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DAY 02: In Remembrance [1200 hrs.]

DAY 02: In Remembrance [1200 hrs.]

[ USS Theurgy | Fighter Assault Bay | Deck 15 ] Attn: All

On any other day it would have been hard to hear within the Flight Hangar of the Theurgy, as pilots and deckhands tended to the Valkyries, performing routine maintenance and repairs while the Chief of the Deck played music. That day, though, was a different story. During the past four hours, the Flight Hangar had been made available to the Theurgy's crew - permission given to a couple departments at the time to leave their duties and make a visit. At noon, the crew that could be made available were present in solemn waiting.

The shrill sound of the boatswains whistle echoed down the large area, haunting in its reverberations. It was Sten Covington who blew the whistle, and all the present crew lined up before the nose-cones of the Valkyries in tidy double rows. Within a minute, they had taken position, standing at ease. Indeed, the Hangar was quiet that noon. In fact, it was so quiet that the only sound that could be heard was Captain Ives' steady tread as he - in his male form - walked down the centre aisle of the metal caskets. He was carrying Arashi at his side, the dai-katana sheathed in a one-handed grip and with his thumb on the hand-guard. He had not brought it for sake of armament, of course, but for the ceremony at hand.

The eyes of all present followed his measured walk across the Hangar. Those that were not were filled with tears. Forty-seven caskets lay across the Hangar in front of the crew, a stark counter point to their lives. Federation flags had been draped over each, rather than the more traditional Starfleet Command flag. It was at Jien's orders, something he thought the crew took a small bit of solace from. Each casket had a plaque and an image of the fallen, and the reason they had not used empty photon torpedo casings was simply because they could not spare them.

Ives kept his gaze straight ahead, set on the small podium where those Senior Officers not absolutely needed for the running of the ship in that moment stood in wait. Far behind them, the aft bay doors were opened, and the integrity field allowed them all to see the gaudy, swirling clouded mass of the proto-star. Only a small fraction of it was visible through the bay doors, displaying a chaotic cloudscape coloured crimson and purple.

Taking the podium, Jien looked over the caskets for the first time, gathering his thoughts. He had not prepared a speech because he thought it would sound rehearsed, meaning to speak from the heart. Inside the caskets lay both mutineers and those who had been loyal to him, something that a few might have objected against, but he had been adamant about it. Turning his oaken stare from the dead, he faced the living, and spoke.

"These are dark times," he said, and he grabbed the wrist of his sword-hand, the katana held loosely in front of his thighs. "We are assailed on all sides, even seemingly from within. It seems that the whole of the universe is against us, even those we counted as friends and allies."

He inclined his head towards the caskets. "They have paid the cost, and we feel their loss with a harsh, bitter sting. They were one and all our friends, our confidants. These dark times engulfed them, taking them into its silent embrace. There are also those among them who lost sight of our goal and our mission - lashing out in fear. Others were bereft of choice in the matter. Either way, they were led by someone who had forgotten what it meant to be part of Starfleet. At his bidding, they tried to take our ship. To take our lives."

Jien looked down at the podium, replacing sorrow with steel in his tone. "In spite of that, we bury them along with our honoured dead. Because the message of redemption is what we shall send. That no matter how far you have fallen, you can come back. In a universe gone mad, we shall be the lone guiding light in the darkness. We shall be the ones to bring salvation to the Federation."

With that, Jien fell silent, and eventually he nodded for Covington to blow the boatswain's whistle. When he did, Stark's transporter protocols would be activated, and all forty-seven caskets would be beamed out into space.

Be that as it may, they would never be forgotten.

OOC: Everyone, please post with those characters you want, depicting them as they visit their choice caskets and saying their own words before Jien Ives arrives. Unless agreed OOC, the intention is that you all will only post once in this thread. If you are in doubt and need help with a list of the dead, I may be able to post it in the OOC tomorrow.
 

Re: DAY 02: In Remembrance [1200 hrs.]

Reply #1 –
[ Simon Tovarek & Amelya Duv | USS Theurgy | Fighter Assault Bay | Deck 15 ]

Simon Tovarek  had ran into Amelya Duv in the Turbo lifts on his way down to the Fighter assault bay. Today would prove to be hard day for Tovarek as Tatiana Marlowe had succumbed to her injuries. Amelya had delivered the bad news to Tovarek only hours ago. Despite the successful cardiac surgery, it seemed that the vital functions had been damaged too much by the voltage that had soared though her body. Kidney were showing signs of failing increasing the septic values within her blood and  body. Eventually the choice was made to try and cleanse her blood with an external device. But it seemed that Marlowe had lost the power to hold on. She had been called deceased early in the morning. It was a bitter reminder to Duv that she was unable to save the poor woman and it made the layout of caskets increase with one more.

Duv went by to her former patients and people that she had met during her encounters aboard Theta and during her short time aboard the Theurgy. Yet she knew that she couldn't linger too long, it was bad for her to stall here and dwell upon lost lives while there were other she could tend too. She remained in the assault bay, lingering between the caskets of those she didn't know, just wanting to know who else had lost their lives. Some of them hadn't even made it to Sickbay...

Tovarek remained by the casket of Marlowe, his hand slowly resting on the flag draped over her casket before he reached out to the picture of her. He sighed deeply as he felt his inner walls collapse and to make matters worse, he felt his face change into a grieving one. Some tears rolled down his cheeks and he wiped them off quickly enough before he snorted and tried to take his regular demeanor. 'Tatiana wouldn't have wanted you to dwell too long on this.' he thought to himself as he shook his head slowly "Farewell Tatiana... It was a privilege to have known you. May you rest in a better place now." he whispered just loud enough so he could hear himself speak it out.

