was surely worth something.

"Are you really arguing about grammar with somebody from outer space? I see your point, though I cannot say it is a turn of phrase often used in my experience." And there, there, he was done arguing, because she was right, in her way, and he could relent that point. He didn't want to argue about it anymore.

He collected himself and he huffed a little, which was thankfully inaudible to her (as were any and all noises his near-surroundings were making). Then he had to think a second because she had a name and it was-- well he liked it, it was appealing-sounding, and that was odd. Maybe it was because it was an A-name and that was sort of his family's thing?

Now was probably not the time to consider it. Now would be the time to try and explain that he was not entirely a ship but a person. Kind of. Also a shi-- augh stop you'll break both your brains. Then she was apologizing and he was-- well he hadn't been exactly prepared with a speech beforehand but now she was being polite and that was just so strange for someone on the internet that he didn't know what to do with it for a moment.

So it took him a second to respond. "It's-- okay. I'm. Angelo." A pause of his own. "It's... nice to meet you."

"We have a-- a network, of sorts-- with which to communicate and spread ideas. I am using this network to speak with you now. There is no magic involved. Merely science." Not that he was overconfident about his ability to internet but he had a pretty good idea of what his capabilities were. Surely he could stand up to some backwater loony with an amplifier on her psychic abilities.

Because if there were anything a Mercurian in space liked to do, it was argue on the internet. "...Which is why I do not consider the communication going on here to be exploration. You sought out-- what? Human contact? Exploration tends to involve a body, or some physical form, and often ends in conquest. Extraplanetary communication is a different beast. You're speaking into one end of a tube whose opposite end you cannot see." He paused there, wondering in several directions at once: did she think they were there to conquer them? Probably did now, doofus. You are the worst ambassador ever. To be fair you're a pirate and that's kind of your schtick-- Also, what exactly had she been doing sending a signal like that into space? Didn't they have an embargo against that or something? Was Earth not unified, at least, in their refusal to contact the remainder of the system? It was so much dead space around this orbit which was why they were sleeping there (so far as being stuck in the inner system went it was really the safest place to lay low) and it was so very, very rare for anyone to be even think about being this close to such a useless place but here they were.

And here she was.

"We are... not seeking to conquer earth. It is quiet here. We were sleeping, my crew and I. We are..." Again he stumbled, because generally they didn't explain themselves to people. Pirates are a pretty self-explanatory sort. He finally settled upon "A shipping vessel." And left it at that.

Culture shock. Naturally. He resisted the urge to make some kind of snarky comment about the inevitability of such shock, given the planet from which she spoke. Good for him.

Some hands bent down to merge with the control panel before him while another set rose to rub his eyes as he yawned, still enveloped in the endless dark of space. He had no idea that she was speaking to him from a climate so like his homeland and maybe if he'd known he'd have been a little nicer.

But probably not.

"It is not exploring if you are sitting in your room." It was odd, though, to feel those invisible fingertips against his hull. Er. His ship's hull. Which was his. "I am the ship Zarathustra. And it's pilot." He had never had to introduce himself this way before and it was odd. None of it was untrue, but the concept seemed rather complex to explain to... well to somebody whose only understanding of the Internet was ~it's magic~. Who clearly thought of him as some manner of horrible interstellar monster. Which, to be fair, was not entirely untrue. He was not like an earth human anymore.

It was perhaps egotistical to consider himself more but there you have it. He was more. More arms. More hands. More brainpower, frankly. He was plugged into the largest neural network in history directly through his nerve endings and he made constant use thereof. He was a mildly meated ghost in the machine and he was perfectly happy there.

"I suppose we come in peace, though admittedly most of us are asleep. What, pray tell, are you doing shooting your signal into space? I believed your people frowned upon such things." The thing about being part robot was that it squelched his already frail attempts at squishy human things like "manners" and "timing." His sensors were probing along the path of her thoughts, fascinated by the concept and taking gratuitous notes thereupon. It might have felt a little weird, but then again she had her psychic fingers all up on his private hull so it was probably mutually so.

Angelo Vespucci pinched the bridge of his nose. He hadn't been sleeping, persay, but he hadn't exactly been awake either. Such was the way of the cyborg. His hand slid sideways to dig the fleshy heel into the socket as he opened up a tiny band of communication wave. His eyes, on the other hand, did no such thing.

There had been a ping, somewhere in his subneural network, that had alerted him to the attempt at communication. Perhaps it had been a distress signal. Perhaps it had been more of those interstellar rogue-police that were so fashionable these days. The distress signal was more likely, and if they got there first they could have the ship turned over and cleaned out by the time anybody else got the signal. So he'd set up an alarm system. Which had awoken him. So he was listening, with a rather hungry kind of interest, for the distress signal that was surely to follow.

Clang?
Okay now that didn't even make sense. The long sharp tendrils of his brain hissed and shivered, stretching up into consciousness with the curve of his aching spine. It wasn't code; he'd already checked. It could mean a million things but the intonation-- and yes, there was an algorithm for that-- insinuated that it was just-- ugh thank you Internet the word is onomatopoeia. Someone was just confused about the sound. Clang.

But why would someone be broadcasting that confusion into deep space? Surely the-- oh ballocks what planets were they even near right now? The groan was audible for a few feet around the mechanic but thankfully he didn't broadcast his every little thought like some people around here, apparently. He thought for a moment, and then did the reasonable thing and tracked the signal. It was-- okay it was unlike anything he'd ever seen, barring some similarity to-- oh no.
 The Martians.

They were rather near Mars' orbit, weren't they? But-- Mars was in the opposite direction. Which really only left one nearby planet. Which. Was. Highly Interesting, to say the very least. He straightened in his chair and folded his innumerable fingers together.
Hm.

This could be interesting. He cleared his throat, as if that would do any good, and he turned the radio waves of his consciousness back toward the signal. It was bright and sharp and clear when he spoke, with a faint crackle of electricity dancing about the edges of his syllables:

"Yes. Clang."