"So, what's your story then?"

"Me? Nothing special. Just one more man moving on out to the colonies."

The bartender rolled his eyes at the young man.

"Come on now, don't play mysterious. I must've seen thousands pass through to the colonies now, and they've all got their own stories to tell. I'd hear yours, if you're feeling up to it."

The young man smiled sheepishly at the bartender.

"I'm afraid you'd not find much interesting here. I was in the forces, then I dropped out after a few years of outstanding service, and now I'm here looking to leave Sol behind and find a new life somewhere else. Like I said, there's nothing particularly unique or special about my story."

"Not when you paint it in broad strokes like that, no," the bartender cut in, smoothing out his uniform, "but I'm willing to bet that I'll find you quite interesting by the end of the night. Here, let's start with this; why is it that a soldier thinks he'll find work in the colonies?"

"Pilot, actually. And, well, I want to be going out and protecting people from alien life, should it exist, and extremists whether aliens are out there or not."

"And why are you moving to the colonies and not staying in Sol? Why leave the services here?"

The soldier looked down a little, clearly doing his best not to look ashamed. The bartender felt a pang of sympathy for the young man as he spoke.

"I signed on to protect people, not to bully small family businesses into shutting their doors. I can't do this job anymore, not in Sol. I need to go out to the colonies. They'll always be happy for the extra protection, so I hear anyway."

"You... didn't realise the influence the corporations exerted when you signed on?"

The soldier sunk a little further onto the barstool.

"I was a kid. Still am, most adults say. I didn't understand it at the time, even when I really should of, but it only took a few months of service for my eyes to be opened and for reality to set in. I'm good at what I do, but I couldn't stand it anymore."

The bartender sighed internally, nodding at the man with sympathy in his eyes and painted across his face. So here was another young man misled by propaganda and idealism, trying to get out of the life that had defined him up until now. The bartender was shaken from his musings when the young man spoke again, clearly attempting to lighten the mood a little.

"There's bound to be alien life out there somewhere. Why are we humans still fighting each other when we could be fighting them instead?"

The bartender snorted at the man's half-joke.

"Less profit to be had there, probably. I still remember when explorers would come through here hoping to find new and exciting life on other worlds, but there's not been one of them in quite some time. The explorers are all owned by the corporations now, and they care less about finding intelligent life and more about finding new seams of minerals. Not that they've had much luck, since the explorers they do have under their command are inexperienced, underfunded, and underequipped. The Reaches and the Frontiers hire on all the good ones."

The soldier smiled a little while nodding, but then he suddenly stopped as his face became thoughtful.

"I was a pilot once. I can fly a starfighter. Do you think one of the explorers would have use for me?"

The bartender smiled warmly, more than happy to try and help out the young man.

"Well, they might not have much use for your skills in combat, but I'd imagine that piloting a starfighter and a ship-launched one-man exploration craft would be much the same in terms of controls. Even besides that, you must have some good nerves and a good eye in your line of work. I'd say you're certainly in with a chance of finding work aboard one of the ships out there charting the stars. And if it turns out there is hostile life out there, well, then you'll certainly be in with a glut of work. The Reachfolk and the people of the Frontiers are hard, that's for sure, but they're not stupid; they won't turn away experienced soldiers like yourself."

The man smiled, laughing in half-agreement and half-bitterness.

"I'm not sure riot suppression is the sort of experience they're looking for."

The bartender did a double-take, nearly choking on the water he'd been drinking in the process.

"How in the name of Christ do you use a starfighter for riot suppression?"

The young man leaned back in his chair, laughing softly.

"No, no, I wasn't a pilot yet. I was still a cadet, groundside on Earth. We were out on a trip being shown around a military installation on the Moon-"

"Luna?"

The soldier nodded.

"Yeah, sorry, I forget we're not supposed to call it 'the Moon' anymore. I guess it would make things confusing this far out, considering the number of people you must see from moons all over the Sol System."

The bartender just nodded in confirmation.

"Trust me, you don't know the half of it. Anyway, you were saying?"

"Oh yeah, so we were on a trip being shown around a spaceforce installation on Luna when a local protest against the corporations turned ugly. I don't know who threw the first stone, and frankly I don't care to know anymore. What I do know is, even though we were sixteen, the Brigadier General saw fit to order us to the front alongside the military police and riot officers. He said it would be a form of 'experience' that we could put on our CVs to make the forces smile on our appointments go smoother. We went down, the riot was suppressed luckily with only isolated incidents of violence, and everything went back to normal. The Brigadier General was right; when the head of our Cadet branch put in my CV to that same Luna base, it was the same officer who happened to be looking through applications that day. He saw that I'd been involved under his command before and that I'd been a good little boy and followed orders, and I was rising through the ranks with pretty good speed. I was good at my job, very good, but I'm not stupid. I know it was just as more my compliance that was valued than my competence."

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

"So," the bartender cut in after a few moments of silence, "how come you stepped away. A high-flyer such as yourself, no pun intended, could surely have made a lucrative career of the work you were doing. I mean how old are you now, twenty-three?"

"Two over, barkeep."

"Twenty-one years old then. What rank did you make before your honourable discharge?"

"Technical Sergeant, I'm still proud to say. Normally takes a man five years of service, but I made it in three. Whether the Brigadier was greasing palms to help me climb I genuinely don't know, but I was still good at my job. Well liked by the people I led as well."

The bartender blinked in surprise a few times.

"Three years and a Technical Sergeant... you really could have made it big in the forces, couldn't you?"

The solder nodded, looking down at the table a little.

