Leave the Angels to Worry

By Dave Jordan

A gifted but troubled youth Mako Zulinski is hurled headlong on paths he never intended or imagined. Pursuing a mysterious entity through the filaments of the inter-galactic Web for organized crime, Mako is ripped away from his spaceport home world.

Now alone and without any of his formidable electronic defenses he must survive on a primitive planet. Powerful enemies still pursue him in space, the Web, and here on a rustic world populated by another race.

This story follows Mako as he struggles to survive against his his enemies, his past, and strange paranormal events surrounding him on his new home world. In the process Mako and his new hosts are surprised by his exponential growth. Mako is soon hurled into the Civil wars breaking out across the galaxy within both the Drougue and Terran civilizations as the galaxy seems to decay around him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dave Jordan
• Release date: Dec 31, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311449511

Dave Jordan

I've lived in Oregon for most of my life, and in Portland for more than 30 years. I am married with two children and a beagle. I want to thank all the great artists that make dreams happen Springsteen, Lucus, Bradbury, Roddenberrry, Asimov, Frank, Heinlein, Herbert, Zelazny and all so many more. Also for Sal and Betty for all the great work to make the book possible. Website coming soon.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

LEAVE THE ANGELS TO WORRY

Written and published by Dave Jordan at Smashwords

Copyright 2015

Chapter 1

New Rome, Planet Terra: Standard Year ( SY) 972

An eerie glow emanated from bio-enhanced prototype Prometheus. In a heartbeat the energy surged to a crescendo and lightning suddenly arched from his fingertips to find nearby electronic equipment. The stricken control panels exploded in a fireworks display of sparks and debris. Green-tinged bands of power ricocheted around the laboratory as if Chaos itself had descended from the Heavens. Somehow the genetically engineered Terran had summoned this unearthly power and now he unleashed its terrible fury to obliterate the laboratory around him. And not just here, other hyper-linked facilities across the galaxy were raked with greenish hellfire.

While the attack struck locations far and wide, it was primarily aimed at one particular entity. Facing Prometheus, a mere two paces away, stood his tormentor, Gabriel. Here, locked in intense concentration despite the firestorm around them, the two antagonists directed the full force of their wills upon the other.

I will destroy it all, Prometheus shouted out with the voice of an avenging angel. You toy with forces beyond your comprehension, Gabriel. Your greed threatens the very balance of the cosmos!

A blast shook the chamber as a nearby power facility exploded in flaming ruin. Neither figure moved. Pieces of the ceiling rained down and the laboratory filled with smoke. Prometheus, a living being, was endangered by the structural damage his attack inflicted on their surroundings. Gabriel, a holo representation of a self-aware computer (SAC) program, couldn’t be harmed even if the lab fell down around his ears. The virtual universe, the neutrino pathways of the intra-galactic net, was where the SAC’s essence resided and there he fought Prometheus for his existence. The exertion twisted Gabriel’s dark good-looks and sweat matted his designer clothes and holo star hair cut.

Inside the Web Gabriel struggled to reinforce the crumbling barriers protecting the master genetic database from Prometheus’s attacks. He set layer after layer of armored doors to block the site’s portal, yet Prometheus’ fiery form blasted through each with a spray of sparks. Undeterred, the Terran’s virtual essence advanced towards its goal - the nexus of everything that made Project Prometheus viable. Its namesake was now only a few steps away from its core.

Stop! Gabriel shouted. I will kill you if I must.

You must, Prometheus replied, as a bolt from his eyes blasted Gabriel aside and shattered the last defensive wall. With a wave of his hand the millions of data files within the software site were scrambled and mixed, forever jumbled in an orgy of confusion.

Nooo! Gabriel wailed from where he sprawled along the network path. The ruined data represented thirty years of intense research and cost hundreds of billions in Republic Credits to produce. It was irreplaceable.

In the physical world a battlesuited Republic Intelligence Agency (RIA) assault team burst into the laboratory. Deflected from his battle in the galactic net, Prometheus dodged behind a console and activated a wall mounted weapon for his defense. Plaser fire exploded back and forth across the room.

