"Another. I want another gin, and I don't fucking care if it kills me at this point. Just get me another."

"I think you've had quite enough, friend."

The bartender looked at the man practically pressed against the bar, ignoring the glare that was sent his way as he denied the patron another drink.

"Come on, penny for your thoughts. Talk to me a little."

"About what? The fuck is there to know?"

The bartender sighed a little. So far this one hadn't been particularly good company, but he was almost certain there was a reason for all of it. People responded to grief in many different ways, after all.

"About you, of course. What's got you like this?"

The man snorted disdainfully.

"What's got me like this? I don't know, try not having anything left. Anything."

"What do you mean by that? Are you on the run?"

"From the law? No, I've never broken the law in my life, 'cept maybe when I was a dumb teenager without thinking. No, I'm leaving because, as I've already said, there's nothing left for me."

"Nothing at all?"

The man gave him another annoyed glare.

"What, have you got rocks in your ears or something? There. Is. Nothing. Left. I can't hold a stable job back home, I've used up all the goodwill my friends and family had left for me, and lets not even bother getting into the shitshow that is my love life. I can't stay anymore."

"Nothing to do with the corporations?"

The man snorted again.

"Fuck the corpos, I've got my own problems to deal with. I'm not going out to the colonies because the corporations took my work, or because I think they're treating me unfairly. I'm leaving because I fucked up, again. This time the only difference is that I've run out of tricks to save me and safety nets to catch me. There, does that satisfy you?"

For a few moments there was silence, the bartender simply shrugging at the man before continuing on with their conversation, pouring out a measure of cheap gin for the man.

"A little, yes. Here's how this is going to work. You keep talking, you get a drink. Sound fair?"

The man, clearly more than a little drunk already, grunted out what sounded like a reluctant admission of acquiescence.

"Fine. Give me the glass and I'll tell you more of what you want to know. Why the fuck you're interested in what's happened to me I couldn't guess. Must be pretty funny to hear from an outside perspective now that I come to think of it. Actually that makes sense. You often find enjoyment in hearing of other folk's misery?"

The bartender chuckled a little.

"In their misery? No, not at all. I merely get my enjoyment from talking to people. I'm not sure if you've noticed, but there aren't exactly many sources of conversation around here anymore. Well, there never were to begin with, but there's even fewer nowadays. You're not the first person I've met who's headed out to the colonies, nor will you be the last I'd wager. Here, tell me what sort of work you're able to do; chances are that, whatever your qualifications, I'll have at least some idea of where you can head to find work of that nature."

The man scoffed, draining his gin and leaning his head on the table.

"I'm not good at anything. I haven't the school qualifications for office work, and I lack the strength for construction or the mines. Farming as well, and soldiering. I can't do any of that. I can't do anything."

"Let's not be so hard-done-by yet. Whilst it might not be exactly what you've hoped for, I do know someone who requires a hand with his work. The pay would be good enough, bed and board are included, at least I think, and the work would be stable. He'd probably be happy to teach you on the job as well."

The man was silent for a few long moments, eventually dragging himself to sit up a little straighter. He drained the heeltap from his glass and eyed the bartender suspiciously.

"You're having me on."

The bartender shook his head.

"I don't lie about work to patrons. I try not to lie to patrons at all, actually."

"Well what sort of work is it?"

The bartender braced himself a little, knowing that while not technically illegal in the colonies at the moment, it certainly was in Sol.

"Smuggling. It isn't a glamorous life, but it isn't half bad. You get to see a lot of new places, the money is good as previously stated, and there's plenty of opportunities for it in the colonies. Besides, I think he's actually trying to get into more 'regular' cargoes anyway, so you'd probably just be running food and supplies to colonies under the radar, so to speak."

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

"So the work you can get me is... you can get me into a smugglers hold. That doesn't sound suspicious at all, does it?"

The bartender shrugged again. It wasn't exactly a poor point, but he was being genuine here.

"He doesn't trade in people or animals, thinks it's wrong. He told me he's always needing an extra set of hands aboard his ship to help him handle cargo and the like, and even if you've never done it before it's not like he's looking for corporate bureaucratic standards; so long as you're willing to pull your weight and learn to do the work he asks then you'll be right as rain in that line of work."

The man huffed a little, holding out his empty glass.

"I'll think about it. I take it you have his contacts and aren't just expecting me to ask about for 'a smuggler' when I reach the colonies?"

The bartender rolled his eyes as he passed over the notebook, opened to the right page, pouring out another measure with his other hand while he did so.

