***Zorakk

Future Shock
First version

Chapter One
Brian

To which I of course responded: "Who the hell want's to know?" In other words, who the hell are YOU?! But then I realized that since this story is told in first person its only natural curiosity of an earther and not a blood challenge. Earthers tend to think they are the only sentient life in the universe, and all the rest of us are bit players on the stage of life. What arrogance. But I ramble. Someone asked who I was.

My name is Pete Reynolds. I am the owner-operator of a small, short range interstellar orbital truck about the size of a Federation runabout 3;

What's that? What year is it? Oh, I get it – a hypersleep customer are you? Been asleep since the late 20th century? Well, brace yourself bub. It's June 27, 2398 in your reconinging. We don't use that system any more, too onstrictive. We use a system called stardates 3; but you can get all that data from your councilor, just assume that Star Trek, Star Wars, Battlestar Galactica and all the other SF you've ever heard of is all fact. Now back to who I am.

I make my living hauling small, valuable [sometimes illegal] cargo between relativly closely spaced starsystems on the frontier, things that the larger freight lines won't touch. I'm a Star Nomad, a member of a group of people who left earth a long, long time ago and have been carring on the proud traditions of the gypsey and nomad ever since. Racially I am a real Hienz 57 mix, about 5/8 Terran human [mostly North American Amerind stock, with a pinch of Corellian], 1/8 Klingon-human fusion,1/8 Imperial Klingon [my maternal great-grandfather was a Klingon-human fusion married to an Imperial Klingon] the son was my maternal grandfather; and 1/8 Romulan [my paternal great-grandmother]. I identify myself as an Amerind on my official papers and such.

Confused? Well, welcome to the future 3; talk about future shock. Now hold onto your socks, you're from the dark ages, the 20th century, so you have no real concept of sentient rights or freedom of choice.

I'm a boylover. I like my boys skinny and young; my motto is: "If he's old enough to pee he's old enough for me."

Are you shocked? Revolted? Ready to try to kill me for Jesus?

Such feelings or actions could lead directly to a lengthy stay at one of the Federation's "attitude adjustment centers" like the Tantalus planetoid, the Alcatraz of space. Yes, that's right, I stay free and you go to prison. A big change from your era right?

The first thing you have to do is loose all of that 20th century mind-set you have. Get used to it, things are diffrent – a lot diffrent. And here on the Kardasian frontier you could wind up dead real fast by spouting those politically correct slogans you learned in church. First off, a boylover is not a rapist, nor someone intent on destroying a child, either physically or emotionally. People who are like me can obtain a license after passing a very exhaustive psycho-sexual examination via telepathy. It's draining and very uncomfortable, but in exchange for this hell, the power and the glory of the state is behind us, and fossils like you who can't seem to accept the current environment are slowing being rounded up and 'adjusted'. Believe me though, after the 'adjustment' by a psi-cop at someplace like Tantalus, you're never quite the same again.

But for now, just try to sit back and enjoy the trip. Afterall, you can't go back!

This week, I was hauling a consignment of Denebrian Flame Crystals from the mines on Denebia IV to Sythe III, the armpit of the galaxy. I had delivered my consignment, been paid [yes, in gold-pressed latinum, it seems the deal was somehow extra-legal, though how I couldn't imangine] and had gone to Eder's, a starport bar where the local Star Nomad port captain hangs out. I was there to russle up a cargo headed closer insystem – hopefully all the way to the Core Worlds where the real money is to be made.

Anyway, I'd met this Klingon merchant – a good-joe, he turned me on to a new location on the galaxy wide web for decent tridees of Klingon boys. Surprised? Yes, the Klingons have boylovers too, and we all like to colect tridee images of boys, either that we've known, or just as vicarious thrill in the 'what if 3;' universe. He needed a fast ship to take a consignment of live ggaahhh, [a grub-worm Klingon delicacy served live] to Grunn B-761. Well, the Klingon and I got to drinking prune juice and telling warstories and I happened to mention that I thought Sythe III was the armpit of the galaxy; and the Klingon raised the stakes, telling me [in a loud voice] that in the Komerex, it was widely regaured as the asshole of space.

The crowd of local hill billy rednecks [come to think of it, probably a lot like you! ignorent, haughty, and provincial] was becoming more and more aggitated as we continued and escillated our disparagement of Sythe III. At some point I said I wouldn't want to be cought dead on Sythe III.

At that point, a local comedian muttered that in that case maybe I'd better not hang around too long 3;

It was at this point that we left the bar and headed over to the starport's outgoing cargos area, so my friend could pick up the ggaahhh crates and hier a stevedore droid to load them. I collected the paperwork and lifted off for Grunn B-761, where I find myself now, for this story my faithful reader.

After securing my orbital truck in the consignee's mall loading zone, I decided to take advantage of the "special shopping privileges" that the mall offered. I knew shopping here was special, a sign on the main entrance gallery said so! Haw! What a crock of – well you know what I mean. But after all, I was going to be stuck here until at least 10:00 tomorrow, so I might as well enjoy myself until I could dump the load of ggaahhh I was carrying.