This was the diversion Gabriel needed. Even now it might be too late, but Prometheus’ ambush had provided no opportunity to counterattack until this instant. Gabriel activated the doomsday program. It sprang open, coating him with greenish fire.

Gabriel winced as another network array suddenly melted under Prometheus’s attack. The RIA diversion hadn’t held Prometheus long, the room held only corpses. Like a bullet Gabriel raced along the net toward his foe. He found him standing at the center of a flaming tornado in yet another destroyed lab; there Prometheus turned in surprise to face his attacker. An attempt to push the now stronger Gabriel aside failed and swiftly the SAC’s green fire crested, engulfing them both. The two Titans exchanged sledgehammer blows. Energy bolts and lightning flash, but this time Gabriel was dominating. Sensing victory Gabriel’s essence reached out to suck in more power, to summon more energy. The void between the neutrino paths filled logarithmically with a strange force.

NO! Prometheus yelled. You don’t understand the danger. He threw a fireball that exploded with a thunderclap in Gabriel’s face just as the SAC released the gigantic lighting bolt he had accumulated.

The galaxy flashed white as something broke into two parts and spun into the stars.

Gabriel stood stunned on shaking legs, a ghastly red wound across his once handsome face. On the path before him the image of Prometheus flickered. His mirror image expanded to infinity then snapped back into a single form as he crumpled to the laboratory floor. He tried to rise, but slumped back painfully. You fool. You’ve re...leased dangerous forces, he gasped.

You’re the fool, Gabriel yelled out in pain, We designed your DNA. Of course we would build a special defense in case of treachery. I had to stop you.

You’re too la..late. The project is destroyed, Prometheus replied through gritted teeth.

Gabriel looked about him. He inventoried the thousands of data sites, programs and production labs that were Project Prometheus. They were all flaming ruin. The truth of the statement hit Gabriel like a blow to the groin. His years of back room deals, political arm-twisting and diversion of precious resources had ended in futility. His anger sent the green fire surging in reaction. I will kill you for your betrayal!

You already ha...have, and any chance for this project’s revival. It ends with me. Prometheus lay back smiling, closed his eyes and died.

Gabriel’s thought processes twisted sickly as the truth of the words sunk in. Despair and crushing disappointment mixed with the pain in Gabriel’s ruined face. What had he done? Only Prometheus could reconstruct what was destroyed - and he had just killed him.

Gabriel’s thoughts were lost to self pity and despair. Instead they should have focused on the coming holocaust. Prometheus had warned Gabriel about the energy used to kill him. In desperation the rules of cause and effect were ignored. Even though it was immeasurable with any know instrument, the galaxy was different in a small way. Its infinite mechanism was minutely warped and out of balance. Now, ever so slightly, evil was dominant.

2

Thyx Prime, Thyx Space: SY975

Since it first hatched it was a creature of note. From the onset, the signs were evident. If other drones got in the way, its retribution was swift. Usually a verbal hiss would rebuff any offenders, or if warranted, a louder screech. When compliance was not instantaneous, then a physical response occurred. Once again, depending on the infraction, the reply could result in a simple shove from its arms, or a violent kick from its two rearward legs.

If the proper submissive response was not received it was a direct challenge; it then became a fight for dominance. This hatchling would viciously attack, defeating the foe quickly. But victory was not enough. An example must be made. It would bite down on the victim’s neck drawing pitiful cries and pleas for mercy. But instead of accepting capitulation it increased the pressure. First the head would come off; then the arms; then all four legs. Yes, an example must be made!

The hive tenders noticed, and forwarded reports. Superiors were called to make their recommendations. Without doubt, this one was special. Kicking and hissing, it was picked up by the hive tenders and separated. Only the best care and select training for this one. Sure to be exceptional - certain to be Queen. Perhaps even one day to be GodHead of the Thyx.

3.

Port Wilson, Planet Tututun: SY991

Both sides were jumpy, but it looked as if the deal would go though. Quickstrike, Drougue leader of the Red Dagger gang, slid a case across the table and opened it. Inside was a small black object, a police frequency decoder, that Chill, Terran leader of Black Diamonds, then handed to his assistant. The old Drougue, working as Chill’s aide, placed the object in a larger device and began to run a series of tests.

