Author Note: This is kind of…random. I've actually had this on my computer for quite some time (ever since I read Tank 5), but I decided to bring it out, polish it up a bit, and send it in. As always, constructive criticism is appreciated.

Summary: Did you ever notice that there was someone missing from the pictures of Ernest's funeral?
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Obsequies
By Kaitou Magician


Space--it was once called the final frontier, once thought of as the final mystery. Men spent their lives dreaming of reaching it while standing on the ground. How ironic, that men now should dream of reaching the ground from their position in space.

Space--it was the cause of all of this misery, all of this pain. People were never meant to life in the cold, harsh reaches of the universe. Humans are creatures of the world, desperately needing the reassuring safety of the planet. Without it, they are lost.

Space cannot accommodate people. The dark sky, which has intrigued humans so, was merely a desolate wasteland, inhospitable to the human race. The endless reaches, which had offered infinite possibilities, was deprived of the oxygen and other necessities people need.

Space is the eternal graveyard.

It was folly that brought them to space, folly that created Lost Property. Steps blindly taken towards a goal they couldn't begin to grasp the consequences of. Even after all of the inventions, all of the discoveries, humans were as blind to the truth as ever--maybe even more so then before.

Nevertheless, humans, in their usual way, persevered. They constructed synthetic worlds called colonies, carefully breeding the few remaining plants so that they would not become extinct. All this, however, was not enough. It would never be enough.

Then an enemy arrived, and the human race battled for the right to live on the last planet. A right they had always taken for granted, they were now forced to fight for. They set their sights on the goal, never stopping to wonder what the cost might be of attaining it. And they would continue to do so until the end of time. For humans are never complete without a home.

~*~

Silence filled the room. It penetrated through the walls and barriers, space's constant reminder of their intrusion. It brought with it the unspoken promise of death to all who were caught unaware, and the knowledge that they were not where they belonged.

Silence was the only aspect of space that Yu could possibly enjoy. While many found the stillness oppressive, Yu found that the lack of noise allowed for more peaceful meditation. It allowed for reflection and contemplation in a time where fighting and dying was becoming commonplace.

Ernest.

For a second, Yu allowed his thoughts to rest upon his fallen comrade. Allowed his memory to take control, and bring to the forefront the few, precious moments they had spent together. In retrospect, it seemed that perhaps he had worn his mask of indifference too well, had maintained his pauciloquent policy too much.

However, there was no time for regrets, no time for deliberation. He had chosen his course, his path, long ago, and he would not stray from it, even now. There was far too much at stake. There was honor at stake.

However, even the silence of space could not swallow all of the small, foreground sounds of sorrow. Yu could hear Rio's muffled sobs, could hear the sandy-haired pilot try in vain to suppress them by covering his mouth with his hand. He could feel Garu's grief, could feel the way the green-haired pilot tried to stifle his sadness, and hold back the flood of tears. Yu did not look back to see how the Repairers were dealing with this sorrowful event. It was painfully obvious that their expressions would show their varying levels of regret and acceptance. He was surprised that Tune was not crying aloud for this loss would have hit her the hardest.

In a calm voice, Kuro called for the final salute. There was no long ceremony, or large farewell. No fanfare to pronounce that the departed had sacrificed his life for the sake of humanity. There was only silence as, hand over heart, the pilots and their repairers watched a plain coffin discharged into the vast recesses of space.

And, for one moment, Yu hated the silence. Hated the lack of natural, comforting background noises life brought with it. And then, the moment passed.

Walking out of the vaulted room, Yu wondered where Teela was.

~*~

She stood alone, staring blindly up at the ceiling far above. Hours before, the Victim battle had ended. Hours before that the funeral of Luhma Klein's pilot, Ernest Cuore, had taken place. She had not come to the funeral. She had been forbidden to come.

Teela turned her gaze from the ceiling to the airlock, which, hours before, had released the body of Ernest Cuore into the grasp of space. She could see the funeral ceremony in her mind, could mentally judge the various reactions the other pilots and repairers would have had. After all, she had been to plenty of funerals before.

