[i]Either this was too good to not be a trap. [/i]

Or.

[i]This calm individual had already meticulously wagered the odds, rolling the devilish dice that the Scroungers were, in fact, the lesser of the two evils, which in of itself, implied a likely harrowing encounter with these Slavers. [/i]

And.

[i]What was in it for this Jace? Liberation of his home planet? Revenge? Was he employed by them? Perhaps a war of attrition to lessen the competition as two immense powers exhausted resources for jewels and metals?[/i]

These inquiries and more plagued the engineer, like a fog of locusts swarming her withering neurons, masticating and consuming angst and trepidation as she attempted to fully process this meeting, of yet another refugee of import. Sooner or later, the angel of death would catch up with their race, either in the masqueraded form of friend or foe. Trust must be earned, not swallowed, since being a giant fleet made them merely a larger target. 

Curious, Vropda edged closer, allowing the tubes that constantly plasmapharesed her thin blood, to buzz, vibrating a sinister melody as she chanced another query.

[color=f26522]"Do these Slavers have a name?" [/color]

[@scifidude47][@Hekazu]