The Ferengi Merchants Association seal of approval was also prominently displayed on a large teakwood and brass plaque in the same entrance gallery. That of course meant hold onto to your latinum with both hands [or all three if you happened to be a tripedian]. Not that the Ferengi would outright cheat you, not often anyway, its just that they lived by the old axiom: 'Let the Buyer Beware!'

Ferengi merchants often worked on the gray side of the law – where profits were maximal – but this also meant sometimes they got burned and when this happened the Ferengi's first impulse was to burn the next guy down in the feeding chain, so as not to loose profitability. 'Shit rolls downhill' was another of the hundreds of Rules of Acquisition that served the Ferengi as a Bible.

I wondered into a general merchandise shoppe and I bought a couple of new vr-chips for my entertainment center, some junkfood, and a new comicbook. After paying for my purchases, I wandered around the mall some more and came upon a game room, crammed full of vr-video games and a hoard of kids of both genders, both pre-teen and teenagers, and virtually every Federation race. Grunn B-761 is a tiny M6v red dwarf with no Class M planets, but it is home to Starbase 288, hense the through mixture of kids in the vr-arcade.

I stood close to the entrance for several minutes gazing at the butts and crotches of several preteen human boys and a couple boys I figured who were part Romulan and 13 or 14 years old. Some of these boys had little tiny butts that hardly showed through their jeans and/or shorts, and some had nice round butts that filled the seat of their jeans/shorts quite nicely. Nice and squeezable.

As I was gazing at these boys, I had developed a quite noticeable bulge in the crotch of my flightsuit, and then I noticed this one little boy of about eight or nine years old. I'm a connoisseur of boys, I know what a good looking boy looks like. With this in mind, you can appreciate how beautiful this kid was when I tell you he was absolutely drop dead gorgeous. His body was slim and lythe, and he had a cat-like grace to his movements, almost like a zero-gee ballet dancer. His hair was 3; well, multihued. No, that's not the right word, because that brings to mind those tridee clowns in the music business with the dyed hair in multiple shades of purple and green. No, the boys hair was basically the color of polished chestnut wood, but with blonde and red strands mixed liberally into the mix. The overall effect was that of a deep brown with a hint of strawberry-blond mixed in.

His eyes were deep lusterious brown, with tiny specks of gold embedded in them. He was wearing a printed t-shirt with a Federation Starfleet logo on it, grey short shorts (similar to gym shorts kids wear in gym class), and sneakers, no socks. The Starfleet logo might be trouble. If it indicated his old man was in Starfleet – an admiral perhaphs [I started to let my paranoia run wild] then his dad could certinally make serious trouble for an independant trucker like myself.

So absorbed was I in staring at this godling, that at first I was unaware that the attention was resiprical, and he was throughally checking me out also. When my eyes refocused on the real world, we immediatly made eye contact. The boy smiled and continued to glance repeatedly at the lower part of my body. Suddenly out of nowhere, he did a chippendiddie grind and bumb, while licking his lips. He then put his left hand down to his own crotch and started rubbing it as he looked at me, then pointed at my crotch. I looked down and saw how obvious the bulge actually was. I looked back at the little boy and made eye contact, and shrugged, grinning at him.

He smiled back and flipped me the bird. I mouthed out the words, "I'm ready anytime you are." Well, his face turned red, and he grinned like a Cheshire cat, and slowly walked over to me.

He looked up at me, smiled widely and said: "Hi, sailor. Looking for a good time?"

I burst into laughter and collapsed onto one of the benches that lined the wall of the arcade. Without any prompting, the little boy crawled into my lap and leaned against my chest.

"Aren't I susposse to say something like: 'want some candy, little boy'".

"I guess so. Do you have any candy?"

"As a matter of fact I do," I said rummaging around in the bag of stuff I just bought and brought out a candy bar.

"Great! Butterscotch and granola, my favorite!"

"Yeah, I could practically live on 'em if I had to,"

I smiled as he attacked the candy bar with savage little boy agression.

After a few minutes, he asked, "Are you a truck driver? You're waring a pilot's flightsuit, but its not Starfleet. That must mean your a truck driver."

"Yep, sure am," I was favorably impressed with his deductive intellegence, "I pilot my own rig, a Tomahawk 2080. I'm an independant. Are you into big trucks?" I asked.

"Well sort of, I've always been really interested in how big some of those orbitals are, and I've seen some with some really cool paint jobs on them." he replied.

"My Tomahawk has both standard ion impulse drive and a fwma miniture warp drive, I can make warp five on a good day," I bragged.

"Wow!" the little boy sighed in admiration. I asked him if he'd be interested in seeing the truck that I piloted, and mentioned that it had a unique paint scheme on it, and a double sized walk-in sleeper in it. His eyes got big and said, "Really? Cool! Maybe I can. Are you going to be around here this evening about 7:30 or 8:00?" he asked.

I told him that I'd be in the mall's loading zone until morning, as I had a load of ggaahhh to deliver in the morning.

"Ugh! ggaahhh – what a disgusting, slimy mess," my new friend said and wrinkled up his noes.

"Yeah, but the Klingon's eat it like spegetti 3;"

"Aarrghh! Gross! Now I'll never be able to eat spegetti again," he laughed.

"I feel the same way about kimchee." I dug around in my flightsuit's left chest pocket and produced a blank electropass for my truck. I quickly entered the data into the pass and handed it to him.

