There's a spot outside Pluto's orbit, on the outskirts of the Sol system, that few starfarers know about and fewer still set out to visit- a kind of last stop refuge before you hit a whole lot of nothing on your way out of Sol's warmth. An early Neptunian outpost, the satellite had long since been abandoned, reclaimed and repurposed into a small pub and starship refueling station known as The Lamplight Tavern. It's a place where Solars and Extrasolars can meet, where visitors from beyond the stars can share a drink with the locals. The station doesn't endorse the Solzari and Andromedan campaigns and its neutrality is aggressively-enforced; a people are not a monolith, and some outsiders are curious as to what all the fuss in this corner of space is about, the Lamplight is a foothold for them. Today is your first time visiting, drawn out by curiosity at what goes on in the peripheral of the system. You're sitting at the counter, a tall Andromedan is cleaning a glass with an old rag. Sitting next to you is a Delta droid, a HAL-3 by the looks of him, in perhaps the worst condition you've ever seen. He's smiling. He's been pleasant conversation so far.
He tells you his name is Raz, his full name is Raziel but he prefers the informal warmth of a nickname. Despite his appearance, he's actually Solzari- a vibrant blue plasmid lifeform from the star Antares- and that the metal body he inhabits is merely a vessel for his true form. You've heard of Solzari as a star people who navigate the universe in bodies of steel; looking around you, you can see a few of them inhabiting the Lamplight Tavern. A blue light inside Raz's heart catches your eye, glowing softly beneath his heavy woolen tunic. You don't want to be rude and stare, but it looks like Raz is busy sipping a hot drink. There's a quiet moment before Raz asks what you do for work. He listens quietly, nodding, and takes an opportunity to tell you a little bit about his own story.
Raz tells you he hosts a nightly radio program out of a small public access studio in Titan Garden. He tells you about Solar cultures, about the musical traditions from the many worlds of your system, gushing in the way one does when they're finally let in on a secret everyone already knows. He used to be a radio operator, he tell you, not elaborating. He used to listen in to signals broadcast from many star systems. He's heard beautiful songs, he's heard the voice of civilizations whose silence will persist in the Solzari's wake- he doesn't tell you that last part, but you've heard the odd rumor. You keep it to yourself. There's something special about Sol, he tells you. Something calls to him, and it's his joy to explore it and immerse himself in it every day, and sharing his joy over the radio is his favorite way to do it. It doesn't matter how small the station is, he knows that if you broadcast your love like that, someone out there is gonna hear it. He reaches for another sip of his drink. You can see an acoustic guitar propped against the counter, next to his legs. It's got an old strap on it, clearly mended back together from several breaks. The Andromedan tavernkeeper sets your order down in front of you.
Making pleasant conversation, you ask where a Solzari might choose to live in a place like Titan Garden. Raz smiles; in a cozy little place in the A-District, he tells you, tucked away above a convenience store. His place has a little nook by the window where he can sit and listen to the bustle of life in the pedestrian street below. The neon lights reflect off the ground in long streaks, shouts and laughter echo between the crowded buildings; living drama flickers like candlelight just below. People come to the convenience store for all kinds of things, at all hours, it's really just the perfect spot. Raz shares his apartment with a floofy black cat named Midnight- the cat has heterochromia, one gold eye and one blue eye. She reminds him of home, he tells you, almost reluctantly. It takes you a bit to puzzle that one over. It's a sappy sentiment, he avoids eye contact when he confesses this but he looks happy at the thought of her.
Living on Titan has been alright, he tells you. He's wanted to experience life among the Solar locals for centuries, but he's only recently worked up the nerve to do so as a Solzari fairly recently. He started keeping cats when he learned they liked high perches and lived nine lives, qualities he could relate to himself. He's lived a few lives since abandoning his old crew, inhabiting one old Android chassis or another to make friends and share in life around Sol. In his early lives he had a lot of anxiety about being "found out", about people discovering he was a mote of flame from beyond the stars. He'd grown close with some of the locals, but he had these fears that they'd reject him if they learned the truth beneath his steel. He would pull away himself before that could happen, shed his chassis and disappear from his world, inhabiting a new shell and starting a new life somewhere else once his anxieties have settled. Raz tucked a strand of hair behind his antenna, looking down into his drink a moment. You decide not to press the issue too much, changing the subject slightly: how long has he had this chassis for? He smiles: about thirty years, he says. It's been his favorite one yet.
