The marine detail stood motionless. Somewhere nearby, the song of a morning sparrow fluttered. It was a delicate contrast to the silence on the platform. Nearly seven hundred people were gathered at graveside, most in uniform. On the dais, next to a metal coffin draped in the flag of the Core Star Alliance stood a large photograph of a smiling Skywatch officer dressed in his Class A commander’s uniform and posing before the same flag.
In the second row of mourners stood Commander Jayce Hunter. Against the better advice of counsel and at least six of her officer colleagues, she had returned to Core space with Rebecca Islington and Tom Huggins at her side the moment she received the news. The admiralty had made no secret of their original intention to chop off the commander’s professional head, but every other officer in the fleet knew the famous Hunter ferocity wasn’t going to quail in the face of a challenge. On the contrary. Jayce and her brother were more likely to show up in their own dress uniforms and look their executioners right in the eye.
Hunter looked like an artist’s rendition of a regulation uniform officer. Gone was her trademark garrison cap. In its place was a standard black on black combination cover with a gleaming silver appointed Skywatch device and band. Adorning her black uniform were epaulets and sleeves each bearing three golden insignia with the rare command star. Her collar was affixed with silver leaf and task force badge, complete with nine pips representing the Perseus ships under her flag. Left of her silver buttons her medals were arranged. Beneath her space warfare badge were commendations for meritorious unit, combat action and ceremonial duty. Included among her other awards were the rare cybernetics combat action medal, cybernetics instructor badge, energy weapon range instructor badge and a Skywatch Fleet Good Conduct Medal with a bronze palm device. Topping off her impeccable bearing were white gloves and black shoes shined to a mirror finish.
It was much easier for her to maintain appearances on the outside than it was for her to control her emotions on this morning. She was barely holding herself together. Jayce rationalized her alabaster expression and unflinching gaze by telling herself she had to be strong for her fellow officers. She knew if she were alone, the sight of the huge photograph and the flowers would be too much for her. She lifted her chin and held on.
Behind her were at least a dozen rows of fellow Skywatch fleet and marines. More than a hundred were still wearing bandages and braces and making their way from place to place with mechanical assistance. They were the surviving crew members of DSS Revenge and DSS Dunkerque. At least half were here in defiance of doctor’s orders.
Jayce stood at attention like her two fellow Perseus officers. Commanders Islington and Huggins were as flawless in their bearing, but the story of the solemn gathering was told on Hunter’s face. She was motionless. Her expression fought mightily to remain strong.
At the small lectern stood what appeared at first to be a civilian. He was dressed in a dark suit and tie and supported himself with a cane. He looked to be only a little older than the other friends of the deceased. He brought no remarks to the stand. He simply looked out into the faces of the gathered friends, fellow officers and crew members and family and smiled warmly.
“My friend Pat wasn’t one to spin a yarn–” The man’s voice wavered and he hesitated to clear his throat before continuing. “He wasn’t the type to hold a table rapt with war stories. He uhh– he left that to others. So when they learn he won the Skywatch Cross at Saint Huls, they are usually as surprised as everyone else. I’ve known about his heroism longer than most, because I was one of the 81 people he saved winning that medal. I know exactly how some of you feel.” The man paused a moment and put the back of his hand to his lips.
“Pat’s ship stayed in the fight over Bayone. Even though she was outgunned and even though she could have withdrawn to save herself. Some say she should have withdrawn, but they didn’t know Pat. Revenge stayed in the fight anyway. She faced overwhelming firepower and numbers because her captain knew that was the only way to save the lives of thousands of pilots, crew and marines in the face of a treacherous ambush.”
A breeze let the man pause to take another deep breath.
“Today, we pay our respects to a husband, a father, a grandfather, a teacher, a pilot and a man who showed us all what it means to be one of the finest officers in the fleet. Commander Patrick Enright, skipper of the starship Revenge, brought a unique strength to every unit he served with. He twice refused promotions to captain so as to remain at his post at Skywatch Academy for nearly ten years. He always spoke fondly of his ‘kids,’ as he called them. He took a special pride in guiding new graduates into command.”
That remark caused another stab of pain through Jayce. Memories of the first salute she had ever received came flooding back. It was Enright’s face she saw. She remembered the day. The white uniform. How she felt so much like a young cub next to this lion of the fleet and his towering array of medals and citations. How his eyes twinkled when he encouraged her and her brother. How he made a point of being there when she boarded her first command. And then it was she who pressured him to join her–
“His last act was exactly what any of us would expect in the face of the hell that erupted over Bayone Three. He would not leave the bridge of his ship until every last survivor had been rescued, and even then–” The man cleared his throat quietly. “He stayed at his post and faced down enemy guns at the helm of his ship until the strike force arrived to relieve Monarch Squadron. Revenge stood alone between death and more than two thousand men and women who would have been defenseless without her. Some of you are here today. Your lives were purchased, and paid for, by the sacrifice of Captain Enright.”
Jayce clenched her fists. She wasn’t there. She should have been there, but wasn’t.