"Here's the data on my truck, just in case there are more trucks there 3; and this'll get you through the gate into the loading zone."

The little boy studied the card seriously and then stuffed it into his pocket. Then he discreetly put his little hand against my bulging dick to get an idea of how big was, then asked in a whispered voice: "Do you like to suck little boy's wieners?"

"Absolutely! Do you like to have your wiener sucked?" I asked him.

"Yes," he whispered, and leaned his head against my shoulder, "I'll do you," he said, "if you'll do me!"

I put my arm around his shoulders and let my hand rest on his rounded little boy tummy. "When?" I asked.

"I have to go home first and get some stuff," he said smiling. "But I can be back about 7:30 or around there."

"I'll be waiting," I promised him.

Brian Shimosuwa – Age: 9.03 Terrestial Standard.

Color Eyes: Brown; Color Hair, Chestnut brown;

Height: 1.31 mtrs [4' 3"];

Weight: 26.79 kg [60 lbs]

I asked if he'd like to see the inside of the Tomahawk, and how I had it fixed up.

"Sure! I'd love to," he said and I unlocked the Tomahawk's airlock and waited as the lock cycled open, thinking: 'Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly 3;'

Brian climbed into the airlock and looked in towards the sleeper, and I got in right behind him, and closed and locked the door.

"Go ahead on in and look around!" I encouraged him. "It crowded here in the airlock alcove."

And he did. I could see that he was quite impressed. I had a dreamcatcher hanging over the double-wide bed, and a leather shield hanging securely on the back wall, and other such Native American craftwork here and there. Brian's eyes were as big as saucers when he saw a three dimensional holo-sketching of the same Cherokee man and boy laying naked in a 69 position giving each other a blowjob with the man's hands on the boy's buns and a finger in the boy's butt-hole up to the last knuckle, and the man's whole cock in the boy's mouth and boy's prick and nuts in the man's mouth.

Then Brian noticed another halo-sketch of them in which the boy was on all fours and the man was on his knees with his entire cock in the boy's butt. Brian then looked at me, his face blushed as he saw the bulge in my jeans and the way my hand was rubbing it.

"So what do you think?" I asked. "I see you're facinated with the holograms and what the two people in them are doing 3;"

He stammered a minute, and asked if I was into doing stuff like that with boys.

I grinned and nodded my head. "Sometimes," I said, putting an arm around his waist and pulling him close against me. "You are a little bit young for anal sex, but I can see no reason why we can't message each other and maybe give each other a blow job."

I wrapped both arms around the little boy and started kissing him on the cheek and the back of neck, and ran my hands all over his tummy and bare thighs. I began to lead him toward the bed.

"Mmmmm 3; feels good. Keep doing what you're doing 3; 3;" he said in an almost whine. So I kept rubbing his thigh with my right hand, as I slipped my left hand up under his shirt and gently caressed his tummy and chest, and little nipples. I ran my right hand up under the legs of his shorts and discovered that he wasn't wearing any underwear. So I slowly snaked my hand in and brushed his soft scrotum and the tiny testicles within.

"Oooooooow! That tickles! No! Don't stop, it feels gooooooood." he cooed. I continued exploring his small testicles and found that his wiener was already hard as a nail. And so were his nipples, for that matter.

I said: "It doesn't take you long to get ready for some fun does it?"

"Nope! I'm almost always ready for this kind of fun. It's just hard to find anybody to have this kinda fun with though." He replied as continued to explore my body with tiny expert hands.

I had the feeling that this was not my young pardner's first time at this. That was a surprise, mostly with me liking the younger register of boys, I find that they may have experimented with naked games in their own play group, but I had never yet come across a boy so young who had already been with a man. However, the sophistication of his moves and the way he knew just the right places to touch and stroke to turn me on indicated that he had some experience.

"No, it isn't too easy, is it?" I said looking into his turquois bluegreen eyes. "So how much time do we have that you can spend with me? I mean, when do you have to be back at home?"

"Uhhh – , no special time. I – err – usually get in around 10 or 10:30, on weekends. But even if I don't get in till midnight, it's no problem." he answered, but his answer was shrouded in ambiguity, there was something else there he wasn't willing to come right out and say.

"Oh yeah?! Your parents let you stay out that late, as young as you are?"

"Well," he started and then paused. He seemed to study my face for a long instant trying to guage the effects his next statement might have on me. "I don't live with my parents, not anymore. They gave me up to my aunt Laura when I was eight years old. And she don't care when or IF I get in at night."

"Do you want to tell me about it?" I asked gently.

"I – I will, but let's go to bed first," he said. To my surprise I could see he was almost in tears.

"Okay," I said. "I guess we might as well head on into the sleeper and have some real fun, don't you think? By the way, you never did tell me what your name is, or how old you are. My name is Pete Reynolds."

"My name is Brian Shimosuwa, and I'm nine," he answered simply, as I slipped him off my lap onto the deck between the pilot and flight engineer's station.

