He refused to let this minor annoyance ruin what had otherwise been a very good galactic day. He had woken in peak condition, had no duties, and the gym finally smelled different. Instead of the hateful sting of disinfectant that assaulted his predator-sharp nose, the air carried something else.
Something like a luxury perfume.
He almost considered complimenting the receptionist for once.
When he reached the desk, he slammed a clawed hand onto the counter hard enough to make the slim Dak’ri worker drop theirholopad. They had met before. They knew better than to test a Divani’s patience.
"Khar, how can I help you?" the trembling receptionist asked.
Khar’s low, rumbling voice carried easily across the room, even though he made no effort to raise it. Authority clung to him whether he wanted it or not.
"The song that just ended. Who uploaded it?"
The Dak’ri hurriedly retrieved their holopad.
"Oh, that one. It is from an Unregistered Spacefaring Species, but the uploader listed the genre. Let me see… rock from the hum…man? No. The Human race."
Khar’s eyes flared brighter, a clear sign of displeasure.
"That is not what I asked. Who has it?"
The receptionist shrank in their seat.
"Khar… I cannot give out personal information once someone leaves the gym. But I thought I saw you talking to them earlier."
Khar’s brow furrowed between his horns. Talking? Impossible. There had been no one worth acknowledging.
Unless this fool meant that ridiculous little runt.
Without a word, Khar turned and stalked away. The Dak’ri collapsed into their chair with a relieved gasp.
He returned to the machine.
It was empty now, scrubbed clean by the automated sanitizing systems. No scent. No sweat. Nothing to track.
He sat, gripped the handles, and prepared to reclaim his domain.
To his shock, he could barely move the bars.
Absurd.
If that scrawny alien had managed it, then he, exemplar of the Divani, certainly could. He stood, circled the machine, checked the settings, found nothing amiss, and finally rebooted it. Only then did the resistance return to normal, and he moved easily through his reps.
Balance restored.
Or so he thought.
Curiosity, however, was the Divani’s greatest vice when it came to strength. When no one was looking, Khar opened the machine’s training log. His name dominated the leaderboards, as always.
Except now the alien’s entry matched his record.
Exactly.
And beside it, a small symbol blinked.
Increased gravity setting: active.
Khar’s carefully ordered universe shattered.
