much left after the corps took what they wanted. He walled that sympathy away. Until a Âpeople could protect themselves, they were all victims. The split in the population was undermining their ability to assert themselves, and they would realize that too late.
As a Fenipalan, Morlortai had seen his own world succumb to the Black Opal Corp. After Fenipal had been discovered near a newly built Gate, the Black Opal Corp had descended on the world and stripped it clean of minerals, reducing it to a wasted toxic husk before the Terran Alliance could step in. Once the Alliance troops arrived, all they could do was slap bandages on mortal wounds. Fenipal was a walking corpse, slowly dying because the planet had been sucked dry and poisoned by offworlder machinery.
Fenipalâs economy had been based on technology five generations behind what the Black Opal Corp had brought. So many Âpeople loved tech that they embraced each iteration and forgot all the old ways of doing things. Seeing Makaum Âpeople nearby showing off âtechnicalâ marvels to their peers made Morlortai remember his own early years.
No one on these backward planets knew the trade goods they held today rendered their futures moribund. Their children would never have the lives they did because the technology jump erased the need for educations that were then taken for granted.
Morlortai had been fortunate because he understood violence and heâd learned to focus on his own survival. Heâd joined an offworlder enforcement group and become a bashhound. Heâd worked to support the Black Opal efforts to preserve their investments, and heâd helped loot his planet. His own survival had been all that had mattered to him, so he had learned to defend himself and kill anyone who threatened him.
He turned out to be very good at it.
When the Black Opal Corp had pulled out ahead of Terran Alliance interference, remaining on Fenipal hadnât been an option. Morlortai had spaced with the bashhound team that had trained him and found his own pathway through life. He hadnât had a home since, but worlds remained open to him. There was always someone willing to hire an assassin.
As he gazed at his surroundings through his 360-Âdegree HUD, Morlortai gave only fleeting interest to passersby as he walked toward the location where heâd agreed to meet his prospective clients. Most of his attention was invested in staying alive in hostile territory.
Soon-Âto-Âbe hostile territory. Morlortai hadnât done anything criminal onplanet yet. Other than arrive under a false identity. His stolen background would take weeks to penetrate if someone started digging. Looking at the pack of thieves that pinged the facial recognition software juicing through his faceshield and wore other names than their own, operating under a false name was a slight infraction of the law on Makaum. In fact, he was pretty sure the local laws hadnât even considered such a thing. The planetâs inhabitants lagged far behind the developing interstellar relationships evolving around them.
Morlortaiâs hardsuit looked scarred and ill used, but that was just a patina of disguise. Beneath the worn exterior, the physical enhancements, stimpaks, and built-Âin weps were cutting-Âedge.
Fenipalans were humanoid, two arms and two legs, and could be mistaken for Terrans at first glance. Anyone who didnât know the milk-Âwhite skin and pale gray hair might still think they were Terran. They were slightly shorter than Terran average, underweight when compared to Terran average, but physically more resilient, with denser bones and stronger muscles. Fenipalâs gravity was 1.2 Terran standard and Fenipalans tended to have redundancy systems for major organs. Morlortai still possessed two hearts, but one of them was a bionic construction, courtesy of a bulky Losool who had moved much faster than the assassin had assumed. The Losool might have
As a Fenipalan, Morlortai had seen his own world succumb to the Black Opal Corp. After Fenipal had been discovered near a newly built Gate, the Black Opal Corp had descended on the world and stripped it clean of minerals, reducing it to a wasted toxic husk before the Terran Alliance could step in. Once the Alliance troops arrived, all they could do was slap bandages on mortal wounds. Fenipal was a walking corpse, slowly dying because the planet had been sucked dry and poisoned by offworlder machinery.
Fenipalâs economy had been based on technology five generations behind what the Black Opal Corp had brought. So many Âpeople loved tech that they embraced each iteration and forgot all the old ways of doing things. Seeing Makaum Âpeople nearby showing off âtechnicalâ marvels to their peers made Morlortai remember his own early years.
No one on these backward planets knew the trade goods they held today rendered their futures moribund. Their children would never have the lives they did because the technology jump erased the need for educations that were then taken for granted.
Morlortai had been fortunate because he understood violence and heâd learned to focus on his own survival. Heâd joined an offworlder enforcement group and become a bashhound. Heâd worked to support the Black Opal efforts to preserve their investments, and heâd helped loot his planet. His own survival had been all that had mattered to him, so he had learned to defend himself and kill anyone who threatened him.
He turned out to be very good at it.
When the Black Opal Corp had pulled out ahead of Terran Alliance interference, remaining on Fenipal hadnât been an option. Morlortai had spaced with the bashhound team that had trained him and found his own pathway through life. He hadnât had a home since, but worlds remained open to him. There was always someone willing to hire an assassin.
As he gazed at his surroundings through his 360-Âdegree HUD, Morlortai gave only fleeting interest to passersby as he walked toward the location where heâd agreed to meet his prospective clients. Most of his attention was invested in staying alive in hostile territory.
Soon-Âto-Âbe hostile territory. Morlortai hadnât done anything criminal onplanet yet. Other than arrive under a false identity. His stolen background would take weeks to penetrate if someone started digging. Looking at the pack of thieves that pinged the facial recognition software juicing through his faceshield and wore other names than their own, operating under a false name was a slight infraction of the law on Makaum. In fact, he was pretty sure the local laws hadnât even considered such a thing. The planetâs inhabitants lagged far behind the developing interstellar relationships evolving around them.
Morlortaiâs hardsuit looked scarred and ill used, but that was just a patina of disguise. Beneath the worn exterior, the physical enhancements, stimpaks, and built-Âin weps were cutting-Âedge.
Fenipalans were humanoid, two arms and two legs, and could be mistaken for Terrans at first glance. Anyone who didnât know the milk-Âwhite skin and pale gray hair might still think they were Terran. They were slightly shorter than Terran average, underweight when compared to Terran average, but physically more resilient, with denser bones and stronger muscles. Fenipalâs gravity was 1.2 Terran standard and Fenipalans tended to have redundancy systems for major organs. Morlortai still possessed two hearts, but one of them was a bionic construction, courtesy of a bulky Losool who had moved much faster than the assassin had assumed. The Losool might have
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