First Order: Do the Ghosts Not Whisper?

[Valessia Brentioch]

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Avalonia, Dosuun
Avalonia National Cemetery

Avalonia stood so still today, the overcast sky above them all marked the mourning of a nation. The Omega had been defeated at the cost of hundreds of lives, the death toll from the ground and naval battle were still trickling in. A somber atmosphere cast over the capital city as thousands gathered to pay their respects to those who never came back. To the men and women who died fighting for them, so that they might all have another day, another moment to live and to enjoy it with their families. Tears swelled in the eyes of citizens, and some sobbed more so for death had come for their family, and he had taken their loved one.

The air was thick with sorrow, and the breeze that passed them all echoed voices of the dead. Whispers of their regrets, their joys, and their lives surrounded those who remained, those who were left to carry on. Few were afforded anything more than a final look, much less a goodbye. Efforts had been made to bring as many of the First Order's sons and daughters back home, but some were never recovered. Their bodies remain interred where they fell, their spirits trapped in between the living and the dead. Today, the First Order had gathered to bid these brave and courageous few a final farewell. Giving as many as they could the memorials that they had so rightly earned.

A new section of the cemetery had been devised and dedicated to those lost at Castameer.

Chairs were arranged at the top, just before the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Here mourners gathered, here is where the final salute would be held, as the breeze gently graced the First Order flags that were at half-mast. Today's service included the final flyover from the Starfighter Corps, a twenty-one gun salute, and three volley's of cannon fire. A moment of silence and the reading of the names, the escort of the unknown soldiers, sailors and starfighters and one last goodbye. As it stood now, the First Imperial Medical Service would lead the ceremonies and so there they were dressed in First Order Black. Awaiting the masses who continued to arrive.

The mourners would arrive through Castameer Memorial's arch in which it read.​

"For Your Tomorrow, We Gave Our Today."​

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a7FUcu5OD3Y​

 

[Sara Lee Jones]

https://youtu.be/a0PIcHgfvqc






She stood as she looked in the mirror, she was at the hospital, she looked at her left arm...or...where it should be, no stood nothing there but the air and a sleeve

She was dressed in her full military dress, she bloke ed and looked to her cap, she was lucky to be here they told her, her arm had been busted in so many ways muscles had been torned....they were surprised she even flew back

However she bowed her head, she had lost two of her flight....Dan Brown and Lilly fetcher, both died while making sure Sara and the two others got to the power systems and destroyed them

She grabbed her cap and placed it on her head, it was time to go pay her respects, not just to her flight, but to everyone who had fallen

She walked out of the hospital and to the newly erected arch, she stopped by it, she bowed her head and closed her eyes a she reached dout and touched it* save me one on the other side guys....

She fell to her knees and kept her hand there, she wanted to break down...she wanted to let all she had out...later...later...

She stood and moved on to a chair up front and sat down


[member="Valessia Brentioch"]

 

[Jen Rennic]

https://youtu.be/1KCiMdR1ox0​

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Jen woke up in her quarters in Avalonia, near the spaceport. She donned her dress uniform befitting her rank of Senior Chief Petty Officer, and grabbed her cover and bolted for the door, she wasn't late or anything just always was in a rush to get to her post. Today her post was the Naval representative for the color guard, for the memorial service for the fallen of the Omega conflict. Part of her hated she had to be grounded for the conflict because of some medical issues that came up before her ship went out with the fleet, but at the same time she owned her crew and Captain that much since they were ones that didn't return, Jen started to hate herself when she saw the names of the FIV Indomitable, She should have been there and been with them in their and what would have been her final moments. That was neither here nor there now, She is alive and at least could show her respects to her fallen comrades.​

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Once at the barracks where the honor guard was ordered to assemble, Jen made her way to the locker room where she would change into the uniform befitting those of the honor guard. Then she made her wait to be assigned her equipment, a vibrosword, and the standard for the First Order Navy. Once she gathered that it was just a matter of waiting for the procession to start.​

 

[Wolf]

[member="Valessia Brentioch"] | [member="Sara Lee Jones"] | [member="Jen Rennic"]​

Truly the most honourable way to die was to sacrifice oneself on the field of battle. And yet despite this, it was a bittersweet honour that was tempered with grief and mourning. So many young lives lost, men and women who left behind fatherless and motherless families. Wolfgang Krieger thought on this solemnly as he sat on his hoverchair at the cemetery in a black suit, his legs useless after his battle with Darth Molior. He too thought he would have died, but was fortunate to not have lost his life in the way these servicemen had. Death was a sickly sweet offering, one that was paradoxically both fortunate to miss and honourable to receive.

