Short Stories From Fading Worlds

A Bar Called Kuiper: The Soldier

"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."