Collectors
I suppose this is what a human might call a collector's item...
It was a petty pun, but out of sight and mind from the Reapers, the Collector leader thought he could afford to make it. Because watching the...gift this species had given the machines' servants, watching it dispose of some alien refuse that one of their Omega contacts had piled in with the latest homo sapien captives in the hope of a bonus...well, something had to be said. Especially since none of its victims would be speaking anytime soon.
"Impressive..." mused the Collector, nodding to one of its subordinates to send the xenomorph and the useless genetic material out into the vacuum of space. "And there are more to come?"
"If you desire," the contact murmured. "But I will expect payment for future samples."
Harbinger's servant remained silent. He doubted that the Reapers would want these...xenomorphs, regardless of how deadly they could be. But with his latest contact standing eight meters tall and having telepathy to match his physical prowess, it seemed a good idea to act the role of a businessman and not give an indication that the giants would go the same way as every other species to grace the galaxy.
But if he has telepathy, wouldn't he already know? And why am I even thinking about it now?
Frustration...nothing like the type Sovereign must have experienced over the centuries, not even akin to what he could gauge from Harbinger. But his status as a servant aside, the Collector leader felt it nonetheless.
"If you wish, I can show you more of what we would bring to you," the alien said, breaking his counterpart's train of thought. "Though I would like to request we return to my ship either way."
The Collector nodded, following the mala'kak through the umbilical that connected his cruiser with the U-shaped vessel his contact dwelled on. While it was a practice he would have never even considered with a lesser species, he could understand the being's discomfort at having to squat down to fit in a vessel designed for creatures but a fraction of his size. And there was something else about the telepath, something...familiar. His size, his build, his...essence. From legs to fingers, even sheer intellect, it reminded the Collector of something. Of another time. Another state of existence...
He was almost prothean...
Letting out a hiss that the mala'lak either didn't hear or ignored, the Collector leader banished such thoughts instantly. The protheans were dead. Gone. Utterly irrelevant to him and his kind and bar their legacy, the same one that had necessitated the construction of a replacement for Sovereign, irrelevant to the galaxy as well. Besides, the alien claimed to be part of a species who were at their apex billions of years ago, well before the time of the last victims of the cycle. Whether the cycle had even begun back then was unknown and like the protheans, irrelevant, though the Collector still wondered how the giants could have survived so many repeated invasions.
Then again, with the creatures they can create, it isn't surprising...
"No, it isn't."
The Collector's wings fluttered. Asari telepathy could be irritating enough, but this could become a problem. Luckily, they seemed to have reached the end of their tour. Because with the two beings standing on a walkway inside the mala'lak vessel, looking down at a giant stasis room, it was clear they'd reached the proverbial counter.
"We keep the xenomorph eggs in another section of the ship," the mala'lak stated, or thought, all things considered. "We learnt our lessons well from our downfall."
"And you still breed them despite that?"
The mala'lak let out what the Collector supposed was a growl, though the sound that came from its trunk could have meant anything. "As your current species of interest would say, desperate times call for desperate measures. Every so often we're able to sell a matriarch to the yautja. The rest we keep as a weapon of last resort."
The Collector leader remained silent. He had no idea what a yautja was, but as he'd never heard of one, they were probably a species of no significance. And as strangely comforting it was to be in the presence of this alien, it would have to take a backseat to the schedule Harbinger wished his servants to keep to.
Luckily the mala'lak wasn't going to slow him down.
"Of course, we both know that you're not here for xenomorphs," the mala'lak said. "You're here for the dominant species of the third world orbiting Sol and nothing else. We have a few hundred in stasis so once you can provide us with an equivalent in food and equipment, we will hand them over."
"Very well. Our cruiser has a large supply of such items. Begin transporting the captives and you'll be set up for life."
The mala'lak's mouth made what the Collector supposed was a grin. "Oh yes...yes we will."
Suddenly, the Collector didn't feel at ease. Suddenly, he had a grim feeling about the whole situation, wondering if he should just erase subtlety altogether and begin the process of abducting humans wholesale as Harbinger desired rather than relying on agents to provide them. Still, a deal was a deal, and this mala'lak and whatever was left of his kind would be eradicated by the Reapers in the near future anyway. And with that happy thought, he began returning to his cruiser.
Yes...nothing would ruin this transaction. Nothing would jeopardize his masters' return.
...not even the crackle on his radio that one of his crew had a strange organism attached to his face...
A/N
Probably not the only one to see the physical similarities between the protheans on Ilos and the mala'lak, not to mention the Collectors picking up their habits. Somehow this popped into my head in the process.