by Nick Cole
We do. We will remember who he was. Who they were. Even if no one ever does. Even if some young girl doesn’t care if you died both bravely, and badly, on a foreign world. For your brothers. Even if you were brave at the last, when it was most needed.
Who was he, Sergeant? asked Preacher for the last time.
“He was Strange Company. He was one of us.”
The End
Epilogue
Two weeks out from Crash, we’re heading into the coffins aboard the Spider for the long cryosleep to Blackrock. The Monarch took the dropship after we docked. Disengaging in the middle of a running fight with Monarch interceptors swarming all quarters. Her job was done.
She took the Little Girl.
On purpose? I don’t know.
Or just because everyone had forgotten our youngest and tiniest company member in the mad dash to disembark and get the wounded onto the Spider during hard dock.
I guess she, the Seeker, didn’t want to stick around and find out how disappointed we’d be when it turned out our mem was worthless now that she’d uploaded the doomsday algo that had destroyed the Monarchs two thousand years from now. Decided to get it done sooner than later. For freedom, or something…
Or maybe she had other things to do.
We’d find out in twenty-five years.
We already knew our mem was worthless. The markets were collapsing while we were still under boost thrust away from war-torn Crash.
I got a letter while I was planetside during the whole war on Crash. Came to me, but I usually don’t forward mail down-planet so I can focus on what needs to be done while we’re operating.
It was a reply to one I had written before we were planetside. A letter I had written and sent before the war.
I’d written the Falmorian party girl I’d spent the evening with. The one who had asked me if there were regrets.
I told her my answer because I’d been thinking about it ever since.
Told her yes, there were regrets. And that somehow, she was a regret to me. That I wished I’d stayed. Gotten to know her. I told her I knew I was being silly. And I understood if she didn’t even remember me. I was no one. Just some tired soldier who had felt something that evening. Something missing. Something much needed.
She wrote back.
One line from across the stars.
Yes. I remember you, estrangier.