She looked to the mourners. Aer'La stood between Metcalfe and Cernaq, on one side of a table which has been dressed as a sacred space. On it stood a crystal bowl and a lone candle, for there was no body, no artifact, to represent the honored dead. On the other side of the table stood Atal, Carson and Kaya. Each held a goblet of wine.
"The spirit remains. It is tied to the body. It begs release. The tie to the flesh can be painful. Often the parting is traumatic. The living must ease this departure. If the spirit is tied to another spirit, as this one is, it can be torn between its own body, and that other spirit.
"Aer'La," said Celia gently, "speak to your dead. He is here. He could not leave without your release. Tell him what you need to tell him. Help him on his passage."
Aer'La stepped forward, looking uncertain. She took Cernaq and Metcalfe's hands and squeezed them, possibly harder than she meant to. Neither complained. Falteringly, her voice rough from holding back tears, she said:
"Druberj... I... want to thank you... for loving me. I didn't know people could be happy. You taught me that. I think... you could have taught me so much more. For years now, I've remembered your death. I've thought about the person who caused it. I've wanted to kill him..." She paused. Beyond her control, the tears began to slide down her cheeks. She ignored them. "I had that chance yesterday...
"But I know it wouldn't have brought you back. Revenge... I thought that's what you deserved. But... see, you gave me a gift. Freedom. Without you, I wouldn't have it. If I'd killed Harl, I'd have given it up. I think... I think that's not what you would have wanted. I think you would have wanted to know, Dru... I've found Freedom. It's real. It's full of people that... that I love..." Her chest heaved. She choked down a sob. "... like I love you. I always will, and..."
After a time, Celia thought it was clear Aer'La would say no more. She spoke the closing words:
"Journey on now, Druberj. We will follow you, in time. Although we didn't know you in this life, you are now our loved one, our dead, as you are Aer'La's. For she is ours. You will be born again. We ask that it be in the same time and place as those who now stand to ease your passing. We wish to know you. We wish to love you again."
She picked up her goblet from a side table. As previously instructed, each of the Arbiters in turn raised theirs to their lips, drank, and poured the remainder into the bowl on the table. Celia did this last, then set down her goblet and went to take Aer'La's hands.
"He is free now. In a way we don't understand, he will at once be with you, and beyond. He feels no pain, but he does feel your love."
Aer'La nodded and squeezed Celia's hand. Cernaq led her off the promenade, into the Captain's office.
"So," Atal said quietly. "That's your people's funeral service."
"Not really. Mr. Metcalfe and I adapted it. This was all his idea."
"No one should die without a funeral," Metcalfe said. "It's inhuman."
"Well, non-sentient, anyway," said Celia. "Come, now. We'll have a meal, and share stories. We didn't know Druberj, but it's appropriate to remember those who touched our lives, as he touched Aer'La's." She stopped and lit the candle. "It burns as we leave the sacred space. The wine remains to represent the nourishment the departed spirit receives from our spirits. The flame lingers, as the spirit does. One more light, burning amongst all the lights in space."
"And standing on its own," observed Atal. "Burning unhidden and unafraid."
"Why, Captain! How poetic."
Atal cleared his throat.
"He used to write sonnets to my mother," said Kaya in a stage whisper. "I've saved copies."
"Demon child," Atal muttered. "I should have drowned you at birth."
"You'd have died of boredom, Daddy, and you know it."
"There are worse fates."
"Speaking of worse fates," said Metcalfe, "do you suppose Harl's finally met his by now?"
"By rights – and Varthan tradition – he should have been killed by now," said Atal. "Crafty as he is though, he may have found a way to survive. I don't think he'll bother us, though. Aer'La will make short work of him if he does. I don't have time to care about him, though. It's more important to me that we're all alive, and, finally, we're all free."
###
Steven H. Wilson has written for Starlog, DC Comics Star Trek classic and Warlord series, and, most recently, served as principal writer and director for Prometheus Radio Theatre and publisher of Firebringer Press. His original science fiction series, The Arbiter Chronicles, currently boasting nineteen full-cast audio dramas and the novel Taken Liberty, has won the Mark Time Silver Award and the Parsec Award for Best Audio Drama (long form). His second novel, Peace Lord of the Red Planet, was released in 2010. As a podcaster, besides hosting the Prometheus Radio Theatre podcast, he has recorded Lester Del Rey’s Badge of Infamy for podiobooks.com, performed multiple roles in J. Daniel Sawyer’s production of Antithesis, and performed in Nobilis Reed’s presentation of Scouts. Active in science fiction fandom since 1984, he has written, drawn, edited and published fanzines, acted and directed with a comedy troupe, and served as a gopher, a con chair or a guest at roughly a hundred conventions. Wilson, who works as an IT manager, holds degrees from the University of Maryland College of Journalism and the Johns Hopkins University Whiting School of Engineering. He lives in Elkridge, MD with his wife Renee and sons Ethan and Christian.
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