At least this fight was worth the sacrifice, and the cause easy to understand for the troops. The galaxy was in peril, their families' lives were in peril. Their wives, their sons, their daughters. It was a cause worth dying for. Wolf had fought as a soldier in wars for the One Sith that were less easy to explain to the troops. And indeed the same would likely happen with the First Order as they continued their expansion across the galaxy. How does one justify a war that does not directly affect your family's life, and those of the people you love? They were fortunate to have a highly disciplined military that would accept orders without question, and ideals that in Wolf's opinion were frankly worth dying for. Law, order and peace for the entire galaxy. Who could argue against that?

He was seated next to an elderly woman, who was sobbing. To the right of him was another man, drying his eyes. Wolf continued to stare at the ground front of him, his hands clasped at his lap as he heard the 21-gun salute. If the First Order was simply in control of the area the Omega was being built, clearly none of this would have happened. As he heard the names read out of the brave men and women that had been lost, each one only further solidified his opinion that they had to keep fighting, they had to keep pushing onwards so that this could never happen again. A galaxy that festered with such chaos as to allow someone like Darth Molior to rise and build such a weapon was only further proof of the need for the First Order. And Wolf would do all in his power to help that come to pass, and ensure that these soldiers' lives were not wasted. He looked down at his legs. Not that I would be of much use to anyone now. He glanced back upwards to hear the reading.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:​

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.​

At the going down of the sun and in the morning​

We will remember them.​

 

[Druchi]

Honour? What was honour worth? Kierel had come at the tail end of the services not wanting to catch the pomp and ceremony of it all. To her it was all bread and circuses. Show the masses that you cared for the poor runts and they'd lap it up. It made her angry all of it honestly, yet here she was in uniform crisp. Her wounds mostly healed and before her families and veterans pouring over the list of names. She pulled out her datapad and scrolled through, she'd already browsed it a hundred times from when they had started compiling casualty risks. She'd lost a lot of friends, people she knew. People she had met in passing a few names she recognised from the academy she was trained at. It hadn't hit her really. Not yet, everyday new names were released and at least the public had some idea of the scale of the military destruction at Castameer. Kierel couldn't help thinking that these were very conservative estimates on the amount of people lost. Mostly the news had spoke of the material cost of the operation and the necessity of it. How they needed to destroy this super weapon. But the cost had been so high in terms of people. Dead people didn't care for honour. The point was to bring them home.

A superweapon the likes of which the galaxy hadn't seen for hundreds of years had threatened all life - or that was the story anyway. Kierel was there she knew the truth was far worse it didn't threaten life it threatened to bring an end to the chaos of the universe the randomness of chance and to end forever the cry of a newborn child entering into the world. Her wound twinged, when she thought of the dread mistress that sat at its irredeemable heart her wound always flared up. Her hands to her side she stowed the datapad away. She watched the tail end of the ceremony peter out and saw a few familiar faces. For now all Kierel had was a small folding stick to help her walk sometimes if the side of her wound began to flare up. She didn't need it today and thought it best to leave it behind. What a mistake that had turned out to be. She casually sat down on some of the grass. She felt something creep onto her hand a small arachnid perhaps no larger than her nail crawled up her forefinger to her thumb.