He pressed his index finger and thumb against the corners of his eyes as he pushed the last tears out and he looked around to look at who else was walking around. After a moment he assumed his position in preparation of the official ceremony. Duv had done the same and talked with some people from medical before the assault by filled up with the rest of the crew. Amelya glanced at Nicander now and again while Tovarek kept his gaze on Jien. The speech hardened the resolve of the CSO and he would bloody hell make sure someone would pay for the loss of his loved one.

Re: DAY 02: In Remembrance [1200 hrs.]

Reply #2 –
[ William Robert O'Connell | USS Theurgy | Fighter Assault Bay | Deck 15] 

William Robert O'Connell stood respectfully behind Lieutenant Simon Tovarek as the chief science officer said his goodbyes. 

"Farewell Tatiana," Tovarek whispered almost too quietly for O'Connell to hear.  "It was a privilege to have known you. May you rest in a better place now."

"Amen to that sir," O'Connell murmured as he stepped forward to stand beside him and look at the casket of Lieutenant Tatiana Marlowe.  She had recently transferred over from the Harbinger to serve as the Theugy's chief engineer, and she hadn't survived a week.  She may have died doing her duty, but was treachery that killed her plain and simple.  She would never have received those injuries in engineering if the late and unlamented Captain Declan Vasser hadn't had his Vulcan witch put the whammy on crew and sabotage the plasma relay controls.  If it weren't for his ruttin' attempt to take over the ship, Marlowe would have made it too.  If it weren't for the virus used to knock out the holoemitters and the ship's internal sensors, the monitoring systems in her biobed would have noted the blood clot that finished her off and alerted the people in sickbay.  Hell, if someone would have been monitoring her they might have spotted it.  Instead the mutiny made sure that Marlowe's surgery was done in a hurry and that nobody was available for post-op.  

"She died with her boots on sir," Master Chief O'Connell informed the grieving Tovarek.  "She knew the risks and didn't hesitate.  She gave her life to save all of us.  Out of all the pieces of coal Vasser brought onboard, Marlowe was a gem."

He would have said more but Chief Warrant Officer Sten Covington was blowing his boatswain's whistle.  It was time to get in formation.


[ Maya | USS Theurgy | Fighter Assault Bay | Deck 15] 

Ensign Maya was standing before the coffin of one of the few friends the green blooded introvert had made on this ship, the late Connor Mathews.  He was gone, the neurological connections in his brain scrambled into uselessness.  Euthanasia was the only course left for him.  Even though Maya wasn't wearing the traditional hood she made the gesture of drawing it and bowed her head as she contemplated the short while she had known him.  He was gone, returned to the cosmic all at the center of the universe.

It was then she noticed that many of the caskets didn't have any bereaved mourners saying their goodbyes to them.  Silent as a ghost, she glided over to the neglected caskets and discovered that within them were the names of the invaders from the Harbinger, including the pilots from Dor'GhItlh Squardon.  Most of the names meant nothing to her but there was one casket that Maya was drawn to, almost against her will.

Lt. Commander Phanatos Kilinvoss, callsign Phantom.  During the sexual assault he had subjected her to, Maya had instinctively made contact with his twisted mind in order to become the paramour that had needed at that moment.  She was probably the only person alive who could claim to have actually known him. 

And she knew things about him that would have had his casket removed from this ceremony.  Phanatos Kilinvoss hadn't been mentally coerced into serving Vasser's agenda, he had followed him willingly.  Kilinvoss had somehow grown up with the ethics and principles of the corrupt Cardassian government right under the Federation's nose.  How he had passed the psychological requirements to get into Starfleet was a mystery.  The Dominion War, the betrayal of Starfleet, the physical disfigurement to his face, those things had simply brought his cruelty to the surface.  He had grown up serving the wrong stellar power, he had been born on the wrong planet to the wrong species.  He didn't belong in Starfleet; he didn't even belong in the United Federation of Planets.  He just didn't belong here.

Maya could relate.

Maya bowed her head reverently and made the mourning gesture of raising her cowl, even though she was wearing a white dress uniform instead of a traditional funeral cloak.  Whatever his faults, Phanatos had saved countless Federation lives during the Dominion War and the conflicts before it.  He had risked his life unhesitantly for both the Theurgy and the Harbinger when the Calamity had attacked.  Whatever personal demons he had possessed, Kilinvoss had never shirked what he thought was his duty.  He deserved to be honored with the rest of the fallen.


[ Tessa May Lance | USS Theurgy | Fighter Assault Bay | Deck 15] 

Tessa May Lance was decked out in her dress whites, looking like she was going out on the parade ground.  But this was no parade.  A line of coffins, each draped with the Federation flag, dominated the center of the flight deck.  It was time to pay respect to the fallen, so say goodbye and to honor the dead.

Tessa Lance noted that the list of casualties reported forty-seven confirmed deaths.  Forty-seven.  My God, she thought, forty-seven?  That many?  How many were left?  How many reinforcements did they get?  How long were they going to be able to keep the ship flying?

So many gone.  So many gone so quickly.  She looked at the plaques and the two dimensional image of the casualty inside, mentally saying her goodbyes as she did so.

Lieutenant Junior Grade Khorin Douglas, AKA Khorin son of Margon of the House of Mo'Kai had died before the mutiny.  The first attack of the Calamity had put him out of the picture.  He had died a warrior, despite the fact that he had been born in a diplomatic embassy.  The very circumstances of his birth held the promise of galactic peace, and now the Federation was betrayed by Starfleet.  To say it wasn't fair was something of an understatement.

Speaking of not fair, the death of Master Chief Petty Officer Soo Young Seung, callsign "Oracle" was heartbreaking.  She had earned her callsign due to her Betazoid heritage; she often finished other people's sentences for them.  She had been separated from the Theurgy in an early battle and had recently made her way back to rejoin the crew, and now she was gone.  Killed by a member of her own squadron.