On the surface the scene looked innocent enough, just four people enjoying a pleasant day in the park. But a closer look revealed the tension of life-or-death consequences. The ghostly echoes of a far off ball game went unheeded as the two rival gang leaders sat stonily across a picnic table. No one blinked. They were inherently distrustful of each other, and they should be. Their many years as the leaders of the two largest gangs in Port Wilson were not secured with good sportsmanship. A sudden move, a mistaken remark, or even a loud noise could trigger a violent reaction. And there was a lot of force nearby. Separated on the far sides of an adjoining sports field, the remainder of the each leader’s gang nervously awaited any indication of trouble.

Quickstrike scanned the park and gave a discrete signal to his assistant, an athletic looking 17-year-old human standing behind him on his right. The boy, Mako, seemed out of place in this scene featuring scarred veterans of gangland murders and crime. However, appearances can be deceiving and this was certainly the case here. The young man was known as a free-lance computer whiz. A person, who for the right number of Republic Credits (CRs), would ignore the legality of a transaction, and get the job done. No questions asked.

Supposedly he was here today as an independent contractor to verify the legitimacy of the Black Diamond’s offering, a relay interface for the spaceport’s inventory computer. Mako’s Black Diamond counterpart was now doing the reciprocal verification for his master. While the devices were authentic as presented, Mako was not. Despite his neutral reputation, Mako was actually a secret member of the Red Daggers and a trusted associate of Quickstrike.

Mako understood the signal his boss had just given him - ‘be ready-danger’ - and gave the countersign by scratching his ear. He didn’t need to be told that this part of the exchange was the most dangerous. Chill was renown for his treachery. In fact, Mako had advised Quickstrike against this transaction, citing the Black Diamonds’ well deserved reputation as double-dealers. But he was voted down by senior Red Dagger lieutenants who were members of Quickstrike’s Siskiyou tribe and therefore more trusted.

The deal was too tempting for the Daggers. They would exchange a decoding device enabling the user to listen in on secret law enforcement transmissions - a device Mako had constructed. In turn, the Black Diamonds would provide a relay which eased access to the spaceport’s shipping computers, and their expansive menu of desirable cargo to steal. A win-win deal, both gangs would profit if all went well.

That is what worried Mako. Treachery may not be an inherited trait of the Terran race, but they seemed to be damned good at it. The Drougue, on the other hand were different types of beings. They were physically stout, fine-furred bipeds who tended to remain obedient and loyal to the group, betrayal was not foremost in their thoughts. That is why the Drougue lieutenants had focused on the positive benefits of the trade and lobbied for it to go though despite the risks. Mako, who felt strongly the other way, understood that no matter how profitable the exchange would seem for both groups, Chill wouldn’t help a rival. He knew Chill would try to get the police decoder from the Daggers without giving up the relay interface to his enemies.

While Quickstrike had ordered the exchange to proceed, he did make Chill’s treachery the overriding concern in every detail of the planning. It was agreed the top man on each side would do the exchange, making a double-cross incredibly dangerous. Even Chill would give duplicity a second thought if his own neck was on the line. And to reduce preplanned ambushes, the meeting place was randomly selected at the last moment - a remote picnic table in a corner of Port Wilson Bay’s wide, flat park was selected out of a hat.

After a thorough search for weapons by an opposing lieutenant, only two members of each gang were allowed at the actual transaction site, the leader and one aide of his choosing to authenticate the merchandise being exchanged. Here Mako gave the Red Daggers a big advantage, he could verify the technical authenticity of the relay and more than hold his own in case of trouble. The Red Dagger martial arts specialists had trained him well, and the young Terran excelled in practice. Chill’s aide looked more likely to suffer a breakdown than cause any trouble.

Finally the Black Diamond expert concluded his tests and broke the tense uneasy silence. Everything checks out, the decoder is legitimate, Sir.

