Valok watched as the last vestiges of the criminal underworld piled through the door, a variety of races, skills and liabilities crossed the threshold of the conference room, a couple of quarians, which he doubted knew which end of a rifle was used to club an enemy to the ground, but the one that caught his eye was the turian, hunched over and requiring a krogan to carry his equipment spoke volumes of just how desperate this venture was. Shaking his head at the turian’s arrival, he watched the latecomers enter, ending with an asari who was rather sweet on the eyes. Turning his gaze back to the human he assumed was Tanya Carson, and her drell compatriot Kosso Irak, those were the two who had called this meeting together, their plan would decide just how far Valok would go for his revenge. The speech was rather more than he expected, the plan however, left much to be desired. As a slaver he knew just how hard it could be to keep a ship of any size from crying out for help, let alone a corvette, granted it wasn’t as large as the freighters that he had often targeted, they were military vessels, every system would have secondary locations it could tap into, emergency power conduits to bypass damaged areas of the power supply, and worse was the armoury, which could have a multitude of heavy weapons nestled neatly in their racks. Granted the advantage of surprise would aid them, but they would need to make sure enough people got aboard the ship to take it, and to keep her from calling out for her sister ships to save her. The plan was certainly bold, almost batarian bold, but bold could only get you so far, the shambles that was the Skyllian Blitz was proof of that.

Looking back from Tanya to see what the faces of the others would tell, Valok was unsurprised to notice that some of the seats were now empty, no doubt fearing for their lives in such an unorthodox plan. The more he thought about it however, the more it seemed likely to work, they wouldn’t need a large crew, enough to keep the ship running, and enough to keep Siame Industries fearing for their interests. It would be similar to a Thresher Maw being picked apart by a swarm of firewasps, death by a million stings. Granted they wouldn’t be able to make a million stings, but they’d certainly give that asari bitch an itch.

“I’m in,” he said, leaning back, looking over to the batarian that was to be their bait. “One condition though, I stand close by my brother batarian there, I won’t have him getting killed because of others,”

While he respected that each had their own reasons to be there, a fellow batarian was a perk the others couldn’t provide, and to lose said perk due to a trigger-happy fool or just a human was not an outcome that he would stomach easily. Better to be close enough to help out rather than sitting side-lined baby-sitting one of the quarians in some grimy access tunnel with nothing more worrying than an idiotic vorcha to keep his attention. Such thoughts brought a shudder to his frame, he’d rather be knee-deep in mud and blood than sitting in a tunnel with a pack of vorcha to keep company, as entertaining as it would be, give him a tough slog through difficult terrain with heavy weapons fire pouring over him and he’d be happy. It was only after this decision that the name the turian used clicked in his mind: Sleuth. Even on Khar’shadan rumours spread of the information broker who could learn everything of you within a few hours, all transactions, majority of locations of where you lived, by the Pillars Valok had even heard this turian could tell you how many times you paid for the services of some asari “dancer”.

“And I ain’t baby-sitting the turian,” he growled, scratching just above his upper right eye.

As much respect he had for Sleuth, if that was who the turian truly was, he was not going to sit around watching him play away on his omni-tool and with his crate of scrap, not when there was real down and dirty fighting in the thick of a battle to be had.