Ensign Hannah von Slaverton, callsign "Nightmare" had been the unwitting instrument of Soo's demise.  If Tessa hadn't seen it herself she would have never believed it.  Even the knowledge that Hannah had been brainwashed by the Harbinger's Vulcan XO, the treacherous Commander T'Rena, couldn't shake the image of Hannah gunning Soo down out of Tessa's memory.  T'Rena had rewarded her psychically dominated minion by killing her afterwards.  Tessa liked to think that Hannah had been shaking off the Vulcan's insidious influence and had died resisting.

At least Master Chief Petty Officer Axius vel Onea, callsign "Quake" had died an honorable death, flying his Valkyrie and taking on all comers.  Axius never complained no matter how bad it had got.  He seemed melancholy and reserved even before the Theurgy went on the run.  Maybe now the comely Câroon could let go of his pain and relax in the eternal peace of the hereafter.

Tessa noted that Ensign Cale Winterbourne's casket had been placed near those of the fallen members of the Wolfpack.  Evelyn Rawley's half-brother and the Theurgy's go to helmsman during combat maneuvers, the pale and sensitive Cale had been an unofficial member of the pack.  How the Lone Wolves were going to manage without Winterbourne helming the Theurgy she didn't know.  The Cardassian seemed a poor trade.

One member of the Lone Wolves didn't have a casket, just a plaque with his picture on it.  Lieutenant Junior Grade Thomas Ravon, callsign "Razor," was Missing In Action.  There was still hope that he'd somehow find his way back the way Soo did, but it was highly unlikely.  Still if anyone could handle being on his own, it was Razor.

Silently Tessa mouthed her goodbyes before she heard the boatswain's whistle.  She got in formation beside her fellow pilots and stood at attention as Captain Jien Ives walked down the line of coffins and stepped behind a podium.  When he spoke, the manly baritone of his masculine form was clearly audible throughout the bay:

"These are dark times," Ives announced gravely.  "We are assailed on all sides, even seemingly from within. It seems that the whole of the universe is against us, even those we counted as friends and allies."

Truer words were never spoken.  What were the odds that the captain of the Harbinger really was the criminal the brainsucking aliens running Starfleet made him out to be?

Now Ives addressed the dead.  "They have paid the cost, and we feel their loss with a harsh, bitter sting. They were one and all our friends, our confidants. These dark times engulfed them, taking them into its silent embrace. There are also those among them who lost sight of our goal and our mission - lashing out in fear. Others were bereft of choice in the matter. Either way, they were led by someone who had forgotten what it meant to be part of Starfleet. At his bidding, they tried to take our ship. To take our lives."

Against her will, Tessa's eyes teared up again when she thought of Nightmare and Oracle.  Soon the entire bay was just a distorted blur to her.

"In spite of that, we bury them along with our honoured dead," Ives continued with determination. "Because the message of redemption is what we shall send. That no matter how far you have fallen, you can come back. In a universe gone mad, we shall be the lone guiding light in the darkness. We shall be the ones to bring salvation to the Federation."

After a moment of silence, the captain gave a solemn nod and Chief Warrant Officer Sten Covington blew his boatswain's whistle a second time.  Tessa blinked the tears out of her eyes just in time to see the forty-seven caskets disappear in a shower of sparks as the familiar chiming whine of the transporter was heard. 

"Clear skies and smooth sailing my friends," Tessa whispered weakly.

Re: DAY 02: In Remembrance [1200 hrs.]

Reply #3 –
[ Cameron "Cam" Elizabeth Henshaw | Fighter Assault Bay | Deck 15 | USS Theurgy ]

[Show/Hide]


Ensign Cameron "Cam" Henshaw stood behind people, silent as a ghost. She watched as the others went forward to pay their respects...their final respects, to the fallen. She raised her head to look at Captain Ives, her eyes now glistening with unshed tears. Her lips gently parting, as if she wanted to speak aloud for all to hear, but only those proficient in reading lips, or with their ears pressed right to her, might hear her barely whispered words, "In death, all are equal..."

So true. There, be they enemies in life, or comrades, all become one and the same when they crossed the veil beyond the living. Such was her belief. There, beyond, in the greatest and truest journey to be had, there was no enemy, no friend, just...understanding. Henshaw had stopped cutting her hair to keep it trim and short. In time, it would grow out. It felt so pointless, keeping it so well maintained. And her eyes fell upon one casket, with a name that stirred up so many kinds of emotions for her: Sjaandin Fedd.

Almost of their own volition, her feet started moving her forward, and she quickly closed the distance between herself and the Betazoid. There before him, the young woman finally came to terms with all the feelings she had, and they instilled one simple instruction for her tears: let them fall.

She accepted.

The man brought her both immense pleasure, and immense pain. Was that not after all, what love and war stood for? Sighing, she sank to her knees, and rested her palm gently atop his casket, looking at his picture fondly. "You bloody bastard," whispered Henshaw, but with the faintest hints of a smile playing on her lips as her eyes continued to flow with tears, "You really were something else, Sjaandin Fedd. It's okay now. You're in a better place, don't you worry about us. We'll look after each other."

She remembered him as he was, when they were together, when he smiled, when he was...him. "Wasn't your fault, I know," said Henshaw, her voice so soft. "Was the Vulcan's, but you know," she looked towards Ives, smiling wanly, then turned back, "you got me into so much trouble with Ives, and for that, I'm calling you a complete and utter ass. Still..."

She kissed her index and middle fingers and pressed it softly to Fedd's image, "...I'll miss you. Goodbye, Sjaandin Fedd."

She stood up and moved to stand in her original spot. It felt good, better than she had anticipated, to actually get that off her chest. Even if it was doubtful her words would have reached Fedd, she liked to think that it did. More than that, she was inwardly pleased with herself that she was able to get over all that had transpired between them, and all the others involved. It made her feel more alive, in some ways. Who knew forgiveness, both received and given, would be so liberating?


