For a while, life was great.

I was retired, with a cushy pension. We travelled, though never off planet. When my wife died, everything changed. My friends were her friends; they faded away with pitying smiles. My children had no time for me. There is no room in youth for age.

I gave away everything I owned and sold the house. I said good-bye to University City by having some won-ton soup at that little cart. It was still there, manned by a younger man but the soup wasn’t as good. I hopped the first freight off planet.

The search for Hao Shue was fruitless at first. At a refugee camp I was told of a magical won-ton soup. Further inquiries convinced me I was in the right direction. It took all of my money to pay for passage to Midori.

A mercenary quantum ship skirted the conflict and translated to Hao Shue’s last known location. I was given a dropship and a month’s supply of food. I was on my own. There was no turning back.

I fell into the green planet, through the mists and vine anchored mountains.

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