Return it to its case, and set it next to me, Chill said without turning to the aide. Still facing Quickstrike across opposite ends of a picnic table, a slick smile lit his face. We have a deal, he said. You know this might be a new start... between our groups I mean. Cooperation can be very profitable, more profitable than screwing each other over, no? We should try to get along, right, Quickstrike? Let’s start now. I believe I’ll have a sniff to celebrate. Please join me. The Terran gang leader, holding one hand up in clear view, used the other hand and slowly withdrew a small ‘sniffer’, an aerosol drug inhaler, from his breast pocket.

Mako’s senses screamed a warning and his hand involuntarily tightened on the case holding the relay he had verified. A series of events then occurred almost simultaneously - unfolding as if in slow motion to Mako’s alerted senses. Quickstrike stood up from the table and casually backed several paces towards Mako. He was not about to use Chill’s inhaler even if it did contain sniff, instead of gas or an acid.

No, maybe next time, Chill. I’ve got a meeting with the Man, so I have to be straight. He was now out of spray range. After only one brief encounter he wasn’t about to trust this rival. Next Mako heard a series a low, whistling noises coming from his far right, behind a low maintenance building. And almost instantly hushed ‘whumps’ came from in front of the Red Daggers’ positions across the way. Clouds of billowing white smoke bursting forth. A quick glance at the Black Diamond positions showed gang members stretching elastic bands to sling-shot small spheres across the field. As heads turned back towards the Black Diamond leader, Chill ‘accidentally’ fumbled the sniffer. He ejected the contents in a cloud of spray over him just as one of those strange sphere rattled to a stop 25 meters away. Small black dots drunkenly zipped out as a buzzing horde of Mangazi hornets emerged. They oriented themselves then swarmed towards the only life forms nearby, the four people occupying the picnic table.

It was clear to Mako what was happening as he cursed Chill’s ingenuity. The smoke bombs from the slingshots would blind the Red Dagger gang and slow their intervention with events at the table. They couldn’t shoot, they were just as likely to hit their boss as any enemy. To lend any assistance they would have to charge 50 meters through the smoke to reach the table. That would take time.

Meanwhile, Chill would let the hornets’ fatal sting kill those who weren’t protected by the powerful repellent, disguised as sniff, with which had just covered himself. In their agitated state the deadly hornets would attack any who remained or quickly chase down those who ran. Chill would then pick up the relay case from Mako’s dead hands and withdraw to his gang’s protection carrying both prizes.

By the time the Red Daggers covered the distance to the table they would find only three corpses, drifting smoke and a swarm of deadly insects. Black Diamond cross-fire and the remaining hornets would decimate those Red Daggers who tried to help, there could be few survivors. In one well executed operation the Black Diamonds would acquire the police decoder and cripple their most dangerous rivals, brilliant! Or so it seemed.

Chill retreated towards the hornets, keeping the table between him and the now reacting Quickstrike. He knew his enemies couldn’t act before the hornet swarm arrived. The Black Diamond aide screamed in terror as his impending fate suddenly became clear to him as well. Shit, Mako thought, Chill wouldn’t even have to pay the contractor’s fee - he really had thought of everything.

Quickstrike roared a curse, preparing to charge in what would have to be a futile effort to close with and kill his foe. But he wouldn’t get over the table and close the gap before death would arrive. Knowing this Chill laughed as he backed away.

Then Chill’s laughter abruptly stopped - he had just looked at the boy. The gang boss had expected fear... or rage... or prayer. The youth should be messing himself like his old Drougue aide! But, no, the boy just stood there hand on his watch. Why was that? Chill had looked into the face of many beings as he had killed them. The boy’s look was nothing like that final expression. Chill startled as he suddenly connected the dots. It wasn’t the look of impending doom - it was more like the concentration of someone aiming down the barrel of a plaser. Alarm bells rang in his mind.

Mako’s cold stare burned back across the gap. The cloud of hornets halted as they encountered the repellent soaked Chill - only 10 meters separated them from the others at the table. Mako knew his timing must be exact. He suddenly tapped the button on his watch and held his breath.

