And So He Pondered. Was He Really Going To Do It? Was He Ready? He Could Feel The Weight Of His Thoughts

I'm gone, dude. I'll see you on the other side

What is a human? Is it a conscious animal that also displays sentience? Is it a spark stuck in a bag of tissue?

The possibilities were endless. One long-distance communication and perhaps someone could get here with the right equipment. It would require quite the time, but the end result could make it all worth it. "Perhaps I can go back and redeem myself," popped in his head.

But that wasn't his thought. This glimmer did not originate from within him truly, did it? He shook his head. "The high tension must have started to get to me," he muttered, "would explain the weight."

He had spent the last few weeks in semi-suspension. Surely, the side effects of prolonged stellar travel must have been getting to him. "Just need to let the body catch up to the mind," he assured himself, "deep breaths and exercises."

The 4th Concordiat War has left the Yanavri System in ruin. The destruction of industry and infrastructure caused by the incessant infighting between the royal clans will end with the deaths of countless people. Estimates guess a new artificial age of regression and suffering will sink its claws over the battered system for at least 50 years. Subject matter experts agree this number to increase as the war continues on.

During the chaos of all this, a small hab-shuttle made its daring plunge into the unknown. Desperate to leave everything behind, the daring little vessel made its way to a forgotten planetoid; barely big enough to hold its own gravity field and atmosphere. All as planned...

The shuttle succeeded in it brave venture. Utilizing its unassuming size and stature, it deftly slipped by the Concordiat's barricades. It's denizen remaining in blissful stasis the whole journey. Planning a blink jump would draw too much attention, a sub-lightyear travel increased the odds of being overlooked or being mistaken as an asteroid careening through the void.

The last thing he wanted was to be noticed, to be recognized and pulled back into the war again. He saw the same dreams in stasis. As if being visited by an unsightly acquaintance, he dreamt the same scenes, reminisced the same memories and mourned the same losses. He had dedicated himself wholly to the cause. He was promised the safety and happiness of his family. He'd learn of this facade, painfully.

Now was a time of serene solitude. Away from it all; his empty lodgings, the once familiar and joyous streets, the barracks, the hangars and the irrefutable orders demanding for more. Once arriving on the planetoid, he'd have the luxury of time. Time that can be spent on processing, mourning, and finding a meaningful end.

Suicide was frowned upon back in the homeworld. "Followers of the Great Narza must be willing to spend their lives to the commune. To waste oneself on the needs of their own is to betray the commune and the Great Narza." A mantra used to mold countless generations, and he was committing the very sin he once thought impossible.