Separation Anxiety

For a Jovian terminal out on the frontier, the Tethys cosmodrome sure seemed at its busiest, a bustling cluster of humans, lyricians, and frames with places to go and people to see and cargo to carry. Everyone had an origin, everyone had a destination. The tannoy bellowed a message, desperate to be heard.

"Travelers, your attention please. OLC Resplendent Host is now departing from Pad Sierra. Pre-boarding and cabin assignment will begin in one standard hour. Please report to Sierra Concourse for departure preparation. Orbridge thanks you for your patronage."

Auburn's coffee was mostly water at this point, anxious stirring having melted most of the ice.

The jackalope's feet were propped atop his duffel bag as he sat on a high stool in the coffee shop just past the security checkpoint. He wasn't given to nervousness - there'd always been a steadiness about him - but today he was tapping his toes against his luggage and wondering why he'd gone for cold brew instead of wildflower tea. He loved wildflower tea.

Did he? Trellis would make it for him some mornings, he recalled. He did, he decided, shaking his cup idly and watching the mostly-clear ice crescents float around his coffee. He did love wildflower tea, past tense. But he would never order it himself from a shitty café in an Outer Rim cosmodrome. Something about where it came from. Something about the way it was loose leaf, how he always made sure there were mountain dandelion heads in it, floating gently on top of a bittersweet brew with just a few drops of honey, how it always had exactly the right blend of herbs, how the flavors would bound across the palate like a choreographed ballet, how they'd sit and lean against each other on the porch as the rain watered the forest and the garden and they'd let the silence do the talking.

"You could st-stay," he said flatly, voice sharp-edged.

"I could give up my life, yeah. I'd rather not do that. If you were given the opportunity, wouldn't you do something like this?" Pleading. It wasn't like him to beg.

"It's n-not giving up a life, it's, it's building one." Distant. Fearful. Afraid. Of what, being alone? Auburn thought.

"I want to explore, Trellis. I want to find new opportunities! That's what the frontier offers. That's what's beyond the belt. You're so damn focused on the trees you can't see the stars."

The rain on the roof and the creaking of the branches in the forest outside punctuated the silence between them. For a moment the air was thick enough with tension to choke on. Trellis set about taking the first bite.

"How dare you." The words hit like timber-fall. "You have no idea what I've given up." He wasn't stuttering anymore.

His datapad chirped. He turned his arm to look at the message; the haptic interface jumped off the pad's screen and hung amber text in the middle of the air.

Hello, [WOLMAN, AUBURN]:

Your leave of absence request from [TETHYS HYDROCRACKER STATION 224-ECHO] has been generously [APPROVED] by the Labor Capital Administration Section of Guldsommar Holdings. This workflow is complete and no further action is necessary.

You now have [32 Standard] Days, [17 Standard] Hours of remaining leave.

Remember, [WOLMAN, AUBURN]: Guldsommar's Got Your Back!

Further inquiries should be directed to [PATON, OLEG], your supervisor.
DO NOT reply to this message!

[Labor Capital Administration Section]
[Hydroengineering Corps]
[Guldsommar Conglomerated Technology Holdings]

Months of separation at a time over several years while Trellis helped to rebuild forests and Auburn studied his rocks and his water had made their last real moment together an angry one. God damn him, Auburn thought.

He replayed the message Trellis had sent him a few more times before deciding to leave for the Core. He'd thought a thousand things to say back and then thought ten thousand more. He'd tried losing himself in his work and ended up finding himself longing to feel his clawtips gently trace the furrows and crags of a western red cedar while a silver-furred hand pressed against his own and a mossy voice chattered in his ear about bark repair. He'd ground his teeth so hard he nearly chipped a tooth. He must've written half a dozen replies, tried recording a few, found himself too buried in the stages of grieving a relationship he'd never really let die in the first place. All he managed to send back was:

T,

Okay. Maybe.

–Longears

This was harder for him than he'd wanted to admit to anyone, most of all himself. His datapad chirped again at him, quietly but with the lilting tones of the Orbridge jingle letting him know it was getting close to boarding time. He stood up and pushed his chair out, the metal legs making a scraping noise against the concor floor that would have woken the dead even in the din of the terminal's bustle. He threw his bag over his shoulder and his coffee in the compost.

Thinking about it as he moved through the terminal, there wasn't much to lose now. Mars being what it was, hydrological engineers were needed all over the planet after the ice had been cracked and Aldyne was scrambling to figure out what to do with all the water it found itself deluged by. They pay in scrip, but at least they pay. And he'd be closer to Phobos Colony, so even if this "new home" Trellis got all worked up about didn't pan out, at least he'd be near his own people, even if it was more or less a shantytown. Home's what you make of it, he thought.

"Departure pass?" inquired the boarding frame at the gate.

Auburn slid his identity rod out of his datapad (much to its protest) and into the reader. After a beat, the stanchion turned green. "Confirmed," said the frame matter-of-factly while Auburn fiddled with his datapad. "Departing in 39 standard minutes. Cabin assignment has been encoded; use your datapad for wayfinding. Standard cabin, port-side aft. Single bunk."

"Thanks," Auburn replied cooly.

"Not a problem, sir. At your leisure, return passage may be booked from any Orbridge port of ca–" The frame stopped abruptly. "Disregard," it said in a more mechanical-than-cordial voice.

"Hmm?"

There's no way a frame could clear its throat but this one did its best impression. "My apologies, sir. I suffered from a parsing error. I did not realize this is a one-way booking."

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