“And yet in spite of all that has happened and more, I look out across the multitude gathered here under the approving eyes of God and I see in all your faces the same promise Pat saw. I see in your eyes the hope that he stood for and the resolve and determination he taught us all to strive for even in our darkest moments. I know he would be proud. Proud to know you will all carry on and follow the path he blazed. I can add little to that light except to announce what has transpired since.”
The man unfolded a small piece of gold-colored paper and held it carefully in trembling hands. “Upon the recommendation of Commander Skywatch, by order of the president of the Core Worlds and upon unanimous resolution of the Core Council, I am humbled to report to you all that Captain Patrick Enright–” The man’s voice broke, but he recovered. “Captain Enright has been awarded the Medal of Honor–”
A gasp rolled through the audience. Delilah Enright put her hands to her mouth and trembled. The color drained from her face. Her next oldest daughter gathered her sister and brother close and looked on with a silent pale expression. Behind them stood her oldest son holding his own four-month-old daughter.
"– for an act of conspicuous gallantry and heroism far above and beyond the call of duty among his actions over Bayone Three leading Monarch Squadron in the Victory Engagement.” It seemed the words exhausted the last of the man’s breath. He folded the paper and put it in his coat pocket. He tried to keep his bearing as he took another breath. “That’s all.”
A marine corporal stood reverently at Enright’s coffin and laid a white and blue banner across the red and gold flag of the Core Alliance. On the folded white cloth the word VALOR was visible, along with a portion of the seal of the president of the Core Worlds. The second banner was a solemn honor reserved for only a very few. Upon it the marine laid the heavy seven-pointed star of the Skywatch Fleet Medal of Honor and its royal blue ribbon adorned with the Invictus Star Map signifying the emblem of the Core Star Alliance. Struck upon the medal was the profile of a somber Admiral Clyde Jefferson gazing up towards a single star in the sky with the words VALOR, HONOR, EXCELLENCE emblazoned around him. The marine stood for a moment at attention and then returned to his place among the guard.
“Detail. Tehh-hut.”
Six marines in crimson uniforms came to attention, rifles at their sides. A strike sergeant stood off to one side, sword blade resting against his arm and the bill of his cap almost covering his eyes. His next command was too quiet to hear, but the six marines moved as one. The detail turned and cradled bolt-action rifles in gloved hands. A voice shouted in the morning air.
“Present ARMS!”
Every able Skywatch crewman, marine and officer saluted.
“Ready!”
The rifles rose.
“Aim! FI–!”
The crack of simultaneous rifles rang, and several of the civilians jumped. Enright’s widow sobbed.
“Ready!”
The marines pulled and released the bolts on their rifles with flawless precision.
“Aim! FIR–!”
Again the rifles reported. The sound echoed from the nearby memorial wall.
“Ready!”
Six bolts moved back and forward together.
“Aim! FI–!”
And again gunfire blasted into the sky. A moment later, the marines turned as one to face the dais again.
The rolling echoes were gradually absorbed into the distant thunder of atmospheric engines. The soaring whine grew until a formation became visible in the distance. Not a single man or woman’s salute moved. Finally a wedge of six silver-hulled Yellowjacket fighters became visible against the clouds. They rocketed ahead over the trees, the barely restrained sound of their flights cold against the sunlight. All the assembled civilians looked up and watched in reverent awe as the formation screamed overhead, filling all creation with deafening thunder. Moments later, just as they had passed the graveside, one of the six climbed out of the formation and soared straight up into the clouds. The other five flew on, leaving the empty space in their formation. Then they were gone.
The first notes of Taps sounded from the silver horn of a fleet bugler. Far in the distance, the same notes sounded again from another trumpet held by a marine bugler standing on a low hill against the pastel clouds of morning. The second refrain sounded, and was dutifully taken up by the second horn a measure later. The two men played through their somber duet until the last note rose far away on clear wings towards those same clouds. They stood at attention, looking away, as if watching after a departing friend.
“Order ARMS!”
Every saluting hand snapped back to attention as one.
Major General Louis Penn presided over eight marines as they performed their duty of folding the Core Worlds flag and wrapping it tightly with the president’s banner and placing Enright’s medal upon it. He stood before Mrs. Enright and leaned forward, holding the triangular folded banners in white gloved hands.
“On behalf of the president of the Core Worlds, please accept this flag, this banner, and this medal as symbols of the appreciation of a grateful Alliance for your husband’s faithful service.”
The chaplain quietly dismissed the honor guard as the service concluded. Neither Islington nor Huggins spoke as they followed their commander back towards their transports. Jayce was one of the first to offer her condolences to Delilah, but she quickly excused herself. She didn’t appear to be in any mood for further conversation, so her two fellow officers decided to let silence prevail for now. They strode quickly, climbing the perfectly manicured grass covering the gentle hill behind the graveside crowd. It was a beautiful morning. White clouds floated lazily in a perfect blue sky. The breeze was a little chilly, but not uncomfortably so.
Hunter’s commlink sounded. She froze as she examined the status code.