“Not to worry, my dear…” At the word dear, Palin’s face turned red. “Ah…I mean, Miss Chans. I’m quite all right.” Palin paused for a moment then looked at her curiously. “What has you roaming the halls in such a distracted manner?”

“I just had a most disturbing conversation with Commander Michaels. He was showing me something, and then he was very distracted and distant. I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Milla told him, uncertain whether she had done something wrong.

Palin looked solemn. “You don’t know? I thought you were on the bridge during the battle?”

“I was.” Milla became more confused.

Palin looked almost embarrassed. “Commander Michaels lost one of his team. She flew her fighter into the enemy ship to save the Odyssey.”

A look of shocked understanding crossed her face. Milla suddenly realized she should be feeling the same as Stephanos, or worse. After all, hadn’t she just lost her ship, a fleet, and two colonies? For a long moment, she just stood there, wondering why she felt nothing. Why hadn’t she felt anything in the entire time since she had been rescued?

How can that be? I’ve lost hundreds of thousands of my people, dozens of friends, my shipmates, my captain, yet I feel nothing? And this man, this self-proclaimed warrior, is so devastated by the loss of one comrade that he is forced to hide his tears? Milla’s silence stretched. What does this say about him? And, perhaps, more importantly, what does this say about me?

Palin cleared his throat, uncertain of how to react to the sudden silence. “There is a memorial about to start for the lost pilot on the observation deck—if you would like to attend, that is.”

Milla looked around, as if expecting the answer to her unasked question to appear on the deck plates. Finally, she looked at Dr. Palin. “Yes, I believe I would like to attend—if it would not be an intrusion.”

“No, no, I shouldn’t think so. Here, I’ll escort you up.”

Milla followed Dr. Palin through the halls of the Odyssey, finally reaching the central lift.

When they stepped out of the lift onto the observation deck, they saw people congregating silently around a long casket-shaped object. All eyes faced the center of the room.

Captain Weston and Commander Stephanos were standing stiffly with their backs to the open vista of space that lay beyond the observation deck’s huge windows. As Milla moved closer to the group, she could hear Weston’s softly spoken words describing the battle that had transpired earlier and the debt everyone on board owed the fallen pilot.

“Lieutenant Samantha ‘Flare’ Clarke gave her life in the defense of her comrades and, in doing so, saved her ship, her wingmates, and the remaining civilian population of this system. No greater gift can be offered, no greater honor achieved. While we commend her body to the stars, we keep her memory alive, in our hearts and in our minds.”

Weston stopped, silence reigning in the room for a long moment before Stephanos stepped forward, his stance at attention. “Beacon away!”