Looking at the small arachnid beginning to make a web between her fingers she snapped them shut. She was sure she had killed it and was about to wipe it off when it crawled out between the gaps in her fingers. It started again. She tried once again to smother the life from the little annoyance. She failed and just as she was about to use her other hand to kill it. The weight of what she was about to do came upon her. Perhaps this was how the Sith felt about her? About those without the Force? Making their lives where they do not belong. She thought of the list of names, no one in specific but the people shaped gap that now existed in her life. The lack of messages or holos from old friends or the fact so many so young wouldn't get a chance to live out their lives. It broke her a little and for the first time since she had returned from Castameer she felt her eyes begin to water. Using her other hand she carefully placed the spider on a blade of grass.

Her mind told her it was a futile act in a universe as big and bad and as awful as the one she lived in. That a tiny act of mercy to a small creature wouldn't make up for it. At night she could still see the red beam from the Omega enveloping her and everything. Hear the roars and screams of lightsaber combat. The look of the Sith she had put down in his final moments made her wake drenched with sweat. When she had been barracking with the other soldiers for the trip home so many had lost sleep due to their friends waking up screaming. She wasn't one of them. After a moment the pain subsided and she wiped the last few droplets from her face. She hadn't made a noise when she cried she never made a noise when she cried. Not since she was taken as a salve and learned that noise just got you more pain and more attention. That's why she never screamed or cried aloud. Just in silence usually with no one else around. You cant show weakness. But here today, it was allowed.

[member="Wolf"] she had heard was alive. Though apparently had been rushed somewhere else for treatment though she didn't know the details. He looked pretty bad. She took a moment to get some of the grass off her and moved over to him. She only recognised him as after the fall his face had been a mess and that look of stern command and surety had gone. There was a look of vulnerability to him now just as the end of the reading, she waited as people began to pilfer out.

"I didn't think you had made it out. It's... it's good to see you're alive."

 

[Valessia Brentioch]

Major Leona Eldrel of the First Imperial Medical Services took to the podium once the Last Post had been concluded. "Greetings citizens of the First Order, to those who are gathered here to mourn the lives lost at Castameer," the wind blew by her and the flags rustled in their place. "Words cannot express the mourning of a nation, of our nation. The Battle of Castameer was a battle that saw enemies from around the Galaxy unite for a single cause, survival." She looked to the crowd the throngs of mourners who stood close together, her voice echoing throughout the city's speakers. "We stand here today, because of those who gave their lives at Castameer. We stand here alive and well, because of their sacrifices."

Silence fell after those words were spoken.

"Today we are to read the names of those lost, and to bury those that were able to come home, but first," she took a deep breath and exhaled, "we are to mourn the unknown soldier, sailor, and starfighter." Leo placed her hands at her side, "we salute the unknown whose names have been lost to us, and whose bodies now rest in the graveyard that is Castameer."

Another pause.

"The White Wolves, and Black Talons along with members of the 100th Starfighter Corps have volunteered to escort the empty caskets in honor of those who did not come home." Honor guard members from each branch moved to clear a path up the cemetery for the drawn caskets that would be escorted by the White Wolves, Black Talons and the 100th up toward the Tomb of the Unknown.

[member="Asharad Graush"] | [member="Roderik von Brinkerhoff"] | [member="Nils Brenner"] | [member="Ludolf Vaas"] | [member="Pierce Fortan III"] | [member="Sara Lee Jones"] | [member="Greta Kohler"] | [member="Jude Falkrowe"] | [member="Jen Rennic"] | [member="Kierel"] | [member="Wolf"] | [member="Natasi Fortan"] | [member="Marzena Choi"] | [member="Tanomas Graf"] | [member="Carlyle Rausgeber"]

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nhGuhfBk5xk
OOC: First Order tag yourself in, apologies if I did not tag you properly.

 

[Jaron Lesan]

They had done it. Jaron had pledged to himself that he would see nothing like what happened to Corellia would happen again, and they had done it. The First Order had dealt a mighty blow, but at what cost? Brown eyes scanned across the mass of graves which were now the newest addition to the Imperial Cemetery. Was it worth it all? For the first time since pledging allegiance to the Supreme Leader did Jaron begin to question it. It was the emotion of the event, he was certain, but while others would turn from this event to be with friends and loved ones, Jaron would return to an empty room where he would be alone. The solitude would only eat away at whatever was left of him for now. Such was the price of his devotion that there was no one in his life to whom he could turn to in moments like these.