[ Edena Rez | Fighter Assault Bay | Deck 15 | USS Theurgy ]

[Show/Hide]


Edena had studied Terran customs dictated wearing black attire for funerals, so, that was what the young Trill had gotten for this occasion. It was a simple black dress with a long skirt, a modest top covering, and short lace sleeves. Jona had complained on how restrictive the top section was for movement, to which Edena had curtly said in thought-speak, (( "We're not going into a fight, Jona." ))

Of course the former SI ghost had plenty to say on that matter, like the fact that this would be the perfect time to spring a surprise on Jean Ives and his people, and who knows how many people are really freed from T'Rena's mind-control. Illya was happy to remind him that he very nearly sold out to Vasser, so he was in no position to tell them about potential treachery. If anything, he was the one they all had to watch out for.

After her talk with some of the Valkyrie pilots, the sensation and memories of Cale Winterbourne's death came right up to the surface for Edena. Thanks to Jona's taking over and show-and-tell, she now couldn't stop thinking about it, and so, before long, she was hesitantly approaching Winterbourne's casket, somehow feeling like she was stepping on toes or some such. She felt like she had no right to even approach, so she self-consciously looked around at the others, though her eyes connected with no one in particular, instead, just wandering, and hoping for someone to either give approval, or disapproval. Before she knew it however, she was standing before his casket.

Taking a cue from Ensign Henshaw, whom she had seen addressing a casket quietly, she knelt down before Winterbourne's casket, and looked intently at his picture, as if imagining it to be smiling and giving her permission to speak. She tilted her head, looking uncertain, and feeling odd, which was funny, given the fact that she quitely frankly talks to ghosts only she can see and hear, often giving the impression that she either has multiple personality disorder, or is delusional, or both. But she finally found her voice, and whispered, "I'm sorry..."

She looked upwards, for a moment, considering what she wanted to say, and what was in her heart, then looked down at the picture again, "I guess it's harder, because you really only get to live once...and...once you...once you die, there's no coming back. But that makes the value of who and what you are greater, and the loss more painful."

For a moment she imagined what Evelyn Rawley was going through, and Edena realized she felt an almost physical pain herself, in her chest. The images of Cale Winterbourne being executed by Zaraq violently forcing itself into her mind's eye, and she closed her eyes, tears squeezing through. It was like the revelation had only just hit her. I'm never going to see you again...I'll never be able to...

"After all that you have suffered, I hope you're in a better place now. It's the least you deserve." She gazed at Winterbourne's image, burning the detail of it into her memory, and stood up, moving to stand behind with those who'd gone ahead to pay their respects.

Re: DAY 02: In Remembrance [1200 hrs.]

Reply #4 –
[  Lt Cmdr Natalie Stark | Fighter Assault Bay | Deck 15]


Row upon row of dead lined the normally hectic flight deck, and it tore at Natalie's heart.  She was tired, and knew she looked it, despite her best efforts. Her return to the Theurgy had happened only a short while ago, leaving her little time to get herself organized for the ceremony. She probably could have begged off, given the mission she'd just completed, but this was important, not only to the crew and her people, to see the Chief of Operations on hand, but to herself. She had goodbye's to say, and so, tired or no, she was....well, glad was the wrong emotion. Relieved, might be the best way to describe it - relieved that she would be able to attend. She just hoped no one though she looked unkempt.

Making her way through the dead, Natalie was keeping an eye out for two caskets: one she wanted to make sure to stop at, and one she wanted to avoid entirely. She didn't know what it said about her, but the man that tried to rape her during the mutiny? She wanted nothing to do with him. There would be no farewell forgiveness for that dead man. She had no idea if he had been brainwashed or not, but she had enough grief in her heart that day, and no room to spare for her assailant. He was dead, and so much the better for it.

Of course, she stopped by every crewmen and woman that had been a member of her team. All department's had lost a few people at the very least, Operations hardly alone in that respect, and each person she paused at was a small knife wound to her soul. Faces, smiles, voices, all that she'd never hear again. But one casket, not from her department, was what drew her attention. She wanted - needed, to say goodbye to a friend. She had so few, and now it was time to lay one of them to rest.

Cale Winterbourne had become a fixture, next to her on the bridge of the Theurgy. He'd been pushed into a position above his grade, but he'd handled it with ease, a natural. He'd even managed to make her smile on more than one occasion during the dark, drastic times the crew had suffered through. And right at the end, he'd done his level best to uphold the duty and honor of Starfleet, even as those around him fell into shame and failed the oaths they'd taken, some through fear, and others through no fault of their own. She wanted to say good bye to her friend, but as she approached she came up short, stopping abruptly. It seemed that she wasn't the only one who wished to deliver a few parting words.

Natalie sized up the woman dressed in black, discreetly watching the Trill deliver her own last farewell to the fair haired man. The COps had not had a chance to speak with Edena Rez since she'd stepped down from her position as XO. To be fair, she'd not had much interaction with the woman when she was the ships First Officer, either. Briefly, she wondered why the woman had chosen to stop at Cale's casket, but she realized it was none of her business, and so she gave the other woman a moment of privacy. When she saw Rez step back, she in turn stepped forward, and nodded with a small "C--Ms. Rez," in acknowledgement, before turning to address Cale.

"I hate this, yano," she said softly, "I suppose you don't much like it either, all things considered. I want to say 'it won't be the same without you' and it won't, but that seems petty, right?" She let out a soft, sad sigh, looking at his picture, and seeing him smile in her minds eye, "But  God, it won't be the same. You had to be brave, all the way to the end, didn't you Cale?" Like others before her, she let her fingers ghost over the casket, swallowing back the tears that threatened to break.

"I don't have many friends, Cale. You were one of them. Nothing I say seems to be right, or enough. But I'll miss you."


