Meanwhile, back at the barracks hallway, unbeknownst to Sara, the sushi container sat on the hallway floor in the upright position.  Despite some of the soy sauce spilling out of the container and everything being a little jumbled up; it was all still in the container.  Just then the head of maintenance, a man named Malvin,  walked down the hallway.  He was an older man, retired from active duty in Bairon-Midley, but still worked as a full time maintenance personnel.  He was of European descent with gray hair and glasses.  He was an average height man with an average build.  His calloused hands and ever aching back told of his many years of service to Bairon-Midley.  “Huh? What’s this?” he thought.  “Looks like someone dropped their lunch. He said as he bent over and picked up the container.  He then looked around and didn’t see anyone; so, he started knocking on several of the surrounding doors but no one answered.  “Well he thought.  It seems no one is home.  I guess someone must have left in a hurry and dropped it.  Sushi doesn’t exactly save if not refrigerated.  Guess I shouldn’t let it go to waste..” He thought to himself.

“Today was my lucky day, or so I thought.  Someone dropped their sushi in the hallway.  Man, I thought to myself.  I would love some sushi.  I decided I had best look for the owner first, because it is the right thing to do, but it seems as if no one was home.  Well rather than let the cleaning bot get it and give someone a fine, I figured I would eat it.  I used my handkerchief to get up the soy sauce and went back to the maintenance closet.  It looked so good despite being dropped.  Oh how no good deed goes unpunished.  It was absolutely awful.  It was way too salty and hot as hell.   Who on earth would order “death sushi” like this?”

~Excerpt from Head Maintenance Technician Malvin Trosk’s Journal Entry 17863

On her way to the funeral, Sara couldn’t help but think about the whole flame dancer event.  “Yes, I lost comrades in the battle against the ghost.  Somehow this fact doesn’t bother me as much as the odd behavior of the flame dancer.  Why was this one so different?” Just then Sara heard “BOOM!” the thunder cracked.  Shortly afterwards the pitter patter of rain began.  “I had better hurry before the rain gets worse," she thought.  She picked up the pace to a run as she went across the courtyard.  About halfway across the courtyard, approximately two hundred meters from the building, the rain pitter patter turned into a loud hiss, “SHHHHHH!”  “Oh crap!”  she thought to herself, now soaked from the downpour.  She began running at a full sprint, barely able to see where she was going because of all the rain in her face. Her glasses began to fog up; soaking wet; she arrived at the doors to the building.  “Great! Almost late and totally soaked.  Great impression we are making here.” she thought to herself.  She opened the door; went into the hallway; and attempted to dry off as best she could.  Sara pulled a hand towel out from her backpack, something she always carried with her when she was out of her room and not on a mission.  She began drying her hair and thought, “Could this day really get any worse?”  She was so preoccupied with the events of the day and drying her hair that she failed to notice Corporal Heroldson walking up the hallway.  “I can’t believe I forgot my umbrella of all things.  I usually keep it in my bag.” she thought to herself.  “Hey Private Snow.” Corporal Heraldson said.  Sara didn’t hear him.  At this point she was leaned over trying to get her hair back up in proper dress attire, above the neckline of her uniform.  Heraldson thought to himself, “Just like her to be caught up in what she is doing and not paying attention to her surroundings.”  He then shouted, “EARTH TO PRIVATE SNOW!  EARTH CALLING!  Sara, completely startled, switched to pure instinct and swung a punch in the direction of the sound.  Heraldson nimbly stepped out of the way, figuring that was going to be her reaction.  She then swung again with the left hand.  This time Hearaldson caught the punch with his hand.  She then snapped to her senses.  “Corporal!  A thousand apologies! I didn’t realize you were there!”  She shouted.  Heraldson laughed and said, “relax lass.  I kinda figured you would react that way.  You just seemed really lost in the moment.  Dunno what has you so far out on space patrol, but you need to reign it in for the next few hours.”  he said calmly.  “As far as the punching goes, just make sure you are more aware of your surroundings.  Don’t wanna go clocking anyone who can’t hold their own.”   He said reassuringly.  “Yessir!” She replied, as she returned to attempting to dry herself off.  