I held his hand and led him back to the sleeping/living area of the Tomahawk. I sat down on the mattress of the bed and told Brian to stand in front of me as I sat on the double-wide bed, he did and I motioned for him to raise his hands over his head. When he was standing there grinning with his hands streached for the sky, I began to lift up his tee shirt – slowly, ever so slowly to prolong the moment. Brian began to laugh outright, perhaphs something I was doing was tickling him, I wasn't for sure, but it was a happy laugh; the laugh of a little boy who was having an enormus amount of fun and simply could not believe that the Odd Gods of the Galaxy had finally decided to see things his way.

As I pulled the tee-shirt completely off, I grabbed the boy around his waiste and in one quick motion, rolled him onto the bed with me laying beside him. I reached over to caress one of Brian's nipples which became quickly erect, springing for attention. I rubbed my hands all over his beautiful little chest and upper tummy, feeling every ripple in his tight yet silky skin. Brian closed his eyes and sighed in pleasure as my hands explored his sides and the small of his back. Next I removed his sneakers and socks one at a time, tossing them into a corner. I ran my fingernail lightly down Brian's chect from just under his chin to his belly button and circled his navel several times before pressing on it lightly.

"Beep!" Brian immitated the computer's request for attention signal.

"Wooaaa, what was that!?" I teased.

"Borg-unit-BRIAN-on-line, ready-for-orders 3;." the boy said in a robotic monotone.

"Uh-oh! I said in mock terror, a BORG! Gotta shut it down again." I began tickling Brian all over his upper body. The nine-year-old shrieked with laughter and managed to stammer between bouts of near hysterical laughter: "Borg-unit-BRIAN-off-line-in shut-down-moodddee," he streached out the last word as though power had suddenly been interrupted to a voice synthesis circuit.

I unbckled his belt and unziped his shorts slowly; then slide them down his long slender legs. A shiver ran through me as I pulled the pants totally free of Brian's legs and looked at the nine-year-old laying there in just his undies. The white cloth of his underpants contrasted with the light brown color of his suntanned skin. His penis, now unconfined by the constriction of his shorts, had caused the material of his underpants to tent out quite impressively. I could see the outline of his erection under them and I could almost swear I saw it throb and pulse with each heartbeat of the boy. I knew that my own dick was.

I stood up and quickly stripped down to my own shorts and then laid down beside the small boy. I gently rubbed the tiny bulge in front of his shorts. He jumped a little as my hand first made contact with the buldge; it made him squirm and sigh in pleasure. At last I could wait no longer and I rolled him over on his tummy. I sat up beside him and grasped the elastic of his underwear, slowly pulling his underpant down to mid thigh level, exposing the two perfectly formed hemispheres of his small fanny. Wriggling around and kneeling at the foot of the bed with Brian's slender legs between my own, I began to knead the soft warm flesh of his fanny like bread dough, interspacing this with tickling the crack between the cheecks of his rump.

Then I turned him over. I watched as Brian's wiener, now unconstrained by the weight of the boy, sprang up at attention, like the flagpole at Mt. Suribachi. Brian's penis was as beautiful as the rest of him, hard, excited, a flawless shaft and perfectly formed circumsized head. There it stood, almost 7 centimeters of boyhood perfection, standing proudly at a sixty-five degree angle pointing toward the ceiling. It was the prettiest piece of boymeat I could have imagined. I pulled his jockeys all the way down and allowed them to drop to the floor beside the bed.

"Now what?" Brian asked innocently.

"Wait and see," I said mysteriously and wriggled out of my shorts also.

"Wow!" Brian said, looking intently at my 17 centimeter [6¾ inch] dick which was also fully erect.

I reached over and gently grasped Brian's erect wiener. An electric thrill ran up my arm from my fingers to set off shivers of extecy in my brain. I could see from Brian's reactions that my touch had done similar things to him. I rubbed the skin of his penis up and down over the exposed glanis. Brian moaned and shifted his hips into a position that was easier for me to continue to masturbate him.

At last I placed my lips on the tip of his hot meat and pushed down the shaft allowing my tongue and lips to feel every millimeter of this wondrous boydick as it slipped into my mouth. Brian moaned a little as he felt his penis enter. As slowly as I had inserted Brian's wiener into my mouth I now pulled my face away, applying suction all the time and causing a loud pop like a champaign cork when Brian's Penis slipped out. I began licking on the inside of his thighs. I could see goosebumps forming and felt him shiver. I licked my way all around his testicles and nuzzled the shaft as I licked at its base as well.

I love the smell of a little boy – an odor that was like no other perfume in the world, fresh, innocent and yet lusty; like talcompowder and woodchips. I began licking his balls, two perfectly formed nuts in a soft hairless sack. I licked his shaft and he shivered again. I had sucked dick before, but I attacked this one with abandon. He was awesome. I loved the feel of the hard velvety smooth shaft in my mouth. I was waiting for the boy's impending orgasm as I felt the slender dick throb and expand. I swirled my tongue around the blunt knob of the kid's shaft and concentrated on the smooth silky glanse of the circumcised penis. I could feel Brian respond as he started bucking towards me, forcing my face against his belly as I swallowed him to the hilt.

"Uhhh," Brian moaned.

Brian went into a frenzied passion of lust. His long legs twitched and lost strength as he could feel an explosive feeling rise up from his nuts and explouding through his wiener. I felt the jerking of the young boy's penis as he experienced an intense pre-adolescent orgasm. Brian had a dazed look on his face as he leaned against me, his legs still wobbly from his earth-shattering experience just a moment ago.