The boatswain's whistle sounded shrill across the bay, and the brunette's head swiveled, eyes briefly meeting Sten Covington's. She could only imagine what grief the Chief of the Deck - another friend, one of a now shorter list - masked behind his professional stoicism as he was called upon to preform this sacred duty. A small nod was all she gave, making a note to herself to look him up later, and see how he fared, before moving to take the stairs up to the small platform where the podium stood. Falling into step at the left hand side of Lt. Cmdr. Wenn Cinn, she joined the rest of the senior staff on hand for the final farewell.

Natalie fidgeted at attention, trying not to pick at the dress uniform that clung to her, while Captain Ives gave the eulogy. Listening to the captain give the speech, clearly off cuff, she looked out and thought about all those gathered here. Both in the living crew, and among the dead. Her teeth dug into the side of her cheek and she stood a little straighter. Some of those present had been recovered by her team - both in the crowd, and in the caskets. Not all those that had abandoned the Harbinger during her final assault run on the Calamity had survived the escape. Some would remain buried out on the worlds they'd crashed down on, others to be laid to rest here. Her Captain bound them all together with his speech as he gripped tightly on his sword, and she found herself taking comfort in it. Cold comfort, but comfort all the same.

The whistle called out again, one final time to break the long moment of silence that had followed the end of Jien Ives' speech, and Natalie swallowed, hard. What came next, was her contribution. A faint hum filled the air, as cargo transporters all over the ship locked on to small micro transponders built into each casket. Though she'd been deployed at the time, she had configured the program now executing prior to her departure, and left orders for the preparation of each casket to members of her department, charging them with the shared solemn duty to see their fallen comrades off on one final journey. The blue white haze filled the room, and the shimmer song of the transporter rose. As one, the 47 caskets vanished from view, to materialize at the edge of the range, shimmering once more into existence, as gravity pulled them in towards the proto-start, on their last voyage.

[Lt. (jg) Sarresh Morrali | Upper Science Labs | Deck 04]

There were funeral services going on that day, but Sarresh couldn't be bothered with attending. Harsh though that might seem, he didn't know anyone being honored there that day. He wasn't friends with anyone that had passed - hard to be, all in all - and the only people he cared about had died already. There was no service for Amikris Neotin, dead on Theta Eridani IV, no body to bury among the stars. He mourned in his own way, in turn burying himself into his work. The emotions were more muted then he expected, he thought, analytically. The ball of ache in his gut seeming to be wrapped in a blanket, the cries of pain muffled in his throat. Diligently, he poured over data, working on the assignment given him the day before, and trying not to think of Amikris, or Ryuan Sel, or 'Bleed' Reed, nor Eve Jenkins.

He never once noticed the tears, streaming down his cheeks.

OOC: Room there for any interaction with Natalie at Cale's casket before she takes her place up on the stand with the senior officers.

Re: DAY 02: In Remembrance [1200 hrs.]

Reply #5 –
[Doctor Hayden O'Connor| Fighter Assault Bay | Deck 15]

Allowing herself a single beat to mentally steady herself, Hayden entered the Fighter Bay, steeling herself for the moments to come. Being human, O'Connor had no telepathic or empathic abilities. As such, she didn't have to worry about putting up mental shields before she entered the room or take medication to ensure she wasn't physically or mentally overwhelmed by the extreme emotions no doubt waiting for her on the other side of the bay doors. Hell, she didn't even have to bear the heaviest brunt of the aftermath of the mutiny. That fell to Vulcans like Doctor Maya and to Cir'Cie, who accepted their unique talents would be relied upon to restore minds in significant ways Hayden O'Connor's skills never could. Simply put, telepathically based problems required telepathically based solutions.

Intellectually, Hayden knew if the two female Vulcans were literally willing to absorb the entire crew's psychological trauma to help them heal, she had no good reason to resist putting one foot in front of the other until she was inside and had said a proper goodbye to those they had lost. She had no good reason to resist showing up and offering words of comfort to the crew, who at this most somber moment in their lives, had to be questioning their own direction more than they ever had before.

But emotionally?

O'Connor knew one didn't have to be a telepath or an empath to be capable or even required to absorb the emotions of others. She may not have been able to literally re-experience everything the crew had been through by entering their minds and looking through their eyes, but any experienced counselor knew one didn't have to have psionic skills to act, intentionally or otherwise, as an emotional sponge, ready to absorb the intensity of another's (or an entire group's) emotions at any time. Not only would she be expected to absorb all of their emotions, but she also knew, the pressure she placed on herself aside, there was also an expectation that she would somehow ease their burden, if only to offer words of acknowledgment or a willingness to sit with someone in their grief.

As always, she was prepared to serve in such a capacity, but such a commitment didn't come without an exploration of her own emotions as Hayden, the human being. There wasn't just grieving members of her crew to be tended to in this room, there were reminders of people she hadn't been able to protect. Reminders of people like Phantom, who had so clearly crossed the line when he raped Maya, but had so clearly needed intervention before he'd gotten to that point. For every Zaraq she could bring back from the brink, there would be others she wouldn't even know who were close to the edge.

People like Declan Vassar and T'Rena.
 
The guilt over being oblivious to their true intentions wasn't rational, but it was still there. Hayden had been a member of the Harbinger crew prior to being brought over to the Theurgy, and if she had never transferred, she would be caught as flat-footed as she was now the moment the mutiny began. As a matter of fact, prior to the mutiny, she would've pledged her loyalty to Vassar as fiercely as she pledged it to Ives now. That was Hayden's nature, after all, to be loyal to Starfleet, and by extension, those in command.

Had she chosen correctly this time? Only time would tell.

By the time she entered the Fighter Bay, she was the picture of calm, and she'd already forgiven herself for not focusing on the coffins in the room. Funerals weren't for the dead any more than they were meant to be reminders of anyone's failures. As she approached the first grieving person she saw, Hayden knew she had to hold onto that.