“So what’s got you off in lala land little missy?” Heraldson asked.   “Nothing in particular sir.” She replied, fixing her hair.  Heraldson looked at her straight in the face and said, “this isn’t a ranked thing.  I am just asking what’s on your mind, as a concerned co-worker.”  “It feels like I am being punished by my dad.” Sara thought to herself.  While putting her hair back up, she then replied, “Well sir, I just feel like I should be out there fighting.   The entire situation has been weighing on my mind.  Losing the commander.  Not even seeing a clear image of the flame dancer.  The way it went after the transport.  The way it disappeared.  All of it.  It is just stuck in my head.”  “I understand how you feel, but you shouldn’t be worrying about all that mess right now.  You have another assignment.  You need to help send off your former commander.  Then after that, you have a job to do, correct?”  Heraldson said very rationally.  “You are right, Corporal.  Thank you.”  She said, as she finished fixing her hair.  “Geez, we aren’t on a mission or anything.  You can just call me Todd.  No need to be formal all the time.”  He said.  “Yess….” Sara said, stopping herself before she said sir.  “Anyway, hurry up and get to the backstage area.  The ceremony is starting soon.”  Heraldson said as he began walking up the hallway.  

Sara finished drying off as best she could, and began walking toward the backstage area.  As she arrived, she was indeed the last person in her unit to arrive.  “Oh great, the new girl is the last one to arrive.”  she thought.    She looked over at the seating chart,  “Looks like I am in seat twenty one.”    She took off her backpack and set it over by the coats and bags of the rest of the unit.  Then while pulling out her rifle she thought, “I hope this antiquated piece of junk will actually fire.  I ended up not having time to clean it, and it got wet to boot.  Of course I can’t even remember the last time it was fired, so it should be clean at least.”  She removed the magazine and pulled the bolt back to reassure herself that there were no rounds in the chamber on her way to her place in line.  “At least it is unloaded.  Otherwise this could have been rather embarrassing.” She thought, pushing the bolt back to the closed position.  She then slung the rifle over her shoulder and began loading the blanks into the magazine.  “I forgot how hard this piece of junk is to load.” she thought, struggling to get the rounds into the magazine.  Finally, she made it to her place in line so she could focus more on loading the magazine without walking.  As she looked around, she could see that everyone else was in line with rifles slung and magazines already loaded and she thought, “and here I sit struggling with this stupid thing.”   Finally, she got the last round loaded.  She then slapped the magazine in place, opened the bolt to load a round, and then slung her rifle over her shoulder.  She then took up proper line posture and made her way to her place in line.  “And now the waiting begins.”  She thought, as she looked around trying to get a read on the room.   

“My Garand was a gift from my father.  It is an antique, but he said it has been passed down through the family for many years.  He also said that it is the traditional ceremonial rifle, so I should be able to use it.   I didn’t want this thing.  I really wanted to buy one of my own, but seeing as how they are antiques, they are really expensive.  I guess I should just think of it as just that, a gift for when I graduate from the academy.  

~Excerpt from Cadet Sara Snow’s Journal Final Journal Entry 

Conveniently for Sara, she was lined up behind Corporal Heraldson.  He turned and gave her a nod and whispered, “Glad you could make it on time private.  Hope you have a few good words about the commander ready to be given.”  “I am supposed to speak!” Sara blurted out rather loudly thinking she only thought it.  “Yes, you are expected to speak.  Didn’t you get the memo kiddo?”  Haroldson whispered.  “Yessir! I read the memo, but I do not recall it saying we were required to speak at the funeral.” Sara whispered back, clearly caught off guard at the thought of public speaking.  Heraldson gently grabbed her hand and placed a card in it and whispered, “Here, use this.”  Sara looked at the card in her hand.   It was completely blank.  “So much for him helping me with what to say!”  she thought to herself, staring at the blank note card.  Heraldson whispered, handing her a pen, “Either write something down or fake it like you mean it, but either way; look the part.”  “Thanks.” Sara whispered.  

