by Aaron Frale
After Makiuarnek was sure that the maid was long gone, he decided to step out from his hiding place. Just as he was about to poke his head out from the tapestry, footsteps clacked against the ancient flooring. Believing the maid was wise to his trickery, Makiuarnek ducked back into the nook. He breathed a little easier when he heard that it was his father and one of his business associates. Knowing how angry his father would be about him skipping his tutoring session, he decided to stay in the safety of the nook.
“You’re sure about the decrand?” his father, Rasmus, said. He had a sharp, quick voice that commanded authority.
A deep voice replied, “The decrand content of the Nigramoto soil is confirmed. However, it’s a neutral planet. We’ve also confirmed Shusharians scientists on the planet. It’s only a matter of time before they stumble across the decrand, too.”
There was something strange about the other voice. It was almost inhuman. He had heard plenty of humans in his day, as his father hosted many parties, and they were always exclusively human. As much as Makiuarnek hated it, his father would always make sure he would sing for the guests or something equally embarrassing. It wasn’t like Makiuarnek had any special talent. He was genetically modified like everyone else his age. Anything a naturally birthed human could do, Makiuarnek could do better because he was programmed that way.
Makiuarnek didn’t see what the big deal was about showcasing his talents. His father owned the largest decrand mining company in the universe. He could afford to hire the best birthing scientists, too. They were so good that Makiuarnek was born without a mother. The second half of his DNA was from a combination of various celebrities and leaders that his father had collected to make the perfect offspring. Sometimes it was willing donations. Others, it was the DNA swipers that father had installed for his lavish parties. The swipers were little nano machines that collected the stray hairs and skin cells from guests in his house. It was a security measure designed to catch known criminals the moment they entered the house. His father bent the rules and used it to collect DNA for his perfect offspring.
Makiuarnek was born in a perfectly controlled chamber that eliminated any complications that came with female hosts. It wasn’t that his father didn’t like females; he had plenty of them around while Makiuarnek was growing up. It was that his father didn’t have time for anyone for very long. That included Makiuarnek. He usually only saw his father when he was paraded around at parties. Business was his father’s one and only true love.
That’s why it was odd that business was being conducted in such a causal manner. His father had an office for that. It was on the top floor of one of the tallest buildings in the world in the Middle East. On a clear day, Makiuarnek could see the tip of the Burj Khalifa if he placed his head against the window and squinted at the city below. His father would always tell Makiuarnek that the view from his office was more for tactical advantage. It helped visitors know who ran the galaxy.
“I don’t think the Shusharians will be a problem,” Rasmus said.
“But what if they negotiate a treaty with the native population?” the deep voice protested. “We all know how Shusharian negotiations go. They’d give up half their profits if it landed them a deal.”
“The native population won’t be a problem.”
“But they are a sentient species. They are protected under the Undiscovered Worlds Act.”
“Trust me when I say that it won’t be a problem,” his father said in a tone of voice Makiuarnek knew all too well. It was his “this is the end of the discussion” tone. Makiuarnek knew it all too well and knew better than to push his father. The deep-voiced business partner didn’t seem to have the same awareness of social queues and continued to persist. His ramblings were cut short when Makiuarnek heard the discharge of an energy weapon and the sound of a body hitting the floor.
Makiuarnek jumped out from behind the tapestry fearing that the person with the deep voice had attacked his father. Not that there was much an eight-year-old could have done. If it were an assault on his father, he would be dead, too. What he saw before him was something he did not expect.
His father, an imposing man with beady black eyes and a cragged face, held a plasma pistol. It was a small design that could easily fit in the suit of a business person. The battery must have been good for only one shot because Makiuarnek could hear it charging as it gathered ions from the surrounding air. An alien lay sprawled out beneath his feet. It was a bulky brown creature with two eyes that were on either side of its head like a horse. What was left of its suit was tattered over the hulking chest that was burned through near to the other side. A large tongue hung out of its lifeless mouth.
Makiuarnek recognized that it was a Crauzilian, one of the earliest members of the UPE and one of the first non-human planets to join. They were peaceful and known for their advanced mathematic skills. A Crauzilian could calculate math in their head that would put AI to shame. They weren’t known for their combat ability or aggressiveness, at least no more than any other race.
Makiuarnek had never seen an alien before in the flesh. His father only invited humans to his parties and seemed only to socialize with humans. If he had to do business with another species, it always happened at his office in the Middle East. Makiuarnek had been sequestered from aliens his whole life. He only knew them through what he had learned from the tutors, and father didn’t like him wasting too much time on cultural studies. He would always say, “the only thing you need to know about an alien is how many numbers are in their bank account.”
When Makiuarnek saw his father standing in the Great Hall, hovering over the corpse of the being, Makiuarnek could see there was something in his eyes. It was something that Makiuarnek didn’t notice before. It was a gleam. It was something he never saw, no matter how well he performed at parties, or what sporting event he won, or even how good of grades he received in school. It was love.