***

"...In spite of that, we bury them along with our honoured dead. Because the message of redemption is what we shall send."

At these words, a single tear traveled down Hayden O'Connor's face.

Redemption indeed.

Re: DAY 02: In Remembrance [1200 hrs.]

Reply #6 –
[Nathaniel "Maverick" Isley | USS Theurgy | Fighter Assault Bay | Deck 15 ]
[Show/Hide]

You don't bury the lost.

It should have been a comforting thought, seeing all the caskets lined up as they were the images of the fallen crew, it should have been comforting that Revon wasn't among the images. Instead it was haunting. He spent almost the entire time scanning for the one casket that should have been there, and yet it wasn't because you don't bury those missing in action.

If he had been there among the images of the dead than at least Nathaniel could hold onto the idea that he had done the right thing.

Instead there was one body there that he did know... all too well. Hannah all that time spent watching each others back and he couldn't save her the one time it counts. She had gone out of her way to involve him, and for that he would always remember her. It hadn't been love but he had to guess that it was as close to it as he could get. He breathed deeply feeling a grand swell of anger and hurt, he tightened his fists he wanted to retain control, but at the same time.. he didn't.

He was wearing his formal uniform. It was frankly the best thing he had. The white and gold helped to support his head on his shoulders. It was painful seeing her face here. He could blame T'Rena for what she had done, but at the same time there was nothing he could do. Moving up to nightmares casket he brushed his hand along it, this was the closest he could get to her body, and part of him wanted to just rip it open. Pull out her body and confirm that she was dead that this wasn't just... well a nightmare.

Pulling himself away he couldn't pull his mind away from it's emotions, and he feared hurting something. He was a mix of anger and pain. Two wolves had died out there in the battle... the pack was hurting and fractured in some way. It wasn't going to be the same without them.

Goodbye Hannah. He couldn't bring himself to say the words but would just return away from the caskets. He wasn't sure if he should linger anymore than that. There was at least one wolf out here who would have rather he be in one of these boxes after all.

Re: DAY 02: In Remembrance [1200 hrs.]

Reply #7 –
[Ensign Christopher Slayton| Fighter Assault Bay | Deck 15 | USS Theurgy ]

The "Survivor of the Survivors" stood quietly as his new captain spoke and silently wondered for the nth time when one man had become a monster.

He had come to know Phantom, understand the man and how being raised to understand the cardassians and their upbringing from childhood, theiron desire and need for order and structure made them, molded them..just like what it did to him but by that same standard it also made him a very lonely man even before a Reaver took most of his face.

After Sniper left prior to the Harbinger going rogue, Phantom took Chris on as his wingman for a while as the two men started to become friends with the older pilot helping to install some unique training methods to round out the edges that Chris found was still "too sharp" and it actually did help which made him become a much more rounded officer.

Chris still couldn't connect the "monster" to the "man", Phanatos once during a shore leave just weeks before everything fell apart did something that was thought by many was out of character for the stoic wing commander and introduced Chris to a young cardassian woman, a civilian artist by the name of Inara Rusot and the two hit it off but before anyone could see where it would or could go, Vasser made his choice and the ship went renegade.

It was things like this that made Chris constantly question the life that was the end of Phanatos' life and the things that he did from the man that Phanatos was before, he was the only one in the squadron that Chris would actually miss because the others had all chose to become the worst renegades possible..especially Riptar, so to say that the only man that Chris trusted on that ship was the last monster created by that Vulcan bitch-witch he will miss or honor was now laying before him was an honest one..

...but he still felt hollow for it..
*****************************************

[Lieutenant Lin Kae |Fighter Assault Bay | Deck 15 | USS Theurgy ]

Lin Kae looked at the sealed coffin of Oracle and silently kept trying to mentally will the whole series of events that was the mutiny up to her death away so that he could try and figure out why she affected him so badly..why was her death so painful, much  more then the situation with Niveh did and it confused him to the point that all of the logic that he had gained over his short life to date was at a loss to him.

What his logical mind did tell him that during the entire mutiny he was about as useful as a dead vole in the middle of a hard vacuum. Inwardly if he was tougher, more "worldly" for the lack of a better word, then maybe he could'very done more to help save the lives and his fellow crew..

Kae closed his eyes tightly as he remembered holding the young pilot under the heated water of the shower, her water slick body pressing against his, how it fit perfectly against his and how..happy..he felt at that time.

Kae could feel the tears starting to slip from under his tightly closed eyes as he tried to ignore the feeling that he was having a lot of at that point, a feeling of complete and utter hollowness that even the whole situation with Niveh caused him to feel and he was starting to really *HATE* this feeling..

Somewhere deep in the back of his mind, a dark thought slowly started to take seed and root in his head..and he liked it...

Re: DAY 02: In Remembrance [1200 hrs.]

Reply #8 –
[ Evelyn Rawley | Fighter Assault Bay | Deck 15 ]

Normally, Evelyn would rather be caught dead than wear the dress uniform, but refusing it on some grounds had never crossed her mind. The memorial service was all too personal for her, having lost Cale to the mutineers. Moreover, she had lost Oracle, Nightmare, Quake... and perhaps even Razor. So she wore the uniform, but she hovered in the background of the hangar for a long time, watching, thinking, avoiding any reason to talk to the crowd... only deciding to step out among the caskets just before the Captain would arrive. Perhaps it was cowardly of her, minimising the pain of being out there and paying her respects, but fuck anyone saying it to her face. They had no bloody right to tell her how to fucking cope.

Rawley noticed people by her brother's casket, so she kept away for the time being. Instead she went to the dead of her pack, and came to stand behind a young lieutenant from Engineering. He seemed to linger there, and Rawley remained behind his shoulder, looking at the image of Soo. She had no idea what the connection was between the man and Oracle, but for herself, Soo had been a unfinished chapter, and ended with them not being on the best of terms. They had shared so much, as lovers and Lone Wolves. Rawley had lost it when she went M.I.A., broke down like she never had before. When they were reunited, she had changed too much for them to start over. Soo was killed, and what once had been would never be restored.