It's been a bit easier to be himself these days, he tells you. In the beginning he thought he was the only Solzari who wasn't here on Antarian business, the only Solzari who was trying to live a life here, and if the people of Sol figured him out they'd run him out on a rail. The solitude, in hindsight, that's what really spikes your anxieties. Finding other Solzari has been a great help in Raz feeling at home here. You glance around the Lamplight again, spotting one or two other Androids in similarly-poor shape. In his centuries in the Sol system Raz had met his own little commune of Extrasolar friends who shared his view of this system and its people, of the beauty and the value they found here. They would live together periodically in secluded little spaces, go their own ways out into the system's many worlds and meet up again in one of their familiar safe havens. Learning there are others like you who can also navigate the world you share helps you feel a lot more confident navigating it yourself. Having a safe harbor to return to helps you build the nerve to sail further out to sea. Between mouthfuls of Andromedan cooking you notice Raz reaching into his red peacoat; he produces a pack of smokes, a nasty old Terran brand. He sparks a cherry, drawing a drag into his inert Android body.
As you finish your meal, you can feel your conversation begin to slow down. You catch glimpses of him looking over his shoulder, out the tavern window. You ask if he's waiting for someone, and this seems to catch him off-guard. He sinks a bit in his seat, nudging the collar of his coat up with his shoulders as if to hide away from the question. Raz creaks out a quiet affirmative, though, again avoiding direct eye contact. He's a Solzari, a new one. Popped up about thirty years ago. Scared the stars out of his commune, the stories they'd heard about him, the wanted posters they'd seen. Raz had run into him once, in fact, by chance, on a small island in Terra's middle seas. He was exploring the world in a sailboat, a skill he'd learned three hundred years prior, when he happened upon the towering outlaw along a sandy beach ringing a spire of stone. He approached the secluded Solzari, and very quickly found himself on his back, a glowing-hot blade pressing him into the sand. Nearly took his head off, he tells you, his gestures becoming more animated. His mood turned real quick when the big guy noticed he was Solzari too, underneath the steel. He could tell. It musta been the first time he'd seen another Solzari, the way that tough wall of iron melted away to expose a soft and gentle flame the instant he put two and two together. The man had friends, but they were all locals, locals he didn't want discovering Raz. He shooed him away, quickly, before they saw him. He draws on his cigarette... he remembers that one stinging. Before they see you. He didn't understand at the time, but he gets it now. It wasn't the right moment. All the same, it stung worse than the blade.
Big guy slipped a transponder in his coat pocket, Raz recalls. He didn't find it until weeks later. He laughs, sheepishly, a mix of red and blue emotions. This new Solzari, it turns out he wanted to get in touch after all. Raz had made a new friend in this life, although he'd never been introduced to the family before. They'd met up a few times over the past thirty years, he tells you. There's always been that bit of distance. It's not always easy, but he says he's always happy for the days they get to spend in each other's orbit. It's good to know you're not alone, he tells you. You make a light-hearted remark, about a place like this, so far from Sol... kinda hard not to feel alone out here. He laughs a little, but doesn't offer much more of a reply.
In that moment of awkward quiet, your eyes turn back to the guitar propped up by his legs, the smoke he's twisting out in the ashtray, the hot drink with no meal to pair it with. Raz has been talking your ear off a little bit, but you're slowly getting a sense of what his story is, of why he's out past Pluto at a remote little place like the Lamplight Tavern. In that moment you feel a shadow cast across the pub, blotting out the light from outside its windows like a set of blackout curtains. Raz lifts his head at the shift in atmosphere, the blue glow in his chest more apparent in the newly-cast shade. You turn to look out the tavern window; an enormous Terran warship fills the viewport, its broadside cannons bristling, its hull dwarfing the myriad of starships parked along the station tarmac. You've never seen a ship like this up close before. It seems almost unreal. The Andromedan behind the counter refills your drink and takes your empty plate.
Raz excuses himself from your company, sliding off his seat and slinging his guitar over his shoulder. It was nice to make your acquaintance. The door chimes its bell as it slides shut behind him.