"Game." Cris laid down his victorious hand of Fastara.

Thom threw down his cards in disgust. "That's five in a row. I've created a monster."

"Oh, come on now. Be a good sport."

"Constant loss kind of takes the fun out of it."

Right, like it was awesome for me when we first started playing. "You had a good run. This was bound to happen eventually. After all, I have had a year of daily practice." Cris grinned. He knew he had just been lucky with his last several draws—he and Thom were equal in their playing ability, despite the recent winning streak. I can't resist getting in a few jabs while I can.

They were nearing the end of another delivery cycle on their Makaris contract. After only ten months with Thom, Cris could hardly believe he'd ever had any other life. Since his initial mishaps, he had become comfortable with the customs of nomadic space life. With dozens of stopovers in space stations, he had learned how to identify the good areas from the bad, and he was proficient at using covert telepathic probes when needed.

To his relief, the food distribution work offered far more variety than the initial, dull trip to Gallos. They traveled for no more than two days at a time without making a stop to offload, which helped the time pass.

Privately, Cris had kept up with his studies and physical training in the Exler's small gym, not wanting his skills to atrophy; however, it was because he enjoyed it, rather than feeling like it was something he had to do. He kept steady watch for news about his parents back in Sieten, but heard little. There was never an announcement about his disappearance—that would have been a disastrous political move—but he figured there must be private detectives looking for him. The prospect was disconcerting, but he tried to feel confident in his ability to remain undetectable. He was the Navigator for a cargo freighter, and as far as anyone else was concerned, he was born to fulfill such a duty.

The navigation system beeped. They had reached the last beacon in the sequence.

Thom jumped at the chance to clear the cards from their play surface. "Thank the stars! I need some time away from the onslaught."

Cris shook his head and laughed. He'll get over it. He checked the lock on the exit beacon; it was solid. "Aldria, here we come."

The Exler dropped out of subspace. Ahead of them, in the distance, was one of the smaller stations in the sector. They had previously been there four times on their delivery rounds. Unlike many other stations, Aldria was predominantly a stopover for merchants, rather than serving as a residence for any sizable population.

They went through the docking protocol with the remote attendant. As soon as the clamps were in place, Thom rose from his seat. "I'll handle the offloading. Go get some of that fried thing you like so much."

Because it's delicious! "Best in the outer colonies."

"So you've told me every time since we first came here." Thom shooed Cris away with his hand. "Now go, before I change my mind."

Cris eagerly complied. There were few things he missed from his home, but fried leeca was one. It was common street food on Tararia, but the Sietinen family chef had made it for him one time and he was instantly hooked. He had stumbled across a vendor in the Aldria Station on their first stopover and was thrilled to discover that the rendition thoroughly lived up to his memory.

The vendor was on the opposite side of the station. Cris took his time taking in the sights, happy to stretch his legs in a manner other than on a treadmill. They stopped at stations frequently enough, but rarely was he afforded free time to idly gaze at wares.

Even after a year of travel, he was still amazed by the quantity and breadth of products available in ports. There was a gadget to fulfill every need—both real needs, and those invented strictly for the sake of sales. It was difficult to imagine all of the inventory selling, yet the system perpetuated itself. Cris was struck by the scale of it. I'm only here at this one moment. How many millions of people pass by just out of sight in space every day? Thinking in those terms put his own miniscule existence in perspective. But I'm not no one, as much as I try to blend in. Even with all those countless people, most would still know my birth name. That recognition means something. It was humbling.

Cris took a wrong turn at first, but eventually found the fried leeca vendor's red cart. A rich scent of frying dough wafted down the hall. The cart was a freestanding box a couple meters square and just tall enough to stand inside, with a half-open wall to the front. Its crimson color made Cris think of his favorite flower patch in the Sietinen estate's gardens. He beamed at the proprietor as he approached.

She was a sturdy woman of middle years, named Roselyn based on the credentials displayed in front of her cart. There was a warmth to her that reminded Cris of the nanny who had cared for him until he was six. She tilted her head and gave Cris a slight smile in return. There was a hint of recognition in her burnt umber eyes. "You're back."

She remembers me? I guess I couldn't stay completely anonymous forever. "I could never pass up the opportunity to get a taste of home."

"It's been almost two months, hasn't it?" Roselyn asked as she rotated the contents of the basket in her fryer within the cart.

Cris nodded. "Yes, sadly. Our rounds only bring us here every nine weeks."

Roselyn frowned. "What a shame. I've missed that adorable smile of yours." She winked at him.

Stars! Is she flirting with me? He smiled politely and took half a step back. "I'll take two orders, please."

"Absolutely. I'll have a fresh batch ready in a couple minutes." She flipped the contents of the basket again.

"I've been looking forward to it all week."

Roselyn inclined her head. "You flatter me. Are you here for long?"

"Just for a few hours to pick up our cargo, then on to Elarine," Cris replied with a dour expression. My least favorite of all the ports.

"Elarine..." The vendor's brow furrowed. "I've heard of it, but never been."

"Don't bother. There's nothing to see. It's small and unremarkable in every way."

Roselyn grinned. "Looking forward to your visit, then?"

"Can't wait..."

"Well, I hope this makes it easier for you." Roselyn removed the basket from the fryer and placed six fried patties onto a plastic plate. The golden dough of the leeca was still sizzling. She set the plate on a ledge atop the front opening to her cart. "Four credits."

Cris pulled the physical currency chips out of his pocket and gave her five credits. Electronic transfers were far more common, but he feared the faked credentials on his alias bank account wouldn't hold up to thorough scrutiny. As a precaution, he had adopted the practice of using chips instead.

He blew on a piece of leeca to cool it and took a bite—warm and savory with just the right touch of sweetness. It brought him back to his early life, before preparing for his future responsibilities became the sole focus. I did have this as a kid. I guess it wasn't all bad. "It's excellent," he said while still chewing.

"Enjoy," Roselyn said. "Have fun in Elarine."

Hah. "Thanks." He waved goodbye and began wandering back toward the Exler.

Cris finished up the leeca while casually strolling through the port, reflecting on some of the good times from his childhood on Tararia. He wandered by some shops and looked at completely impractical, unnecessary items. As he browsed, he even noticed oversized pulse guns that couldn't possibly be legal and some openly displayed narcotics. It really is different out here.

With romanticized thoughts of Tararia still floating through his mind, Cris was on his final approach to the Exler when he happened to overhear the Sietinen name mentioned in a conversation. It had been so long since he'd heard the name directly—rather than a generic mention of the Big 6—that it caught him off-guard. He stopped and looked around to identify who was talking. After a moment, he spotted two merchants drinking at a walk-up bar. Curious, Cris walked over so he could hear the details.

---

Like what you read? Remember to vote!