Wrex sat in the slaver ship's cramped meeting room, picking some dirt from the grooves in his armor. One of the lights above him was buzzing. Some sort of insect was crawling up the wall.

What a waste of time, he thought. This was "fast" by batarian standards? If he'd told them to take their time, he'd probably be a fossil when they got back.

Wrex had some experience being patient, of course. A thousand-year lifespan had some benefits. Plus, the payoff would be worth it – either that, or Wrex would have a solid excuse to teach these batarian low-lives a few lessons.

Just typical that Taltik had to hide out on the Citadel – the one place where Wrex would likely be recognized and swarmed by the authorities in an instant. His rep hadn't had time to cool down since the last firefight on the Wards – otherwise he would have kidnapped the damn turian himself.

The doors finally opened. Krent returned with another slaver, who was dragging the turian behind him like so much scrap metal.

"He won't walk," Krent said. "May have had some reaction to the sedatives."

Krent's partner deposited the turian in a chair across from Wrex. The three of them barely fit into the meeting room. Wrex wondered again why the hell it was so tiny.

"Taltik?" Wrex said. The turian snapped up to look at him; his eyes were shifting, and his white-striped mandibles twitched.

"Yes," he blurted. "…Yes?"

Wrex sneered. For such a brazen thief, Taltik's fear didn't seem to come from a place of guilt. What Wrex saw instead was only…confusion. The turian's gaze shifted to the buzzing ceiling light, and a three-fingered hand began lifting to the thick marks on his face. Krent forced his arm back down.

"You know why I've got you here. Yes?" Wrex asked. Taltik heaved a breath, but as his mouth fell open, Krent interrupted.

"Questioning him now wasn't part of the deal. Credits first."

Wrex fixed the batarian with a cold glare. One heavy paw curled into a fist. But he refrained from giving the slaver the beating he truly deserved. Instead, his omni-tool flashed orange around his arm, and the transfer was made. Krent grinned his jagged, needle-toothed approval.

"We appreciate your business," he said. He and the other slaver slipped out of the room. They were in more of a hurry than seemed necessary. The door shut and Wrex was alone with Taltik. The turian's breath rattled, and his gray throat was going pale. He looked Wrex in the eye.

"Who are you?" He asked.

"You should know," Wrex growled.

"I…I don't."

Wrex eyed the turian carefully. All this supposed confusion could be his way of buying time, of deceiving Wrex. Maybe there really was guilt under those darting eyes. Wrex decided that he would dig it up before Taltik had any chance to fool him.

He crossed the meeting room and seized Taltik under his jaw, slamming him into the wall at his back. The turian thrashed. Wrex made him hold still.

"I know what you stole from the krogan. Confirm to me where you are hiding our artifacts, and I won't have to break you in two."

Something wet was on Wrex's hand. At first he thought Taltik had drooled on him; he looked to be in enough of a panic. Instead Wrex looked down to find that the white markings had smeared off onto his fingers, where he'd held the turian's jaw. With the white paint rubbed away, Wrex could see green on his face plates.

"So they-!"

A heavy "clunk" sounded as the whole room jerked, followed by what could only be described as an explosion. All sense of gravity and direction fell away as the walls rocked and spun.

This was no meeting room. It was an escape pod.

When the krogan let go of him, Kypran couldn't have been more relieved. As he realized that the room had dropped, his relief promptly collapsed into a new dizzying wave of fear.

His hands snatched for anything. Chairs, light fixtures, the same krogan that had been threatening to kill him only instants ago. Any sort of solid purchase that would keep him from smashing onto the walls with bone-breaking force.

It wasn't enough. The pod continued rushing through space, spinning furiously. Kypran tried to curl up as the first heavy impact with the wall sent a shock through his body. He managed to cover his head with his arms, but his legs refused to fold in closely enough. The second impact came feet first, and the krogan landed on top of him. Stunned, he clung to a tiny handle on the wall and willed himself to hold tight.

The spinning continued, and while one arm would occasionally rip loose from his hold, Kypran kept himself from losing control. Then the spins came slower, and slower. The krogan found his footing on what was the back of a chair. Finally the room had come to a near-halt.

"They cheated me."

"What?" Kypran asked.

"And now they're leaving us to die. Taltik – the real Taltik – must have made a superior offer. The damn pyjak."

"So you know I'm not him."

Though his vision was shaky from spinning, Kypran studied the krogan's angry, yellowed face. His mouth was set in a hard grimace, but his eyes scanned the room with almost vulnerable worry. Kypran had never seen a krogan this concerned before.

"I wasn't sure," the krogan said. "I should have been. Slavers are always shifty, but they were clearly hiding something." He tossed his head. "And now we're completely stranded between systems."

Kypran raised a hand to his neck, stroking absently. He stared at the krogan, but by now his mind was elsewhere. Yesterday's events. Another shift at the shipping office. A message to his girlfriend. A warm dinner and a few vids before he nodded off. Only to wake up here. Shunted into deep space with a vicious krogan.

"This isn't happening."

"I'll send out a signal with my omni-tool. Not sure where the slavers left us, but we'll either be picked up, or we wont. And yes," the krogan grumbled. "This is happening."

Kypran began to form a "no" as if it were reflex, but stopped himself. His traveling companion seemed far less aggressive than before, and Kypran wanted to maintain this. One nightmare at a time would be more than enough.

"So…you have an actual name?"

"Kypranius Teptus. I'm usually called Kypran."

"Hmh." The krogan remained focused on his omni-tool. "Kip it is, then."