|| youtu.be/Y3K2mBPsaxY ||
Mid April, 2979. Approximately 3 weeks before the events of Vitality.
In the 5 days that followed Tycho’s formative call home, he’d managed to cross half the Frontier in record time. Packing his kit and bugging out of Angel city was frustratingly easy, to the point of making him wonder if Polaris knew what he was up to before he even filed for the time off. He’d be gone for far longer than what he had put down to Talk, but it was the easiest lie ever made– part of him knew, even then, that he was probably never coming back.
It wasn’t until he found himself immersed in the bustle of the Frontier’s only GalRail terminal, untold millions of miles away from that bare and cold Angel City apartment, did the surreal nature of it all finally set in. The Vlaka stared blankly at the info terminal he stood before, bewildered by the graphic it displayed. Daiban was the capital of the entire Federation, effectively the economic center of the entire Orion Spur. He didn’t know much at all about civilization outside the Frontier, beyond the stories his father would tell or the things Astrid would dredge up over the Night City ‘net; none of that meant as much to him as it perhaps should have, given how singularly one detail stood out to the Vlaka immediately. It wasn’t the population, the planet’s history, or even the Federation itself that finally let the surrealism set in… it was the distance of the trip. Daiban wasn’t “vacation” far, it was “start a new life” far. Astrid probably knew that from the start, he realized… if only he would have figured that out sooner for himself.
His tail brushed someone passing by, the apology that tumbled out after it as autonomic as breathing. Tycho turned to look over his shoulder, taking in the environment of the busy terminal and everyone in it. Being thrown headfirst back into civilian life added another unfamiliar layer to the experience– uncomfortable wasn’t the word he’d want to use out loud, but it was hard to put it any other way. Maybe naked, was more accurate? His weapons and wargear were going through customs just fine, even for the hassle of getting military equipment cleared for transport… but being without any of it for the first time in a while yielded a particular kind of anxiety. Frankly, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d even worn anything with sleeves…
The call for boarding came, breaking his disassociation, as such things often did. Shouldering his bags, Tycho fished a small disposable hand terminal from his jacket pocket as he made his way to the gate, deftly weaving his form in and out of the crowd without looking up.
|| “Finally boarding. Will be dark for a few days. I’ll check in with you when we touch down. Thank you for this, I think.” ||
No sooner was the message sent did he crack the small device in half, and toss the parts into a passing trashcan. Keeping up the espionage act felt impersonal enough to sting, with her not being here in person to say goodbye… but that was Astrid, never to be changed. Willing to do just about anything, but always from a distance.
It wasn’t until he settled into his seat and stowed his bags away did it finally occur to him just how great a distance that would be.
- - -
The multi-day trip gave Tycho ample time to think, in absence of anything else to do. With no books to read or screens to fiddle with, most of the trip was spent sleeping, peoplewatching, and getting far too deep into his own head while watching the stars streak by.
There was a part of him that heavily doubted how well this would work out in the end. Mentally this was still mostly being treated like a temporary affair, even if he made sure ties were passably cut before leaving the Frontier. Processing the possibility of this whole thing being permanent, kissing the Frontier goodbye for a while, his whole life changing as rapidly as it did… certainly made him thankful for the time he had, all things considered.
It wasn’t like he was on the run, or that anyone was looking for him. What was stopping him from going back home? Astrid’s words were sent tumbling around in his mind again, like loose cartridges in a pocket.
“You’re gonna drive yourself crazy if you keep trying to pretend not to give a shit...”
Maybe an environment where such a thing was possible to change would do him some good? It certainly never felt possible on Estero, or anywhere else in the Frontier… not when he was in a position to see just how bad things were for himself, or said position was little more than just an armed cog in the corporate military machine. Maybe life in the interior of the Federation will be a little less oppressive, civilian life or not.
The other half of his thoughts entertained the possibilities of that “or not.” It felt more like a fantasy than a reality, the idea of flying solo, kept that way in part by the Vlaka’s rapidly-expanding view of the galaxy. Space was a big place, and he’d have to be one hell of a good mercenary to develop the kind of reputation he yearned for… but where he expected his heart to fill the gap in with doubt, nothing came. Money and work were more a problem than skill, he was confident enough with himself to be certain of that. Independent mercenary work seemed like quite the legal gray-area, from what he could tell by research alone, but there was an overwhelming plethora of bounty-hunter guilds to make up for it, all connected by some big network. Bounty hunting was… well, close enough to what he wanted, being at the very least somewhere to start. Time would tell whether or not it was something he’d enjoy doing, and he didn’t even know if he wanted to pursue it.
There was so much he didn’t know. About where he was headed, about what he was going to do, about what would be waiting for him there. Balancing anxiety and anticipation was a necessary multi-day game, though it was one he was sick of playing by the end. At the very least, the people-watching provided a necessary break from his own thoughts, and there was certainly plenty of that to be done. The more stops made along the way, the more interesting his fellow passengers became.
He started to see other non-human races around the first stop of the third day. The first were a family of Unggoy, not that he knew what an Unggoy was. A group of six four-and-a-half-foot, vaguely amphibious looking things, walking past his row of seats on small stubby limbs, chittering into their complex-looking breathing masks, leaving behind the faintest twinge of methane to the air as they walked… thin even for his nose. His eyes shifted back to the window before any of them would notice the staring.
This wasn’t his first time seeing another non-human species with his own eyes, but such a thing had been a rarity enough that he was no less fascinated. It occurred to him just how common of a feeling this was likely to become, visiting the literal capital of the entire galactic region, and frankly he found himself feeling unexpectedly excited by that. Daiban was probably an unimaginably diverse cultural melting pot– he’d see more there on his first day than in his entire life thus far, and somehow that was a comfort. Being a tourist in such a place didn’t sound half bad, for as much as he still struggled to figure out his next move.
The Vlaka let out a small sigh through the nose, resting his elbow against the arm-rest of his seat, and his muzzle in his palm. His eyes focused on the reflection of the train’s interior against the black expanse of space beyond, watching the strange little Unggoy creatures all pile into their seats at the far end of the cabin.
If there was anything he knew for certain about where he was going, it was that there would be plenty to distract him from himself.