Brian lay on his stomach, still trying to catch his breath from his best-yet orgasm. Finally after about a minute, the naked boy sat up on the edge of his bed and looked over at me. "Now it's my turn – to repay you. Our deal was if you did me, I'd do you," the small nine-year-old said.

"You don't need to," I said. My own dick was so hard I could have pounded nails with it, but the last thing I wanted was for him to feel forced into something because of ill adviced promises made in a vr-arcade.

Brian looked at me and said "No, I really mean it, I want to do you now."

"If you're sure 3;"

"Don't be silly," Brian smiled sweetly up at me, "I've done this before, how'da'ya think I made enough latinum to hang around the arcade?"

I lay back on the bed and in an instant Brian was on top of me. My dick was as fully at attention as it had been throughout the last few minutes. Brian gasped my hard meat in his young hand and began stroking softly. He was watching my dick slide up and down in his hand. He started slowly, taking two or three seconds to complete a single stroke. Then he began to accelorate the pace, it was wonderful and I felt my juices building to the climax.

My own enormous load fired almost to the ceiling, eventually splattering down on my chest as Brian kept milking me for all I was worth. The boy grinned at me mischieviously and said: "Now that it's unloaded 3;" Brian took as much of my shaft into his mouth as he could and then with a strong suck slowly backed off of it. I was in a trance and there was nothing to wake me out of it. He began to pump up and down on it while using his tongue to circle the head, particularly focusing on the tender underside of it.

When I was finally spent, he took his lean young body to the bathroom, brought back a hand towel moistened with warm water and wiped me clean. Then he tossed the towel aside, reached up and turned out the reading light and then lay down beside me and put his head on my chest. I could feel the softness of his hair on my nipples as he snuggled in next to me.

"Thank you," I said and brought my face near his. I softly kissed his young lips and was again surprised by the passion as he returned it.

Brian looked up at me across his chest. "That was incredible, Pete!"

"I'll never forget it for as long as I live." I said truthfully

"Me either," Brian agreed.

We dozed off in each other's arms, exhausted and happy.

It was 01:08:42 local time when I again awoke. Brian was still sleeping at my side, snoring softly. I certinally hoped that he was right about his aunt not carring when or if he came home. I sat up and swung my hairy drumsticks over the side of the bed. Careful as I was the motion was enough to wake up Brian.

"Sorry," I said. "Didn't mean to disturb you."

"S'okay. I'm a light sleeper," Brian squirmed around in bed and put his head in my lap, "I've never had as good a time as I just did," the boy said.

"It felt great to me too. I'd love to have a boy just like you – about your size and age, to have in bed with me all the time."

"Really? Hmmm 3; You can have me. Not only tonight, but always." said Brian.

"C'mon, don't tease about that, I really mean it!"

He looked at me kind of funny, with a bemused look on his tiny, cute face, "Well, so do I. I mean it. Really."

I was shocked, this kid was dead on serious, he meant every word. He was trying to guage how I was going to react if he said he wanted to runaway and come with me. Hoo-boy! I'm in deep kimchee now. Although my licence allows me to have basically any kind of relationship with a boy I can concieve of, it normally is a three-sided deal, with the aproval and co-operation of the parents.

Ahhh Geeze! Will you lay off that tired old 20th century morality. I told you things had changed, and that they had changed for the worse as far as you homo-phobes were concerned. The truth is that nearly 5% of the human race is gay. You can't change that, I can't change that. Hell, God Almighty can't change that!! Given that fact, the odds are against a gay kid having gay parents. I know less about how it works for girls and so I will restrict my comments to the male half of the spectrum, the important thing is that you remember that we boylovers have our mirror image, the girl-lovers, infact perhaphs we are all really just kid lovers; because I would have no real objection to a cute little eight or nine year old girl either.

The reason Brian's hints were troubling was that although in a 'normal' relationship, a boylover serves as a friend and mentor in addition to a lover to the boy. In fact with a very young boy, like Brian, its more likely that he's just going through the phase in his life where he's experimenting with the gay lifestyle and indeed will eventually join the 95% strait human community. With a boy as young as Brian, the 'sex' part of the relationship is pretty benign, consisting of 'touchie-feelie' and some lite oral sex.

Parents normally love their children more than life itself and will do virtually anything to advance their child's chance at survival in the galaxy at large. With this in mind, normal parents who find that they have a child who is gay will normally seek out someone like me to help with their child's growing experience. But that is in the context of the extended family environment. Running away by children is still frowned upon by the Galaxy's human society – and it is still a criminal act to entice a boy or girl to run away. So you can see why I was anxious about exactly where this conversation was leading.

"Why do you say that? I thought you were living with an aunt. How would she feel about that?" I asked him.

"I do, but she doesn't care anything about me. That's why I can stay out late at night. She'd be glad to see me gone. You see, my mom pretty much dumped me in her lap, sort of speak."

"Wait a minute," I interrupted. "I don't understand. Your mom gave you away?"

Huge crystal tears rolled down Brian's cheeks, and he nodded.

"Why?" I whispered in astonishment. I was totally shocked that anyone could do something so cruel to this beautiful kid. The most horrible thing a parent can do to a child is abandon it.

