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[Hauron Solus]

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Hauron sat at the end of his bed within his personal quarters aboard the Dralaalar. His helmet sat by his side, facing the wall while its owner stared at an inert commlink on a crate. He had been sitting like that for minutes, maybe longer. It was not the first time he had debated making a call. It would not be the last.

No, he was not going to call. Not today. He knew there would not be anyone picking up if he did. Instead, he quietly wished to receive one in return. Both of his hands were brought together, layering over the other underneath his chin. Hauron tried processing his feelings. He contemplated what he would even say the next time he saw his father. But there were parts of him he did not want to acknowledge, parts he was not ready to accept.

The quiet thrum of the ship's engines was the only noise he heard but moreso felt throughout his ship. Hundreds of Mandalorians were onboard, going about their business. But in that moment Hauron Solus felt alone.

Eventually the mikkian stood up and collected his helmet. He smoothed out his headtendrils and bound them so they would fit underneath his protective armor. He left the commlink behind only to stop in the doorway and look back at it. The red hued T visor reflected the device back. Taking a breath, he sighed and left the room in darkness.

 

[Hauron Solus]

*CRASH*​

Hauron's helmet slammed into the wall, bouncing slightly away before falling to the floor. It rolled and came to a stop at his feet. The Mikkian paced several times back and forth in his quarters. Both of his fists were clenched while his face was contorted in rage.

"KARKING..."

The same commlink that had sat silent was open to a call. He had no idea whether or not the message would be recieved. He had not said anything so far of any worth. Hauron had finally decided to call one of the alternate connections his father had. Maybe he would check it eventually and hear his son's anger. But Hauron was angry to even have to resort to this.

"Pick...UP... you stupid old man!"

He continued to pace. The Forge Master debated kicking his helmet but it would not do him any good. It probably would just hurt his foot at best and damage his other possessions at worst.

Eventually a knock came at the door. One of his subordinates had come to check on the commotion. Hauron answered the door, letting it slide open to reveal the foul mood expressed on his face.

"WHAT?!"

It was one of his commanders, Serin Voss. The armored warrior looked at their leader and then past him to the disarray of his private quarters. It was unusual for the disciplined Solus to be in such a state. He rarely let his emotions get the better of him.

"We've recieved a transmission from Kashyyyk...sir." It was equally rare for Serin to be so formal. The two were friends. Hauron's shoulders relaxed, dropping noticeably as he calmed down.

"I'll be right there." He finally said in a more composed tone. His badger tendencies receded.

"Do you-"

"I'm fine." Serin stared for a brief few seconds. "I'll be right there, Serin." The commander nodded after a heartbeat had passed. "Thank you." Hauron added before the door to his quarters closed. He knew his friend was concerned about him. He appreciated it but he still needed a few moments alone. Hauron walked over to the commlink and turned it off, ending the call.

 

[Hauron Solus]

Hauron's boot tapped steadily against the deck of the private quarters while he sat on the bed hunched over. He was silent as he tried to not look at the same commlink as before. No messages came through no matter how much he wanted them to. His red irises began to drift towards the device but stopped before settling on it.

He did not want to look at it. Hauron already knew it would be unchanged from before so there was no point. Maybe if he ignored it long enough then by some strange occurrence it would begin to ring, eventually. That's when calls came through. When he least expected it. So he just needed to not expect it.

The Solus sat like that, his leg bouncing up and down for who knows how long. "Come on..." He whispered under his breath. His tone almost sounded like it was begging for a call. But nobody heard him except himself and the walls of his room. If anyone did hear him what kind of power would they have to grant him his wish?

"I'll..." He started speaking, imagining his father could hear him. But his voice was unusually shaky. "...I'll take you on that vacation you talked about. We'll train more like we used to. Whatever you want. Please." His vision began to get blurry. Droplets began to form in the Mikkians eyes but he did not wipe them away. "Just...call me back, Dad. Please." Arasuum, Hod'haran, Kad Ha'rangir, whomever was listening would hear the silent prayer. But nothing would come of it. Nothing but tears.

 

[Hauron Solus]

There was no point to any of it. Hauron blamed himself for everything that had happened and what little had come of it. Thule had been a mistake and it was the Mikkian's fault.

The Group Leader lay on his bed, curled up with the covers covering his body and hiding him from the rest of the galaxy. A day had passed since he had left his private quarters. Actually maybe more time than that. It was hard to tell time in a room without windows onboard a ship that traveled the dark expanse of space.

Hauron felt no desire to get up and do anything. He did not exercise, he barely ate or drank, he had not showered and his work was piling up. But he could not motivate himself to move or be the least bit productive. He could not see any reason to any of it.

You did this He thought to himself. His eyes were red, not just the natural pigment of his irises but the normally white sclera as well. Hauron had not looked in a mirror, he could not bear to see himself. His own gaze reminded him too much of his adoptive father that had shared the same colored eyes despite the two of them not being related.

The Solus was exhausted despite not even moving for hours. The depression had hit hard and it stuck around.

You were so ready to lead these people. To be better than what he was and look where that got you. Look where that got him.

He walked through his memories. Every congratulation, each victory and the responsibility. Hauron remembered the hole he still felt even in the glory of success. He thought about the things that he lacked despite his position. What it meant and what it did not.

You became a bringer of change... a bringer of pain, suffering and destruction. He wanted you to live a better life. He chased redemption for you. Now look at you. What have you become? A fool, a coward. Everything is gone. Lost. Everyone already knows what you chose. YOU CHOSE!

The tears began again and Hauron curled up tighter into a ball. "I chose." Hauron felt an ache in his heart that no amount of medicine could heal. He did not want to feel better. This suffering was deserved.

Now what should I do? Should I just lay here forever?

Should I conquer?

Take?

Proclaim?

Submit?

Work myself to death in service of others?

You're arrogant, cruel, and foolish. You always have been.

Perhaps what's worse, you're more than that.

Hauron continued to remain in his room for hours, perhaps days. Travel between systems took time anyways and Rancor Squadron could run on its own. He cycled through thoughts that were ugly and unhealthy over and over again. Occasionally he would hear a knock at the door. He would get up, wiping the tears from his face and putting his armor on simply so he did not have to explain his appearance. As soon as the doors were closed he took his armor off and returned to bed. Aside from those brief check ins he remained in self-imposed isolation, content to suffer.