In Memorium: Jane Starborn

[Jane Starborn]

Two weeks after the Battle of Ossus


Her body had not been recovered from the wreckage of the Dauntless, of course. The service remembering Operative Jane Starborn was not in a large room in the Alliance Command building. There was little fanfare, or even much of a stir among the Rebellion because of her death. So many lives had been lost on the Dauntless...

Yet, she was not just an Intelligence spook. Jane was - had been the daughter of Celeste Starborn, who was to be the new Chief of State. That, if nothing else, granted her some notoriety, even if her work and missions were hidden behind a redacted wall of intrigue.

Friends, colleagues, friends of her family, and political "friends" of her mother packed the room.

[Eluna Thals]

The Girl wasn't sure how she felt about Jane Starborn. She'd committed words to memory without much effort. The Machine was coldly efficient in tying in effective examples of eulogy into a coherent template. The Girl offered what she could. She knew Jane only in the way Jane allowed her to be known. That was something Eluna understood. She knew what it was like to share only so much. To keep the rest hidden. And to never forget a thing.

Eluna stepped to the podium in the small room, her heel clacks magnified in the silence as she took the podium. She, like a few of the military guests in attendance, wore dress whites to the somber occasion.

"We're gathered here to pay respects to our honored dead."

The droid's even timbre reached every ear in the humble attendance.

"Jane Ann Starborn is survived by her mother Celeste, her uncle Regulus, and her cousin Dashiel. But she is survived as well by everyone who knew her, and knew why she put herself into harm's way."

Eluna's green eyes panned the small audience as the Girl within allowed her introspection to rise to the surface.

"The few who dared press the spark of Rebellion into a galaxy yearning to alight with hope are a kindred family. We remember those who were there in the beginning. We mourn those who see one less sunrise than the rest. Doing what is necessary if often a path to unkind consequence. No doubt if Jane Starborn thought the sum of her sacrifices had been enough, she'd be here to share at least one more day. Yet our kindred family is united by that grace and conviction. To fly higher against odds and danger, knowing that if the fall comes, it comes terribly."

The Girl began to run a simulated playback of every interaction she'd had with Operative Starborn. She never forgot a thing. And yet she never saw the end coming.

"I, like many of you, had the distinct honor of serving along Jane. For myself, and indeed for many of you here, there are few words that can be said openly. Our catharsis is denied, because the flame we carry, we do so silently. It may be hard for you to find peace without the ability to share, but understand the nobility that silence brings. One day, there will be a settling of accounts. Until that day, I believe Jane would tell you to conduct yourself in the way she lived. Keep your spirit, and keep your dedication. We are few, and we are legion."

[James Prent]

James sat silently as others got up to speak, her disheveled mop of hair growing long enough to partially obscure her vision. She hadn't known Jane well, but what she had known... it was hard to believe the agent was gone. She'd been a constant in their lives for so long - first chasing Byl and then helping him reintegrate back into the Alliance. Now there was just empty space.

She scrunched down in her seat, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. If she saw one more sad face she'd probably start crying.

[Pierce Tondry]

A raven-haired woman sat down on the other side of James. She wore a pilot's dress uniform, including four medals above the shoulder - a Kalidor Crescent shining in their middle - and also wore a stun baton. Her hair was tied back into a bun and yet she still radiated a sense of kindness despite what was otherwise a severe appearance.

Recognition flitted across her face as she realized who she was next to. The woman touched James' shoulder with a hesitant hand. "Excuse me - James?" she said quietly. "James Prent?"

[Byl Laprovik]

Sitting at James' other side, Byl diverted his attention momentarily from the eulogy at a sidelong glance to a woman who had singled his companion out. Curious. James lived in a pretty lean and meager world, mainly out of a byproduct from their shared time together. Any time someone recognized one of them or the other, it was cause for intense curiosity or concern.

[James Prent]

She flinched as if she'd been pinched when the woman touched her shoulder and said her name, and then closed her eyes briefly and took a breath. "Y-yes?" James looked around, wondering if anyone was bothered by the talking, but it seemed only Byl was paying attention.

[Karin DeLumiar]

Way to go, dummy. "Sorry," she apologized. "I didn't mean to startle you. I'm Karin. We've never met, but you got pointed out to me once across a hangar bay."

"I heard you knew the dece-" Stop that. "-knew Jane. I just... wanted to offer my condolences."

Karin gave James a lopsided smile and a half-shrug. "I'm not great at formalspeak," she said, hoping the admission would help everything else come off okay.

[Byl Laprovik]

He wished he had Jane's eidetic memory in times like this. The woman didn't look at all familiar to him. Was there a piece of him still missing, or was this an encounter when he was away?

Byl turned his eyes back to Eluna as she finished Jane's eulogy, but he only had ears for what was happening to his left.

[James Prent]

"Oh." James wasn't good at ...whatever this was, either. "Uh, thanks. Karin." She smiled hesitantly, and then very purposefully turned her attention back to the podium.

[Karin DeLumiar]

Very clearly, she'd been dismissed.

"Sorry," Karen said again, trying to let it go and yet also in need of company. "It's this- this thing, this event. There aren't entourages or Chiefs of State at funerals for pilots of the slims. Makes me feel like a pondskipper in the desert."

