I looked at the empty glass of whiskey as the ice inside continued to melt away, the liquor consumed long before the cube could turn liquid.

The sounds of alien chatter made of various unintelligible noises and languages from different species filled my ears.

I had turned my translator off, for good reason.

The bar was packed, and the music was horrible.

Who in their right mind would choose such a song with lyrics like those for a bar atmosphere I will never comprehend.

I didn't want to hear any of it.

But there wasn't much of a choice for me.

The papers were being filed, and I had left that duty to my subordinates so I could clear my head and relax after that horrible transportation request.

I raised the empty glass and started examining it.

Its existence was a heartwarming but disturbing surprise.

Except for us humans and a few others, almost no species in the galaxy drank booze, the poison being too potent for most to bear, even in lower quantities.

How did this make its way here?

I looked at the birdman behind the counter who was standing around some terrifying 3.2 meters if I were to be generous.

With various shades of brown-greyish feathers attached to their winglike appendages that mimicked our arms, talons that would no doubt cut sharper than any human finger:

They were the ‘Xirkirx’.

Their species was famous galaxy-wide for their ability to turn off parts of their brain that caused specific emotions to surface, or some shit like that making them fierce warriors.

I wouldn’t know.

I wasn’t a scientist and truthfully, I didn’t care much about the biology of every Xeno that existed in our galaxy when there were hundreds, even thousands. I didn't have a reason to anymore.

All that mattered right now was how they used this perk efficiently enough to be one of humanity's earliest partners, and counterweights utilized by the GC.

''How did you get your talons on this? It's not often you see human drinks outside of USH space.''

I turned my translator back on and asked the bartender.

It took a few short seconds for the device to register the sentence and translate it to the bartender, who answered me as he was cleaning a bulb-shaped glass with a towel in talon.

‘’A group of humans came [3] cycles before you and sold some of their cargo, the [Alcohol] was just a part of it.’’

The translator translated the few chirps that the birdman made into an eligible sentence that I could understand, the small pauses serving to let me know what was translated was localized so that I could understand.

Props to the Xeno.

Clever businessbird.

Saw humans coming, took the offer, and made a huge profit. Around a 210% markup if I were to compare the pricing to what I would pay in a mid bar back home.

Bah.

But, he must have seen the intent in my eyes, the subtle hints asking for business, because he extended the conversation.

‘’What brings you here, [Human]? We don’t see your kind much on this side of the galaxy, especially not with a [ship] like that!’’

Not surprising.

Half of us out in space are government officials, part of the USH military, corporate workers running our trade routes, explorers for unsurveyed deathworlds, or security personnel.

The other half; those of us who somehow managed to get out of our shithole industrial worlds, greenhouse planets, or corporate wage slave lives only to be thrown out into a galactic scene that didn't treat them favourably in a hostile environment.

We really weren't built for spacefaring, were we?

The low gravity that ate away at our muscles, only offset by personal gravity generators.

Which one couldn't rely on still if they had to deal with other species daily.

A galaxy that feared us, like ticking time bombs.

One wouldn't expect the best treatment, we were glorified intimidation tools, meatshields, or at best security officers thanks to the recent USH-GC deal in regards to a joint security agreement.

This was why most humans preferred to stay on their planets, which only worked to make our reputation more infamous than it already was.

At least it ensured humans were always in high demand and on short notice, made my job easier.

I felt their eyes, turned around to digest the glances and the stares.

The beginning of our conversation had started a tidal wave of stares crashing into my back.

I could practically feel them.

The hushing of tones, the whispers-

Cut short one by one when I turned around and scanned the room, scaring any would-be listeners into refocusing on their own tables.

What a fucking bother.

Back to the task at hand.

Where were we?

''She is a beast let me tell you. A converted ship, we had to take those measures as an independent business.''

''Sorry if we caused panic amongst the station and its workers at first contact.''

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''You can say that again. We were scared you were pirates for the [High Protector]'s sake!''

I gave him a good chuckle, and he responded in kind by chirping.

The translator told me of it being the equivalent of a human laugh.

This had only been the last of our short interactions over the time I had been here.

I had been trying to tap into the information network that I knew was there, I just needed the bartender to open up to me.

Feeling I had secured his favor, I inched closer to the table.

I motioned the Xirkix to the same as if I wanted to order a drink.

''So, what do you have in store for me? If possible something that pays well would be appreciated.''

I whispered.

It was social taboo to offer these jobs to humans, let alone those with their own spacecraft.I could see the reasoning, didn't make my life easier.

We were notorious for causing chaos wherever they went, so most ports, let alone the 'Network' didn't share much information with humans who weren't traders looking to sell exotic human goods.

While our ship was converted to be able to carry cargo we still were basically riding around space roads meant for space trucks with artillery pieces attached to our tankers.

I took my shot here because the bartender, the person that all whispers and gossip ended up, was a toughworlder.

A Xirkirx at that.

So we had a chance if he sympathized with our predicament.

He looked over at me, considering the implications.

I looked over at him, showcasing my will.

We locked eyes.

He was trying to hide it, but I could see it in those dull eyes.

His instincts were fighting his muted brain.

Trying to scream, trying to run.

Even he was not safe from confronting the galaxy's deadliest spacefaring species.

He huffed, balanced his breathing, and relented.

Picked up a menu, returned to me, and started speaking while holding it:

''200 light-years [westwards] to the Srtken system, rumors needing to be confirmed about disappearing ships near it, high-risk, high-pay.''

Whispered back the Xirkirx, making sure no one would hear us.

Short sentences, sharp pronunciations.

This was serious business. Was it a risk worth taking?

