"I believe Canis Minor means the Lesser Dog, sir," you answer. You're such a good soldier.
"I'm sorry, but when I'm talking, I'm talking to my soldiers, not the dead weight scientist who had to tag along, so if you would, kindly shut your god damned mouth." She sounds so nonchalant when she speaks that you almost forget how fearsome she can be. She reminds you, of course. You step back and let her continue. "We're here to harvest a certain unique mineral so that Mr. Dead-Weight can stare at it and do math. Isn't that right, Mr. Dead-Weight?"
"Um...yes?" you say.
"What did I tell you about talking?" she spits back. "Now all of you get down there. The transporters have the locations and your scouters should find the mineral deposites, so all you have to do is watch out for poachers."
Poachers? This doesn't sound safe.