Log:Resistance: Remembering
Remembering
OOC Date: February 3, 2019 SUPERBOWL
Location: CRS Gial Ackbar
Participants: Ambrosia Greystorm, Leia Organa, Sar Yavok, Tallissan Lintra, Miri Sakir, Lofty, Merek, Sapphira Tavers, The Resistance
(OOC Note: In a living room, far far away, a tired gamer forgets that Superbowl is a thing and scheduled this event poorly! Kudos to those who were able to come out anyway, and apologies to those who could not. >.<)
Docking Collar A3 - CRS Gial Ackbar The airlock leading into the cruiser is a broad and cavernous hatch, through which large resupply or movement of personnel could be conducted. To that end, it has a number of lanes marked out on its floor, each color-coded and ambiguously labeled. A large, durasteel blast door protects the air lock itself, only opened when the airlock is being used. A large screen dominates one side of the wall, likely to ensure that there is open communication between those that are actively operating the airlock and personnel on the bridge of the frigate.
There are few places to go that are truly quiet and out of the way on board a massive cruiser. That, and another practical purpose, is why this airlock has been designated as appropriate place for this memorial service.
Some of the lighting strips have been dimmed overhead, making it a less harsh environment in which to stand. The large durasteel blast door is presently open on this end of business to permit the ceremony to commence. The screen flanking the door is currently filled with a continuously streaming list of names and ranks of Resistance members lost in the fight against the First Order. Countless numbers, taking into account the major losses suffered during evacuation of D'Qar.
A few recent losses more fresh in memory and in hearts - as well as others who living personnel have preserved in memento - are present in form of picture, of sketch, of favorite book or bauble, currently arranged inside the airlock's business end, near the /other/ door, which for obvious reasons remains CLOSED. Caory Yelsik, Jaya Kassis, Tess Ul'Datha, Ektor Apollyon, etc...
Remnants of the Republic are intermixed here, observing respectfully alongside the Resistance personnel. Standing near the airlock's entrance is Brigadier General Greystorm, looking as stoic and unsmiling as usual, if not a touch more subdued. The loss of Sar Yavok's girl has triggered a resurgence of her own bitter mourning, and that's led to an extra helping of 'calm juice' prior to this gathering.
"We're here to take a moment away from the worry, away from the paperwork, from the engine repairs, the gunnery drills, the flight sims...just /away/ to reflect on those who have given the ultimate sacrifice for the fight against tyranny. And those they leave behind. If anyone has something they'd like commit to the uh...the deceased, you may put it inside at this time." She gestures to the airlock where a few items already sit. "When everyone's taken their moment, said their prayer or hope or joke or whatever the hell you'd like to say on their behalf, these mementos will be cast into the great void, given back to those who have gone before us." Ya know. Symbolically. Literally, it's just space litter. The older woman clears her throat to loosen up whatever was thickening there and takes a little step aside so as to give a wider berth to those who wanna leave a little something.
Symbolism is a weird thing, and it's even weirder when Sapphira Yavok, newly promoted second LT., hobbles up. She's not in the hover wheelchair anymore, she's actually walking on her own two feet. Well, walking might be a kindness. Shuffling. Her right leg seems stiffer than the left, but it's just because she's not too keen on moving it too much. For that reason it also takes awhile for Sapphira to make her way up to the airlock, holding her items. She doesn't yet put them in, but rather she stands in her perfect uniform, with her hair perfectly done and pulled up in a simple, tight, yet stylish updo, and stares at the names on the wall.
Merek had taken his time to make tokens for the mementos, mostly some plushes which seem to be in the likeness of the people being honored. He has on his uniform with kama and puts some of them to the airlock. He then makes his way to the side while he offers a salute. He has with him also a staff which is used as an assist.
Dressed in her uniform, which is cleaned and pressed to the best of her ability, Miri steps forward. A fresh scar slants across her left cheek and she has an empty glass bottle cradled in her arms. Her jaw is tight, her breathing carefully controlled. "This is for Ektor Appollyon," she says tersely, voice low and heavy. "Because he'd call me a dumbass for throwing away a perfectly good bottle of booze for him." She steps forward, depositing the bottle in the container with a sonorous clink.
Parade rest helps, the familiarity of it, the stability of it keeps Tallie on an even keel. The inside of her lips is already sensitive from biting it. The bottle is behind her back and at the Brigadier General's last words she shifts it to cradle it in front of her, the garish label showing as she holds it by the neck. Three deep breaths are needed before she is able to step out of formation.
"He is not gone. I cannot take it in that he will not be here to call me Sunshine, ending every other sentence with yeah." She clears her throat and takes a sharp breath. "Of everyone on board that welcomed me back, this stranger, this self-professed pirate went out of his way to show me about and shower me with small kindnesses while joking all the time." Holding up the bottle abruptly she asks permission to place it in the airlock with a nod to Brigadier. "His memory, his bravery, his kindness made my life better." Stepping forward with military precision she places the bottle and steps back.
