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The music was loud enough that the metal grate under Emelyn's feet vibrated with the pounding of the bass. The singer wasn't human, or at least, no human voice she knew of could make sounds like that. Not that she minded. Emelyn wasn't a xenophobe, no matter what people might say about her.
Even the familiar voices of human club music would get on her nerves at the moment, so she tried not to place any blame on the singer for her pounding headache. It was her own fault for chasing a lead into a place like this. If she had any sense at all, she would have given up on this job, or at least waited for the target to be in a more convenient location.
But her ship was almost out of fuel, and she had been out of food for two days save the rations that were meant for emergencies. The freeze-dried nutrient bars were disgusting, but they were better than an empty stomach.
Emelyn had choked down the last of those that morning.
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