He took his position, standing where the Knights of Ren had been instructed to gather. They would not sit today, or ever. It was moreso important today that they show their solidarity for those who had fallen. Their own dead had already been burned as was the practice. The first Knight, Darth Vader had been set atop a funeral pyre, and all those who followed after him did as well. All had lost, but so many gained. These sacrifices would not be in vain. It was this that Jaron had to place his devotion. His determination was no longer to keep the galaxy from imploding, but honor the fallen. It was a much better mantle to carry he surmised.

Every inch of his wardrobe was black today. He would remain so until the mourning was over. The red tone he usually wore as well would not be seen again until he felt it was time to bring it out again. Jaron wore the best he had. No detail was overlooked, after all he was not dressing for himself, but for those who passed on. His expression was stoic, the lines of his face flat. Only those who knew him would be able to discern the emotion which brewed behind the facade everyone else could see. Jaron wondered if any of them were here. There was truly only one anymore, and Jaron was unsure even at that how well she knew him. None truly existed which knew what lay beyond the mask he wore, and that was likely the saddest reality of the day.

[member="Valessia Brentioch"] | [member="Sara Lee Jones"] | [member="Jen Rennic"] | [member="Kierel"]

 

[Zef Halo]

All black.
His soul too.

The intelligence agent stood among the crowd fully dressed in a black three piece suit and black sunglasses on his eyes. A neutral and rather cold facial expression had painted itself on his face, something rare for Jude. At first, he was massively against coming to honor the men and women that fell during the Omega Crisis. Guilt haunted him despite Jade's numerous attempts, to his surprise, of trying to tell him that he was not the creator of the Omega. The fault laid only upon the shoulders of the Rogue Sith.

Jude, though, had a very hard time accepting that. The teary faces of widows and childless parents brought a feeling close to what an extremely sharpened spear piercing one's gut would feel. Yes. He was not the creator of the Omega and yes, his choice of firing the engines of the Omega sent the station down to hell. Was that the only way ? How many people had died because of that decision ? Could he not be more patient ? Did he rush too much to end the super weapon ? How many, how many people had lost their lives by not reaching their escape shuttles, how many had died when the weapon crashed on the planet's surface ? How much life had he sent to hell with the intention of saving life.

"Stop." Jade's whisper shattered his thoughts and brought him back from his trance. The caskets passed and Jude remained silent and thoughtless. Sealed from the Force to prevent the cacophony of emotions that would hammer his head. He remained there physically but his mind was not there.

Was it worth it ?

 

[Wolf]

"Wasted lives."

Wolf turned his head to the right to the source of the voice, the elderly gentleman who sat next to him. The lines on the old man's face was slowly contorting from gloom to anger. His hands clutched tightly to his knees, and were shaking. His jaws were clenched, his glazed eyes piercing into the woman who spoke at the podium. He listened to her speak about the unknown soldier, of the mourning they felt and the memorial they now had. The elderly man turned to look at Wolf, and the young Knight tried to look away, but had to look back as the man opened his mouth to speak to him. "Do you buy into this rubbish? My son died for nothing."

Wolf shifted uncomfortably, "I'm sorry for your loss. With respect, sir, your son died to save your life and everyone else's."

"Oh? And what of every other conflict the First Order gets involved in? Every other vain and trifling ambition of our Supreme Leader? Don't tell me you think he actually cares."

Wolf was taken aback a bit at the hushed outburst from the elderly man, who was smart enough to at least keep his voice low to not disturb the proceedings and alert others to his tone. Wolf looked into his eyes and saw desperation and anger. "Please, this is not the time, we are here for those who lost their lives, not politics."

"Then what time would you suggest? When I am thrown in a cell for daring to share a different opinion?"

"I would advise you change your tone, sir. You are clearly in grief, I understand that-"

"You understand nothing."