2
The bright green field was more intense than it was yesterday, judging by the heat that bathed Makiuarnek’s body. It was in direct response to the Taurilian metal slowly winning the battle for his life. His veins popped out of almost every location on his body. They were metallic and infected with the dirty, green corrosion. His vision was gone because his eyes were completely encased in metal.
Even though he couldn’t see, he could still hear everything. More machines were brought in for diagnostic, treatment, and other purposes as if more medical devices would fix the problem. Doctors and nurses would talk about his impending death like they were casually chitchatting about lunch with a coworker.
He wanted them to end it, but he could no longer communicate because his joints were locked in position. His mouth was frozen solid. The metal had replaced enough of his body to lock him within his mind. Soon his hearing would go, too. He could hear it fading as the humming of the machines around him seemed to grow distant.
Footsteps approached his recovery field. They stopped just outside of the perimeter. Makiuarnek could hear the sound of labored breathing assisted by machines. It was an unmistakable sound, but a sound he hadn’t heard in years. It was the labored breath of his father, more machine than man now as he tried to prolong his life to the limits of technology. Makiuarnek hated that sound. He longed for the day when his father would not make that sound anymore.
It was ironic that his father would outlive him, and that his father’s labored breathing was the last thing he would hear. If Makiuarnek had still been in his armor, he would have upped the dosage of his meds to suicidal levels. As it was now, the Seattle Hospital Continuum was administering him hospice care. It was most likely paid for by his father who would spare no expense.
“Makiuarnek,” the haggard voice of his father croaked. “I’m here my boy.”
Death couldn’t come soon enough.
_______
“Thank you so much for inviting me into your home,” the Trad said and offered one of its four arms to Rasmus. His father pulled his hand back and s
niffed in disgust. At the age of 21, Makiuarnek was used to his father’s general racism against anything that wasn’t human. The lack of aliens in Makiuarnek’s life wasn’t an accident or oversight. Rasmus was very open about his contempt for them. Not only did he believe that they were only on Earth to feed off the human’s wealth, but he also hated the very idea of one being in his home.
Makiuarnek knew that much about his father, so when he had the opportunity to choose a mentor for his College Interstellar Fleet Squad, he chose the only non-human among them. It was more for the fact that he knew parent-mentor conferences were a requirement, and he loved seeing his dad squirm. The Trad, Sgt. Lefallfous was used to general racism and fear from the private citizens of Earth. Humans were fed a diet of fear and ignorance from their popular media, so those who didn’t get away from the planet that much didn’t know anything different. The average person treated him like he was a member of the Shusharian Collective. However, Sgt. Lefallfous mostly dealt with other IF members, who were more seasoned with different alien cultures.
“I wanted to congratulate you on your son,” Sgt. Lefallfous said. “He is an exemplary student and will go far in the IF if he decides to pursue a career in the military.”
“He is going into the family business,” Rasmus retorted, and the meeting proceeded to fall apart even further and further from there. Makiuarnek enjoyed every moment of it. He loved seeing his father being taken down a notch. When he decided to join the CIFS, it was less because he had any desire to join the military and more because he knew that his father wouldn’t approve.
By the time Makiuarnek was in postsecondary school, he knew that his father cared more about his legacy than about his son. He didn’t want his precious company to be devoured by shareholders, other corporations, and government entities after his death. Anything else, including the love of his son, seemed inconsequential. Makiuarnek would never earn praise for an academic pursuit unless it were business or finance, both of which Makiuarnek abhorred. If he wanted to play a game or spend time with his father when he was young, he’d play with his tutor. The only times he ever saw his father as a child were when he was in trouble or at parties.
Despite the fact that his father was absent for most of his childhood, his influence still ruled the servants. If any of them put Makiuarnek in danger, even if they had no control of the situation, Rasmus would not only end their career but blacklist them from ever working again. When he was a child, Makiuarnek had climbed one of the many trees on the property and fell and broke his arm. It was a minor injury that healed in the same day. However, since his father was so worried about his legacy, the servant watching him was sacked and forced into a life a near indentured servitude on a gas giant mine far away. The man had even tried to stop Makiuarnek and even alerted the others in the house the moment Makiuarnek got into the tree.
Since Makiuarnek wasn’t allowed to do anything fun when he was young, when he was finally old enough to start making decisions for himself, such as his extracurricular activities at school, he would pick the most dangerous options available. He played competitive bone-crunching sports in secondary school. In college, he picked CIFS because they trained for combat, space jumps, and even basic dogfighting. He couldn’t think of any better place to be to make his father nervous. Especially because the only attention he ever seemed to get from his father was when they had arguments. CIFS was a good way to ensure they would always have something to fight about.
After Rasmus had made a sufficient fool of himself and Sgt. Lefallfous was sick of dealing with yet another human bigot, the meeting was adjourned, and the butler didn’t even have enough time to see Makiuarnek’s mentor out. His dad made some comment about having important business to do and stormed out of the room. Makiuarnek knew that it wasn’t so much business but an encounter with his floozy of the week.