Miri Sakir says, "He is not gone. I cannot take it in that he will not be here to call me Sunshine, ending every other sentence with yeah." She clears her throat and takes a sharp breath. "Of everyone on board that welcomed me back, this stranger, this self-professed pirate went out of his way to show me about and shower me with small kindnesses while joking all the time." Holding up the bottle abruptly she asks permission to place it in the airlock with a nod to Brigadier. "His memory, his bravery, his kindness made my life better." Stepping forward with military precision she places the bottle and steps back."
Lofty is dressed as he usually is - naked as a Talz with a bandalier. But his white woolly fur has been washed and brushed so it looks more presentable. In his paw is a simple charm carved by hand from japor ivory wood. He ambles up to the receptacle and drops it in. "This help their spirits go to next beyond." And then the large alien waddles back to stand in formation.
Leia is here, seated quietly beneath her white hoods staring at the opening at one end of the docking clamp where treasures are being laid for the deceased. She listens to some of the words of memorial with her hands twisting at the long truss of cloth across her legs.
Miri isn't a very emotionally demonstrative person. She doesn't like showing weakness, or anything other than Business Face or Party Face. That's why she looks angry as a tear escapes at Tallie's words, clenching her hands behind her back and setting her jaw. Well, one of many reasons she looks angry, anyway, her swarthy, freckled cheeks taking on an unflattering shade of splotchy red.
As Lofty ambles up, Sapphira, who has been watching the names on the wall, reaches over to pat the large Talz in a familiar, reassuring manner. Then her bright green eyes turn toward the airlock. They're dry, and no longer hazed with the glorious presence of painkillers and muscle relaxants. For this, at least, she's all here. When the opportunity opens up, she turns and walks that stiff walk toward the receptacle where everyone's odd bits and bobs are being collected. In her hands she holds what appears, at a glance, to be two thermal detonators. But in that glance one might see that they're more or less just the shells of the thermals, or at least heavily modified ones. They do not appear to be armed. Once has TESS written on it, the other has TION written on it. She holds the TESS one first. When she speaks, the words are stiff.
"For Tess, who never knew me as a sister, but who always treated me like one," she says of the first. That one is placed in the airlock, soon followed by the other on the opposite side of the collection.
"For Tion, who died doing what he loved: blowing krif up." Maybe a little off-color, considering the nature of the man's death, but either way that detonator goes in. Sapphira turns to face the mourners.
"Just so you're all aware, one of those is filled with pretty little explosives and the other with accelerant. Not sure which is which, but when they connect when they're pushed out the airlock..." she makes a gesture with her hands, and then moves to find the back corner of the mourner's area and a wall to lean against, where she'll rest one hand against her abdomen.
The Old Man has no time for sentimentality, but he's been dragged out to this nonetheless. Sar stands off to the side of the whole affair, arms crossed over his chest and watching as everyone goes about their sad business.
Merek seems to think about words to speak, then he nods a bit, "I didn't know them both as well I wished to, but I've had good experiences when meeting them both, I hope they will find some peace." He takes some of the beer which he has with him, and pours one for respect also.
"Is it selfish to speak about my regret? I hope not." Talli pauses until her voice steadies, "I regret not knowing them better. I was told that Tess, wounded, struggling and in great pain made her way forward to the command deck to destroy the AI kernel." Her voice becomes thready, "She gave herself as did Tion as did all of those who died that day for the betterment of our lives and of all those under the oppressive regime of the FO. It was an honor to have fought next to them these past months." Looking down, she nods and steps back in silence.
Ambrosia's eyes cut a silent, swift look aside to Leia, Sar, during Miri and Tallie's little speeches, then return to staring lifelessly ahead for a minute or two. Meanwhile, her right hand has gone fishing and pulls out a tattered ball from her jacket pocket. A ball. Why does she have this? It was confiscated, long ago on D'Qar. Why did she keep it? Who the hell knows. Probably had it in her personal armory locker and forgot it was there. But it's here now, rubbed around under her thumb while the memory of that damn mongrel trotting loose in the barracks tickles her brain and her lips silently rehearse what it was she'd threatened to do if it shat indoors. Throw the ball - this here ball - onto the range during live fire drills. It hadn't been an empty threat, she WAS steamed, but now it seems like one of the better days, and so....
"She was a pain in my arse, from day one. Never have I been faced with a soldier who reminded me so very much of my younger self. Like lookin' into a mirror." The old rebel moves forward, stepping into the airlock of doom, and bends stiffly at the waist to plant the ball down slowly, carefully, and it stays. "You can have that back now, Ul'Datha," she mutters, and creaks into an upright position.
Lofty remains standing and listens while at loose-attention. He stands with the naval detachment who are wearing their dress uniforms, though the mish-mash of Republic and Resistance makes them look disjointed. He closes his lower set of eyes because of the brightness of the harsh airlock lights.
Sapphira's offering earns a little chuckle from Miri and the briefest of grins, but she sobers quickly at the words that follow from Tallie and Ambrosia. "When I joined the Resistance, I told myself I wasn't here to make friends. I couldn't risk losing them, losing my cool, losing my focus. I regret that I never really met most of these people off duty," she says, gesturing slightly to the list of names with her chin. "Ektor was just so disarming. So alive. I..." Her words catch in her throat. "I don't know. Doesn't matter. Words are hard and I'm dumb," she says quickly.
