Bitten

"Maybe I didn’t think it through as well as I thought I did. Bjarne tried to talk some sense into me, but I just wouldn’t listen. It’s funny how I can remember every little detail of our squabble as if it didn’t take place so long ago. But then again, I guess when you’re lucky enough to find that once-in-a-lifetime friend, a lot of memories will get burnt in forever. Well, for a very long time, anyway, because nothing really lasts forever. I know that many people will be willing to step up and dispute me on that one, but believe me, I know for a fact. It’s just a shame I had to find out the hard way."

"I’ll be the first to admit that my early life was one of great privilege, but it didn’t have anything to do with the fact that I worked hard (because I didn’t) or that I was smart (because I wasn’t). It was because of who my parents were. My mother was the Vice-President of the Expansion Council. They were in charge of Project: Pre-Colonize, whose purpose was to rid the rest of the inhabitable planets in our galaxy of anything that could be potentially harmful to humans. Their definition of harmful, by the way, was quite broad. They ended up exterminating everything from vicious prehistoric-looking meat-eaters to crab grass."

"I’m not proud of my mother for heading this project, but it had been common knowledge since the twentieth century that Earth wouldn’t be inhabitable by humans for much longer, so we had to look elsewhere. My father worked as a mechanic for the Interstellar Commission; a position that ranked at the very bottom of the food chain as far as just about everyone was concerned. My parents were never married. I was the result of a drunken one-nighter, but both of my parents loved me as if I was planned."

"Legally, my mother was my guardian, but since she was such a high-ranking official, I really didn’t spend much time with her. After classes, I would sneak into the hangar area where my dad worked and climb on the broken down cruisers until he was finished working. Then we would hang out together and play games. He taught me how to play clubball. He was really great at it when he was younger, you know. And when I got older, he even took me out for flying lessons in some of the unused craft he had repaired. I’m thankful for that, I guess. I mean, it did end up saving my life and everything, but sometimes I can’t help but wish I had never learned to fly a starcraft."

"Come on, kid. Don’t talk like that", pleaded the bartender.

"I’m sorry Skrissell. I know you must hate hearing this stuff. You’ve heard my stories a thousand times, probably."

"Hey, that’s alright, kid. He’s never heard it", answered Skrissell, motioning to the dark-haired man in the faded-out military jumpsuit.

"Hello, I’m ex-Sergeant Rigga, of the United Kvintolian Forces", responded the man with an outstretched hand.

Both of the other men shook his hand in turn, but neither dared to ask just what exactly "ex-Sergeant" meant, especially since they could smell the gin on Rigga’s breath even before he opened his mouth.

"No, I know, I’m just boring everybody and putting a damper on the mood in general."

"Have you looked around this place lately?" inquired Skrissell with a chuckle. "It ain’t exactly a jiving discothèque."

"Yes, it’s quite alright, sir", followed Rigga. "You seem like an interesting enough lad. By all means, please continue."

"Ok, well, I’m sure you know enough about Project: Pre-Colonize to-"

"Actually, " interrupted Skrissell. "I never finished-"