Chapter 1

Orion 5, a very alien world. Once a mining colony. A place of honest work. Honest ambition. Honest drive to do better. It had been settled first by the Orions 200 years ago. Then Humans came at the dawn of the fledgling Federation. Then aliens from across the quadrant flocked to the planet on the edge of known space.

The sky was dark and clouded with sulfur and any other known toxic fumes. The streets were littered with trash and toxic waste. Alien and Human alike scampered about like rodents. Mining equipment rusted and decayed, like a remainder of the failures of ambition. The streets were once packed with delightful and colorful shops. Now just a few remained.

David collapsed onto the ground in a puddle of his own blood. His breath was rapid. His eyes grew dim. He heard shouting. He heard screams. Aliens chanting in success. Aliens screaming at David.

"Stay down, Human!"

"Get up! GET UP!"

His body felt heavier by the second. The lights blinded him.

David wiped the blood from his mouth, and climbed to his feet. His opponent uttered something cocky. David paid no attention, but braced himself for more. His opponent belted him across the head, snapping David's neck the side, sending him sprawling to the ground in pain. Spittle mixed with blood projected from his mouth. His head throbbed with pain. His arms and legs felt like pure lead. His breathing was raspy, almost popcorn-esque. David's eyelids grew heavy, his vision drifting to near blindness.

Through the blood and sweat, he spotted a man he'd once known. A Human. Pitch black hair. Dark skin. Sensations of rage shot through him. For a moment, he filled David's world. The crowds, his opponent, his physical pain. All replaced by the sight of this man. And the anger brought on by his presence.

In a moment of pure adrenaline, David leapt to his feet and began pummeling his opponent with a ferociousness unmatched. Right jab, left hook, right uppercut. David circled, his opponent, the pain now gone.

His legs and arms took a life of their own. David drove the final blow to the alien's stomach, sending him hurdling backwards. He hit the ground and was out cold. David let out a sigh of relief. Glancing about, the man had disappeared into the crowds.

David, now fully clothed, winced as he sat down at the bar. The place was now deserted, except for a few who had stayed to drink themselves silly. He counted out the money he'd just received, indicating to the bartender his choice of beverage.

"Not a great idea," said a voice from behind. David turned, writhing in pain from every movement.

"To pick a fight with a Klingon." It was the man from before. David turned back to the bar in disgust.

"Yeah," he grumbled, paying him no attention. David lit a cigarette, and sipped his drink.

"I learned that the hard way too." Sitting down at the bar next to David, he indicated a long and vicious scar on his arm. David paid no mind of him.

The man spoke with a thick Hispanic accent, that of someone from northern Mexico. Every r rolled.

His upper lip was covered with a thick, black moustache, lined with gray hairs. His skin looked weathered and worn. But he spoke and carried himself with a professional dignity, quite unlike an of the other patrons.

"Your mother and sister send their regards,"

David didn't look over. He took a long drag of his cigarette.

"Yup," he responded bitterly.

"They both miss you," he continued. For a moment, David softened. His became glassy.

"How are they?" he asked quietly.

"Your mother is straining to keep the old homestead together, but she's managing. Your sister got accepted to the University of Iowa."

"Well…good for her,"

David returned to his bitterness. The man ordered himself a drink.

"David…" he stammered. David glanced over with a slightly softer expression.

"I'm not here to argue with you,"

David set his drink down. He turned to face him, feigning an aggressive posture, but immediately softening at the man's eyes.

"I…you…" David paused, losing all composure. He sighed, putting out his cigarette.

"What do you want?"

"Just to talk."

"Talk about what?"

The man turned away, taking a sip of his drink.

"God dammit, David. Don't give me that horse shit,"

"Here we go!"

David spun around. He lit another cigarette, returning to his drink. His expression hardened again, like a turtle retracting to its shell.

"You know," the man continued, softening his tone.

"You know what I'm going to say,"

"Here we go again. Good ol' Uncle Carl to the rescue. Still marching to the beat of dad's drum,"

Carl's expression hardened.

"I'm sick of hearing the same old regurgitated crap over and over. The old bastard is gone…and now you're trying to ram the same sh…"

Carl back-handed David across the face. The connection made a loud and unpleasant smack. David flung to the ground, wincing on impact. He leapt to his feet, wiping blood from his lip.