"Wouldn't even be here if I wasn't a plus one. His plus one," she added with a nod at the man who was taking the podium from Eluna.

Unlike the majority of the funerary attendees, who all wore some form of formal military uniform or (in the case of the attendant political figures) civilian suits and dresses, the man now at the podium was dressed in an Alliance operative's black combat outfit. He was unremarkable enough to blend in almost anywhere, and yet it seemed more of a choice than any natural nondescriptness of his features.

"Assembled gentlebeings and honored guests. None of you know me-," he began, then spotted Karin among the assembled. His mouth's corners twitched in an I thought you weren't coming gesture.

I know that's what I said, but, replied Karin's shrug.

"Almost none of you know me," he amended. Karin smiled. "So I'll have to introduce myself."

"My name is Pierce Tondry."

[Pierce Tondry]

"I tend not to say much," Pierce continued. "Hell, I've already used up my word allotment for the year with this-"

He paused and fished in his pocket long enough to mimic finding more words. Luckily, he 'found' some. "Sentence. Sorry, had to borrow a few words to get through this."

The act generated a few snickers from the crowd. "Anyways, if I botch this forgive me. I'm not used to it."

"I don't say much because unsecure chat makes the fleet goes splat," he continued. "Wrong words at wrong times cost everything. Let good data slip to the wrong person, let bad data go to the right one; the result is the same. Deaths on our conscience."

"We walk the edge of vibroblades," Pierce said, his voice filling with challenge. "So that there are people left to hold the funerals. So that their lives are free of doubt and fear."

"It's such hard work that official Alliance policy requires operatives to retire from Intel work after 20 complex missions. The ones who live that long are called 23rs. Only 23 percent make it out alive."

Pierce turned to a table behind the lectern where a simple holoplaque sat between two floral arrangements projecting the image of Jane's face. "I'm sorry you won't get to retire, Jane," he said.

Abruptly, he left the podium and strode over to the table. His hand lifted, hesitated, and fell to rest on the table's surface instead. "If only things had been different. Maybe we would've known each other and been friends."

"Thank you for everything you did."

"We call the ones who don't get to retire Cracken's Crusaders," Pierce said, returning to the podium. "Airen Cracken, Alliance Intelligence chief who died shortly after Endor, gave his name to a lot of things posthumously."

"Including this," he said, lifting a small black box from the lectern's hollow.

Pierce lifted a small cue card to show he was reading aloud. "For those agents whose contributions to Alliance Intelligence are many and of great value and who, in the end, sacrifice their lives to preserve the freedom all sentients are promised, we offer our highest honor to their surviving family: the Cracken Cross."

Pierce turned and strode over to Celeste Starborn. "Madame Chief of State," he said, opening the box. "In recognition of your daughter's great sacrifice, I present you with this honor medallion."

Inside the box, an embellished gold cross attached to a multicolored ribbon lay atop a display pillow. Celeste bowed her head and allowed Pierce to drape the medallion around her neck. "May we make her sacrifice mean something," Pierce stated solemnly.

Pierce set the index card and the box on the table next to the holoplaque. "Thank you all for your time," he said, then made his way off the stage and into the crowd.

[Karin DeLumiar]

It didn't take long for Pierce to find his way to Karin's seat. With a brief nod to James and Byl, he sat in the free chair she'd saved for him. "Not bad," she whispered. "You command the stage well. Do that more often and they might think of you as a leader."

"I'm a fighter, not a leader," he murmured.

Something in his tone was wrong. "You okay?" she asked.

Pierce looked for her eyes and found them. "Just wondering what would've happened if I hadn't been four years too late."

"You don't know she'd still be alive," Karin pointed out.

"No," he replied, his gaze turning to rest on the holoplaque. "For all I know I'd be out in space floating alongside her. I'm happy to still be here, but- Just not looking forward to the day you have to give this speech for me."

Using both hands, Karin turned Pierce's face to hers, leaned upward, and kissed him on the mouth. "Never going to happen," she whispered, one hand giving his neck a squeeze. "You're too stubborn to die and anyways, you've got something Jane didn't: me."

He smiled and took one of her hands in his own. "Keep reminding me of that and I'll make sure your faith holds up."

"Deal," she smiled.

[James Prent]

The service concluded. James had cried when the medal had been presented to Jane's mother, but she dabbed at her face with her sleeve, trying not to mess up her minimal makeup more than it was already. She turned to the couple next to her, smiling at Karin and her partner. "That was a great speech. Really moving." She pointed to her slightly reddened eyes as proof.

[Pierce Tondry]

Pierce frowned. The face was familiar, but he wasn't in the right frame of mind to remember her name.

Karin elbowed him suddenly. "Thank you," she whispered to James. "Maybe he'll believe the two of us."

Pierce snorted quietly, though more from bemused amusement than real disbelief. "Thanks."

Karin opened her mouth to say, probably something humorous to further lighten the mood, when Pierce placed a hand on her shoulder. Sometimes it was easier to skip to the end. "I already believe you," he said, offering an introductory hand in James' direction. "Pierce Tondry."