[i] “We need to get out of here!”

“Run!”

The screams of his men echoed in his ears, the sounds of gunshots filled his mind as he watched Batarians he had raided with for years fell to the shapes in the mist, their armour useless against the ethereal claws that raked them. Valok looked around him, there stood Zar’tarel Trazk, the bastard who caused the phenomenon that assailed them. He pushed past the few who stood between them, their rifles barking out a steady beat, even as their circle grew smaller and smaller. A slaver beside Trazk jerked as he was lifted into the air, before falling to the ground, a spray of blood erupting from his ravaged neck. Grabbing Trazk by his shoulder and forcing him to face Valok, he could see the stupid grin that showed sadistic and murderous emotions at the same time.

“This is your damned fault Trazk! Harm a human child and you bring demons on us!” he shouted at the raider.

“The demons can’t hurt me,” said Trazk, his eyes unfocussed, his voice calm and untroubled.

“I can!” snapped Valok, clenching his fist, the six inch blade leaping from atop his wrist, aiming for Trazk’s chest, to push under the rib cage.

The blow never landed, something gripped him by his shoulders, hauling him into the air as he fought to see what had him. The young girl, with dirty blonde hair, and a savage red line across her throat held him, her eyes were black, no white or any colour within them, her stare filled him with dread. One hand reached for his face, he felt their cold touch through the helmet of his armour, just above his upper right eye, then pain, he screamed out, he thrashed, but the pain didn’t leave or move, he felt the girl’s touch against his eye, wrapping her fingers around his eye, claiming it. He jerked in her grip, humanity were demons from the death itself, their dead could still take you! She reached for his upper left eye, despite his protests, then she jerked suddenly, he felt weightless for a moment, before he fell to the ground again. He looked up at the ghost that had claimed him, through his three remaining eyes,she swooped low at him, like and avenging angel coming to cast the unholy back into the depths of the underworld. He jerked again, the weightless feeling throwing his stomach to the wind. And he watched as the ground rose to meet him again, he clenched his eyes shut, and [/i]

-felt the cold metal beneath his skin. He shook his head as he struggled to his feet, staring at the cramp confines of the shuttle’s compartment. Crates that were filled with an assortment of items had fallen around him, and he was no longer in his seat. It had been some hours since he had boarded this shuttle, he must’ve fallen asleep. Opening the hatch to the cockpit, he could see through the sensor feeds that they had hit some pieces of debris that hovered around the docking bay to the station, some accident by the sounds of the operator on the other end of the communications.

“Get me on that station, and all debts are paid Gurat,” said Valok, to the Batarian pilot who’s family owed a vast sum of money to Valok’s own family.

“And my daughter?” he stuttered.

“Once I’m on that station I’ll send word for her to return home, she’ll be there waiting for you when you return,” promised Valok, he may well be a slaver, but honour had its uses.

The shuttle landed without any more incidents with the debris, and the docking bay was a usual hustle and bustle place as cargo was unloaded and replaced with other goods. Valok gave his thanks to Gurat and left the shuttle without a word to anyone, he would sign in with arrivals to avoid trying to surpass the system, if he was to be caught there would be questions asked as to why he was here. He’d been to Cartanega Station before, he knew they paid little attention as to why you were there so long as you didn’t cause trouble, cause trouble however and they’d let every law enforcement agency in the area know who you are and why you might be there. As he entered the lift, he saw the shuttle taking on more cargo to take back to their ship, Gurat would most likely be staring at him with hatred through the feeds.

When he arrived at Arrivals, he signed in with the clerk at the desk, before heading to a terminal to send a message home, to see Gurat’s daughter returned to her family after three years with his own as a slave.
“Gurat’s insurance to be refunded, no charge. See it done, V” he typed before hitting send, it was sent with an encryption algorithm that would see his household know it was him who sent it, he had no issue with Gurat anyway, the man was a fool, and learned the hard way to not spend more than you can afford. Valok had seen to it that they claimed his daughter as insurance rather than murdering his family to prove a point. Have something of value over your enemy sees him compliant rather than giving him a reason to fight you.

“Where’s Cartanega Inn?” he asked the clerk as he passed by.

As an answer she waved her omni-tool at him, sending the location and a handy map to reach it. Nodding his thanks, Valok made his way towards the Inn, the people of the Station didn’t care for him, not something he was used to, back on Khar’shadan he was well-known and respected, his family’s raids were often the most profitable, and many clamoured for their favour to get in on the slave trade with them. Here though, people pushed past him, shoved him, eager to see about their own days. It didn’t take him long to reach the Cartanega Inn, after pushing through some dense crowds and through rather interesting areas featuring asari, human and batarian dancers, he could see why this place was chosen as the meeting location. Low cost, plenty of eyes on, he wouldn’t be surprised if every criminal overlord on the Station knew of the meeting, little birds would squawk as it happened.

When he entered the room the receptionist told him of, he wasn’t surprised to not be the first to arrive. A salarian, two drell and three humans, the joys he would work with. Without a word he dumped his backpack containing his possessions that he’d pulled from his old ship before selling her wreck on the ground at the side of a chair at the opposite end of the table from the human and drell at the top. He couldn’t keep his disdain from his face as he looked at the human, and he leaned back in the chair as he played with the clinking tags that had become his trophies.

“How many more are we waiting for?” he grunted, letting his eyes read over those in the room.

Drell were well known for their biotics and athletic abilities, worthwhile slaves if you culd catch them young, humans were just a pain in the ass most of the time, and salarians talked too fast and died too young to be useful slaves, something he'd learned early on, they could be sold as tech specialists, performing repairs under the careful eyes of oppressors, but they lived short lives at the best of times, in the harsh times of slavery they rarely reached thirty, a hard race to sell in the slave business. Quarians were preferred for the tech by far, but getting them out of their suits long enough to get an implant in was difficult, most died from infection, those few who didn't earned a rather easy life as a slave, with masters unwilling to risk killing their new slave by beating them. Expensive by far, but well worth it. Krogan were wanted for the underworld gladiator rings, earning a living as a slave-warrior and getting fame and renown in the underworld meant life for most. A good fighter could lose but be spared, while a great fighter with no love from the people would find himself staring death in the face. Asari however, they could be "taught" to obey, but their biotic potential made them dangerous slaves, those few who are slaves must've been taken as children, long before their parents imbued anything upon them, not to mention trying to take an asari babe from her mothers was a extremely dangerous task. And as far as Valok knew, there were no turian slaves on Khar'shadan. Shaking his head from the slaver's thoughts, he continued to [i]clink[/i] his trophies together, his eyes fell on the humans now and again, then the drells and the salarian, in that order.