"My dad was in Starfleet, and he was killed in an away mission on some planet, I don't even know the name of. That was when I was five. My mom found a boy friend right away. They – they loved each other 3; b-but her boyfriend said he di-didn't want a Starfleet brat around 3; so my mom asked my dad's sister to look after me. But she always tells me and everyone she knows, that she really didn't want to be tied down with a kid, especially a boy kid. She says I'm more trouble than she wanted to have to cope with. Not that I give her any trouble, or get in trouble."

The word were simply tumbling out of his mouth and he was on the verge of tears as he told me this.

" 3;but just having to buy extra food, extra this and extra that, is more than she wanted."

Brian took a few minutes here to wipe his eyes and settle himself. I wraped my arms around the small nine-year-old in a protective bearhug.

"It's okay, Brian, now I understand 3;"

"She'd be glad to give me to anybody that wanted me." Brian said, with his sunshine smile returning. "Hint, hint 3;," he added.

I had to think about this for a minute, this was better than I had at first hoped for. I rolled over and sat up.

"Where'ya going?" Brian asked. His voice was tinged with a small amount of apprehension, and I realzed that from his point of view he had just taken an enormus risk in offering himself to me. If I turned out not to want him, I might alert the authorities – thereby complecating any hope he had of getting away from his aunt.

"Not to worry, I just want to check up on a couple of things. I stood up, butt naked, and walked to the front of the control cab and sprawled in the pilots acceleration couch. I could hear Brian's bare feet slap-slapping behind me on the neolyte tiles of the control cab and the nude kid jumped into my lap.

"Ahhhh---" I sighed. "Perfect, a boykid, naughty, nine and naked, just the way I like 'em!"

Brian snuggled deeper into my lap, grinding his nude butt against my simi-erect dick. "What're we gonna do?" he asked again.

"Like I said, just check a few things," I repeated. "Computer," I said in my 'official' voice that the computer recognized was me inputting data or commands.

"lcars on line, ready." the computer said.

"Establish qlr link with Memory Alpha."

"Working," the computer replied and within a very few seconds said "Link established, two way digital; video datalink unavailable, insufficient bandwidth."

"OK. Search records. Keywords: Starfleet, mision records, Shimosuwa, personal logs."

Brian's eyebrows shot up at that, but he remained silent.

"Establish temporeal limits," the computer prompted.

"Uhhhh 3;"

"Unrecognized command, restate."

"Stardate 3/6501.01 to present," I said clearing up the ambuguity. That was the trouble with voice recognition computer input, you had to be very precise.

"Working. Records located, 196.518 megabytes of unclassified data, 32.950 megabytes of classified data."

"Download unclassified data, path = D://SHIMOSUWA."

"Specified directory does not exist, create directory?"

"OK."

"Download in progress, estimated time: 00:21:49."

"OK. Autodisconnect when finished."

"Confirmed." lcars said.

Brian elboed me and squirmed his boney body around to look at me, "Why did you do that?" he asked.

"Well, you said your father died when you were five, and you couldn't remember much about him, I thought you might want to know a little bit more about him – its my way of saying thank you for choosing me to help."

Brian's eyes were shining with moisture as he said: "Thank you, Pete."

"I think we'de better turn in, though. We're going to have a hell of a day tomorrow!"

"Awww, but ts only 1:20 3;"

"Nope, bedtime, now."

lcars sounded the alarm clock at 07:00:00 just as always, Brian was lying on his side curled up in a semi-fetal position with his cute little buns against my crotch, my semi-erect dick resting in the crack of his butt. Oh, how I wanted to work it into his love canal once before I had to get to work, but there wasn't time just then, and it would be years yet before Brian was ready either physically or emotionialy for anal-sex.

I had to get the truck around to the back of the building where I was due to deliver the load of ggaahhh. I leaned over and kissed Brian on the left cheek of his cute little face, and said, "Brian, it's time to get up and at 'em, little buddy." Brian opened his sleepy eyes, looked up at me, and smiled a big contented smile Then he asked, "Do we have time for some fun first?"

"Not this time," I answered, "We gotta get things going pretty quickly. I gotta get this truck around to the loading dock right away so I can have the ggaahhh unloaded soon as possible. And you have to go and get what stuff you can carry and set things with your aunt.

Brian and I helped each other get dressed, then I went to the front of the control cab and settled into the pilots couch. The whine of the fusion reactors butstrap APU greeting me as I turned on the pre-ignition circuits and waited while the computer went through its POST and began the ritual of bringing the 185 mw fusion reactor, which was the truck's main power plant, from parking stand-by to full load. The engineering christmas tree panel on the engineer's side overhead slowly began to have more and more green LED indicators on it than amber and red, and within 30 seconds the trucks was ready for engine main-startup.

By this time Brian had come forward and flopped into the navigator's seat.

"I'll drop you over in the main parking lot," I said. "Then you can scoot on home and collect everything you want to take. Make sure you get everything, because who knows when – or even if – we'll ever be out this way again. It's a really big galaxy out there."

"Okay, Pete. I'll be back as soon as I can."

