Drowning Sorrows

(((Okay, this is for William Pierce, Cirith, darken, Arruna ...
If you want in, please post in HERE)))



[... from Operation Infinite Horizon]



He sat at the end of the bar in the Rampaging Reek cantina in Colony Three, a poor mirror of his former self of about a month prior. He had been one of the Republic's star fighter pilots, flying the much-revered Venom starfighter, first under the Aegis and later under the flag of the Ascension battlecruiser. Many Sith fighters had exploded under his hand, his torpedoes and lasers. By the time he had made it that far in his military career, he had reached the rank of first lieutenant, something he had once been proud of. Just as he was proud of his other accomplishments throughout his life, military and otherwise.

Originally from the planet of Balosar, the being of the same name with his trademark antennapalps had been a lost cause, on the fast track to nothingness along with the other deadbeats he had hung around with. Stealing food during the day; getting wasted during the nights. But that had all changed when he happened upon a Republic Navy recruiting office. On a lark, without any real aspirations to his future, he entered and was consequentially talked into enlisting. Believing he would finally have a chance at a real life, a life with meaning, he had agreed and headed off to boot camp.

Years of training later, he had entered the Starfighter Corps, feeling that that was where all the action lay. He knew he wasn't built to be one of those ground pounders, sneaking around in the bushes. No, space was were all the glory lay. The great space battles that could make or break the war. The young Balosar had been proud of making it as far as he had, getting to fly the ultra sleek Venom starfighters and partaking in lots of battles. But first he had had to prove himself, being a member in other squadrons first, with less advanced fighters. Slowly he moved up the ranks until he was recommended for the Aegis, and finally would get to see the Venom with his own yes.

But despite his excitement, there had been something else, someone else, that had caught his eye even more. Up until then, even as a military being, his personal life had been filled with one-night stands and late-night hookups without any meaning whatsoever. Just a few hours of pleasure to help him unwind from the day with humans and near-humans who found his uniform and life sexy.

She was beautiful. He was instantly taken with her. Her beautiful red hair made his insides melt. The young female Miraluka stopped the Balosar's heart. He knew he was attracted to her, but it was more than what he normally felt for others of the female persuasion. It had to do with her personality, but it was more than that. She had drive and passion. She didn't seem instantly brought in to him by his advances, something that had never happened to him before. She was a challenge. And she was just as a good pilot as he was. If not better. Shenhua Noriega. He would never forget that name as long as he lived.

He enjoyed immensely the time he spent with her, though it was little. Mostly training maneuvers in orbit around Kuat. Whenever he was with his two loves--the Venom and Shenhua--the Balosar pilot felt entirely at peace for the first time in his life. The enlistment into the Navy had given him purpose, but he had never felt complete, not really. And though Shen was just his friend and fellow pilot, he knew that there was great potential for more, if he just spent more time with her, getting to know her.

And he had done just that, finally getting her away from their fellow pilot Crassus Vossk, whom he had a distinct dislike for and who seemed to also have feelings for the redheaded Miraluka. They ate in the officers' mess one night, drinking and regaling each other with tales of their own lives. He felt himself growing ever closer to her, but he had no idea of her own feelings. Suddenly he was shy; being around Shen did strange things to him. He was awkward around her, when he usually was quite svelte with the ladies.

Disappointment had clouded him then when he found out he was being transferred away from the Aegis and onto the Ascension and on his way to Subterrel for some real action. He departed Shen without much as a word to her. There was no time for a farewall, and the Miraluka might have taken anything he had said the wrong way. He was trying to get used to the fact that his new commander was his former squadron leader Vossk, when he found out his new squad leader was none other than Shenhua herself. In some glad twist of fate she had also been assigned to the same ship. Any feelings he had felt untowards Vossk or his own personal skills at being leader of the Venoms disappeared when he saw the red-haired beauty again.

Excited to fly by her side once again, he was thrilled with the Subterrel mission, dubbed Operation Infinite Horizon. Though his job was to mainly act as escort as the ground pounders departed for the surface for the majority of the fighting. But he didn't mind, not terribly. At least not at first. They had to remain in comm silence, so he couldn't talk to Shen, couldn't catch up on everything that had happened since he had seen her last. Or spend the boring hours in space waiting for the troop pickup in some casual conversation.

Looking back on the whole situation, he wished he hadn't asked so much for some action; if the whole battle had been boring he would have been much happier. And probably still serving with the Republic. But the boring battle had gone downhill. The pirates had sent up fighters, more fighters than Intel thought they had had. The 12 Venoms engaged them, needing to protect the large ships and the troop carriers for later. The Balosar pilot fought hard, taking down as many as he could with his lasers, reserving his torpedoes for when they were most needed.

Despite all their hard fighting, their squadron still retained causalities. Ships lay derelict in space, bodies having been ejected, not all of them still alive. He had seen Shen's ship floating there, heavily damaged, not able to see whether or not she was still inside. Wanting to go to her but knowing he couldn't, with his own ship taking a few shots to its fuselage. In all the chaos after the battle, after getting on board and being checked in the medbay, he tried to find out about Shen. But she was nowhere to be found. He didn't want to think it, but he knew the only other explanation was that she had died. Died without knowing how he had felt.

The next few days before the return to Kuat were spent with him running mercilessly through the ship, trying to work out his emotions in the only way he knew how. Pushing his body to its limit. Sometimes stopping only to pound his fist in frustration against a bulkhead. No longer was he feeling like his life was complete. He had to get out of the military. It was just a reminder of Shen and how she was no longer there.

He was grateful when his commanding officer agreed to his honorable discharge, and he resigned his commission, left behind his rank, never intending to return. He roamed the galaxy for the next few weeks, spiraling ever downward, slipping back into his old habits of deathsticks and alcohol. He did odd jobs here and there, mostly flying merchandise to different cities on various planets. Local stuff.

Eventually he decided to buy his own ship and strike out for himself. He got a little freighter from a little-known shipyard in Ypsil, a Vector-class and dubbed it the Crimson Requiem in honor of his supposed fallen friend. He started going into better offers for better money, carrying loads for bigger beings, more important than local merchants. Most of his cargo was still legit, though there was still the odd smuggled and hidden item aboard. He kept logging his credits, stashing them away, not having any real use for them except for the drink. But he had nothing else to do with his life; flying was all he had left. And this was the only way he could feel somewhat happy: flying into dangerous situations, trying to make a short supply deadline.

And so Pak Har'endanno, ex-fighter pilot, found himself trying to drink himself into a stupor at the Rampaging Reek, a cantina in back streets of Colony Three on Ylesia. Trying, because he had developed such a resistance in his youth on Balosar that it took a lot of the foul liquid to even slightly diminish his faculties. His countenance ran low, his antennapalps sagged, no longer in tune with the feelings and emotions of those around him. Sadly enough for him this cantina didn't have any local deathstick supplies nearby, and so he had to make do with whiskey and beer and anything else he could get with his credits.

He sat hunched over in the corner at the bar, staring into his mug, his tousled brown hair even more mussed than usual. A two-day-old beard covered his face. His boots were scuffed; his pants wrinkled, his shirt untucked. He looked every bit the part of a down-on-his-luck spacer. Just waiting for the night to end, and he could stumble his way to his rented room a couple blocks away, alone. No longer did he crave companionship. He only dealt with others because they sold him beer or because they offered him a job.



(((Sorry for the length! Just had some stuff to explain.
Hop in when you're ready.)))