I gave the bartender a curt nod and thanks, after which he handed me a drink if that was what we had been talking about all this time and walked away.

I spent a few more minutes in the bar after that.

Thinking, evaluating.

If we were to go that far off course we would have to buy fuel and exchange some of our cargo early.

I took a look at the glass he had handed me and drank it all in one go.

The 5th one in the past hour downed once again without the ice melting.

It was as if I had made no progress.

Tsk.

I called for the bartender a final time:

''Sorry for the inconvenience, boss, and thanks for the drinks.

I'll pay my and the crew's tab now before heading off.

May the High Protector be with you.''

It had been 3 days since we approached this spaceport to trade some materials and let the crew wind down. We had hoped for some public contracts to earn credits here but they hadn't got any, just what one would expect from a rather peaceful side of the galaxy.

I turned copper into gold with this one.

''No problem Captain Suleiman. After all the hospitality the Terrans showed us this is the least I could do. May the [High Protector] bless you in your travels.''

After paying, an arguably insane tab by human standards-

I guess the rarity of alcohol caused such inflation in prices, and with a tip to the bartender for the information he gave me I made my way out of the bar.

I didn't even need to look back to see the various Xenos breathe a sigh of relief, well the closest their species could get to doing that.

Even though my hair was graying showing my age they were still so tense.

As if I would wreck the entire bar in a drunken rage son!

I didn't blame them though, it was understandable if you were to compare the physiology of humans and literally any other sapient spacefarers.

Knowing that didn't make me more comfortable deep down, being treated as a hazard about to go off at any moment wasn't a good feeling.

At least it constantly forced me to be humble, eh?

I stumbled through the door of the bar into the corridor, where my communications officer was waiting for me.

The lizardwoman in front of me, covered in scales-

Was known to actually be a species called the 'Tarzil' and not, in fact, lizardwoman.

A gardenworlder that I chose personally 5 years ago so that communications would be easier to handle with other gardenworlders.

Wouldn't you know it, it worked very well!

Other gardenworlders found it easier to handle talks with us when the one talking on the other side was also a gardenworlder and not a bulky evil human who would devour them given the first chance.

What a galaxy.

She didn't look very happy as I lightly limped towards her.

I was sure I wasn't drunk enough to slur my words, but the same couldn't be said about my motor skills.

It had always been my weak point.

''Are you [drunk] again cap?''

We were not going to have this conversation again.

''And what's the problem with that Communications Officer Cel?''

Her name was not Cel, but that's what I had been calling her for the past 5 years, and may the gods damn me if I tried to call her by her actual name.

What was it again? Celtr'raks'lxxen?

'One who shines light'?

Even in my semi-drunk mind, it didn't sound right, that is saying something.

She rolled her eyes and slowly started walking next to me.

''It is neither good for our business image nor your physical health.''

‘’You keep telling us that it helps clear your mind, that it is good for your mental health but I find that hard to believe, you [drunkard wretch].''

I didn't respond at first.

I didn't want to.

She always nagged about this and, frankly, I didn't want to hear any of it.

''Are you my mother or something Cel, telling me what to and not to do?''

I said with more spite in my voice than I had intended.

So I improvised, cracked a grin, and looked towards her general direction, turning the conversation less serious. Fucking blunder, at least it is salvageable.

''We have no business here anyways, I'll give you the details aboard.

The bar was shit, this entire port is subpar.

Who the hell plays music like that in a fucking bar!''

''If you say so old man.'' Cel sneered at me, taking revenge in her own right.

''Old?! I'll have you know I am in my mid 80's. I'm middle-aged! The average life expectancy for humans is 140!''

I said while my head was turned towards her, obviously not looking in front of me, I didn’t notice another gardenworlder, some fucking fungus-looking guy walking on the opposite side.

Cel was in fact looking down the corridor, and knowing that bumping into a human who could barely walk straight would end badly for a gardenworlder she did her best to push me:

''CAPTAIN!''

It took my mind a second to register but I managed to swing myself to the right by using the weight of my body just before I collided with the mushroom fella, hitting my head on the metal flooring.

Luckily I didn’t get concussed thanks to the low gravity, even with the gravity field generator on me I had it set on low as per the rules that deathworlders must follow in common spaces to make sure we didn't crush people with our high gravity zones. An annoying bother.

But hey, it saved this poor man? Mushroom?, so it’s all fine I guess.

I slowly got up and looked at the Xeno.

He looked very distraught, shaking in place, probably due to shock when he realized what almost happened to him.

I spent a good 10 seconds just standing and looking at him in an attempt to remember just what his species was.

Let’s see. Mushroom head, tentacle arms-

Right! How could I forget, he was a ’Duhgjalerta’.

I waited a bit so that the Duhgjalerta could get back to its senses before talking to it so it didn’t pass out from the shock.

‘’Are you alright?’’

Fuck, I was also short-circuiting.

I didn’t expect to eat the floor today.

‘’I-I’m o-okay, sir.’’

The translator gave the Duhgjalerta a feminine voice.

I couldn't tell that at all.

I could see that Cel was making sure the poor Duhgjalertan wouldn’t collapse from fear after she almost got stampeded by me.

‘’That’s good. If there is anything I could do to help please say so.’’

The Duhgjalertan lady started panicking again but was calmed down by Cel and said no.

I think she didn’t want to talk to me.

After that, we waited a bit more to make sure that she was fine we continued on our way after sending her on hers.

But the atmosphere was ruined.

The air was off once again.

It needed to be corrected.

Morale, after all, is what made or broke the day.

‘’Congrats Cel, you can add another tally mark to the list of gardenworlders you have saved from me!’’

She did laugh, but it wasn't out of happiness.

‘’Please, do not joke about that.’’