Clenching her jaw, Rawley walked away, not knowing what bloody difference it would make to speak to a casket and a picture. There was even a picture of Ravon there, even if he was still listed as M.I.A. and she refused to believe anything else than that Thomas would return some day - unable to handle the conflicting emotions about where they had left off. She still hadn't talked to Maverick about what had been said on that ice planet, but she reckoned they would have to at some point. Rawley did not want Thomas to be remembered as a rapist, especially if it had not truly been himself that accosted her in her quarters. She shed some time loooking at the caskets that held the other wolves before she walked towards the front row.

She had seen several people come and go to Cale's casket, and she noted them, but knew she could not handle talking to them at that point, even less open up about her own feelings. Winterbourne had taken them as far as they had gone, saved more people during the mission than Rawley could ever hope to do in her single, small Valkyrie. She was slowly making her way over to that picture of him when the boatswain's whistle was blown. Finally, she had the casket to herself since people moved away from it, but it was too late to say what she wanted to say. People were walking out to the sides of the hangar, and she should too. There she was, all dressed up, and had not been able to man up and say goodbye. The heavy feeling in her chest became unbearable, and her face curled up in barely controlled grief and anger - torn between going to touch that picture of her brother and to fall back with the rest of the crowd. Seconds wore on before she made her decision - knuckles white at her sides.

"Just a picture," she said under her shaky breath, voice failing, "he is already gone..." Angrily, she covered her eyes with her hand and walked away - biting back the sobs that clawed their way up her throat when she remembered the life they had led together before Starfleet. Her eyes bled their tears, and the hand she covered them with trembled as she joined the crowd - the Captain walking up towards the podium.

As short as the speech was, it took all her willpower to not break down, or lash out... before her brother was beamed out of the ship.


[ Dr. Lucan cin Nicander | Podium | Fighter Assault Bay ]

Lucan had joined the charade of saying farewell to the fallen, walked the rows of caskets with his tattooed hands clasped behind his back. A part of him could not care less about the amount of dead present, no more than how he had lost assets in his grand design. It was unfortunate, of course, that Hannah 'Nightmare' Slaverton had died, she being a key asset among the Lone Wolves and likely pliant to listen once he meant to take over the ship. Then there was Winterbourne, the secret meetings between them unknown to all - intimate times shared wherever there were no eyes to pry. The pale human had enjoyed having Lucan inside him far more than was seemly for an officer, even if he had just been an Ensign. Cale had been addicted to his visits to the CMO office, feigning ailments that were common to albino men.

The parasite that dwelt inside Lucan rejoiced in the memories of the dead, and shared not Lucan's modicum of grief over having lost these assets. The question was how mournful he truly was, having come to feel things he had not felt before after Eve Jenkins told him she loved him. After fighting to save the crew as best as he might, and face the mutineers side-by-side with the Ives Loyalists. Did he truly care as little as he thought he did? What compelled him to shed thoughts on this loss they all so keenly felt? It was, to him, a mystery.

Yet if there was someone who could have helped him find the answer to that, it was a person that were not present among the dead. Eve was in stasis, a danger to herself and everyone aboard, and with her silence, Lucan would not hear the truth about himself - the way his act to care had become more than an untruth. Perpetually telling a lie to the people around him eventually made it the truth, as much he knew, but could it be that the telling of his lies had made him believe in them too? Rationality found in repetition, and reason to raze the convictions of the thing inside. Where did the will of the host end... and the nature of the beast begin?

Hearing Ives say they they were 'the guiding light' was quite ironic, for Lucan suspected that the Chameoid had no idea just how much truth there was in that claim. Since Niga, the surviving and sane crew of the Theurgy was - to his kin - an anomaly in the time-stream. An unknown factor that bent events around itself... and distorted the outcome of the inevitable. Every day, hour and second. Every action and reaction. It muddled the clear waters, and at this point beyond control, Lucan did not know the outcome, and nor did the demon residing within.

Which was, for certain, the very reason why he had to make a choice before it went too far, and that choice was taken away from him - the space-time continuum torn apart. As the caskets were beamed out of the hangar, his thoughts remained.

Was he to be loyal to Kisane, and honour her memory? Or was he to aide his kin to make everything come to a dead stop - the sickness of evolution halted and reversed to purity?

Or was he to live up to his everyday lies... and somehow make them true?

Re: DAY 02: In Remembrance [1200 hrs.]

Reply #9 –
[ Kanti MacTavish | Fighter Assault Bay | Deck 15 | USS Theurgy ]

There were times when Kanti just didn't know what the hell she was supposed to feel.

At a memorial service, of all things, she was supposed to be gripped by a somber sensation. God knows that, staring at several dozen coffins containing her deceased crewmates, there was a sense of loss that was tugging at her gut, a hundred little new voids plaguing her mind. Even if she barely knew some of the people in these caskets, they were still people who had sworn their lives to Starfleet just like she had. Each flag-draped container represented a friend who might have been killed in their place, if not for a few changes in circumstance.

Yet here she was, feeling some other brighter emotion on top of the loss, and wondering if it made her the most selfish, insensitive prick in the history of pricks. Just before departing to attend the service, Kanti had checked her messages to find an unexpected notification: the application she had filed for a departmental transfer, one she was certain was going to be rejected outright, had in fact been readily accepted. Ensign MacTavish was attending the memorial  her red CONN uniform, but by this time tomorrow she'd be back in this hangar, with a brand-new white collar signaling her newfound membership in the Lone Wolves squadron.