The decoder case jumped in Chill’s hand. Startled, he dropped it. Then he dropped to one knee and emptied his stomach. Convulsing violently he choked on his own vomit. Eyes bulging, heart in arrest, the last thing that passed though his mind before he died was that the punk kid had somehow screwed him. Chill’s final act was to soil his new 1000 CR suit so badly that he could not be buried in it. His ill-fated aide died the same way. The cloud of hornets fell to the ground, buzzed once, and lay still.

What the..., Quickstrike stammered, rooted in disbelief.

Streams of white smoke slowly began to drift through their location from the smoke grenades detonated earlier. Mako jumped over the table and grabbed the decoder case. I warned you Chill would try something! I rigged the case to dispense a nerve gas. The textured cover was actually a thick layer of Tox35. It would have taken an expert to detect it, and I knew his men weren’t experts. Let’s get out of here.

A regular battle had erupted between the gangs by now. Quickstrike and Mako were in the middle, so they bent double and sprinted towards safety and friends. They took cover behind an overturned table, not wanting to run into their own lines without being recognized first. Some nervous gang mate might shoot them by mistake, or an ambitious lieutenant might see an opportunity. Either way, their own side must ‘see’ them before they came in.

How come the gas didn’t kill us as well? Quickstrike panted, trying to catch his breath. He noticed the boy wasn’t even breathing hard.

I put an antidote in our coffee, just before we arrived. It lasts for two hours, Mako stated. We will have a hell of a headache in an hour, even though we took it.

Why didn’t you tell me? Quickstrike snarled, showing his fangs. He realized Mako could as easily have poured poison in his coffee, or not have given him the antidote at all, for that matter. He didn’t like being proved wrong, vulnerable and stupid all in the same event. Gang leaders with those credentials invited take-over attempts. A stray shot tore a chunk off the top of the table causing them both to duck lower.

You don’t always see things the way a human does, Mako said. You might have vetoed the idea, acted nervous when they searched the case, or tried to use it even if the deal went off without problems. I didn’t want to tip my hand or to start a gang war. If Chill hadn’t tried something nobody would have been the wiser. The Tox35 goes neutral in a week.

You didn’t obey... Quickstrike said.

And you didn’t listen to a wise warning, Mako interrupted.

Maybe I should have paid more attention to your advice, Quickstrike growled. The hair on his upper torso bristled. But if you do something like that again without telling me, you’re finished! You understand? A few silent moments passed. There... Night Hunter has seen us, let’s get out of here before the police arrive. Even now they could hear sirens in the distance.

As they ran back to their friends Quickstrike was torn. The human had just saved his life. He also knew the young human was incredibly dangerous. If Mako had chosen, he could have eliminated the two heads of organized crime in Port Wilson, and neatly stepped into that power vacuum. He was very bright - the Terran surely saw the opportunity. Yet, for some reason he had chosen not to seize it. This time! Quick strike was saddened to realize he would have to kill Mako, someday, someday soon, before Mako did the same to him. It wasn’t personal, he actually liked the Terran. It was just gangland business.

4.

Mako took a last look at the beautiful woman whose naked body shared his bed. He looked at her full breasts, with their taut nipples exposed from beneath the covers and felt his randy 17-year-old body starting to respond again. But instead he shrugged, mentally thanked Quickstrike for the ‘job well done present’, sighed and rolled out of bed. He had other work to get done today and besides he didn’t want to stay at this safe-house, no matter how accommodating the hostess. The Port Wilson police were understaffed and mostly bought off, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t get busted in a random sweep, or turned in by an informant.

Mako spent as little time as possible with the gang. His membership as a Red Dagger was limited to electronic system matters, and he was only known to a trusted few. Besides he found most of their activities repugnant. He had disassociated himself from the murder, drugs and prostitution that made up a large part of Red Dagger business, and had carved out a niche in computer specialties.

He wanted to keep it that way - a trusted specialist not involved with the dirty jobs. His arrangement with the Daggers had worked very well so far, so well that he had gained the trust and rank of a lieutenant in the gang at the age of sixteen. The cops and rival gangs knew him only as a small time operator, not worthy of any serious attention.

