The space station bristled with weapons. As the rectangular transport ship approached, all of the guns turned to aim toward it. Covering panels on the station slid back to reveal the pointed noses of anti-ship missiles. Plasma bolters powered up, green energy rippling behind the clear panels down the length of the cannons. Lasers were mounted in cluster units, having four barrels atop each turret. The station was built to hold its own against entire fleets, so if the singular transport turned out to be a threat, it would be reduced to flaming debris in a matter of milliseconds.

A massive sphere in the center, the station possessed an inner ring hovering around the vertical axis while a secondary ring encircled the horizontal axis near what would have been the equatorial region on a planet. The weapons for the station were mounted on nearly every inch of the two rings.

The inner ring had more surface area of the two and was the primary defense system. It was responsible for defending from any attack above or below the station and could rotate around the central sphere similar to a hollowed out coin spinning like a top. Additionally, the ring could also turn in place to switch the lower and upper weapon systems; in the event of heavy damage being sustained, the station could continue to fight effectively by bringing new weapons to bear. The outer ring was thinner in width, but its overall circumference was greater as it encompassed the station and the inner ring. The secondary defense platform could only rotate horizontally around the middle of the station, preventing it from blocking the inner ring's field of fire.

The transport ship released a burst of blue flame from its nose mounted thrusters to slow its approach to the space station. It thudded against the station's hull an instant before the four docking hooks engaged, reaching out to snare the ship and pin the vessel in place. The airlock extension telescoped out from the station until it pressed up against the hatch in the flank of the ship. Pressure equalized as the docking cycle completed.

Waiting inside the station was its owner and leader, Karl Danvers. What the five foot six man lacked in height, he made up for in width, being broad shouldered and visibly muscled even in the padded red space suit he wore. As the interior hatch opened, Danvers looked over the new arrivals, taking in every detail of his "guests". He'd memorized the personal information of his six visitors prior to their arrival, so no imposters would be sneaking onto his station today.

The first person out of the airlock was over eight feet in height and had to stoop in order to get through the hatch. The gray skinned giant lacked any hair on his head, not even eyebrows or eyelashes were present near his violet eyes. Rust colored robes clad the alien in loose fitting layers, even wrapping about the head to leave only the face exposed. Danvers knew his name to be Ror-ej, one of the migrant tribes of the desert world of Dusaro.

Entering behind Ror-ej was a female. Her metallic silver suit seemed all the brighter because everything from her skin and eyes to her shoulder length hair was as glossy black as oil. Native of the planet Leum, the woman Virkine was somewhat of a mystery to Danvers. The people of Leum were untrusting of outsiders, due mainly to the numerous invasions they'd thwarted over the centuries. As a result, finding out any information on her or her people had proven to be problematic at best. She was the only one of his potential customers who was an unknown, but since very few had managed to establish trade relations with the people of Leum, Danvers wasn't about to turn down the opportunity.

Next in line, clad in a heavily insulated environment suit of pure white and a faceless helmet tucked under his arm, was a human man. One of the colonists from the biosphere on the frozen world of Ceir, his data file identified him to Danvers as Tolen. At forty-seven years, Tolen was gray haired, but still strong. The rugged conditions and vicious wildlife on Ceir claimed weaklings frequently, so his advanced age spoke to his unyielding strength and endurance, as did the four claw scars crossing his face from mid-forehead to the left side of his jaw. Danvers considered the hardy folk of Ceir to be his biggest obstacle as they overcame significant hardships just surviving from one day to the next. They might consider themselves strong enough to not need what was selling, but Danvers was certain he'd convince them, one way or another.

Skittering through the hatch was another potential customer. At only two feet in height, the six legged insect was clad only in the brown exoskeleton of its species. A large compound eye resided on either side of its flat head, directly behind a sizable pair of mandibles. When the insect paused with the other members of the group, it reared upward, balancing on its back four legs while the front two served as arms.  A silver collar hung between the head and thorax, lights flickering on the device as it waited to translate from one language to another. Danvers knew the translator wasn't flawless as the insect language had numerous words unable to be reconstructed into Galactic Standard.  Known only as the Representative from the planet Chalos, the real name of the visitor and his homeworld were untranslatable. The planet had been named Chalos by the first explorers to discover it, but the insects had their own designation for it in their native dialect.

The next to last guest entered with the fluid grace of a cloud of smoke. The six foot tall alien was rail thin and wore a black jumpsuit. The helmet, filled with the blue-green gases of its homeworld, nearly obscured the entire face, only allowing the briefest glimpses of the alien's five orb eyes and prominent beak. Danvers recognized it as a Caretaker, a member of the Lekon species. The Lekon were from the planet Sildean, hidden in the depths of the Escalore Nebulae. They were a hardworking and gentle species, but they lacked the intelligence to compete with other races in the galaxy.