"Uh huh," he said bitterly…and began for the door.

"I'm trying to help you!" Carl shouted, following David into the streets. David kept his back to him.

"I want to help you!"

"The hell do you even know!? You think you can march up and say "Hi David. Forget everything from before. Let's be friends…"

"I didn't come to bring you back,"

David stopped and turned around. He looked Carl dead in the eyes.

"Then why the hell did you come?"

Carl paused, staring David down as equally intense for a moment. It was as though the two spoke to each other through their stares. As if all their feelings leapt out through their eyes.

Carl turned away, retrieving two fat cigars from his pocket, handing one to David. He lit them, and looked at the streets.

It was dark, with a greenish hue. Drunken aliens were fighting. Two were conducting what looked like shady business. Clouds of vapor swallowed the whole scene.

"David, I care about you. As if you were my own son,"

David softened, remaining silent.

"You're so much like him," he trailed off, thoughtfully.

"I'm nothing like him!"

Carl turned his back to David, taking a puff of his cigar.

"Did he ever tell you…he never wanted to join Starfleet,"

"No…" David stammered.

"He wanted to be a historian," Carl continued, chuckling to himself. "But your grandfather would have none of it."

"Okay…" David again feigned an aggressive posture.

"David…" Carl said, facing David.

"I came here for you. I'm not here to argue or to force you to come home. I'm not here to yell or ram anything down your throat," he paused, sighing.

"God dammit, David. Look at yourself. Look at this place. Is this really what you want?"

"Yes…" David stammered. Carl's eyes narrowed, piercing a glare through David.

"I've covered your ass up until this point. You got away on Rigel 4 because I was watching…"

"I don't need you to baby me or protect me. I can take care of myself."

David began walking away. Carl stood still.

"David…I CAN'T protect you anymore. I CAN'T bail you out next time you go looking for trouble!"

"Good!" David shouted over his shoulder.

Carl ran up to David…grabbing him by the shoulder.

"David," he said, an inch from his face. "I want you to do something with yourself. Not for me. Not for him. Not for your mother. But for yourself. You're better than this. Robbing banks. Dealing narcotics. Fighting in bars for money. You deserve way better than this."

David stared him down again, this time his shell of anger completely gone. David turned and walked away, hiding the tear streaming down his chin. Carl did not follow.

David spent the next month doing nothing. He didn't drink. He didn't fight in the bars. He didn't talk to anyone…anywhere. He just walked around the city, wallowing in his own frustration. A couple of his…"associates"…tried to contact him.

"Come on, David," they would persist. "This is the chance of a life-time."

But David didn't want to. He didn't want to do anything anymore. Not on Orion 5. Certainly not with his…"associates".

He felt like an imposter whose mask had been stripped away.

Every time he walked by the bar, he would see someone fighting. Or someone keel over. A wave of disgust would wash over him. All he could see was Uncle Carl's face. Hear his words echo through his head.

One night, David returned from a day of drifting around the city. He climbed the stairs of his seedy apartment complex. His place was just a shambled room with a bed, a toilet and an oven.

He dropped his key on the counter and flopped on the bed, sliding his boots off. Bugs crawled everywhere. Before they didn't bother him…but now they made him nauseous.

David was about to doze off, when he noticed a blinking light on his computer terminal. For a moment, he wanted to ignore it and fall into a deep sleep. But thoughts started creeping into his head. Thoughts of who it might be. He tried to fight them off, but they were too strong.

Before he knew it…his feet were on the floor, making their way over.

It was his mother.

David played the message. Feelings started to flood over him like a tidal wave. He tried to hold them in…but tears started streaming down his face.

As if he could run away, he threw his boots on and left as fast as he could.

"Dammit, Carl," he muttered under his breath. He ran as fast as his legs would take him. Anywhere. Nowhere. His lungs were burning. But he kept running faster and faster.

David finally collapsed. He'd been running for an eternity, it felt like. His legs were like jelly. He couldn't breath.

David had collapsed by the harbor, where people could look out at the ocean. It was polluted…so polluted it was dark and slimy green. But it was still pretty, especially at dawn.

David stood there, gasping for breath.

He looked at the green water and intruding sunlight up above, poking out from the poisonous, foggy atmosphere. He'd been running all night. He couldn't run anymore. In that moment, he exactly what he was going to do.