The man burst out laughing.
“Slavers?” he managed to get out. “You think we're slavers?”
“I don't think you are. I know you are.”
“So why are you here?” the man asked, his laughter nearly spent.
“I go through the motions of the interview so my employer doesn't fire me for insubordination.”
The man's face suddenly turned gruff.
“Listen, Captain Saffinger. We run a legitimate mining operation in the Hydra solar system. All of our valued employees are paid fairly for their work and time.”
“Really? I used to run protection for your gas harvesting project out near Hydra IV. I didn't see a single legal Quint working there in my six month tour.”
The man behind the desk smiled, showing a row of titanium coated teeth that shone brightly in the moon's cyan glow.
“You think the Galactic Parliament recognizes the Quints as a sovereign state? Are you kidding? They have no rights.”
Saffinger slid his chair back with enough force to drive a meteor sized hole into the floor. He shook his head and stood up, spinning around and starting for the door out of the office.
“Wait!” shouted the man and stood up as quickly as Saffinger had. “We're after a Jalar.”
Saffinger stopped short. He didn't turn around. His face was still full of rage. He wanted to rush out of the room, but he didn't.
“We've lost six freighters in the past year alone to Jalar pirate activity.”