I hit the engine arm-fire switches and the truck's nuclear-electric ion drive came explosively to life. As soon as the engine intermix ratio was flight grade, I eased back on the collective and pushed lightly but steadily on the port side foot pedal. The truck responded by lifting a few meters off the concrete slab it had been parked on and drifting over the chainlink fence that seperated the loading zone from the mall's main parking lot. The main lot was virtually diserted this early in the morning, so I floated the truck on its counter-grav pads over to the edge and then let it settle back down to the ground.

As I poped the release on the navigator's side door and the vacuum-tight seal released, allowing the section of the cab to open out and upwards [Delorian-style] Brian leaned over and gave me a wet, sloppy little boy kiss. "Be back soon," he said and hoped out, landing catlike on his feet two meters below.

"It'll take about an hour to get the ggaahhh unloaded, if you get back befor then, just wait here. If I'm done first, I'll park it right here to wait for you."

Brian nodded he understood and was off running down the street toward the residential sections that rigged the outer perimeter of the huge dome that made this part of Starbase 288 fit for human habitation.

I hoovered over to the Klingon Delicatescant where I was to deliver the ggaahhh and growled several choise Klinonee phrases into the Omnicomm. I was immediatly answered and instructed which loading bay was adjacent to the Klingon's storage lockers.

Unloading the ggaahhh went faster than I expected. The Klingon propiator's servators were a unsavory mixture of galactic races, but among them were several Klingon-fusions who were sampling the boss's wares while he wasn't looking. From the amount of lip-smacking that was going on, I'd guess my boylover Klingon pal on Scythe III was raising a premium crop of ggaahhh 3;

Well, to each their own, I guess.

When the Klingon had finished unloading the ggaahhh and we had drunk a flaggon of blood wine to seal the deal on his side; and gold pressed latinum had changed hands to seal the deal on my side, I made my farewells and brought the truck back to the agreed upon place by the mall's exterior perimeter fence to wait for Brian. I cracked open the pilot side canopy hatch to create a little breeze and desided to try to find out some more about Brian's aunt. "Computer."

"lcars on line and ready."

"Access station files, keywords: Shimosuwa, personal logs, public data."

"Working 3; files located, 87 mb of public data."

"Download and save. Path = D:/SHIMOSUWA/auntee_grazelda."

"Working, time to completion is 00:00:49."

"OK." And so I waited for the 49 seconds it took to reveal all that was public about Ms. Shimosuwa. After lcars had completed the transfer, I brought up her bio sheet first. It turned out that Brian's aunt was a highly placed para-legal secretary for some hyperpower law firm on New Chicago, posted here at starbase 288 because the tiny moon-sized planet also had extensive dylithium crystal deposits which several Federation mining congolmerates were mining, she was here to make certian that her firm's client was not being snookered by the evil competition.

The upshot was that she knew how to draw up transfer of custody papers on children either being released for adoption or fostor care that would stand up in any court in the Federation or ancilliary stellar power who recognized the Federation's Legal Code as being valid.

I began to daydream about starting another long term relationship with a boy. My last such experience had been over ten years ago and half a galaxy away, and Brian was very like Douglas. I forsaw many years of good times. A shrill little boy whistle jerked me back to the here and now and I saw Brian running down the street toward the mall's parking lot. He skidded to a stop just below the canopy hatch and shouted at the top of his lungs: "I'm ready! Let's go!!"

He had his clothes and some favorite toys in a suitcase and was clutching a small antistatic bag in which an isolinear ram chip was visible.

"Alright, partner, go on around to the airlock, it'll be easier to get that giant suitcase in through there."

"Okay," Brian said and dashed amidships.

I closed and sealed the canopy hatch and went aft to open the airlock. Brian hauled his suitcase in and triumphantly held up the isolinear chip.

"See!" he almost shouted. "I told you she'd do it!"

There was a tone of victory in his voice, but overlaid by sadness and doubt. He must have been wondering at that point what it would take to make me give him away also.

"Yeah, I guess we're set." I said evenly. "Let's stow your stuff in the bedroom for now, and we'll get you settled in proper later."

"Okay," the little boy said and hauled his suitcase into the tiny 3x4 meter [10x13 feet] sleeping/living area of the truck. We put the suitcase, still packed into one of the in-flight storage lockers and went back forward to the control cab.

"Here," Brian said, handing me the isolinear chip. "My aunt said this is all you'll need to have legal custody of me. You have to register it in front of a Terran Imperial Court."

I took the isolinear chip and hefted it in my hand. A simple rectangular piece of plastic 2 centimeters [¾ inch] wide by 4.8 centimeters [2 inch] long with a complex microprocessor and several hundred megabytes of rom/ram designed to move data simply and accuratly from one computer to another; and in this case it also held the fate of one human boy in its electronic innerds. I was both surprised and overjoyed that Brian's aunt would release him into a stranger's custody without first meeting who would be taking him, but apparently Brian had been right in his assertation that his aunt was obscenly glad to be rid of him.

"Let's see what we have here," I said and swivled the pilot's couch around to the left to access the truck command computer autoprogrammer. I shoved the isolinear chip into the socket and clicked the run icon. On the computer's small 5" [12½ cm] high-rez monitor, an oriental woman in her mid fourties appeared.

