"So then, a chemical worker?"

"Right in one, bartender. What gave it away?"

The bartender gestured towards the man with a glass wrapped in cloth in his hands.

"Two things: you've got a Jupiterian accent for a start, though I'll be damned if I can tell exactly which station or moon you're from."

"Cyclades-13, about ten-thousand miles from Io. What was the second thing that gave me away?"

The bartender rubbed the front of his own neck, indicating that the man should do the same.

"That looks to me like a caustic burn on the front of your neck, sir. Jupiter's famous for its chemical works, and those works in turn are famous for poor workplace safety."

The man at the bar shrugged a little, smiling widely as he did so.

"Ah, what can you do? Not like there's any way of changing things now, is there? That's why I'm out to the colonies tomorrow, where things are better."

The bartender nodded, not at all surprised that the man was heading to the colonies. That was just about the only reason anyone ever came here at all, so really he was more surprised that the man had been so forwards about it. Most of his patrons tended to keep their emigration to themselves until the conversation got flowing a little more, after all, such happenings in life are often difficult to swallow and as such aren't exactly what most people want to discuss openly with a stranger, but this man seemed not to care much about it at all.

"I see. Do you require any advice about moving out to the colonies, or do you already have things set up?"

The man made a so-so motion with his hands.

"I made sure to be pretty well prepared. I sent the wife on with the kids a few months ago while I stayed on to get a little more money together while I finished my contract, so she's already got a little place for us to stay and sorted the kids out with their new school and the like. It's just a matter of getting work on one of the plants aboard this new station."

The bartender smiled, pleasantly surprised. It wasn't often someone had everything well-organised and planned while moving out.

"I'm happy to hear that, sir. I speak with many people moving on to the colonies, and very few of them have a plan beyond 'find work and hope for the best'. Which station are you moving to, if it's not too personal a question for me to ask?"

The man waved away the bartender's concern.

"Nah, you're fine to ask away. It's a bit of a larger station around a gas giant in Alpha-Centauri. Hyperion-22 is its name, third largest of the Hyperion stations behind only Hyperion-7 and Hyperion-1. There's plenty of work there for someone like me."

The bartender quickly took out his notebook and jotted down the information. Who knew, maybe another chemical worker would pass through here one day and need direction to find work in the colonies. Hyperion stations, chemical plants. It was a succinct note, but it would tell him all he needed to know in the future.

"You give advice to many people then?"

The bartender looked back up at the chemical worker, who had a slightly puzzled look on his face, then nodded.

"I do indeed. Like I said, not many have everything planned out and prepared like you have. Most people who come through here... well, most of the time they haven't any other choice. For one reason or another they need to leave Sol, no matter how little they all want to. After all, there's something to be said for home, and for humanity our home will always be Sol, no matter how far away we go."

The chemical worker nodded, raising his pint a little.

"Aye, and that's the truth. Still, if the bad begins to outweigh the good then emigration starts looking like a nicer and nicer idea, I guess. That would put me in the minority who are leaving just for an improvement to their life and not just because I absolutely have to, I would guess?"

"Yep. All sorts pass through this little bar and hotel, and few of them are happy to be leaving. Everything from labourers to doctors and fleet technicians, all moving out thanks to a little too much corporate influence in their lives. There's only so much a man can take before he needs to get out, after all."

The man nodded at the bartender again, draining his pint.

"Another of the same, please bartender. Roughage cider is a lot better than what we normally get on the stations. This is proper stuff, made from apples, isn't it?"

The bartender nodded, and the man continued.

"Yeah, well the only cider we got aboard the Cyclades stations is chemical-based. The Cyclades stations are old, you see, so they weren't built with the fancy greenery and natural life that modern stations are. They're more like oversized starships, minus the engines. Crew quarters, or in this case residential quarters, mess halls, recreational facilities, and of course the gasworks. That's what Cyclades-13 specialised in, you see. We harvested gasses by the million-tonne to be shipped to other planets, where it would be used to kick-start their atmospheres. I'm not sure how the science of it all works, I'm just a chemical worker after all, not a space-scientist, but that's the long and short of it. The eggheads make sure the barren worlds have a 'living core' and 'magnetic field', whatever those two things actually entail, as well as a healthy amount of gravity. Then they call us in to ship off millions of tonnes of nitrogen and carbon dioxide, other gasses as well of course, to make the planets habitable for people like you and me. Well, not you and me exactly, since we both live on stations, but you know what I mean. Helium as well, for fusion reactors and the like. Us chemical workers around Jupiter are the lifeblood of travel and colonisation in Sol, but our living conditions aren't the best. That's why I'm hoping for better standards by moving out of the system."

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The bartender nodded, smiling.

"Well in that case you'll be more than pleased to know that most of the stations in the colonies have greenery and are a lot more spacious than the old Solar company-stations. I've never been able to visit any myself, but I know plenty of people out there in the Reaches. A few in the Frontiers as well, however distant they may be."

