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The space was normally the largest landing deck on the Craton, but it had been quickly turned into a somber ceremonial suite.

Several hundred of the Craton’s crew and civilians stood, watching the thirty-four caskets – one more than earlier, with Midshipman Waskohska succumbing to her wounds only a few hours before – that were set near the airlock.  It and that entire wall had been made into a screen, showing the stars beyond.

Brooks stood elevated, and behind him stood some dignitaries who had come to help honor the dead.  N’Keeea, Siilon, Tallei, their staffs, and even a representative from Supreme General K’Tekek, who had hurried from the inner system.  Along with most of the command crew of the Craton herself.

Brooks looked at the caskets, committing their names to memory.  He had plenty of ways to remind himself of those who had died under his command, but he always wanted to do his best to remember them himself.

He felt grateful that he had not yet reached the point where he could not remember all the names.

Turning slowly, he looked solemnly across the crew waiting.

Each of them had known the deceased closely.  Co-workers, friends, or more – each of them held a frame with an image of the dead.

As he looked over them, he saw, standing alone with He That Squats on Yellow Sand’s image, was Apollonia.

He felt his throat threaten to tighten on him, but he pressed on.

“We remember today those who have fallen in the line of duty,” he said.  “Family, partners . . . friends.  Good souls who gave their last drop of devotion to help others.  Not simply their crew, but billions of lives – of beings they had never met.  Such an act is not easy.  It would have been simple for us all to look away, to deem the risk and cost too much.  But we did not, and thousands stepped forward, waiting to pay that cost with their lives.”

He turned sharply, saluting the caskets.

“Read the roll of honor,” he said.

Urle stepped up.

“Len Ackerman!”

The assembled crew snapped to attention at the name, giving their final salute to the fallen man.

“Alize Waskohska.

“Jack Lal.

“He That Squats on Yellow Sand.”

The names continued.  All thirty-four of them.  For each, a final salute.

Urle stepped back, and Brooks turned fully to gaze out at the stars.

In some eras, a body would be given to the sea, or even the void.  In this day, they would go back to their families and peoples.

But a missile was launched for each of them.  Streaking out, trailing a burning light that ended in a burst of color.  Each explosion staggered out just after the last to create a line that receded ever further.

Brooks saluted now as well.

“We thank you all.”

---

The event formally ended, but all began to mingle.

Brooks let others speak among themselves, not wishing to butt into any of their private grief.  He simply stood in his own.

He could make no claim on the level of grief the people who knew and loved or admired or respected the dead felt, but a captain’s grief was still uniquely his.  To say he had failed them had a measure of truth, but sometimes even when everything was done properly people died.

It didn’t make it easier, and hovering behind it all was a consideration of his own actions.  Had he done all he could?

The Maig may have fired the weapons, but it may have been his hand that put them there.

Such contemplation was best saved for later, when he was alone.  When he should be sleeping, a part of him noted wryly.

He looked around, to see if anyone needed someone to speak to, and saw Apollonia again.

He’d seen the girl looking miserable and alone quite often, but her reason for looking that way now was quite clear.

He moved towards her, noting as he came closer the increasing feel of uneasiness.  It was easy to learn to ignore it when all was well, but when things became harder, it oppressed more.

He fought it back.

“Apollonia,” he said softly.

She looked up at him, clutching the image of Squats on Sand.

“He didn’t have any family here,” she said quickly.  “He deserved someone to be here for him.”

Brooks nodded.  “I imagine he would have been glad to see you standing for him.  From what I understand, you two had become fast friends.”

“I seem to have a much easier time relating to aliens,” Apollonia said, her eyes unfocused.

“It’s not as uncommon as you might think,” Brooks told her gently.  “And it says nothing but good things about you.  To look at beings with different evolutionary histories, that look far different from us, even monstrous in our eyes – be able to accept them with reverence, brotherhood and trust is perhaps the greatest thing we can hope to achieve as a species.”

Apollonia stared at him, caught off-guard.  “That’s . . . really lovely.  Did you just . . . ?”

“No,” Brooks replied, looking a little sheepish.  “I’m paraphrasing Carl Sagan.”

“I don’t even know who that is,” Apollonia said, a laugh coming out, that turned quickly to tears.

Brooks hugged her.

“He didn’t deserve to die,” she said quietly.

“Rarely do they,” Brooks replied in a soft tone.

Apollonia said nothing for a long time, and with open expressions of sorrow, or joy, or solemn remembrance happening around them in a thousand different microcosms of people’s experiences, he knew that they did not stand out in the slightest.

“You know I failed, right?” Apollonia finally said, her voice still quiet.

“I know what happened,” he told her, his voice gentle.  “I’m sorry that . . .  I wanted to respect your right to choose your path, but perhaps . . . this was too soon.”

Part of her wanted to take his words as patronizing so that she might be annoyed, but it had been too much, too soon.  She’d wanted to help, and instead become a greater burden.

“I don’t want to fail again,” she said, pulling away from him and wiping her face.  The thought of how undignified she must look came to mind, but . . . seeing other people around them, equally or even more grief-stricken, reminded her that there was no shame in the emotion right now.

“I won’t impede you in whatever you choose to do,” Brooks said.  “But I am always willing to give advice if you want it.”

“And what would your advice be right now?” she asked, looking past him.  In the distance, she saw Jaya.  Who hadn’t spoken to her since the battle had ended.  Yet she had a feeling . . .

“I think you should start smaller,” Brooks told her.  “Continue your studies.  You can still be involved in groups and matters on the ship to help you become who you want to be.  They may seem petty or small right now, but if you learn from them then they will be stepping stones towards your goals.”

“That’s some good advice,” she admitted.  “You know, though . . .  I kind of wonder if Jaya is going to kill me.”

The woman had caught her eye, and to say she looked angry was an understatement.

“Jaya?  She may be upset about many things,” Brooks said.  She took it somewhat as an evasion.

“Well, she’s upset at me,” Apollonia replied.

“She can be that way.  She may very well chew you out to some degree.  But she won’t leave you out in the cold, either, when she’s done, unless that’s what you need.  And on top of that, she quite likes you.”

Apollonia blinked.  “She likes me?”

“Yes, I think she considers you a friend,” Brooks said.  Perhaps he shouldn’t have said that, but it was out now.

“She isn’t a very social person,” he continued, “and while it is normal for her to help you, I think she’s gone out of her way a lot.”

That just made her feel worse . . .  She’d not just disappointed a mentor, but a friend.

It must have shown, as Brooks added; “My point is that she won’t hold onto her anger with you.”

She nodded.  “Well, thank you Captain.  I think that I’ll go mingle with some other people,” she said.

“Jaya is coming over here, isn’t she?” Brooks asked.

“I’m actually quite close,” Jaya said from behind him.

He turned.  “Commander,” he said formally.

“No need to be so formal right now, Ian,” Jaya replied coolly.  She looked at Apollonia.  “You go and mingle.  We will talk later, and as the Captain says . . . I will absolutely chew you out.”

Apollonia swallowed.  “Yes, ma’am.”

As she walked away, she heard Jaya round on Brooks.  “Did you truly say I am not a social person?”

“That is literally how you describe yourself,” Brooks replied.

But there wasn’t any real anger in either of them, she thought, and she felt oddly buoyed as she walked away.

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