I chuckled, even though what she proposed was genocide and could carry a twenty-year sentence on a lunar penal colony if she actually did it. On the other hand, I got farmers every day who asked (and wished) the same thing. “‘Fraid not. Ever since the First Contact, it’s negotiate with hive species or let ‘em take over. You can only fight back if they’re gonna kill you and that’s relatively rare. Been a few spectacular wars between farmers and fire ants down south, though.”

More lights flashed on my toolkit, this time blue. “What’s that?” Alvarez peered over my shoulder.

“It’s the bees. They’re trying to communicate with us.” What they were trying to say, I wasn’t sure yet, even though I knew that would be Alvarez’s next question. It would have been mine, too, had I been her. The sonic vibrations came through as a sort of hieroglyphic code that took time to decipher. I moved closer to the greenhouse, avoiding the rippling, xeno-infected area. “All right, these symbols are a little strange, but the bees seem to be saying the other hive invited in your squatters. Though the symbol could also mean ‘carried’.”

She took off her bandanna and rubbed her forehead. “I guess that’s possible. They’ve always been competitive with the other hive. You think that could be it?”

“Could be.” I punched in the keys necessary to ask. The answer was clear enough, but not much help. “They say yes, though I’m not sure they know for sure, themselves. If there’s hostility between the two hives, they won’t be saying good things about each other.” More symbols appeared. “And it looks like the xenos are going for your marijuana crop.”

Alvarez’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t say.” She scratched her head. “Young man, can you block radio signals with that thing? Or mimic them?”

“Sure. Anybody can.” As more data came in, I was having a hard time doing two conversations at once. “Why?”

“Well, my nephew, he’s got one of those little devices like yours. He never explained to me what it did; he just said it was something like a PDA. He’s kind of a…well, I don’t know what you’d call them these days. They used to call them ‘hackers’.”

“I see.” Figured you’d get a few of those in a Libertarian Anarchy. A suspicion niggled in the back of my brain. The data now coming in looked strange. It didn’t seem to be coming from the nearer hive. “Wait a minute. Now, the other hive is saying they’re under attack.” I punched in a few buttons asking them what they knew about the squatters. “Yeah, they’re saying this is a new thing to them, too.”

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