Just then Sergeant Norman cleared his throat.  The entire backstage area went quiet; then, Norman began to speak, “We shall be seated in the two rows of chairs behind the speaker.  Once the speaker is finished, the preacher will come and give the eulogy.  Afterwards, he will ask if anyone has any last words to say.”  Norman looked Kono square in the eyes with a cold hard stare and continued, “I expect each and everyone of you to say something nice and appropriate.  You will proceed in an orderly fashion to your seats.  You do not sit until the person ahead of you in line is seated.  Got it?”  Sara thought to herself, “Wow, the Sergeant is really wound tight about this one.  I have never seen him this way.”  Norman continued on, “After we are done with our “goodbyes”; there will be a three volley rifle salute.  Don’t mess this up.  Afterwards there will be a reception for the family.  There will be refreshments.  You are not required to stay for the reception, but I strongly suggest that you stay for at least some time and talk with the Voss family.  Make it look sincere.” Sara thought to herself, “Oh just great.  I hate meet and greets.”  Haroldson leaned over to Sara and whispered, “You dang well better do as the sergeant says and look like you like it.  Otherwise I am sure there will be hell to pay afterwards.”  Sara whispered back, “I will! sheesh!”  Haroldson said, “Tell your face that.  You look like someone ate your hamster or something.”  Sara tried to make sure she sported her duty face for the rest of the event.   The sergeant continued on to say, “Starting tomorrow we will begin our new assignments.  Dismissed!”  “Our new assignments?”  Sara thought on it for a second, “So we are all going to the training grounds with that weird Doctor guy?  Well, at least I won’t be alone.” Sara continued in her thought process.

Just then the usher began motioning the front of the line to their seats.  Just as Norman had directed, each member went to their seats and sat down only after the proceeding member had sat down.  Each member of unit 38 sat with their rifle at their right side with the butt on the floor and the muzzle pointed to the ceiling.  The rifles were all Garands of varying models, something that the average person wouldn’t notice, but Sara did.  Due to her short stature, Sara could only make a guess as to how many people were in the audience; from the brief glimpses she got of the audience while walking in.  “That is a lot of people!.  He must have been really well known around here.”  Sara thought, forgetting that she still hadn’t written anything on her note card.  Once everyone was seated, a man Sara did not recognize introduced himself, “Good evening ladies and gentlemen.  My name is Roger Sorrenson, and I will be hosting tonight's event.”  The man was about 180 cm tall and about 80 kg in weight.  He had brown hair that looked to be tucked behind his ears from under his hat.  He was wearing the dress uniform of a commander.  His rank showed to be that of master-sergeant.   “Today we are gathered to say our final goodbyes to a great man.  He served his country.  He served his God.  He also served Bairon-Midley.  He was a man that everyone knew.  He was cut down by the common enemy of humanity, the ever present ghost threat.  But, do not be sad at this time.  Instead, as Commander Herman Voss would have wanted; enjoy your time together and remember him for the great man that he was.”  He said with a bold echoing voice.  “At this time, in accordance with the wishes of the Voss family, Pastor Arelin Williams-Tade will perform the eulogy.  Mr. Williams-Tade.” he said as he gestured first to the man and then to the podium.

Mr. Williams-Tade walked up to the podium and set his bible on the podium.  He was an older man of African descent with curly grey hair and brown eyes.  He stood about 181 cm tall and weighed about 100 kg.  He opened his bible and adjusted his glasses.   He then began to read from the scripture. “John 16:22 “So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and nothing will take away your joy.”  “Despite losing a great man here on Earth, he is now in heaven awaiting our reunion.  Men like Herman Voss are a rare breed indeed.  Though we may mourn his departure now; we know that he is in a better place.  We know that he is with God.  He is without the ghosts of this world.  May his memory live on in all his surviving friends, family, and the people he touched in life.  And may his memory push us onward to a brighter future in death.  At this time, I invite the members of his unit, unit 38, to say any last words.”  He said in a voice that resonated through the audience in a fashion only a man of true faith could muster.

In turn each member of the unit stood up and approached the podium saying a few modest sentences about how great of a Commander Voss was to them.  “Oh Shit!” Sara thought, again, looking at the blank card in her hand.  “I haven’t written down anything to say.  Furthermore, there is a chance I will be seen if I write something down now.  Guess I have to take Heraldson’s advice and fake it till sincerity.”  Sara’s mind raced.  “Maybe I could talk about … she was snapped out of thought by Commander Sorrenson saying, “Next up is Private 3rd class, Snow.”  Sara immediately put on her game face; stood up; and walked to the podium.