One Year Later
The batarian with eyes unblinking leaned against the railings in the thick, smoky area that was the Omega space station.
He stood outside the Afterlife club, listening to the faint sounds of booming music. The air was spicy but stiff with heat, and he looked towards the various buildings that rose out of the asteroid's rock. She was taking her time, he thought, lighting up a cigarette. He puffed the smoke out into the red-amber light, looking down onto the run-down tenements below. Skycars whizzed by, but they were eerily silent. She was never on time, but that sort of thing was to be expected. She was a human, after all. If she showed up another fifteen minutes late, he considered getting El-Than and his gang to beat the living daylights out of her. But he stopped himself, blowing out more smoke through his slitted nostrils; she gave him what he wanted. He turned round when he heard footsteps. The human female, Laurel, was suddenly stood there with his goods. She was unremarkable looking for a human, with shoulder-length bushy brown hair and dressed in a tattered leather jacket.
"You're late, again," he sad, tossing his cigarette into the unknown depths below. "You forget I'm a fucking paying customer."
She snorted at him as she drew out the bag of what he craved most.
"No way to talk to a lady, Oltan. Want it or not?" she said.
"Vallex?" he stated, snatching the bag from her fingers and inspecting it with the pads of his fingers. "The last one was shit, by the way."
"I don't make it, asshole. I just deliver it. Rarm as well, for an extra fifty?" All four of his black eyes as she brought out another plastic pouch - this time it was pure, white powderous glory.
"Thirty," he said. "I'm already giving you sixty for the vallex."
"I'm not bartering with you, it's either fifty or nothing," she snapped back.
Oltan was still not used to the human presence and like everyone else found them a thorn in the galaxy's side. They were young, aggressive, ambitious and immensely adaptable: whether that was a good thing or not he'd have to decide later. He was more tolerant than most of his society, but then maybe that was why he'd exiled himself to this particular dark corner of the Terminus Systems. He didn't like this human and abruptly grabbed her arm, attempting to twist it and push her to the ground. To his astonishment she responded incredibly well – he assumed she was just another prostitute or stripper, caught up in a life of drugs. She slammed him into the ground with incredible force, completely winding him.
"Oops. Chipped a nail," she said above him, digging the heel of her boot into his back, between his shoulders. He groaned in agony from the pressure exerted from her shoe.
"Ungh," he moaned.
"Is it sixty or not, Oltan? You try a move like that on me again and I'll cut your goddamn balls off."
Well, this human simply knew how to play. He tried to contain his anger and humiliation from being overpowered by a human. No one around them took any notice.
"Sixty," he grunted. "Leave the…"
"Fucking thought so," she snapped at him, turning him over with her boot and giving him a hard kick.
His ribs felt like they'd been kicked in, and he nearly let loose with a howl of agony. He brought up his omni-tool, tapping it weakly. She held hers up and saw a small light beeped. She smirked in satisfaction, making him want to claw her face off as he lay there like a total idiot. She threw his packet of vallex onto his face, hard enough that is bounced off and onto the ground.
"Enjoy," she said, and turned round to walk off. Oltan immediately sat up, grabbing his bag quickly and standing up. He'd get that bitch. No human, no female even, treated him like that.