"I, Miyuki Shimosuwa, legal guardian of Brian Shimosuwa, a minor aged nine years, Terrestial standard; being of sound mind and not under durress or under the influence of any intoxicating or haloluciant substances do declare my intention to transfer gaurdianship of Brian Shimosuwa to Pete Reynolds, the bearer of this document. This transfer shall become in force as soon as registered in any branch of the Terran Imperial Circuit Court. This transfer is final and non-recindable by either party."

"Black, black 3;no trades back!" I murmered as the screen displayed the "end of visual content" icon and the directory of documents contained on the chip appeared.

"What was that 3;?" Brian asked. He was leaning over my shoulder watching the monitor also.

"Huh? Oh! 'Black, black 3; no trades back.' That was what we said when I was a kid after a trade, for comics, toys or whatever. It usually meant that the kid who said it first thought he or she got a really good deal and there would be no trade-backs. That's kinda what your aunt said at the end, except in grown-up speak."

"Oh," the boy said subdued. "I promise I won't be any trouble Pete, I want to stay with you forever."

I laughed and pulled Brian into my lap and wrapped both arms around him in my patented 'el oso loco' bearhug, "Well, at least untill you're a grown up yourself and ready to be on your own. I think your aunt was the one who got cheated in this deal – and I feel like the luckiest man in the galaxy."

"Really?"

"Yes, really!" I said. "Now just lets see what else your aunt sent along with you on this chip."

The storage area of the isolinear chip was nearly full, Miyuki had sent 78 Stellars in Brian's savings account, his complete medical records and dna/rna scann, birth certificate and Imperial Citizen status indicator with a Terran passport; virtually everything I would need if I decided to adopt Brian legally.

"I think we can get this registered right here, the Courts should have a branch here on a starbase. Are you sure you want this? This is just one step away from being adopted, you know."

"Yes," Brian said seriously. "I'm sure."

I took a deep breath, "Okay," I said. "computer."

"lcars active and on line."

"Search local directory, keyword: Terran Circuit Court, records."

"Located."

"Establish contact."

"Working," lcars said. The main screen on the instrument cluster between the pilot and navigator station glowed to life. "Connected." On the screen was an older woman with an extremley stern contentence, "Court records," she said.

"I have a document to file with the court."

"Yes, sir. There is a 15 Stellar fee."

"I understand. Computer effect transfer."

"Thank you, sir. And the document you wish to register?"

"Computer, upload isolinear chip contents."

"Working," lcars intoned as the megabytes of data were transfered from the truck's main computer to the Court's download buffer.

"Yes," the records clerk said. "I see. Are you Pete Reynolds?"

"I am," I said, butterflies in my belly.

"And the boy I see behind you is Brian?"

"Yes 3; I am," Brian squeeked.

"Alright, these papers seem in order. Do you swear and/or affirm under penality of prejury, that the data contained in these computer records are accurate and valid to the best of your knowledge?"

"I do."

"Transmit your right thumbprint, please."

I pressed my thumb against the computer's optical scanner and was rewarded a few seconds later by the whirr and click of the small hard copy printer under the pilot's couch.

"Thank you, Mr. Reynolds, I have transmitted your noterized documents to your computer. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No, thank you," I said and the clerk terminated the link. I grinned and held up my thumb in the ages old sign of success.

"That's it?" Brian asked. "Am-am I your little boy now?"

"Yep, all signed, sealed and legal." I said.

Brian crawled into my lap and laid his head on my shoulder; I automatically put my arms around him and hugged him. We sat together there like that for a time before Brian asked:

"Now what?"

"Well," I began, "believe it or not, if you are going to go star wandering with me we have to get you outfitted correctly and safely. For example there is the question of vacuum armor in case we ever ran into something too big for the navigational deflectors to handle and we lost celss."

"Hmmn. I haddn't thought of that. Vacuum armor for kids must be pretty rare."

"Well, not really," I said. "You know the bigger Starfleet ships all carry crew dependants, including kids, so they all have to have emergency equipment, but we'll have to go 'upstairs' to the main base complex to get it, I think."

"Wow! That means we're going into space, right?"

"Yep, that's a roger," I said and indicated the navigator's acceleration couch, "Git yer skinny li'l butt ov'r dare and strap in," I said in my best hill billy voice.

Brian laughed and scrambled over the mid-hump instrument cluster and wrapped himself in the acceleration harness, which quickly autoadapted to his small frame. I pulled my harness down over my shoulder and snapped the harness's stainless steel plug into the floor receptical and felt it tighten across my chest and shoulders.

I ran through the pre-flight checks quickly and fired up the ion-impulse drive. I turned my head to glance at Brian, "Navigator?" I said.

"All clear forward and up."

The flight computer agreed and I pulled back on the cyclic and opened the drive's throttles wide. Four gees of acceleration slammed us back against the couches as the ground droped away quickly and we headed for the dome's exit portal 15,000 feet overhead. The Tomahawk shot through the last whisps of artificial atmosphere and then through the electrogaravitic forcefield that marked the outer boundry of the habitable area of planetoid Grunn B-761 [a], and into the vacuum of space, angling toward the starbase's orbital operations complex, still visible only as a tiny smudge of reflected sunlight some 1,000 kilometers [600 miles] away.

The great odyessey had begun, but little did I suspect then where it would eventually lead to and finally end.

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