Yet Mako and the gang made good partners. In their working arrangement the Red Daggers provided Mako with important assets, and he provided them with extremely advanced computer-system skills. He made them big money in funds transfers, business blackmail, and info-system related ‘hacking’. He even initiated a retirement plan for the gang. He received a good commission of course, and they set him up in business with equipment, bases and protection from local interference. The occasional bonus in the form of a long-legged beauty didn’t hurt either, he thought as he looked down at Mari.

Mako silently dressed, and slipped out the back alley. He stopped several times to check if he was being followed, to switch shuttles, and change routes to cover his trail. Now that he was sure he wasn’t being tailed, Mako got off the mass shuttle monorail and paged a private shuttle, using one of his fake identities. It arrived just as he got his breakfast coffee and roll. He stepped into the luxury car as it softly slid to a stop on the rail, but the security/ transport computer system ‘saw’ only an 18-year-old tourist from Aries4.

The car was much more expensive than the metro but he was a rich young man and could easily afford the price. Even though he didn’t want to flaunt his undeclared wealth to the system the luxury shuttle offered security and privacy so this time he splurged. Once the doors closed Mako ordered the auto pilot for home and pulled the secure holo-link from his pocket. He spoke a code number and soon heard a tone. After identifying himself he was rewarded with the sexy voice and holo projection of Delilah, the chosen persona of his SAC. She sprang to life in front of him.

As she stood before him it was hard for Mako to remember his inspiration for Delilah’s design. At the time he had a major boyhood crush on a certain doe-eyed teenage pop star. And he could definitely see her style in moments of chest-heaving emotion and feigned sexual innocence. But a dancer’s body combined with the cosmetic-free homespun smile of the girl next door steered things away from the pornographic. She checked the shuttle’s interior for privacy then knelt before him. Mako, honey, I was so worried. You didn’t come home or leave a message. Where were you last night?

Mako cut ‘her’ off. Delilah, go security mode. It got nasty with Chill, but we’ve got the relay. Is their any police or Diamond activity directed towards me? I need a situation report. I’m about 15 minutes out.

The SAC responded in a serious, business-like tone, an odd paradox to her cheerleader looks. Numerous Dagger-Diamond firefights, with four and eight casualties respectively... including Chill. Police broadcasts indicate a crackdown on all known gang members. Your name is not on the police list of detainees, as usual. But neighborhood security shows increased Diamond patrols at your known address, with a 90% probability they are looking for you. I would recommend that you go to Alpha base.

OK, Delilah. Go back to normal mode... I know you hate it the other way. Is there anything else? Mako asked.

Thanks, sweetie! A sly smile crossed her face and she brushed back the long raven hair from her eyes, a subtle movement that tightened the fabric across her bust line. She turned and selected a seat opposite him, crossing her legs under a very short mini-skirt. You’re so good to me. There was mischievous look in her eyes. I wish I could do some of those things your slutty girlfriends do for you. Maybe you could hook up a bio-mech device, like the cyber-porn outfits, then I can do that thing that they do with their mouth and your...

I mean anything else business-wise! he cut her off. She covered her mouth with her hand laughing at his discomfort. He really should tone down the flirt program he installed back when he was just a kid. But it was so much a part of his friend now he couldn’t stand the thought of changing her. And it was for fun anyway. She was just a SAC-driven holo, not a real girl.

Oh, you want to change subjects? In that case, Delilah straightened up across from him, becoming serious. That special contact I got off of Trans-Sat 3 is developing, she said. And something else, she smiled innocently and leaned in close to Mako’s face as if she was going to whisper a secret, You never did answer my question. Where were you last night? The look of innocence was replaced by that of the star DA skewering the lying witness on the stand.

Let’s take that up after I get some more sleep. We will talk more then, out. Mako disconnected her fast to dodge the topic of Mari. He would fight that battle after he had more rest. Mako took a sip of coffee and looked at the beautiful pre-dawn of Port Wilson growing in his window. The car was blacked out, and as a fringe benefit he could see the majesty of the open water and reflected moonlight on the bay as the monorail curved and climbed on the way home. Overhead in the still dark sky he saw an orbiting space station, and the space elevator - a thinning silver arc up to the heavens.

