“Bye, Bondo!” they all shouted, waving goodbye to him as the gangplank retracted. Bondo waved goodbye, too, wondering if those were actual tears in his father’s eyes as the ship’s iris door spun shut. After a few minutes, the shuttle’s engines began to glow and hum. The window slats lowered, and Bondo saw his brothers and even Cathai waving goodbye, his father and mother at the cockpit, waving as well.

He stood and watched as the ship rose up into the air, and was eventually lost to sight. When the last gleam of the shuttle had disappeared into the midmorning sky, Bondo hoisted his rucksack and looked around.

The core world’s name was Alderaan, and Bondo’s PawPaw had landed him in its capital city, Aldera. They’d left him at the spaceport’s outdoor docks, which looked like a series of domes with points on top, all alongside an outdoor docking space which Bondo now stood on. “Lots’places want our food there,” Bondo’s father had said. “People livin’ there to study, people learnin’ to be cooks, all kinds’ve things.”

“Why they travel so far to study? Why not read on they own?” Bondo asked.

“I tol’ you, Bondo. Core people, they odd. And they think you odd. But find a job, find a place, pay ye bills, and wait before you trust anyone, ‘cause some people’ll try to cheat you. These people, though, whose address I’m givin’ you, they always been good f’me do business with. I bet you fin’ someone good here too, give you a job or something else.”

Bondo looked at the small datapad wrapped around his wrist. It had the address and directions to his family’s sole business contact. He looked at the numbers and words. His father had explained how addresses worked in the worlds- like your rooms in the hallways back on the Crasna, only a lot more difficult to find and more ways you could get lost.

He swallowed. He realized there were a lot of things that were going to be much more difficult out here. He looked back up at the sky, finding peace by looking at the stars.

But something nagged at him, and wouldn’t let go. Bondo wasn’t a stupid boy, but he couldn’t articulate what he was feeling right now. The truth was he’d never felt alone in his life before. And it was getting tough for him to handle.

“How’d it go?” said a voice at his elbow.

Bondo turned to look. The voice’s owner was a young fellow, at least a half-dozen years younger than Bondo’s eighteen, with short, slicked-back red hair and a long, dark coat that went all the way to his ankles.

“You talk me jus’ now?”

“Boy, are you thick! Who else could I be talking to? My name’s Wulf,” the boy said, sticking out his hand. “What’s yours?”

“I’m Bondo. Bondo Crasna,” he said, shaking the boy’s hand and smiling slightly.

“Well, Bondo Bondo...oh, you just say it once? Fine. I meant, how’d the goodbyes go? You looked like you were saying goodbye, and folks who say goodbye, well, I found they stand there a long time, looking up and wishing they could bring someone back. Or bring themselves to them. I mean, there’s a whole lot we could do, right? Right?”

Bondo just stared for a few seconds. In all his life, he’d never heard anyone say so many words in a row, or say them so fast.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Grelb gotcher tongue? No worry, chummer! No worry. You know where you are?”

“Alder-“

“That’s right! Alderaan! Best planet of all the core worlds! And you’re in the best city on the best of the core worlds! Huge place, home to the best University, the best science facility, even the best-“

“Cooking school,” said Bondo.

“Cook- how did you know about that?”

“My PawPaw.” Bondo had answered simply and factually, as if answering why it was daytime.

“And here I thought you’d just fallen off an argo ship somewhere! You, sir, are obviously a very highly placed member of the cultured class! You, sir, know where you are going and why you are going there! Yes, and any man who knows about the great culinary academies knows where to find the best places to live, stay, drive and survive! Furthermore, if I may be so bold- may I carry your bag for you, sir?”

“No, thank you,” said Bondo, shouldering his pack and walking off to follow the young boy.

“Well, suit yourself,” said the lad. “You just follow me. You want a warm place to sleep tonight? I can lead you to it! You want a place to eat, I can get you there, too! You looking for a job, I can get you to the guy who can help you get there!”

“Can you really find me all that?”

“Sure can! Not hard at all when I guy knows where to look. Hm,” Wulf stopped and made a big show about standing in place and holding his chin in his thumb and forefinger. “I think I know just the place to find you a job, Bondo. Are you a good fighter? Can you fight?”

Bondo thought for a moment. “Yeah. Yeah I can.”

“Good! Now, do you have a blaster, a vibroknife, or anything else?”

“I...no blasters on the freighter. A blast, well, that could tear rait through the ceiling, and...”

“An argo freighter? Are you for real? Good gravy! You really did fall off one! And no blaster? Great! I know just the thing for you! Now, lemme see,” said Wulf, getting about a dozen feet away, and looking Bondo over. They were now at a derelict set of buildings near the spaceport. “I know just the job for you, Bondo! The perfect part for you to play!”

“Really? What’s that?”

He heard a loud click behind him.

Bondo turned. There was a man, maybe a few years older than himself, dressed very similarly to young Wulf, standing behind Bondo with a grimy-looking blaster pointed at him.

“You get to be our latest sucker, Bondo,” said Wulf. “Now, just put down the rucksack, and walk away. Or lie down and count to a hundred, I don’t care.”

Bondo stopped and looked, first at the young boy who’d befriended and betrayed him, and then at his henchman.

Bondo’s mind raced. But suddenly, something in him clicked.

This wasn’t just a case of bullying, like the two Transport brothers.

This was a game of cards. No different in the end than one of the games he and his brothers would play almost every night after the work was done.

Except the stakes were higher, and bluffing would be a bit trickier.

“C’mon. Hand over your stuff, big fella,” said the man with the blaster. “You’re big, but I can still put a hole in you.”

“Yeah, you can, can’t you. Well, here you g-“

Bondo threw his duffelbag, at the man with the pistol. Cylinder shaped and weighing about fifty pounds, Bondo was large and strong enough that his bag might as well been filled with feathers.

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