Dominic had spent hours pacing the sterile hallways of Nebula Station, his footsteps echoing in the quiet corridors. It had been days since his arrival, but the station still felt unfamiliar, as though he were a ghost passing through its metal walls. The silence around him was a welcome change from the constant hum of combat, but it only seemed to amplify the loneliness he had been carrying for so long. The weight of his rank, his responsibilities, and the memories of the battlefield had become suffocating.
He needed a distraction. A break from the weight of it all.
The station's recreational areas were bustling with soldiers off duty, engineers seeking a brief respite from their work, and civilians caught in the orbit of the war. But one place had drawn his attention—a bar, tucked away on the lower levels of the station. Its neon lights flickered in the distance, a small beacon of something familiar in this cold metal expanse.
Dominic made his way down to the bar, his boots clicking against the floor as he moved. The door slid open with a soft hiss, revealing the dimly lit interior. The low hum of music and the quiet chatter of patrons filled the room, offering an odd sense of normalcy amidst the chaos of the galaxy.
He walked up to the bar, nodding at the bartender as he took a seat. The scent of whiskey and cigar smoke lingered in the air, mixing with the faint taste of recycled oxygen. Dominic ordered a drink—something strong, something that would help him forget for a few moments.
The bartender set a glass in front of him, and he took a long sip. The burn of the liquor cut through his thoughts, and for a moment, he allowed himself to relax. He needed this. A break from the war, from the nightmares, from the pressure.
His eyes scanned the room, taking in the faces of those around him. Soldiers, mostly, like him—battle-hardened, weary, looking for a moment of peace in the middle of all the violence. But then, his gaze landed on her.
She was sitting at a table near the far corner of the room, her back straight, her posture commanding attention even in the casual setting of a bar. She wore a worn leather jacket, and her dark hair fell in waves around her face, framed by the low lights of the bar. Her eyes, though, were what caught Dominic's attention—intense and knowing, like she had seen things far darker than the war he had fought.
She wasn't like the others in the room. She wasn't just another soldier seeking solace in alcohol. There was something more to her—something that tugged at the part of Dominic that longed for connection.
Without thinking, he found himself standing up and walking toward her. His boots thudded softly against the floor as he approached her table, and she didn't look up at first, as if she already knew he was coming. When he stopped in front of her, she finally met his eyes. There was no recognition, no hesitation—just the cool gaze of someone who had long stopped caring about the trivialities of formalities.
"Mind if I sit?" Dominic asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and caution.
She studied him for a moment, her gaze lingering on his uniform and the faint scars on his face. Finally, she shrugged, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "It's a free station. I'm not your superior, if that's what you're asking."
Dominic chuckled lightly, surprised by her bluntness. "I wasn't asking about that," he said, sitting down across from her. "Just thought you looked like you might appreciate the company."
The woman raised an eyebrow, a spark of amusement in her eyes. "You think you're the first one to try and strike up a conversation in here?" She gestured around the room, where several other soldiers and patrons were chatting quietly, oblivious to their exchange.
"Maybe," Dominic said, leaning back in his seat, eyeing her warily. "But you don't exactly seem like the type who would want to be left alone either."
She laughed, low and genuine, and it was the first real laugh Dominic had heard in a long time. "You're right about that," she said, her tone softening. "I'm just... not used to being approached like this."
"Why's that?" Dominic asked, intrigued despite himself.
She leaned in slightly, her eyes narrowing in thought before she answered. "Let's just say I'm not in the habit of talking to people who only want to forget for a few minutes." Her gaze flicked down to his glass, then back to his face. "But you... you're different. You've seen too much to just forget it all away, haven't you?"
Dominic felt a chill run down his spine, the unspoken understanding hanging between them. It was true. He had tried to drown his memories in alcohol, in action, in the war—but it never worked. The nightmares, the faces of the dead, the brutality of it all—it was always there, lurking in the back of his mind.
He met her gaze, and for the first time in what felt like forever, someone truly saw him. Not as a soldier, not as a mercenary, not as a tool of the war—but as a person, just for a moment.
"Yeah," he replied quietly. "I guess you could say that."
The woman studied him for a moment, as if weighing his words, then nodded slowly. "You're not the only one here trying to forget," she said softly. "But I think... maybe it's better to face it. Not forget, but remember. Take the good with the bad. That's what I try to do, at least."
Dominic wasn't sure what to say to that. Instead, he took another sip of his drink, letting the quiet hum of the bar fill the space between them. For the first time in a long while, he didn't feel completely alone.
"Well," Dominic said after a pause, setting his glass down, "what brings someone like you to a place like this?"
She looked at him with a small smile. "Same as everyone else, I suppose," she replied cryptically. "I'm trying to figure out what comes next."
Dominic couldn't help but feel that she knew exactly what he was going through. And for the first time since he'd boarded the transport to Nebula Station, he felt a flicker of something—hope, maybe, or at least the promise of something different.
The war wasn't over, not by a long shot. But here, in this quiet corner of the universe, Dominic found himself in a brief respite—something that felt like it could be a beginning, if only for a moment.