The beauty of his home planet always filled Mako with awe, but also made him pensive. All this grandeur was spoiled by the sentient species that polluted its soil, scarred its landscapes with cheap pre-fab housing and all the other debris of a too busy to care civilization. The population’s daily intercourse with this frontier spaceport spotted Tututun like a plague.

Tututun was a tough place. It was the treaty approved gateway between the Second Terran Republic and the United Drougue Tribes (UDT). The planet was Terra-formed and populated over a century ago, just after the Treaty of SY852 cemented the two race’s friendship. There was a natural affinity between them, almost as if the Terrans were the Drougues’ older brothers. Sure, there was the occasional interfamily bickering in the form of armed warfare, but soon the races would hug and make up and all would be well again.

The Terrans just naturally loved the hard-working, but technologically naive Drougue. Even though the Drougue had managed to reach the stars with sciences learned from the Khitea, they still weren’t as developed as the Terrans. And while the Terrans held a significant technological advantage, there was no threat of conquest between the races. Space was infinitely large, more so now with the latest space-jump drives, and the Terrains had advanced beyond the need to conquer weaker cultures by force. They found it cheaper and more profitable in lives and time to buy their dominance and let the others do the dirty work.

Terran guile and capital ruled the known galaxy, relatively peacefully, for 250 SYs. Planet Tututun was a convenient, neutral location between Terran and Drougue space so it made the ideal place to clear interracial commerce - after 100 standard years of planet remodeling, of course.

Most shipping in the sector went though the orbiting space stations around this planet, making it one of the Terran Republic’s busiest ports. Port Wilson supported the stations through its spaceport, and more importantly, the elevator. This was a series of super strong filaments that ran from planetside to a large spacedock moon in stationary orbit. The elevator could move bulky or heavy items into orbit more cheaply than ordinary launch vehicles. This included goods such as fresh food and water, or purified hydrogen for starship fusion plants. It could also move sailors and personnel for shore leave. These features made Port Wilson a diverse beehive of sin and commerce – inseparable despite the best efforts of laws and religion.

For a sharp young man like Mako there was money to be made on Tututun. His only living parent, traveling e-system engineer Stan Zulinski, wouldn’t interfere. Even when Stan was in town he could care less what Mako did as long as the smart-mouthed kid kept his face out of his life. If Mako spent all his time in front of a holo interface that meant he wasn’t pestering him with tough technical questions or screwing with his e-system gear behind his back. They had several huge arguments over that until Stan had finally locked his shop.

Mako wanted expensive electronic system equipment like a junkie wanted a fix, so working at the local fast food outlet was not going to make ends meet. But well paying jobs wanted adults, except for e-commerce employment. They never met the contractor face to face. That is where Mako made the wage-for-service decision that moved his life into the world of crime. Aided by a false Internet identity, these high paying contracting jobs were available, and easily fulfilled by Mako. That was his first small step on a criminal path. This led to tax evasion to avoid identity conflict, which in turn led to moving and laundering the money over the galactic Web. Things began to snowball from there.

Mako was not overly disturbed by the illegal turn his life had taken. Legal activity didn’t pay very well. Besides, he didn’t like the constrictions the system placed on him or the pompous jerks that made up the majority of his business contacts. Mako was tired of justifying his e-system methods to mid-level bank officers or system managers who couldn’t find their virtual butt from a virtual hole in the ground. However, they knew enough to take the credit for the improvements Mako made instead of rewarding him with a bonus for exceeding contract specifications. So, Mako began to look for alternatives. He found that for basically the same computer-related service he could collect some big money moving funds outside the law.

Small fortunes were there for the making in non-legal services if you had skills and accepted some risk. If Mako could avoid job related downfalls such as prison or death, the quick cash could get him the hell out of Port Wilson twenty years sooner as a very rich young man. So far, so good. And what if society thought it was wrong? He didn’t care. Society had done nothing for him and there was no one to direct him on a different path.

