She died...

I have conflicting emotions about it, not sure about how I should feel. I came to protect her, I failed, I should feel at least a bit mortified over my failure? Or angered, as her death came at the hands of someone who backstabbed her? Who backstabbed all the people who gathered to protect her? She died, her thread cut, as some ancient cultures would have put it. She died and I feel nothing but emptiness at that. I had never talked her too much, never been privy to her secrets, never tried to know her better. Now I regret it a little.

Children of Raxxla, that's how we call ourselves, and we are children indeed. Naive dreamers, built upon Hope, as one of them told me in the aftermath of those dramatic events. And like children we acted, led by our curiousity or our emotions, following our instincts rather than doing what was reasonable or wise. But at the same time, like children sharing the same mother, we are family. Brother and Sisters that today came together to protect her, setting aside differences, setting aside everything else. Today we were as one to protect her.

And we failed...

Her message came through, for everyone to listen, yet I don't really care. Them, the Dynasty Expedition, everything. It doesn't matter. Or, at least, it doesn't today. Today we mourn the loss of who had gathered this group together, a group that at first I thought nothing better of a merry gang of idealists and dreamers, a group that today has proven itself tied by strong and solid bonds. Today we raise our glasses to Her, because her name doesn't matter, what it matters is what she did. Today we raise our glasses to ourselves, to each member of our Family that dropped anything else and came, without asking questions beside “Where you want me to go, what you want me to do?”.

Because that's what we are, after all, Family...

Once Mankind believed that there Death was not the end, maybe some still believe it, after all evidences can't be raised to prove or deny it. Your life, your thread, may have been cut. But your story isn't done, your torch had not been doused, the Children will keep telling the former and carrying the latter. And, as long they'll do so, nothing will die. Not your Story, not your Dreams, not your Ideals.

So rest well, Commander, you were never alone and you never will be...