"I have also made sacrifice-"

"You look strong but I know you are just another boy, another naive idealist who has been taken in by their imperialist fantasies."

"You know nothing about me-"

"I have done my duty, served my nation. I was fighting on the field for the Imperial cause long before you were born. You remind me of my son. Don't throw your life away like he did. You have lost your ability to walk, do not now lose your soul."

Wolf glared at him now, his own expressions betraying his irritation. "You are in a vulnerable and fragile state of mind. I suggest we end this conversation, and I will forget it ever took place. Now." The Dark Side began to seep out from him as his irritation began to grow, its icy tendrils brushing against the old man. The elderly man shuddered at the touch. "Know who you are talking to."

His fear soon dissipated however as he leaned closer to Wolf, his voice hushed, "You are one of them, then. Perhaps you could even kill me with a thought? And yet I look at you, and I still see a boy. A child who dreams of peace and order through heroic crusade and righteous force, and forgot to grow up." His face bore no expression of malice, but only of pity. Pity. Who was this man to feel pity for Wolfgang Krieger, Knight of Ren? Who was this man to speak to him with such condescension? They had barely met, he did not even know his name, who was he to speak to him in such a manner? Wolf would have no time for a response as the elderly man moved to stand up, "I know my words will have no effect on your convictions, they wouldn't have had any on mine when I was your age either. I only pray you snap out of it sooner than I did. It took the death of my son to finally convince me. I would not wish that on my worst enemy."

The elderly gentleman then got to his feet, moving back through the crowd of mourners as he made his way back down the hill. Wolf clenched his fists with irritation. He should have taken the name of the man. What insolence, what disrespect, to make such statements here, at a time like this, in a place like this. Who did he think he was? So what, the old man had seen many years, that made him no expert. A fool could live among pigs in filth for eternity and not come out any wiser. Wolf grew only more irritated that some old man could make him feel annoyed in the first place, and that his words would have any effect on him. Were his nerves really so sensitive, his skin really so thin? He sat in silence, his teeth gritting as he stared stony-faced at the rest of the proceedings.

It was then that [member="Kierel"], the trooper whom Wolf had met on Omega, came to greet him. Wolf smiled, betraying nothing of the conversation that had happened prior. Perhaps she had witnessed some of it, he did not know nor care. It was good to see a familiar face though, and one that had faced down the gates of Hell alongside him. "And it is good to see you. Yes, I made it, thanks to others." He felt odd having to look up at the trooper. "Please, sit." He smiled and gestured to the now empty seat next to him, where the elderly man had sat. Wolf would look back to the proceedings, he wanted to forget about what had just happened. A nagging question ate at him though, causing him to turn back to the trooper. "Tell me, are you proud to risk your life for the First Order?"

 

[Sara Lee Jones]

She looked to the speaker, her eyes were tired from the sleepless night...the nightmares just haunted her dreams and did give her any rest, only forced over and over and over again to replay that faithful day alomg side losing her arm...though with a different outcome as she would then end up in darkness with voices whispering at her

She was drawn back when the forgotten soldiers, sailors, and pilots were mentioned, when she watched the casket approaching she stood and removed her cap as she paced it down and gave a salute and held as each one passed....Dan Brown didn't return...his body had went up after he sacrificed himself to destroy the power systems of that...that damned machine

She watched as his casket passed, she watched it pass as she let her tears fall...she then closed him and took a deep breath in and sighed out still standing and waiting for them to end

[member="Wolf"] [member="Jude Falkrowe"] [member="Jaron Lesan"] [member="Valessia Brentioch"] [member="Kierel"]

 

[Ludolf Vaas]

It wasn't that Ludolf Vaas, who now found himself thrust into the role of Supreme Commander, did not venerate the fallen in battle. Quite the opposite. Each of the caskets in the procession deserved a burial with full military honors, and Supreme Commander Vaas would see to it that such actions were carried out to the letter. They were heroes of the First Order and deserved recognition for their sacrifice.

