The entire crew had some kind of gripe with the commander, considering his obnoxious attitude and know-it-all behavior.
Although he was of the rank of Commander, everybody felt that he didn’t deserve it, that it was handed to him on a silver platter.
And after dealing with him for long enough, some of the crew members finally decided to do something about him.
Finishing up drinking her drink, Lah-Mal sat in her seat and stared at the cup of coffee in front of her, watching the steam rise up. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the vial of green liquid, a growing warmth heating the glass.
“Strange,” Lah-Mal whispered to herself, “My people can survive this with ease, but humans will pass within a matter of minutes.” She chuckled before continuing, “Glakvian superiority.”
The speaker system came on with a familiar voice blaring in the air, “Navigator Mal, where’s my coffee?”
Lah-Mal opened the vial and poured it into the coffee.