"Why aren't you affected?" she asked Graydon with a frown.
He gave her a superior smile. "Soul's breath."
"So, it's true." Diesel eyed him thoughtfully. "Your kind really are wizards."
Graydon's smile was enigmatic. "I'm sure it appears that way to some."
Diesel’s gaze lingered on Graydon for a second before he glanced at Kira in question. "The wizard tells me you're planning to pay your respects today. Mind if I tag along? For old time's sake?"
There was strain around his eyes that gave Kira pause before she shook it off.
"Sure. Why not?" Kira agreed with a glance in Graydon's direction. "The more the merrier."
Snow had started falling by the time Kira and the others crested the hill where the memorial waited. Diesel brought his chair to a stop, gesturing toward the collection of structures that had been erected on top of a wide flat piece of ground that was covered in stone. "There it is."
Cylindrical markers were lined up in uniform rows. Each engraved with the name and rank of the fallen.
They'd taken the nose cones from each ship lost in the battle and arranged them so the tips were pointed skyward.
"Your work?" Kira nodded at the green flame burning in the center of the memorial.
The care with which this place was treated was obvious at a glance. Despite the abundance of snow around the memorial, the monument itself and its markers were swept clean.
"A bit old fashioned, but I liked the symbolism," Diesel admitted. "Self-sustaining and self-contained. That puppy will continue burning long after I'm gone and my bones have returned to dust. Ingenious, right?"
"It is."
Movement in the tree line caught Kira's attention as Brie stopped at the edge of the forest.
Kira didn't say anything as she walked toward the monument. Diesel followed her, the low drone of his hover chair keeping them company.
Graydon stayed behind, letting her have this moment.
The sound of her footsteps changed as she stepped off the snow and onto the stone ground of the memorial.
She walked through a field of ghosts as her passage triggered the holograms housed in the grave markers. Familiar faces appeared one after another. Friends. A few acquaintances. Even an enemy or two. People who'd disliked Kira for one reason or another and she them.
They were the fallen now.
Her gaze lingered on each face, memories surfacing. Like that of the Petty Officer who'd enjoyed betting on anything and everything. Or the Chief Petty Officer who'd been a great listener, despite how much he loved the sound of his own voice.
There were dozens of memories just like those as Kira wandered the rows.
She visited as many of the crew's grave markers as she could until she finally found herself in front of the ones she hadn't allowed herself to look for.
"Oh," Kira whispered around the tight feeling in her chest as the Curs appeared.
Walker, Bayside, and Bates. Her family.
Their holograms were different from the rest. Candid images taken from Diesel's private records where most of the rest were the photos placed in their personnel file.
Kira's gaze lingered on Elise's before she looked away. To the last marker. One that stood apart from the rest. Just like the man had in life as well.
Kneeling beside it, Kira brushed away the snow that had just fallen. "Hey, sir. It's been a while."
Engraved in stone was the name "Commander Charles Berry".
Below it was an epitaph. "To those who gave all. Always remembered. Never forgotten. Rothchild thanks you."
Wind whistled through the trees.
"I never did get to thank you for what you and the rest did," Kira said. "You saved a lot of lives that day. I know you had a choice. It couldn't have been easy making the one you did."
His crew’s lives. Or Rothchild's.
It had been a selfless decision. They could have run. There had been time.
Kira might not remember the final moments, but she did remember that.
"I'll never forget," she finished.
Diesel's hover chair stopped beside her. "Do you still sing?"
Kira dusted the snow off her hands and rose. "Not for a long time."
"I remember you singing a requiem for the dead after each battle. We'd raise our glasses, and you'd serenade the departed. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard."
That's how she remembered it too. Every memorial. Every remembrance ceremony. Until singing was no longer a thing of joy but rather an expression of loss and grief.
"How about it, Nixxy? Will you sing for them?"