cityship: (Stacy--Actual Face)
cityship ([personal profile] cityship) wrote in [community profile] trans_92009-11-16 05:28 pm

The Funeral

Everyone's had a chance to recover somewhat, to stop reeling or at least try. Now that people are at least somewhat closer to being on balance again, it's time to say goodbye.

There is a message throughout the ship, one tinged with sadness:

||Attention, crew. Those who wish to attend the funeral services for the crew-mates that died during the conflict should report to Obs Deck immediately. Services will begin in approximately a thirty Earth standard minutes.||

The floor of the Obs Deck shifts to allow lifts to come up through it. Tubes connect from the space there to the hatches that suddenly appear between the windows, giving something of an impression that the closed caskets are missiles about to be shot through a missile tube. The funeral pods themselves have clear round domes in them--some of the people that died more peacefully are visible, looking as if they're sleeping. Most, however, were killed in a way that would make them appear less than presentable, so in their funeral pods only the vaguest outlines of humanoid forms can be made out. Some have entirely closed pods or were vaporized and thus, only have a funeral pod there to represent them.

The ship lurches lightly as it comes to a stop to a random universe, but where it's stopped at is beautiful to behold. They are in the middle of a nebula, surrounded by red and blue plasma. Several new stars burn brightly, here, and they are stopped near one, just short of being sucked in by its gravitational pull. It's a red dwarf, small and faint and new, but its light is welcoming. Here, where the very fires of creation burn, and stars are born is the last place the dead will be sent.

[ooc: Instruction thingies]
morphitudinous: (Serious)

[personal profile] morphitudinous 2009-11-17 09:53 pm (UTC)(link)
This massacre is still a new concept for Billy. Intellectually, of course, he had always known that wars involved the slaughter of hordes upon hordes of innocents. But it hadn't been real, not even when his Zord had been thrown into buildings in Angel Grove's office district. Somehow, they had always evacuated the buildings. Somehow, they had always saved the trapped parents.

Not this time. They'd been completely powerless to stop HAL from infecting these masses of innocent people and ending their journeys aboard Stacy before they began.

For now, his face is frozen solid as he watches the launches in silence. Part of him is angry at the injustice that no loved ones are here to mourn their losses, but the dominant part is grateful that his dear friends are still sleeping. The whole affair is tragic, but the last of his grief remains bottled inside. Because the hardest goodbye is yet to come.

He won't cry. Not yet.