The characters you know are owned by George Lucas, all others are property of the Author.
Loss
The thoughts of some future Rogue, standing at the Rogue Memorial
on Coruscant
So this is what it means to be a hero.
A static holo, and a list of accomplishments. Some of them are even
short lists.
How can this capture you? All of you, who were so vibrant with life,
once?
How do I know? I never knew you. But you were Rogues. That's enough for me.
Did you know it would come down to this?
I guess some of you never expected this much. You early ones—there
was so little for you to look forward to, then.
Those fresh recruits in the cantina last night—how vibrant, how full
of life!—What were they drinking to? Death, life, or glory?
How young they are! (Was I that young, when I was their age?) They
don't understand.
Do they want to be heroes?
Do they want to come to this?
Did you?
Did you ever think, This may be my last hand of sabacc?
Or, This is my last mug of lum? Or sip of caf?
Last call, last dance, last kiss?
Did you hold on to life more tightly because you knew it might be snatched
away?
Did it make it easier to give it up?
What does it feel like to die?
Were you afraid when your time came, or was it over so quickly you
hadn't time to notice?
What's it like to explode?
What's it like to be vaporized in an instant?
What's the sound of all your bones smashed at once?
What does hard vacuum taste like?
Were you surprised?
Did it hurt?
What right did the Republic have to ask so much of you? Or the Alliance
before that?
They needed. So did your families, your friends.
Who had the greater claim?
Here on my left, a woman, silent tears on her cheeks.
Who is she? Sister, wife, daughter, friend?
Over there, the older couple, walking hand in hand, talking quietly
with solemn faces. Parents, maybe.
Congratulations, your child is a hero.
Do they understand, the ones left behind?
Is a static hologram and the title of Hero enough to compensate their
loss?
How much do we owe in debts we can't pay?
Why did you do it? Why risk so much?
Ah, here come the answers. For duty. For honor.
Is that a senator, showing off the Heroes of the Republic to some rich
constituent or other?
Or maybe a bureaucrat. Or diplomat. Someone important. The galaxy spins
around him, I can tell.
I hear those words on his lips. Duty. Honor. I'm going to be sick if
he says them again.
Quick, turn and walk before you do something you'll regret. Something
dishonorable.
This is better. A group of kids
Probably on holiday, or a trip from school
Wide-eyed, come to look at the heroes.
Here you go, kids. This is what heroes are all about.
A static holo and a—stop it.
How young they are! (Was I ever that young?)
How vibrant, how full of life!
How to make them understand?
How to tell them that these died to give them a chance,
To grow up, to live,
To learn about things like duty. And honor.
About freedom, and peace. And their price.
Expensive gifts.
Maybe they'll take better care of them this time.
None of you wanted to be heroes.
None of you wanted to be reduced to this.
But you did. You gave your lives, your skills,
And when nothing else would serve, your deaths
Because there was nothing else. Because someone had to, and you did.
And so will I.