On any other day, Kanti would've felt that she had the right to be giddy with excitement, not to mention rather proud of her achievement. Two years since leaving the Academy and she had never risen above the position of nameless shuttle jockey, but now she would be flying a Mk III Valkyrie alongside some of the best pilots in (or perhaps more accurately, outside of) Starfleet. If she could have told her parents about the change in position, they would've been over the moon to know their little girl had joined such an elite group. After her duty shift, she would've been calling up every childhood friend who she parted ways with after graduation, bragging to them about her badass new job.

Yet here she was, watching as the bodies of her crewmates were surrendered to the vast emptiness of space, and hating the feeling of joy that was trying to occupy her mind. It seemed... wrong, so very very wrong, to have such a sense of happiness about her career when forty-seven other careers lay cut short before her. If there were time to go through all the personnel records, Kanti could guarantee that each and every one of the men and women who were inside those coffins had made more of their life in Starfleet than she ever had. Her entire career, what little of it existed, had been defined by a conscious attempt to be as uninteresting, even as useless, as humanly possible. Times had changed, yes, and she was no longer shuffling through life with quite so much apathy, but that had never even been an issue for any of these people.

Yet they were all in coffins, and she was still standing.

Kanti was silent throughout the entire service, making not so much as a peep from when the captain started addressing the crew, through to when all forty-seven caskets were beamed into the void. It wasn't until the crowd summarily began their slow dispersal from the deck that she even started to shuffle forward, approaching the integrity field that allowed their view of the gaudy phenomena ahead with a visible sense of trepidation. Kanti had to wonder how many of these people had expected to die decades from now, surrounded by their family and friends, their bodies buried on their homeworld or ashes scattered across some favored body of water. Instead of that sort of personal funeral, here they were left to float across the blackness of space, left for the rest of time in the only tiny pocket of the void where the Theurgy could safely deposit them.

With a deep breath, she stopped at the edge of the field, staring out at the swirling violet before her in an attempt to pick out one specific casket. Most of the dead were known to Kanti on the most casual basis, but at least one of them... one was known to her quite well. She couldn't be sure which of the 47 that this particular acquaintance had been put to rest inside of, but it was out there now, drifting lazily away from the ship along with all the other crewmates who had fallen alongside her.

She couldn't hear the ensign anymore, but Kanti still felt the need to whisper something to her. "Hey, Smalls." There was an audible gulp from the pilot. Crewman Lauren Smalls had been barely a year younger than Kanti, but the Texas-born propulsion specialist had already done far more to distinguish herself than the half-Trill had in the six years since she joined the Academy. Smart, eager to prove herself, and hell-bound to earn a commision one day; an ambitious young woman who was the exact opposite of a pilot that saw fit to shuffle through life with the minimum of effort. They would never have had any reason to meet if not for the interference of the Ishtar entity.

"So... here we are, I guess." Kanti and Lauren had emerged from the encounter with that omnipotent creature with nothing but the most pleasant memories of their passionate tryst. Though it had been induced by some alien creature, the crewman had come to her in the aftermath admitting that she thought the pilot was endearing all on her own, perhaps even enough to consider seeing where things between them could lead when a natural progression was taken. They had plenty to bond over, despite their differences in behavior - at the very least, both women were on a long road of recovery following what they'd been victims of at Niga.

It was occurring to Kanti that she didn't really know what to say. Conversational skills were something she was relatively light on; the most she could was start blurting out the first thing that came to her mind. Given what that first thing was, it was a good thing nobody else was close enough to hear her. "A month ago... I would've been wishing it was me floating out there. Not you." Her arms folded around her chest as the words came out; it was not a pleasant thing to say, but it was true. At the depths she had sunk to in recent weeks, part of her had just wished that this hell would end by any means necessary. There had been... more nights then she liked to admit, where it had just been Kanti alone in her quarters, holding a phaser and giving some thought to an incredibly drastic solution to her problems.

"Right now... still wish it was me, kind of." She sighed. "But... different reason now, I think. Back then, I mean, it was all about... me, and me wanting to get out of this, but, uh...."

The pilot had to take a few moments to breath, forcing herself not to get so choked up that she couldn't speak. "I wish I was out there, and not you, because... because you deserve to be here." Smalls had only been in her life for a couple of weeks, and they'd scarcely had time for more than a few meals together before the mutiny had seen Lauren shot down in the line of duty. Yet in that brief window when they'd become close, Kanti had concluded that the southern-accented crewmen was one of the most wonderful people she'd ever met. She couldn't imagine that the thoughts of what might have been between them would end anytime soon. "A-and I'm not saying that I don't deserve to be here, because... I-I-I..."

She had to bury her face in her hands before she could continue, a solitary sniff filling the air around her. "Because I do. Pr-probably wouldn't have... would've have figured that out... without you." Smalls would've been jumping for joy to know that her friend was going to fly around in space fighters. If she were alive now, there would've been a bevy of excitement when she gave the Texan the news, an insistence that she take her friend the badass fighter pilot to a nice dinner... maybe something more that night.

Instead, a woman who had a bright career ahead of her, someone who could've been remembered as one of Starfleet's most exemplary officers, was a youthful corpse floating in the void, while a pilot who had barely started to get her life together was left alive and well. There wasn't even an ounce of fairness in that, at least not that Kanti could discern. The one who could do something amazing with her life, stuck in a coffin, while the one who had had spent two and a half decades trying to be as mediocre as possible got to live out the rest of her days? In what universe was that a reasonable proposition?

Her hand slid down from her face, dragging the tear-stains downwards to the collar of her uniform. They stopped on her upper chest as she tried desperately to pull herself off the emotional roller coaster into something vaguely approaching stability. "I, uh... I know we can't change this..." she choked. "But I'm gonna try to be better. At my job, and just... in general. A-a-and I know I'll probably fuck it all up, but.... gonna try."

Her voice was trembling like a building in an earthquake, but she managed to squeak out one final sentence. "For you, I'm gonna try."
 
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