But, business wasn’t all clear sailing. He’d had several close calls in his young career. His first encounter with sophisticated computerized security programs had brought an unexpected visit from the United Security and Exchange Systems (USES ). USES was the Galactic security agency that crossed all borders, planets and species, to regulate the Galactic info-net and monetary/securities related business. It was the big time policing agency, and it had some of the best people, equipment and resources in the galaxy. Two years ago, before he was totally illegal, they caught Mako hacking into restricted networks. Well, what could they do to a 15-year-old? They downgraded his system and made his dad, Stan, pay the big fine. A slap on his hand and Mako was back in business two months later, but much wiser and much more cautious.

The second close call was when Mako had rerouted some funds that, unknowingly to him, had belonged to the Red Daggers. Their system’s man tracked things back close enough to point a finger at Mako. The path wasn’t sufficient enough to convict him in court, but of course the Daggers weren’t going to take this through the legal system. Mako dodged hit men for a week until he returned the money with substantial interest and an apology. He also added one more thing free of charge. Mako pointed out to Quickstrike where the Red Dagger computer tech was skimming their accounts.

That Dagger computer tech was supposed to be the best money could buy. But since he was recently dethroned by a new champ - and deceased as well - it created a job opening for a bright young lad. Quickstrike, a shrewd business person, offered the now-vacant position to the new champion. With assets for even more sophisticated equipment and training, things really took off for Mako.

But if life was going so great, why did he feel so hollow inside? The low lights of the luxury shuttle also made it possible for Mako to notice his own reflection in the window. A ruggedly handsome face, one that seemed older than its 17 years, stared back at him with intense, searching eyes. Someday, he thought, I will take that elevator all the way to the small moon it’s tethered to, board a ship, and jump away from this sleazy hellhole. He would leave his uncaring relatives and criminal associates behind for a new start. He then sighed as he mentally calculated that it would take two more standards years (SYs) to accumulate the funds, and attain the age for independence. Two standards to freedom, all he had to do is live that long.

Mako decided to take a chance and ordered the shuttle to switch rails. He needed to stop home and retrieve some gear from his father’s workshop. That was going to be dangerous. There were sure to be a couple of Black Diamonds lurking about, and maybe Stan had come back early as well. The luxury shuttle slowed to a stop several blocks away on a quiet off ramp. Judging the coast was clear, Mako slipped out. Like the local alley cat, he picked his way between brush and home, scaled fences, and passed through empty back yards and buildings. Only once did he glimpse a brief human shadow. Mako backtracked slightly and used a tree to cross into the neighbor’s yard. He moved aside the portion of the link fence that served as the hidden door to his yard and slipped through. He was home.

Mako whispered into the lock but the door did not open. A taunting ‘access denied’ message shone brightly on the display. Fuckin’ Stan, Mako mumbled to himself. He pulled out a small device, held it to the sensor, and hit the trigger. Instantly the lock beeped, Welcome home, Stan, and the door cycled open.

The house was its usual filthy self. It was also quiet. Even if Stan was home, he would still be asleep after his late-night tour of the strip bars. Mako slipped into his room for some clean clothes, then over to the workshop, careful to make as little noise as possible. Mako triggered the hidden access port that controlled the workshop door. He had installed it years ago after his first brush with the police and his subsequent exile from Stan’s goodies. Of course, Stan had changed this code as well, but Mako’s access port automatically gave him the new one. The door slid open. Here was all the information system gear that a big corporation could provide, and here was where Mako first developed his vast skills. Give a bright young kid the best tools, allow plenty of time without any semblance of attention, throw in access to an expert’s notes and files, and there is no end to the mischief a child can get into - like becoming a lieutenant in the largest gang in Port Wilson. He lifted a false panel in the workbench and removed his components.

Mako’s thoughts wandered as he organized his backpack. His home was not a happy one. His mother, Cherry, had lost her ongoing battle with drugs and alcohol four summers ago leaving him to the indifferent care of Stan. Stan Zulinski was his father in name