She walked forward, steps echoing in the empty room. Finally, she came to a stop, taking her place in the line of pilots.

"I'm sorry." The words reverberated in the still air. Teela closed her mouth abruptly, mentally cursing herself for her momentary lack of control. The dead could not listen, and she did not want others to overhear her thoughts.

She closed her eyes, mentally composing her next words. The dead deserved the truth. Even if they were beyond her reach.

I'm sorry I could not save you.

A simple phrase, repeated at each of these funerals. She had not realized what was happening until it had been too late, but she still held herself partially responsible. She should have been able to help him. She should have been able to help all of them.

When I first came to help all of you, I thought it would be a fairly simple task. You see, I didn't know much of what was happening beyond my borders, I didn't know that She was involved, and…

No. That sounded too much like an excuse. Too much like a justification.

When I was first called, I thought of humans as inferiors, as if I was some magnanimous savior here to deliver you all from your plight.

Her hand clenched tightly together, creating the sensation of flesh on flesh; her hair fell forward to gently brush her cheek. This body had so many limitations, so many boundaries--even for her. Sometimes she could not understand how humans got through life, so disconnected from the flow of the galaxy.

I was wrong. Humans are far stronger than their forms reveal. There is something…indomitable in your spirits; something which allows you to risk everything for a dream or an ideal.

She had seen the death toll first hand, had watched as hundreds of young men's coffins were lost to the recesses of space. And still, they had never wavered, never lost their determination and willingness to battle the Victim. They had won her utmost respect and admiration.

Because of this, I promise you that I will see this fight through to the end. No matter what form I am forced to take, I will fight to the day that humanity defeats the Victim once and for all.

And now came the hard part, the final truth to be revealed.

Because, you see, I am-

"Every time, it is the same." The voice, though quiet, echoed through the large room. Interrupted from her thoughts, Teela turned to face the intruder who dared to intrude upon her.

"Kuro." The word was more out of recognition than greeting. The Observer, however, took it for the same. He walked forward to stand next to her.

"Every funeral is the same. You come here afterwards to make admissions to the departed, and still I do not have a satisfactory reason as to why."

"I told you, one should not go to the grave with lies."

"However, you also told me that even you do not know if the dead can be reached by the living; that even your abilities cannot touch them."

"It does not matter. Sometimes the process is as important as the result. Besides, if you would allow me to come to the funerals, perhaps I would not feel the need to spend this late hour here." There was a faint tone of accusation in her last statement.

"You know I can't." His tone was soft, and his eyes were filled with gentle compassion. She turned away from a gaze that looked so much like pity.

A memory flashed in her mind. A moment of weakness caught and found out, a moment of darkness and tears. A moment forever condemning her to this late hour and empty room.

"That was long ago," Teela replied, "before the change in procedure, when the departed were given the funeral they deserved." Kuro's eyes took on the glint of understanding.

"That had nothing to do with you. The old funeral procession was a relic of the worlds destroyed in Lost Property. It was dragged out the death for far too long for everyone, not just you. This way is much better. For everyone involved."

"Still-"

"No." Kuro's voice was gentle, but firm. Seeing the slight sadness, which slipped past Teela's defenses and shone in her eyes, Kuro felt himself relent.

Teela heard the quiet footsteps as Kuro walked away. In her mind, she could see Kuro's next, predictable moves: he would walk to the door, pausing only to call her to follow, and she would come as she had so many times before; leaving those last words unsaid.

"Final salute."

Startled, Teela turned to see Kuro standing at his post for funerals in the traditional salute of hand over heart. Meeting his gaze, she felt a flood of warm understanding. A slight smile on her lips to show her thanks, Teela turned back to the airlock, and mirrored Kuro's pose. Silence reigned in the vast room.

I promise…

Teela heard Kuro's footsteps once again, signaling it was finally time to leave. She turned, obediently following Kuro to the exit. In the doorway, she paused one last time to view the empty room.

…and a goddess's promise is forever.

The door closed, sealing the room until the next corpse was brought to its interior. A slight hiss locked the door, and the secrets of the dead with it.