"It was stupid of me to leave, I know, especially with my promotion to Master Sergeant coming up alongside my twenty-second birthday in a few months, but I couldn't do it anymore. That day on Luna when I was still a Cadet, being on the frontline of that riot... it doesn't matter that it didn't end too badly, it doesn't matter that I didn't touch anyone and made sure my friends did the same, it still never sat right with me. I signed on to protect people, not to bully them around. So I left. Was never able to sleep well, so I was up most nights anyway. I took my badge and commission, went to the Brigadier, and asked for an honourable discharge. The man was a little put out, but he was kind enough about it."

The bartender raised an eyebrow.

"He didn't have any objections?"

The pilot shook his head.

"Not really. He was more genuinely concerned that I might not have thought out the implications this would have on my future than annoyed that I was leaving. He might be a bit heavy handed at times, and I certainly don't agree with a lot of what he says and does, but he's not a bad person. If it was my genuine wish to leave then he'd see to it that I got my pension and four-oh-one 'kay set up for my own use whenever I wanted it. That was the last favour I called in. We were up 'til four in the morning getting the paperwork sorted, then I caught a few hours of sleep. When I woke up my squad and a few others had put together an ad-hoc leaving party for me. Said they were sad to see me go but happy to know I was moving on to something my heart was into. Couple of them said they'd probably follow me through here in a year or two."

"I can give them your contact details when they do, if you'd like?"

The soldier nodded and smiled.

"That'd be nice, thank you. Any chance I can get a rum and coke?"

"Sure. What kind of rum?"

"Black spiced?"

The bartender pulled out a bottle of black spiced rum and pulled down a glass from the holders above.

"Single or double?"

"Double, please."

"Certainly. One double rum and coke, coming up."

A few ice cubes fell into the glass with a satisfying clinking noise before a double measure of rum was poured over them with practiced ease and no measurements needed. The rest of the glass was filled with coke, and the drink was slid over to the softly smiling soldier. The bartender returned the smile, absentmindedly picking up a glass and cleaning it as the soldier saluted him with the glass.

"Thanks, bartender. I take it that room I saw when I was walking into the bar was a terminal room?"

"Yep. Six in there and another room of six out those doors opposite."

He gestured over to the doors on the other side of the gently curving room as he spoke.

"If you want to leave a message to your folks and friends back home, then that'll get the message down in a few days. You can stay here another week if you'd like to wait for a response?"

"Maybe." The young man nodded. "Maybe. That doesn't sound like a bad plan. Are you planning on leaving this station soon?"

The bartender stopped what he was doing as the young man looked up at him with just the tiniest hint of cautious hope on his face. It seemed that he was hoping he wouldn't need to face the daunting journey alone, but that he also didn't want to be too forwards with a man he'd barely met.

"Soon, I think. Soon. You're not the first person to ask me that, but I think you might be one of the last. Maybe the last, depending on how long you stay for. How are you getting out of the system?"

"I was going to hire a shuttle to a lagrange point. Why?"

The bartender shrugged, setting down his glass.

"Well, it isn't for me to tell you what to do of course, but I have a contact who's willing to give me passage to the colonies and a few more who are willing to help me settle in. If you'd be willing to stay for... a little while longer, then I think I could get you passage with me."

The young man huffed out a laugh, looking at his drink.

"It'd save me money on the shuttle, sure, but I'd be paying for another month here probably."

The bartender shook his head.

"Two weeks, I think. The Landlord and Lady are shutting up shop in two weeks, and all of this will finally be gone. It'll be a sad moment, but one we've all known is a long time coming. If you want a hand getting out of system then I'm sure I can get you free bed and board till closing in exchange for getting them passage out of the system as well. It's a sudden offer, but entirely up to you."

The soldier nodded, knocking back what was left of his drink and then smiling a brilliant smile.

"That doesn't sound all that bad. What the hell, sure. It'll be better to go with someone who knows people out there than to go it alone. Here, even if we're to spend a lot of time together these next few weeks we should probably exchange details anyway."

The bartender raised an eyebrow, happy to have someone closer to his own age here for once so he could mess with them a little.

"My good sir, are you asking me for my number?"

The young man blushed and spluttered before the bartender laughed softly.

"I'm just messing with you. I've collected the details of ten or eleven contacts out there in the colonies already, so I know what you mean. Here's mine, write yours beneath and we should be all set."

The young man nodded, breathing a sigh of relief but still frowning a little at the bartender.

"That was unnecessary."

The bartender nodded his agreement, still smiling, as he collected the man's empty glass and pulled one down for himself.

"It was funny though. Don't worry, I'll make it up to you. Here, on the house."

The bartender poured out a round of rum and cokes, nodding at the young man as they clinked their glasses together. The young man smiled up at him as they drank.

"I feel like I should say thank you for the drinks. In case I end this night too drunk to speak, I'll say that I'll see you around before I lose my ability to communicate thanks to this little drink."

The bartender chuckled a little back at him.

"Well, my tenure as bartender here is coming to an end, so I'm not too worried about offering a few more free drinks than normal. Besides, it's not often I get someone my age coming through here. It'll be a nice change of company, I think."

The soldier raised his glass in cheers, using the motion to try and cover a little of the pink on his cheeks as the bartender smirked at him.

The bartender knew he had a fair few wheels to set in motion after this, namely a chat with the Landlady and Landlord before he contacted his smuggler friend, but for now he was content to simply enjoy the company of the young man sat with him. He'd spent nearly a third of his life in this place, and that was now coming to an end, so he felt he could allow himself a little more time to relax. Life wasn't forever, after all, so why spend it all in melancholy when he could be having just a little more fun?