NARRATOR: Xeno Team...
LEGS: I think the swarm is trying to say "please don't shoot at us."
EBBY: I think there's more to it than that. I think they want a visible gesture of peaceable intent.
Sergeant, put your plasgun back into Dropsy.
SCHLOCK: Did they teach you giant insect sign language in xenobiology school?
EBBY: No, but I'm the one who packed you that spare in the first place.
SCHLOCK: Fine, but I don't like this conversation anymore.
LEGS: The swarm is on the move. It looks like they're headed this way.
EBBY: We made a gesture of trust, and now they're advancing. I think this is progress.
LEGS: Uh-oh.
Something just painted us.
EBBY: The swarm?
LEGS: No. High energy, decimeter-band sweeps. I'm going active.
Six missiles. Ship-killers. Heavily shielded, and coming in hot.
By the time they're in range of our weapons we'll have less than a second to engage.
LEGS: That's going to happen in... seventy-two seconds.
MURTAUGH: Countermeasures! Come on! What have we got?
EBBY: *off-panel* Chaff rounds, three flare clusters...
SCHLOCK: ...one swarm of friendly bugs...