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why don'tcha? Don't you know we're on
vacation?"
    He usually felt out of place in rooms
crowded with people dancing, singing, drinking, and trying too hard
to impress the opposite sex. But he didn't have anything better to
do, and both Sarah and Shen, like many in his crew, had become
trusted friends. People he enjoyed spending time with. "All right,
sure. Why not. Where are you?"
    "Mist-36..." A noisy song could be
heard blasting in the background.
    "OK, see you," he turned off the
panel.
    Mist-36... he's seen it earlier that
day. The larger of the two clubs on the station. He was pretty sure
he knew how to find it again, instead of searching for it on the
computer, he dug out some fresh clothes and took a fast shower. He
always told people he wasn't interested in meeting a girl and
getting tied down somewhere, but really it was only the 'getting
tied down somewhere' that bothered him. And since he would be
rubbing shoulders with a lot of people his age, he felt compelled
to make the best impression he could.
    Once dressed, he splashed water on his
face and checked himself over in the mirror. He even fussed with
his hair for a few seconds. "Not bad, Calvin, not bad. You clean up
pretty well for an Acting Captain." He grinned and dabbed on a tiny
bit of cologne, very careful not to overdo it. This was one of
those rare occasions where being only twenty-five was an
advantage.
    Unfortunately, finding
Mist-36 was harder than expected, and he ended up on the complete
wrong side of the station.... somehow . He'd never been good with
directions, ironic for someone who began his career as a pilot. He
preferred being the one who decided where to go, not how to get there.
And now, lost as he was, he still didn't want to ask for help. Not
because of pride so much as a natural urge to solve the puzzle
himself. He back-tracked and tried again. When that didn't work he
found a kiosk and looked up a map of the station, memorizing the
way to Mist-36.
    A long line of people waited under the
glowing blue sign. He took his place and shuffled forward
thoughtlessly. They were able to glimpse the club's insides through
a wide window along the wall. What stood out about it, to Calvin,
was that it was old-fashioned enough to be made of some kind of
glass. If starships and stations used such windows they'd all be
dead by now. It wasn’t exposed to space, though, and probably saved
the owner some serious q.
    With his hands in his jacket pockets,
he let his mind slip away from the boredom of the line,
daydreaming, and before long it was his turn.
    "Yeah you look all right. Here, thumb
against the plate. It's policy." One of the two bouncers in black
suits spoke to him. Calvin fought his smile. Being judged by a
couple of muscle-heads to see if he was "pretty enough" to get
inside seemed absurd. A paying customer with deep pockets, would
they really turn him away? Apparently so, as about half the people
had been refused.
    "Hey, you listening, man?"
    "Yeah, sorry, what?" He smiled, trying
not to look rude, despite missing what they'd said.
    "You gotta thumb the plate. It's
policy. No non-humans, no criminals, and no
non-citizens."
    Calvin pressed his thumb flat against
the plate before catching the last qualifier. He wasn't a
non-citizen, he was a half citizen. But apparently that was enough
to red-flag him.
    "You're only a
half-citizen?"
    "Yeah," said Calvin. Full citizenship
was hard to come by, so much so that even half-citizenship was
often considered privileged.
    "Sorry pal, full citizens only. Don't
feel bad, we turn away hundreds a day."
    "Okay, well, whatever," Calvin turned
around. Being as established as he was in the military, he forgot
how much harder it was to get by in the Empire without being a full
citizen. Even in the military he knew his citizenship status was
holding him down at Lieutenant Commander. A rank that was still
quite respectable for a twenty-five year old, but what about when
he turned thirty-five? Would he still be a