Sapphira, having said her peace, stays off to the side and does not say anymore. She watches Sar as he comes in, but doesn't approach him and soon the voices are drawing her gaze back to the happenings at front, where those two new names have been added to the growing list of those that have gone before.
Hands dropping to his hips, Sar Yavok clears his throat and turns his eyes to the airlock. He'd have thrown something in there, but one of the by-products of being a bad father is that he doesn't have anything to remember his daughter by. Or release into space in effigy, as it were.
Leia listens in silence as individuals step up to speak their quiet words of farewell to those who lost their life in their seemingly endless war. Inwardly the General laments how many of these she's sat through. She looks up to Sar, then to Amber, both of whom have shared seats with her at more memorial services than she is comfortable admitting and then stands up smoothly from her seat to step over to the effigy. "The teachings of the Jedi would say that there is no death.. that, though their bodies are gone, their spirit lives on through the Force. In our memories, in our hearts." She wets dry lips and looks at the various items laid down to be released into space.
"I think that is true. These men and women laid down their lives so that we could continue living... they were never asked to do that, it was never their responsibility to sacrifice.. but they have." Her brow furrows slightly, "So it is our responsibility to remember that sacrifice. It is our duty, to them, to not let this loss be in vain. Ours is a difficult path, but our goal is noble. We, like these brave souls, risk everything for those who may never know our names or appreciate the individuals who have done so much for loved ones and people they never even knew."
Sapphira continues to listen from her wall-holding-up place, but as Leia speaks, the redhead will turn her face away and find something very interesting on the bulkhead beside her when there is talk of the Force and the Jedi. By the end, however, whatever caught her curiosity has gone for she is once more facing the General and listening. Still, every now and again, she glances toward Sar.
With a stern frown, Tallie's glances lifts from her examination of the metal floor plating to rove over the other mourners, briefly crossing gazes with Sapphira and Mira. She cannot bring herself to look back at Sar.
Ektor would have understood the weight of the whispering voices that she hears before sleeping every night. She bites her inner lip hard as she takes on another and adds his name to that litany. She has grown used to them, familiar with the ache of moving through her days with their memory pressing against her thoughts. He would have laughed at her fear of breaking down in public. Too many lost, in too short a time, without the safe distance of time to help make it more bearable.
Next to come out of grumpy Greystorm's pockets is a folded up paper. Quadruple-fold, then accordianed, then folded again. Zero risk of accidental snooping from lookyloos, maybe, or was just something for her fingers to do. It's clenched tightly between knuckles, raised to her forehead for a little bump, then two paces away lets it drop to the tune of Leia's noble words. There it lays, all alone, without any images of the blonde-haired, hazel-eyed boy to mark its intention. "And those who have betrayed this ongoing sacrifice...they'll get their due," she whispers coldly and breezes gently by the General's pristine robes.
Amber makes a pass by Miri on the way out, muttering 'Words never came easy to me, either'. The BG resumes her post opposite the screen, one hand on the comlink, prepared to herald the bridge when time comes. A stony statue of a woman, etched with lines of age and wars gone by.
Merek listens, as he salutes as well for respect. He seems content to watch the proceedings also.
Sapphira watches a few more moments, but as the mourners seem to step away into their own corners, and into their own thoughts, she pushes off the wall and meanders further to the back of the room. She won't leave yet, not until the event is over, but for now it seems she's content to keep to herself.
Miri has already said more than she's comfortable with. Amber gets a grateful nod and one corner of her mouth twitches, almost a mirthless grin, but not quite. "So we gotta win this thing, that's all," she mutters, saluting her superiors and turning to get out of here before she embarrasses herself further.
Silence reigns over the hold. Tallie takes an involuntary shuddering breath and does not break it. She turns her head to watch the BG, fierce approval in her narrowed eyes as they await her signal.
"If there are no more words or offerings to be given, then it's time all personnel stand clear of the Airlock," Ambrosia speaks up after a couple more folks muster the steel to deposit their personal intentions inside, and sweeps the crowd with her emerald gaze. No? No. A look to General Organa, then "Greystorm to Bridge," lifts the comm to her lips. "Lockdown A-3."
Moments later, a 'copy' comes through on the Intercom. <<Locking down A3>> A hiss and solid *KaChunk* of doors closing seals in the bottles, the plushies, the pourouts, the notes, the ball, the everything.
A few fingers tilt ever so slightly from their place at Amber's side to rest against the chill of that door. The internal knot grows and twists her insides to know that seconds from now, the contents of that airlock will be violently cast into the airless vacuum, left adrift for eternity. Much like some of their loved ones, her son among them. Seems wrong, but...
"Vent A3," she continues the procedure as planned and waits in silence for confirmation to buzz in overhead. Klaxons sound, lights flash....
A fierce shudder jolts the durasteel door and floor beneath their feet. It is done.
Lofty comes to attention without a snap. He uses his large white paw to bring it to where his forehead should be and salutes the trinkets as they are swept out into the vacuum of space.
