Stuart Payne was sitting at the bar on Cambridge research station, on a seat close to a window. Three pints of beer had been finished, two of which were sitting upright on the floor. The third empty glass was in his hand.
He had been staring with solemn disbelief out of the viewport, into the depths of space, for over thirty minutes. He felt so lonely. Never had he had anyone that truely cared for him. He had so many secrets, that even his sister did not know. He yearned for emotional fulfillment all of his life, but now more than ever. All he ever did was fly, sleep, fly, then sleep again, with the occasional meal in between. He could never find the love of his life that way.
"Why does everyone else have to be so lucky?" He whispered to himself. "Why am I so unlucky?".
Stuart continued to stare out of the window, pondering how lonely he was, over and over in his mind.
He started to find 'reasons' for his lack of a steady companion. He started blameing his career as a fighter pilot, and his past of a bounty hunter. But wasn't it true that Roy had managed to find his love, deep within Outcast space, of all places. Stuart didn't even know how his once-leader, Aiden Patrick, came across the love of his life.
Stuart started to feel sorry for himself again, his mood sinking into a miserable abyss. Leaning his head back on to the table behind, he closed his eyes, and they started to water. Slowly, the water accumulated, and tears began to fall from his cheeks.
He was finally broken, not by Corsairs, Outcasts, Hessians or any of the other groups of criminals. He was broken by himself.
A day later
Stuart had recovered his mood, but the need to find a companion for the rest of his life had driven him to the only possible course of action. He had no idea how to meet his target, but all he could do was search. Such emotional fragility needed to be fixed as fast as possible, or more miserable nights would be spent in the bar.
He was resigned to search every possible avenue of opportunity. The four houses, Corsairs and Outcasts, Zoners, and the various miner corporations. He needed to do somthing.
He greeted the deckhand with no remenant of the fraility shown a day earlier on his facade, and jumped into his fighter, which flew out of the vaccum chamber as soon as the docking bay doors opened. He didn't know which way to go, or where to start, so he just flew in the first direction that came to mind.
He could be searching in such a manner for the rest of his life. Indeed, his life, he felt, was not worth living anymore. He had no friends, a family that hated him, and no one to comfort him.
Lonely...
An idea popped into his mind. Why not visit Rick? He was the closest person Stuart had to a friend. Many nights spent drunk together, maybe he knew what Stuart needed to know. A fools errand, maybe, but he needed to try.
Every avenue of opportunity. Now, at least, Stuart had a starting point.
On his way to Rhineland, still in Cambridge, Stuart encountered some Corsair legionnaires. It should have been no challenge, but in his emotionally fragile state, the Legionnaires punched through his shield and started damaging his hull with their low-power weapons. He had no choice but to run, as he could concentrate on nothing else than his desperate state of mind. Even this proved to be a challenge for Stuart in his agile Ravenclaw, as his ship bent and buckled under a hail of cruise distruptors.
A naval cruiser patrol intercepted the Corsair legionnaires as they were about to finish Stuart off, and saved him and his ship. With the ship integrity failing, he made an emergency landing at Freeport 2. If he couldn't even perform against Legionnaires, how was he going to get past the Hessians in Omega 7?
He decided to chance it. He had to chance it. He had no other choice. But first, the repairs had to be completed. Extensive repairs, which cost him a small fortune. The engine manifolds had to be replaced, as did the fuel injection system. The gold wireing had to be totally reinstalled due to its massively damaged state, and the cockpit had to be examined with ultra-sound imaging to detect any structural failures.
Anxious in the station's bar, surrounded by shifty figures and people dressed as criminals, he hid his ID card the best he could. An Ex-bounty hunter was never in favour with any of those that frequented the freeports, especially those border world types.
Stuart's anxiety showed plainly for all those around him to see. They could see the desperate look in his eyes, hear the constant tapping of his feet, and feel his darkened mood as it perforated the atmosphere of the bar. Finally, after drawing the gazes of the figures in the Bar and knowing he was in mortal
danger, Stuart jumped up and ran out of the room. He reached the temporary residence reservations desk and hurriedly rented a room for a few nights.
As soon as Stuart got into his newly rented room, he opened up the viewscreen and selected the option for inter-system communication. He looked up Rick's residence on Bonn station, but it was found to be uninhabitted, with a short message telling him that Rick Deckard was on Planet Gran Canaria. In Omega 49. The message desination was automatically corrected and Stuart began speaking.
"Rick, I need to meet you. Desperately. Please, I can't get off this blasted station because of the unlawful types that hang around here. I had to even be rescued against a small wing of Legionnaires by the Bretonian military! Please come to Freeport two, I need your help..."
A small 'ping' noise was heard, and the message was delivered. Hopefully, Rick would see it soon. Stuart's sanity depended on it. Everything depended on it. How could he live his life not being a fighter pilot? It was the only life he knew, the only skill he possessed.
As Stuart undressed and got into bed, he almost started to cry again. This time, however, he just turned over, and fell asleep. Still, tears formed as he was sleeping and were absorbed by the bedsheets. This fiasco had broken into his subconcious mind too. It was only a matter of time before he lost his sanity, conciously and unconciously.
She entered the bar on Freeport 2 and finally found him. He was sitting in the darkest corner, his eyes were red as if he cried recently. This man was looking as if his nervous breakdown was just about to happen.
So this is the guy she saw when she was touching the obelisks on the Memorial Plaza. Although she didn't know what was his part to play, she came to him and said:
"Hello stranger, would you mind buying me a drink?"
Stuart looked up and was quite shocked when such a pretty woman sat on the opposite chair and started to talk to him...