Ludolf could do without the black, somber attitude that hung in the air though. Whether or not the people here realized it, the First Order was at war. This procession of caskets was nothing. Nothing at all. Many more millions across the galaxy would perish before the galaxy-wide conflict between the First Order and its allies and enemies was over, and the sooner the people of the First Order realized it, the better. The populace needed to be prepared for the trying times ahead, and face them with strength and courage. The attitudes of many here reeked of defeatism, Ludolf thought. He couldn't help but overhear the man speaking to [member="Wolf"]. Wasted lives? For a man who had claimed to fight for the Imperial cause all his life, this man showed remarkably little backbone in the face of adversity. Everything good in this galaxy needed to be paid for by blood. To think otherwise was pure naivete. Vaas considered intervening on the Knight of Ren's behalf, but thought better of it. It would solve nothing in the present moment, and besides, he had a job to do.

The First Order had faced an existential threat in the form of the Omega Sith, and had emerged victorious. Not only had they played an instrumental part in the defeat of the Omega, possibly the greatest out of any faction, but they had saved the entire galaxy. As far as Ludolf was concerned, this ceremony should have been a victory procession.

Once the commemoration ceremonies were over, Supreme Commander Vaas would distribute awards to the men of the First Order military who had earned them. That ought to liven the mood up a bit.

 

[Fiolette Fortan]

Admiral Fiolette Yvarro was seated in her hoverchair, beside her was her eldest daughter Lucinyia. Her younger two daughters were dressed in black and sat next to their sister, Ryssa was eleven and Ariel was four. Indeed the First Order had emerged victorious, indeed it was they that could say, 'we saved the galaxy.' Fiolette would have been glad to have joined the dead - in fact, she expected it. When the Rae Sloane had breathed her last, the Admiral had been sure she would never see her children again, and yet here she was.

As the caskets dedicated to the unknown passed by, she felt her oldest girl's hand slip into hers. Fio did not look down but instead, squeezed her hand gently for reassurance, she was still there. She was still alive, the old Admiral had gone on to see the faces of her daughters. This could not be said for those who had passed, and it would be her duty to read the names of the dead. To read the names of those who would forever be remembered by them all, whose names would never be forgotten. Her mind worked past mourning, worked past the tears that befell most gathered here. Her mind went to the battle, where they had gone wrong - where they could have improved, where they should have done better.

Her daughter squeezed her hand and helped to move the chair up toward the podium. Adjusting the hover and then the microphone she took a step back and watched her mother speak to the masses.

"As we mourn our dead," Fiolette began, "let us remember that it is through their sacrifices that we have emerged victorious. And although they are no longer with us in body, they are with us in heart and spirit." She like others believed this was their catalyst, they had shown what they were capable of and it was due to their sacrifices. "Let us remember the noble men and women, the sons and daughters of the First Order who showed the Galaxy who we are, and what we are. They showed the Galaxy that we are fighters and that we are willing to fight to the death for our values, our beliefs and for our lives."

"They did not go quietly into that cold night," Fiolette's voice picked up and tears were turned into nods, "they did not bend at the knees to the cowardly Sith, they fought on their feet and they charged straight into the jaws of death and into the mouth of hell itself." She did not shed a tear, for she had been done mourning, "every man and woman that is laid to rest here in Avalonia has earned their rest. We must prove to them that their sacrifices have not been in vain, we are the First Order, we did not run away from the fight, we did not give up on the fight, we stayed and we fought to the very last man, to our very last breath, and so as these courageous sons and daughters of our nation are laid to rest. Let us remember them, let us honor their memory and carry on their legacies in our hearts, in our minds and in our actions from this day forward."

If someone had told Fiolette that today was a day of mourning, well she clearly refused to believe it.

 

[Asharad Graush]

All of this mourning and grief was growing tiresome, really. A memorial A day of sadness? Another day of sadness? The Sith High Colonel's teeth grated upon each other as he watched. Bred for war and battle, he was forced to contort his nature so that he'd fit with the First Order. The closest thing that would bring him what he wanted; War. And after the first taste of it. A first real taste, and they were turned into a bunch of mewling babes.