Makiuarnek was left alone in his father’s office. His father loved the ancient decorum of oil barons of the past. It looked more like a twentieth-century historical drama set than an actual office. Even his desk was made of real wood grown from trees, a pricey commodity on a planet with no space to grow them. There was a liquor cart where he would offer his guests a drink. If it were unavoidable that his guest was an alien, he would still offer them one, especially if they were a species that would be poisoned by alcohol.
Makiuarnek decided to pour himself a drink of his father’s most expensive liquor. One sip was a year’s worth of rent in a London flat, and it didn’t even register on his father’s ledger. Before he was able to take one step from the cart, he noticed a drawer ajar on his father’s desk. Since all the drawers were DNA locked, he couldn’t resist the urge to peek inside.
He opened the drawer and saw a data drive, a few personal items, and a plasma gun. It was much like the one he had seen years ago but forgot exactly where and when. The weapon raised serious questions about what had just happened. Was Sgt. Lefallfous steps away from being murdered by his father? Even worse, was Makiuarnek at risk too? After all, he was a genetic mixture that his father probably had a copy of in cold storage. It wasn’t farfetched to believe that if Rasmus wasn’t pleased with his legacy, he could just kill him and start over again. All the fears from his childhood of his father murdering him in his sleep came back to him.
He wanted to slam the drawer and run, but he didn’t know what had compelled him. The data drive might have the answers that he wanted. He took the unit and shut the drawer. He left the office and ran down the hallway towards the wing of the house where his room was located. His father almost never crossed over to his side of the house. If his father needed him, he was almost always summoned via a message over the network or by a servant. Rasmus didn’t go to other people; they came to him, including his son.
_______
Makiuarnek hooked up the data drive he stole from his father’s office later that night when he knew everyone was asleep. Not that anyone had disturbed him after taking it from Rasmus’ drawer. He still wanted to be cautious because he knew his father had eyes everywhere. He wouldn’t have been surprised to see security rampage through his door when he hooked up the data drive to his bedroom computer. He wouldn’t put it past his father to spy on his son.
As soon as the drive connected to the computer he saw that it was encrypted. Whatever was on it was pretty important. Even though the data flowing through the galactic network was secure, his father had decided to store the information on a data drive.
Earlier, he’d considered putting the drive back. He felt foolish for taking it in the first place. Whatever his father did wasn’t any of Makiuarnek’s business. However, the encryption on it made him want to know even more. Unfortunately, he never passed his generals in quantum mechanics, number theory, math, and all the other skills a cryptologist would need. If there was one thing he knew about his father, it was that he didn’t skimp on anything, especially security.
However, Makiuarnek knew a couple of people in the underworld. There was a nightclub he would frequent in the London lower city. The sons and daughters of wealth and power would go there to dance, do drugs, and have lots of sex. Makiuarnek was no exception. He had to be shot with a detox eNeedle several times. Makiuarnek was only sixteen when his heart stopped for the first time because of an overdose. The game involved getting as close to death as possible because that’s where he got the biggest high.
The local dealer of the club was a short man named Lars with two robotic limbs and a nose that looked as if it had been broken one too many times. He didn’t have many henchmen because he preferred breaking people’s bones himself. Makiuarnek saw the man tear off the arm of an Orcandu once. Everyone knew not to mess with him.
Not that anyone wanted to screw with him anyway because not only did he provide chemicals and natural psychedelic substances from all over the galaxy, but he was also an experienced physician. Each time a club goer would overdose, have a bad reaction, or even just need to be sober because they had to go to class in an hour, he would take c
are of them, for a fee of course. Those who could pay got to walk out of the club. Those who couldn’t end up in a gutter. Those who upset Lars discovered there was nothing worse than a thug who was also an experienced physician. He could revive a person endlessly.
Makiuarnek had always been on his good side, largely because Makiuarnek was a customer who always paid on time and in full. However, Makiuarnek wondered if there was a little of the fact that he also feared Rasmus as well. People had done that to him all his life. They would treat him like a normal person until they found out he was Rasmus’ kid, then they would tip toe around him. Makiuarnek hated it.
When Makiuarnek arrived at the club about an hour or so after he plugged the drive into his computer, the lights and music were still going one hundred p-years. The bass rattled his rib cage. Smoke and sweat permeated the sea of bodies. He pushed his way to the balcony where Lars would be every night with whatever woman of the week at his side.
Lars smiled a big wide grin when he saw Makiuarnek approach, “How’s my favorite customer? I got a shipment of Rathlillian Wisp from the heart of the Shusharian Collective. It’s rumored to be better than making love to a Eucrasite on ecstasy.”
Lars always said rumored because he never tried his product. Eucrasite’s were known throughout the galaxy for sexual morphology. They were one of the few that were able to adapt to their partner’s biology and share their DNA when reproducing. Their quirk of evolution and very open-minded society made them very sought after lovers. It was one of the few races where wars were fought over lost love like the ancient tales in mythology and lore.