"Of course I do. There, you might want to write down those details. Just give him a call and tell him you're willing to work for bed, board, and pay. Say you're willing to learn on the job. Be earnest when you talk to him, and I'm certain he'll take you aboard."

The man blinked at him a few times, confused.

"Why... are you helping me? What do you stand to gain out of this?"

The bartender shrugged once more.

"Nothing, I'm afraid. I'm just helping you because... well, I try to help everyone who passes through here I suppose. Some need a little more help than others, but they all need something if they're stopping here. Most people leave the system because of the corporations, you know, mass layoffs and political bullshit, but every now and again people like yourself come through as well."

"People like me?"

The bartender nodded.

"Well, yes, I suppose. You claimed that you had nothing left behind you, and no certainties ahead. You aren't the first person to sit at this bar in such a situation, not nearly the first. Besides, even if you were, what difference would it make?"

"The difference would be that I've fucked up a hundred times more than any of them have."

The bartender scoffed.

"Come on now, do you really believe that? I've had people pass through here who've served sentences for murder before, so do you think I'll judge you because... because what, you've recognised that your life isn't going well and are attempting to start over in the colonies? Friend, that's a good thing. Good that you're trying to start over that is, not that things have gone poorly for you back home. You'll do fine out in the colonies, trust me."

The man looked at him, and for the first time that night the bartender was certain he saw just a little bit of hope in his eyes.

"You mean that? You mean I might... there's another chance for me out there? Something I might not fuck up, for once?"

The bartender nodded slowly.

"Of course. There's always another chance out there somewhere. You just need to find it is all. It's my job to help people find it, and that's what I've done."

The man actually smiled a mite, and his tone contained a touch of joviality as he spoke.

"Actually, it's your job to fill my glass again. Come on, hop-to, I'm still talking with you like you asked, aren't I?"

The bartender smiled, refilling the drink once more. So long as it kept the man happy and willing to continue talking then there really was no harm in allowing him to get drunk, he supposed. Well, so long as he didn't attempt to call up the smuggler in this state. That was a task that the bartender felt would be better left for another day.

"Well, I must say that whilst I don't think drinking this much is a good idea, you have done as I asked and haven't been a bad customer, so I don't see why not. Here, have this one on the house."

The bartender refilled the man's glass pouring out one for himself as well. He wasn't the biggest fan of gin, but as drinks went he'd known worse. Much, much worse. Tequila sprang to mind, the vile stuff. Bourbon as well. Actually bourbon was alright, provided it was in an old-fashioned or a whiskey sour, something like that. Or a mint julep. Christ, he could go for a mint julep right now.

The bartender shook himself, aware that his thoughts were getting off-track, and smiled at his patron. The two of them clinked their chilled glasses together in a most satisfying way, smiling at one another as they drank.

"Well, this night has gone a little better than I'd expected, all things considered. If I can get work out of this then that's another plus side, and a massive one at that. Stable work would sort me right out, especially if I'm to live where I work on the ship. It'll mean there's nothing to stop me from getting to work, nothing that could happen to make me lose the job. It'd be a big step up for me."

The bartender just continued smiling, gesturing down to the small notebook. The other man nodded hurriedly, taking down the contact details.

"Thank you, I guess. I really wasn't expecting a kindness like this anymore. I haven't for a long time."

"You'd better start expecting it again, friend. There's still hope for everyone out where you're going, and they look after each other a lot better out there than we do at the moment. Not that that's a particularly high bar to clear, but you get my meaning. There's a lot more folks able and willing to stick up for one another out there, and there can be no mistake about that."

The patron smiled a little wider at that. It was a real smile, not a wry grimace like the bartender had grown used to these last few hours, and as such it was a rather welcome change.

"You know, that doesn't sound all that bad."

"So long as you're willing to help them when and if you can, then they're more than happy to do the same for you. I keep a lot of contacts out in the colonies, so I promise you that while there will of course still be those selfishly looking out for themselves and no-one else, there are a great many good and hardy folks who'll stick their necks out for a stranger if the situation demands it. You just need to do the same for them, that's all."

The man nodded, finishing what little gin was left in his glass before rising to stand from the barstool he'd been sat on.

"Well, thanks for the drinks I guess. And the work. I... well, I guess if it all works out and he's the one providing transport for you when the time comes then I'll see you around."

The bartender nodded.

"That you will, friend. That you most certainly will. All the best, and have a nice night."

The man nodded stiffly as he staggered towards the doors.

"Yeah. Yeah, you too, friend. Have a nice night."

The bartender smiled as the patron left. It was always nice when things worked out well in the end.