The First Order's Navy had gone headfirst into the maw that was the OMEGA weapon. Or so the reports said. They took damage, and they dealt it out three fold against the Rogue Sith. The reserves had seen the advance and retreated from the field of battle. The action of cowards, not Sith, but rather, those who served them. Weaklings, came to mind. His left hand lowered to his side to brush against the silver lightsabre hilt there. When OMEGA had been destroyed, it had taken many lives. Many of them the lives of cowards, on the planet of Castameer? It dismantled droids. Hardly enough to quench his thirst for blood.

The White Wolves on Castameer had rolled the Rogue Sith forces. Hundreds of them cut down in swathes, wiping out entire forests to get to the enemy. There way had been impeded, and he had given the orders to prevent further inhibition of their advance. Soon after the Mandalorians had bombed the Citadel. Perhaps one hundred stormtroopers died on that day. Perhaps more. It didn't matter. They were dead and would be replaced within a week.

Mourning?

This was war.

A'sharad cared not for the dead. He cared not for the dead, and the dead did not care for him.

And this was nothing.

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

Carlyle was front and centre, holding a lonely vigil as the caskets were marched past. It had been a sobering experience for the captain, who was attired in the black of a First Orders officer. He felt empty. When the medical team pulled him from the mangled wreck of the Vindicator, he'd felt exhilarated. He'd somehow survived another day without the void taking him. However, since then, he felt empty. It was only aboard the Defiant that he'd realised how many of his crew had died. Most of the bridges crew had survived, sure, but the others hadn't. As apart of the salvage process of the star destroyer, the bodies had needed to be laid to rest.

Partially out of loyalty, partially out of a macabre sense of curiosity, Carlyle donned the hazmat suit to help give the families some sort of solace. There were thousands of them, and each one found told a story. A pair of brothers who'd enlisted were found in each others arms, the hangar foreman was found with a picture of a young family clasped in his hand. There were literally thousands of them. And it was only then, war took its real toll on the captain, and he'd realised how lucky was. From the day of return to Dosuun, to the day of the ceremony, Carlyle had slaved day and night to write a personal letter to each of the crew who'd died under his watch. It had been arduous, but the captain felt he'd never be able to look at himself properly again if he didn't do this.

 

[Druchi]

"Please, sit."
"Oh, are you sure? I should probably be over with the oth- sure."

A wave of pity came over her for Wolf. Everything about his figure even in the suit screamed that he was a warrior and that the fire inside him burned to be back on the battlefield. He was a true warrior he was nothing like her. She'd seen him enter minds, cut down enemy warriors like they were nothing. A doorway to be stepped through. Something mildly inconvenient. She recalled the screams and the sound of searing flesh. The smell of burned flesh had put her off meat for a week she could barely smell it without recalling the rent open corpses still. But it was fading.

"Tell me, are you proud to risk your life for the First Order?"

kark. Am I going to be carted off in the night?

Part of Kierel panicked at the question. The First Order didn't tolerate dissent for good reason. Everyone had to move in lockstep for the Supreme Leaders plan to keep moving froward. The Ren embodied this ideal they had given themselves over beyond who they once were. Looking at Wolfs eyes the fire behind them roaring Kierel could see a hundred worlds burn. Was this the Supreme Leaders plan? She thought of the Spider trying again and again to make its web. She recalled the first time she saw the blazing white stormtrooper armour and the sweet smell of freedom it had bought. His look interrupted her thoughts and she decided to be honest with him. He had saved her life after all. She spoke low so as not to disturb the ceremony.

"I thought I was. The first time I saw a stormtrooper, it was just when the First Order had began I was a kid on board a trandoshans slaver ship and it was just sheer chance it was boarded by the fledgling First Order. They took me and the other slave children in and took us to an academy. I don't think you could understand, no offence but I had never seen something so beautiful as when they shot those scum. I wanted nothing more to be like them to help people to defend them from the things they can't protect themselves from. To be a part of something... bigger. Omega was different seeing that much destruction? Seeing the things we saw?"

