Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Devereux moved slowly through Cargo Bay Two. . Although the memorial service was still more than a hour away, she was already in her dress uniform. It seemed that her fall crew deserved at least that much respect. She deliberately left the lights dimmed. It felt more solemn somehow. She doubted, though, that the dead collected there truly cared

She had lost seven of her crew in the battle. Two had been recovered, thanks to Elizabeth and her team. The remaining five would likely never be found. That was often the way it was in space, she knew. Explosive decompression had a way of making the remains difficult to locate and reclaim.

Remains. They were members of my crew. People. With names, families, friends, dreams.

It was not the first time she had lost members of her crew. Life in space was dangerous, particularly in times of war. These eight added only a small amount to the total number of friends and colleagues she had lost since beginning her service in the Fleet. Devereux knew, though, she would remember every one of them for a long time to come.

A few more steps took her into the middle of the two perfectly spaced rows. On either side of her, a Fleet flag marked each of four spaces. Only two contained bodies beneath them. It was these that she approached first. Kneeling, she a medal of valor upon the one on her left.

Ortiz. Weapons systems technician. She had not known him well. He had joined the crew for their second tour of duty. Second . . . and last.

de Marco. Security specialist. Expert with short-range munitions. Devereux managed a faint smile. Probably why his racquetball game was so good. She knew, of course, of his nascent relationship with her First Officer. I need to talk to her, before she gives up.

Devereux continued her silent recognition and remembrance, pausing to remember something about each of them, before coming to stop at the eighth flag. It lay flat on the deck, a symbol only of the life that had died in the service of her ship.

Ilisee, she thought, pronouncing it far more correctly in her mind than she had ever managed aloud. Star Wing.

There was no reason that the ancient Aerian should have sacrificed her life for her ship and crew.

She was probably protecting Hope.

The explanation rang hollow in her mind. It seemed easier to believe that, in the end, the Star Wing had chosen to defend them all. Believing it might be the height of hubris, but, whatever the reason, the result had been the same. The Star Wing’s efforts had kept her ship from total destruction. The final cost had been seven—no, she corrected herself, eight—lives. It would have almost certainly been much higher had the Star Wing not acted as she did.

Devereux knelt and placed the medal upon the final banner. A part of her wondered who it should go to after coming ceremony.

“May the Goddess and your Creators watch over you,” she whispered.

After a moment, she rose and headed to her office to wait.