The Dead Dove Locker -- "I don't know what I expected."

[Mamorien]

The Princess of the Void and her crew honor The Valorous Dead.

Down on the hangar floor, the clerics of the omnidivine affix seals and sanctifiers to the three black stone coffins waiting in front of the membrane. Lance Corporal Varkori practiced the religion of his homeworld, something Sykora called storm worship. His remains are being shipped to his family.

A sister of the Omnidivine chants in Taiikizi’nekan, the ancient language of prophecy and prayer whose mysteries Grant’s implant is too modern to pierce. Grant is surrounded by a sea of Taiikari, some with heads bowed or damp eyes. He’s joined on his mountainous island by Ipqen-mek-Taqa and her keeper/fiancée/property, Ruaq-nai-Taqa, who stand vigil with him on the lit and living shore, watching the crossing before them.

You feel that burden?

“You’re moving up, Junior Engineer,” Grant murmurs, as the liturgy continues before them. “Nice pips.”

“I know, right? A woman in uniform.” Ruaq’s tail nudges playfully against Ipqen’s. “Throwing starships around.”

Ipqen rubs the back of Ruaq’s neck. “It was a lot smaller than you’re picturing, I reckon.”

“Still,” Ruaq says. “Bet you could throw me even further.”

“So when are you two getting hitched, anyway?” Grant asks.

“Well, we can’t yet,” Ruaq says. “Not if we want a proper Uvaniqish wedding. Gotta find a third.”

“Oh,” Grant says. “Interesting.”

He looks over to see Hyax, standing within earshot, stock still and staring down at the orating cleric. The ear closest to the three non-Taiikari twitches. On the Brigadier’s other side, Waian stands by a marine with his face buried in his hands, his shoulders shaking. That must be Kamen. Reina’s boyfriend.

“Whenever that happens,” he says, refocusing on the Eqtorans, “you could get some shore leave back to Harok, I’m sure.”

Ruaq smiles. “Perks of being a faithful servant, eh?”

“You can think about it that way if you want,” Grant says. “I’d call it a reward for demonstrated excellence.”

“Yeah.” Ipqen lets out a sigh through her nostrils. “Yeah, uh. Look, Gran—Majesty. Ruaq’s just being a little shit on account of we’ve been talking lately about the whole servant thing.”

“Won’t be long until we can get that bracelet off her, you know.”

“Not mine. I’m all good.” Ruaq shakes her head. “Ipqen’s.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve decided… I’m okay with the servant word,” Ipqen says. “Don’t love it, but it is what it is, and it’s a nicer sounding word in Taiikari, anyway. Thing is I don’t think—” She leans closer and drops her voice. “I don’t think I can stand being the servant to the fuckin’ Empress.”

“I had the same crisis, Ipqen. Trust me. What I do is consider myself a servant of Sykora’s instead. She’s—”

“I’m your servant, Grant.” Ipqen stares solemnly down her snout at him. “That’s what I’m trying to say. Eqt love Sykora, but she doesn’t get it. You do.”

“You feel that burden?”

“I do.”

“All right, man.” She punches him on the shoulder. “Use me right.”

Sykora has taken her place at the front of the caskets. Her arms are laced tightly behind her back. Her chin is high. “Glory to Lieutenant Suthuk of the Black Pike,” she says.

“Glory to Suthuk,” they echo.

“Glory to Gefreiter Reina of the Black Pike.”

“Glory to Reina,” they say, and Kamen’s cracked voice joins the chorus.

“Glory to Corporal Tarsi of the Black Pike.”

“Glory to Tarsi.”

“Glory to Lance Corporal Varkori of the Black Pike.”

“Glory to Varkori.”

“Their duty is discharged. We who remain in the safety for which they gave their lives praise their valor and petition their gods to do the same. May Suthuk, Reina, and Tarsi be sung and celebrated and joyfully received in the Heavenly Court of Empresses Past. May Varkori drift in peace within the Eye of the Renewing Storm, awaiting the day its rains bring paradise to this realm.” She turns to face the vast firmament before the silent coffins. She fires her fist into the sky. “Pike’s up.”

“Pike’s up,” they thunder behind her.

Sykora lets her hand fall forward. That same polar chill Grant felt before washes over him again; he watches the coffins drift out into the firmament, tracking their shapes against the aquamarine orb they died over, until they’re dwindling dots in the infinite void. And seconds later he can’t see them at all.

https://www.scribblehub.com/read/1419041...r/2013562/
https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/120617...orous-dead