Her eyes glazed over as she watched the ceremony and took a deep breath.

"I just don't know anymore. The Galaxy has always turned because of the blood spilled in wars across history. And I'm just a little drop that makes up the ocean. I trust the Supreme Leader has a grand plan for." she gestured around. "All of this, the death, the needless futile waste of life, but proud? Maybe once. Long ago."

She sat in silence before returning [member="Wolf"] 's gaze.

"This isn't the best time for, those kind of thoughts. Are you proud? Of the things you've done, you'll have to do?"

 

[Wolf]

Wolf's eyes bored into hers as he listened intently to her every word. Was this how every trooper felt? Wolf studied her expressions, and could only see plain honesty. It was brave of her to do so. There were others who may not take so kindly to the softest whisper of dissent. This did not stop Wolf from growing concerned at her words however. If she were no longer proud, then what did she feel? Such doubts were the sort to eat away at the soul, gradually growing larger until they made a person stumble and fall. Wolf looked back to the ceremony as she asked the question back to him. Are you proud? Of the things you've done, you'll have to do? "I am. Though I often take no direct pleasure from them. I am proud of the purpose I strive towards, and service to the Supreme Leader who will accomplish it."

Wolf paused for a few moments, thinking on what to say. He felt some form of responsibility to encourage the trooper. He turned back to look at [member="Kierel"], his speech clear and refined in his Imperial accent. "There was a time you did feel proud, and not anymore? It is a long road for sure, with sights none of us wish to see, but do not lose heart. Remember the beauty of seeing the slavers, your oppressors, vanquished. The beauty of justice. Tell me, let us say that the stormtroopers had to kill ten men in order to reach the slavers and free you. Would you still have wanted them to? What if it was one hundred men who stood in the way between them and your freedom? One thousand men?" Wolf sighed, "Sometimes the good we want to achieve is not staring us directly in the face. Sometimes it is not as easy and clear as a slaver standing in front of you. Sometimes it is very far away. To an onlooker who does not know what is happening, perhaps they would see those stormtroopers who saved you killing the 12th enemy, and the 13th one, and the 14th one, and then conclude they were heartless killers. But when you see the whole picture, what do you see? I see good men saving a little girl. It is the same with the First Order as a whole. Maybe there are ten thousand men who stand in our way to achieve order and peace around the galaxy. Maybe there are one million. How many is too many, to save a small child from evil? To save families ruined by crime and suffering? To bring order and peace to a broken galaxy?"

Wolf had not expected himself to talk this much to the trooper, but there was a fire in him as he spoke, a passion that revealed his zealous strength of belief, his righteous cause, though his voice was still low as to not disturb the proceedings. "When you saw me fight, and slaughter, did you think me heartless? Or am I like a stormtrooper killing the enemies necessary to save a little girl from slavers?" Wolf smiled at her, "Many people can only solve the problems they see right in front of their eyes, like the Jedi. They can intervene in a mugging, stop a murder, arrest a crime lord. But that will not solve the root problem of disorder and crime. Intervening in a mugging is no doubt good, and it will earn you a popular reputation. It is indeed the easy path. But there are evils which are not so blindingly obvious, that do not present themselves to your face. Rather than one mugging, what of all the muggings? What of all the murders? What if we could end most of it, or even just one half of it? And what if achieving it would cost many lives, and bringing down corrupt and useless systems of government?"

"Now you see the path I have chosen to take, soldier. This is the dark and muddy path that is not popular, and will earn one scorn, hatred and derision. This is the path that threatens to haunt one with demons, and stalk one's dreams. If that is the sacrifice to be made, I will make it. But I know my cause is good. And I am proud." Wolf blinked, looking back to the ceremony, unsure of whether he should have said so much. He turned back to her, smiling, "Alas, you are a stormtrooper, you need not worry about such things. Be proud, do your duty, and simply know you serve a greater good. Leave the restless nights to me." Wolf shifted in his chair, looking back to the proceedings in front of him, his hands clasped at his lap. "I have spoken too much. Let us pay our respects to the fallen."