Cradled in the white skinned, five jointed fingers of the Caretaker was an environmental support unit. The transparent cylinder was surrounded by life sustaining equipment, controls, and sensors to make certain the interior was being maintained to the proper standards. A gelatinous lifeform dwelled inside the support container. Currently a reddish-orange, the alien changed color based upon its mood. One of the Hestelen, the alien goo had an extremely high intelligence but lacked physical structure. A mutually beneficial partnership had developed between the Lekon and the Hestelen over numerous generations. The Lekon cared for and provided all physical interactions required for the Hestelen, while the gel-like Hestelen would take care of anything requiring brainpower, from government and contact to alien races to simple social issues.

The Caretaker and the alien it carried in a technological jar were considered one for the purpose of this meeting. Danvers didn't really care if there was one or a dozen, so long as they paid when the time came.

The final person was one Danvers had been looking forward to meeting as the species was known to be rich. The alien was massive, having to turn sideways to get through the airlock. The dark green and black uniform was tight across bulging muscles and gray-white hair protruded from the ends of the sleeves near the wrists. Looking something similar to a cross between a human and a gorilla, the Naedar had large hands, a wide nose, sunken eye sockets, and sharply pronounced teeth. The inhabitants of the forest world of Ju'gera had tried to colonize Earth in the far distant past. The failed attempt left behind numerous remains human scientists would later mistake for cavemen. It was only after first contact with the Naedar twenty-two years ago that the truth came to light. This particular Naedar was called Mavos, and was one of their more well-known warriors.

"Welcome," Danvers offered in greeting. "For those of you who don't know already, I'm an arms merchant. I make, sell, and transport the best weapons in this or any other galaxy, and you are all here to bid on my latest design. Please, follow me."

Danvers led the way from the airlock, the heavy hatch sliding closed behind the group and sealing them inside the station.

"Your invitation was rather vague on what we'd be bidding on," said Virkine.  The voice of the humanoid oil slick was as fluid as her appearance.

"Secrecy is important," Danvers explained. "Since you're all here, I can tell you. My latest work involves nanotechnology. If you're unfamiliar with them, they're microscopic robots. Specially designed with celleron power units, they don't run down. Utilizing an energy to matter transformer, they can craft anything from metal to organic tissue in limitless quantities. Because of their size, it takes them time to work, but the more of them there are, the faster the job gets done."

"You using them to build weapons?" asked the giant Ror-ej.

"Even better," Danvers countered. "We're using them to keep the weapons alive. You see, ladies and gentlemen, my latest weapon is a biologic, a creature designed with nanites in its blood to keep it fighting and killing, no matter how much damage it takes. If any of the nanites survive, they'll build more and reconstruct the creature until it's new again. We've riddled it with bullets, burned it with lasers, and even blown it apart. The thing keeps coming back. It's an unstoppable killing machine."

Danvers halted and smiled coldly at his guests from behind his beard. He reached over and pulled down a lever. Metal screeched as the massive hatch, previously acting as the wall, lowered into the floor.

"It's a one way transparency," Danvers explained. "The creature won't be able to see you, but you can watch it work."

Beyond the transparent wall, a massive chamber was visible. The floor was fifteen feet down from where the group observed. The walls were heavily reinforced with plasma welded armor plate, but deep grooves from claws and talons marked the metal in countless locations. What caught the attention of the visitors most was the splattering across the walls. They all recognized blood stains, even if some of them were alien colors.

Danvers pressed an orange button on a control panel, and a loud buzzer sounded before a door in the pit slid slowly aside.

With eerily silent steps, the creature emerged. Despite being hunched over, the heavily muscled beast was still ten feet tall. Its skin was a deep maroon in color and had the pebbly texture of reptilian leather. The long arms of the creature hung down in front, almost touching the ground with its elbows, but the large hands of three fingers and a thumb clawed at the air in front of it as if anticipating the rending of flesh.

A host of eyes dominated the rounded skull, some of them in sunken sockets while others were elevated on stalks. A complex array of glowing red optical sensors resided on the left side of the creature's face, along with a gleaming metal housing fused into the skull to give it visual abilities far beyond what could be provided organically.

A long snout, similar to a crocodile resided under the multitude of eyes, but only some of the teeth were natural, many were capped in gleaming metal.

The rounded body of the beast was situated atop a pair of backward canted legs, the feet tipped with large claws for either flaying victims or providing extra traction during a chase. As it moved, a row of metal spikes along its spine rocked back and forth like the quills of a robotic porcupine.

Danvers pulled a second lever, and a small hatch opened. A chute extended from the wall and dumped a man in a dirty orange jumpsuit into the pit. The chute quickly retracted, and the hatch closed behind it, cutting off any possibility of escape.

