Logbook entry

The Hodkin Chronicles Part 5: A Sharp Lesson

29 Dec 2016S. Hodkin
8th January 3301 - Personal Quarters, Residential Deck 7, Stevenson Base, Beta Hydri

Tonight has been something of an eye-opener, metaphorically speaking. For the past three months I have been plagued by a combination of depression, overindulgence in the dreaded drink, and general self-pity. Tonight's shift tending bar changed that whole outlook..

It was a typical Friday night at the Red Rose, my family's pub aboard the station. Really I should introduce myself properly in these logs before I go into that though - who am I?

Well some things you would already know about from the earlier logs, but moreover I’m the eldest of 4, James was 6 younger than me, and my fraternal twin sisters Jenna and Sarah 4 years younger, and chalk and cheese as you’d expect. My parents continue a family tradition when it comes to drinking establishments, publicans run in my ancestry back at least 1450 years, originally on Earth and as humanity spread throughout the galaxy, there was always a chance that you were never more than at least 200 lightyears from a bar or pub owned by a Hodkin. My grandfather, two of my uncles and one of my cousins all own establishments in there own right or in partnership with others, priding themselves on being honest in their dealings, a rarity nowadays, but something we take pride in, and all establishments are highly thought of throughout space.

The Rose as it's known for short and with affection by many a Commander is highly reminiscent of a late 20th/early 21st century Terran British public house. Imitation wood decor and furnishings [Wood having been completely ruled out by station authorities over the fire risk], with hand-pulled beers and the traditional quirks associated with an old pub of the era; pool table, dartboard, the usual. The serving of traditional bar snacks is a rare thing nowadays, but my family take pride in them, alongside locally sourced beers and homemade microbrews, none of the mass produced garbage that tastes like stale piss. Of a Tuesday night, the place is rammed with students from one of the universities on Homeland, and my parents embrace them owing to them behaving and rubbing shoulders with locals and miners alike. Also one of the few nights where I’m intentionally sobre, and not just to small talk the girls either.

On this particular night, being a Friday, all was reasonably quiet owing to the limited opening hours, with a few of the older regulars in for their weekly tipple. Included in the dozen or so regulars was Captain Legarde (Ret.), a former commander of a Capital Ship in the late 3270s when aggression by the Empire-backed rebels last affected Beta Hydri. He retired early after a few incidents he didn't care to go into, such was their distressing nature.

I must have been overdoing to have a pint glass literally wrenched from my synthetic hand and being pinned against the wall, but still able to breathe as I received a lecture I would never forget.

"Do you really want this to be your life Sam? Stuck in a bar pitying yourself over something you can't reverse? Betraying the Naval Oath that you took at 18? I'm willing to give you an opportunity to change everything and start afresh. I have a good condition Sidewinder I'm willing to offer you with a full tank of fuel ready to go on Pad 23 on two conditions. First, that you stop the drinking or at least moderate it, and second, that you enrol in the Naval Auxilliary. There's nothing to say that the Empire won't try again sometime, and it needs young men like you to defend the system when that time comes. Not only that, it’s a chance to still do some good while you decide what to do with your life lad. You have so much to give, don’t waste your chances"

As soon as he let go, I looked to him with my eyes by now moist and finding no other way of expression than an almost whispered “Thank you..” before disappearing to the back and crying hard in realisation that the last few months had been utterly wasted, and gratitude that somebody I greatly respected was offering me a chance to prove what I could do.

Legarde's words still ring through my ears as I compose this log in a half-sober trance, and tomorrow morning, I know what I need to do. First, I need to re-register with the Pilot’s Federation as a civilian and book a few refresher flying lessons to get my confidence back as counselling doesn’t cover such niceties. Second, cold turkey until I can’t bear to drink to excess again, and third, most importantly, think hard about what I want to achieve in life. It's a large world out there, there's a purpose for me, but what it is will be a long road ahead..
Do you like it?
︎4 Shiny!
View logbooks