Stuart was absolutely dumbfounded that such a beautiful woman had asked him for a drink. Of all people,
why would she ask him?
"Err *snif* sure, I'll get you a drink"
Stuart opened up his wallet and found the last few coins he had. He started to rise from his seat, but then fell back. He knew he didn't have the confidence.
'Enough wallowing' a thought passed through his mind. He could not be like this. Only a few weeks ago, he was out killing all manner of unlawful beings. Then his keys were taken from him by Jay. Rightfully so too...
Stuart couldn't help feeling that it was his fault, but he dismissed the thought from his mind. It was within human nature to find someone to blame. Always, he tried to shift it to someone else. Always.
He rose from his chair again, the beautiful woman observing his movements, and staggered to the bar. He ordered two drinks, one for the lady and one for himself, with the scarce money he had left. He turned around slowly, and noticed the silence in the bar. All eyes were on him. He knew he must do something. He blurted out suddenly.
"What you looking at!? Huh?"
Again, there was silence. After a few seconds, it was broken by a voice.
"Get 'im!"
Suddenly, there was a roar in the bar, as chairs scraped as people got up and charged at him. Stuart was dumbfounded with his mouth open as he was swamped by the figures in the bar. As the first punch was thrown by a Corsair, time appeared to slow as it connected with Stuart's jaw. As his head launched to his right, another punch struck his midriff, and another just above, breaking his rib.
The rest was a blur as fists and feet flied through the air. Stuart was left as a bleeding wreck on the floor,
as Corsair joined Hessian in beating down the helpless ex-bounty hunter.
As the triumphant crowd cheered themselves out of the bar together, the woman walked into a position above Stuart. What she saw was almost horrifying. Stuart's left Elbow was snapped backwards, his ribs were completely out of shape, and his right shoulder was dislocated backwards, almost ripping through the skin.
Stuart breathed quickly, with a look of horror in his eyes. As he rose, blood started dripping from his mouth.
He coughed, and it spurted out on to the dress of the woman. He fell back, relocating his shoulder. This
brought on him immense pain, even more so than the rest of his injuries.
A single, red tear from his right eye fell. His eyes closed, and he became unconscious. The woman knelt besides the seemingly dead body. He touched his left hand, and the body awoke. Only the eyes moved, as the blood continued to flow from his mouth.
The woman spoke.
"Hang in there. I'll fetch the medics!"
Another red tear fell from his eye, but this time he smiled and tightened his grip on the woman's hand. The reversed elbow joint moved, and Stuart's grip automatically released. The woman smiled down, with an empathetic expression. She averted his gaze, stood up, and moved away. As she left through the exit, she shouted back.
"Don't you die on me. Hang on!"
As she left, Stuart turned his head aside and began to think about the state of his life. He was about to give up hope before, but despite the state of his body, he felt happier. He had someone, who at least appeared to care for him. He didn't even know her name, and she appeared not to know his. But his heart felt more secure now, with someone there. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
--------------------------
He later awoke again on an operating table. His head was fixed in a full neck cast, and the surgeons around him seemed to be delving into his chest. However, he could not feel a thing. He realized that they were healing his internal wounds. Unconcerned, he looked to his right, and saw the beautiful woman. He smiled, or rather did his best in his tranquilised state. His lips moved only slightly, but the woman knew what gesture he tried to perform and smiled back. Stuart's gaze shifted to the left, and he saw Rick Deckard at his side. He nodded his head faintly, and Rick nodded back with a barely noticeable smile. Stuart's gaze returned to the default position of straight up, his eyelids closed, and he slept for the rest of the operation.
Caprica was sitting on a char in a white hospital room. Occasional beeps made by some medical machines were interrupting the silence but the operation itself was over. She was looking at the sleeping man, who's condition seemed stabilized now. But he must have been illusional as he woke from time to time and smiled at her as well as in the direction next to her but there was no one else in the room. She may have heard it wrong, but she was almost sure he whispered 'Rick' once he looked there. If that's right, she might be finally on the righ track.
She desperatley needed to meet that pooch, she once met at the obelisks, again as she needed his capabilities. She was aware what she did to him in the past and that he would never cooperate willingly. But maybe if she had some aces in her hand, she could force him to. So she just sat there with a tiny laser gun hidden in her left shoe, pretending interest in the poor man.
And then it happened again. After she closed her eyes, some past memories of someone else again started flashing in fron of her. After she shook her head, it stopped. She must focus on her mission now...
Stuart awoke, and stared around the room. He only saw the woman that he had met in the bar, not Rick.
"Where is he?"
'Who?'
"Rick...Rick Deckard, he was here when I fell asleep."
'You were asleep. You just whispered his name a few moments ago.'
"Oh. So, I was dreaming?"
'Possibly.'
"I see."
Leaning forwards, supporting his back with his arms, he felt his chest for any sign of operation. The signs were there. Stiches, skin grafts and general repairs. He was going to have to get that replaced by some proper skin replacements some day, but that wasn't the primary concern. It felt tight. As he tried to lean back to rest on the bed he was on, the stiches felt like they were going to break, such was the tension. He slowed down to a snails pace, as he tried to lean back without damaging his freshly grafted skin.
The woman got up, and with a slight smirk that quickly changed into the empathetic smile he thought he had seen before, she helped him to lie down on his bed. Progress was slow, but that was what the skin grafts demanded. For the time being anyway.
As he lay in bed after the excruciatingly slow pace at which he lied down, he thought.
When would Rick turn up? Would he turn up at all?
He would just have to wait, but how long would it take?