The creature was unnervingly silent, lowering itself down on its haunches while staring at the tiny human before it. The man tried to flee to the far side of the pit, and the sudden movement was all the creature needed. For it tremendous size, the beast moved with impossible speed, reaching the man in the blink of an eye.

Seeing the carnage below, two of the visitors took an uncomfortable step backwards while the giant Ror-ej looked ready to empty the contents of his stomachs onto the floor.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Danvers said pleasantly. "I trust there is no longer any doubt as to what these creatures can do. Are you ready to buy?"

"How much do they cost per unit?" questioned Mavos, leaning forward on his long arms in a resemblance of an ape on all fours.

"You misunderstand me," Danvers corrected. "I'm not selling the creatures. If I were to sell them, everyone would unleash them on their enemies, and all my potential customers would end up dead. That's not good business."

"If you're not selling them, what are we bidding on?" asked Virkine. She turned her reflective face and eyes toward Danvers while waiting for his explanation.

"I will not use this creature against my customers," Danvers stated firmly. "The question is, which ones of you will pay to be my customers?"

"You're blackmailing us!" shouted Tolen in outrage. The older man looked ready to fight Danvers on the spot.

"I'm offering you a rare opportunity," Danvers corrected. "Before you decide to reject it, I want you to consider your situation carefully. These unkillable creatures will be deployed against my enemies, and they have the ability to lay waste to entire planets. Being my customer is a small price to pay for saving your homeworlds from extinction, don't you think?"

Danvers gestured for them to follow him, and he guided the group into a small waiting room with several steel gray padded chairs around the otherwise empty space.

"Consider your options for a time," Danvers suggested. "Planetary treasuries aren't unlimited, but what good are they on a dead world?"

Danvers departed from the room to allow them to think about his offer and possible consequences of refusal. He was certain they'd find his terms acceptable. If they didn't agree right away, he had a few ideas on how to convince them.

Withdrawing to his office, Danvers paused out front while three beams of neon green swept over him from the identity scanner. Once certain he was authorized for entry, the scanner deactivated the locks. The door split diagonally, and the triangular wedges slid away from each other into concealed pockets within the walls. The mechanism was top of the line and performed flawlessly with no sound greater than a slight hum.

The office was functional in the extreme, and nothing existed in the space which didn't serve a purpose. The walls, with the exception of a holoscreen for communications, were completely blank. A single desk and a sparsely padded chair behind it were the only furniture in the room. The desk didn't hold any data chips or hardcopy printouts relating to his business because he wasn't about to leave incriminating evidence where anyone could find it. The computer built into the desk had numerous security protocols for wiping out all content on the drives if an unauthorized person attempted access. No one would get any information about his operations from there unless he wanted them to.

He sat in the barely comfortable chair, the thinly padded design perfect for keeping him awake and alert while he was working, and activated the computer. His DNA was scanned by the system before the security lockouts switched off and a holographic projection of the keyboard and screen appeared over the surface of the desk.

Danvers checked the last set figures for income and smiled. Selling business contracts instead of actual weapons was turning out to be more profitable than he imagined.

A soft ping sounded, and Danvers vanished the screen with a single keystroke before answering the door. "Come in."

Danvers' assistant opened the door and joined him in the small office. Like the office, her navy blue jumpsuit had nothing lacking a purpose. No identification, rank, or badges adorned the outfit. He knew who she was, so nothing beyond the plain fabric was required.

"Have you been monitoring our guests?" Danvers asked her.

"I still am," she answered, touching a hand to her optical relay. Her shoulder length mane of silver hair had been shaved to thin fuzz on the left side of her skull, allowing for the installation of the computerized implant. A pencil thin strip of metal extended from behind her left ear, past her temple, to stop on the outside of her eye where it connected to a single optical lens. The lens was tinted a frosty blue in color and resided over her eye like a monocle. A single row of pinpoint lights blinked on and off along the length of the implant as data from the station was transferred to her optical lens where it was rendered in visual form for her to see.

"All but one have agreed to pay rather than risk the unpleasant alternative," she reported.

"And the one?" Danvers prompted.

"The Representative of Chalos," she identified. "He flatly refused to capitulate, convinced his people would rather die than give in to extortion."

"Not the one I expected," Danvers said without feeling. "Have our security forces intercept the insect before he reaches the transport ship. Put him in the pit, and be sure to get a holorecording of the result. We'll broadcast it to Chalos. Perhaps the Mother Hives will be less miserly with the planetary treasury when they see the alternative for themselves."

"Understood," his assistant acknowledged. "Will there be anything else?"

"Not at this time," Danvers denied. His assistant departed to carry out his orders, and he reactivated his transparent computer screen, looking once more at the financial records. Business was indeed good. Danvers smiled coldly.