"Aye, that's good to know. The wife sent back a few messages saying as much, but you know how long it takes messages to transmit from system to system; I didn't receive most of the messages for a month after she'd sent them. It's created one or two issues, I'll tell you that much."

The bartender gave the man a wry smile. Keeping up to date with the friends he had in the colonies was certainly a difficult endeavour, especially considering how busy they always were, and as such he knew exactly the sort of issues he was talking about.

"Nothing to worry about, I hope?"

The man waved away the bartender's concern again.

"Nah, nothing to worry about. Small things, important on a personal level, but nothing dangerous or damaging to a relationship. Just little family matters, like not knowing how my boys and girls are doing on a day-to-day basis, that sort of thing. I can't wait to make my way to Alpha-Centauri and see them again! From what little I have heard from them I know they're all settling in just fine, and are really enjoying their new home, so I'm not embarrassed to say I'm more than a little excited to get there myself!"

The bartender smiled at the man's happiness. It was nice to see someone who genuinely seemed happy with their lot in life, especially given how downcast most people who came through here normally were.

"Then I'm happy for you, and no mistake! It's always nice to hear of the good in people's lives especially in a time like this. Here, another round, on the house!"

The man looked at him in surprise as the drink was slid over, the bartender quickly fixing himself up a glass as well.

"Well, thank you very much young man! Tell me, are you planning on moving out into the colonies as well?"

The bartender sipped a little from his drink, then shrugged.

"Maybe one day. Probably. I've worked here for eight years and have gotten very attached to this place is all, so the thought of leaving it all behind is..."

"Tough?"

The bartender nodded at the man's interjection.

"Tough, that's right. I mean, there's not many little bars on the very fringes of a system in the colonies, so work for me is... well, it'll be a little more tough to find, I suppose. I can always find work in classier bars planetside or on rec-stations, but it's not the same. There's a niche in this job, and I'd like to think that with almost a decade of experience I fill the niche quite well."

The patron nodded kindly, looking around the bar.

"Certainly looks like a nice place, and no mistake. Must have been quite popular back in the day."

The bartender chuckled a little.

"Oh, like you wouldn't believe. Hundreds, and I do mean hundreds, of patrons came through each day. I'd probably serve somewhere around sixty people in a four hour shift, each of them coming up for drinks again and again. It got to the point that the landlord and lady didn't want me doing any longer than six hours at a time when it was really busy, because they were worried about overworking me."

"They worried about overworking you? I take it they're nice bosses to work under?"

The bartender smiled fondly.

"The best, and no mistake. If they one day move into the colonies and set up a little business like this again then I'll be sending them my application on day one, and that's a fact."

"If you've worked well under them for... how long did you say it was you'd worked here?"

"Eight years, sir."

"If you've worked well under them for eight years then I'd imagine they'd be very pleasantly surprised to see your application come through their comms. After all, you don't keep a job like this if the bosses hate you."

The bartender laughed a little again, raising his pint in a toast.

"And that's the truth! To good bosses!"

"To good bosses and no jarheads!"

The two men drank deeply, smiling all the while. The bartender was a little concerned for a moment that he may actually be the one who ended up getting drunk rather than his patron, but he quickly reasoned himself out of such a trail of thought. He'd only had the one drink, and while it was damn strong he was certain that the thoughts were more his brain reacting to such a sudden ingestion of alcohol rather than an indicator of how much he'd actually drank. He'd been sober these last few days, after all.

"I do like a refreshing drink on a night like this. Not that it's needed as much in a station as modern and well-outfitted as this one; as I've mentioned my home station is an older one, and as such the air has been recycled a thousand times over. It's far from fresh in there, what with the complete lack of greenery and plant life. It's all artificial and almost feels like it was supposed to be a stopgap that was just... never replaced. Strange thought to have, I know, but it's far nicer here. You've got a couple of plants dotted around here and there for a start, which does wonders for the air in a place like this."

The bartender nodded, smiling. The potted plants had been his addition to the bar, and one of his best ones if he did say so himself. They really tied the place together, made it feel more like home.

"Well, I'd best head on out for the night. No sense in lingering here longer than I have to, hey?"

The man stopped himself as he turned to leave, turning back around and hurriedly writing something down on a piece of paper he'd fished out of one of his pockets.

"Here kid, have my contact details. You seem nice and my wife would hang me out to dry if she found out you'd moved to the colonies and needed help but couldn't reach me."

The bartender blinked a few times in surprise. This was far from the first patron he'd keep in contact with, but it seemed awfully sudden. Not that he was complaining, of course!

"Thank you sir, that's very generous of you. I hope you have a pleasant trip. Oh, and do pass my well-wishes on to your family!"

The man grinned back at him as he turned to leave.

"Will do, kid! I'll see you around!"

Then he exited the bar and was gone. The bartender sighed and went back to cleaning his spotless bar, a little put out by the man's sudden exit. Ah well. There was bound to be someone else coming through soon enough.