For Those Among Us
The plasma coolant leak spilled forth like a small fountain. Greenish-blue liquid streamed over the floor panels as the rupture in the coolant line grew bigger from the pressure. The liquid sizzled as it hit the panels, even scorching it in places. Obviously the plasma was too hot to be cooled the way it was supposed to be, and thus the coolant itself was now scalding hot. Such was the plight of a ship using as much power and running as hot as this ship was. With several dozen turbolaser batteries firing all at once, not to mention the other defensive and offensive systems all running at the same time, the ship was overloading.
Mon Calamari cruisers were beautiful to look at, and dangerous when necessary, but were not meant to be full-on war ships. Even though they were the biggest ships in the Rebel fleet, Mon Cal cruisers were organically grown and later implemented with man made technology. Thusly they were almost a living thing. And as with all living things, they had a limit. Mon Cal cruisers had a reputation of being tough, but most of that was due to the redundant systems installed, and the efforts of its crew. However, despite the best efforts of the best mechanics and technicians in the Alliance, this particular cruiser was not going to last the whole fight. At least not if the fight lasted much longer.
One of those aforementioned technicians was Gruul Pendar. A human male from the prison world of Kessel. Having been born and bred on a worthless rock such as that, many people believed him to be a low life, a criminal, or worse. In fact, the exact opposite was true. Granted he had been the child of two prisoners who found too much time on their hands during an attempted escape, but Gruul was in no way criminal. Unless of course you counted the fact that he was a part of an illegal uprising against the commonly excepted government of the galaxy. But hey, he didn't count that.
Gruul got away from Kessel at a young age. His aptitude for fixing things and his empathy-like understanding of machines, made him a valuable person to have around. The foreman of the mechanical team at the mines on Kessel originally discovered Gruul. The foreman found him one day making small mining robots out of spare parts. When asked why he was doing such a thing, young Gruul said it was to help his parents in the mines. When told that his parents were criminals and that they had to mine the hard way, Gruul simply shrugged and kept the tiny droids as pets. Never having really known his parents, Gruul thought it would have been a nice present for them the day that he finally got to meet them. No one told him that his parents both had a life sentence and that he would in fact never get to see them.
Children born on Kessel, especially those of prisoners, are kept in a makeshift daycare and orphanage until the day they are able to make it on their own. That day for Gruul came nearly 8 years after his parents had both died in the mines. Not that they were that old, but the life expectancy for anyone working in the mines, even the hardiest of races, is no more than 25 years. Gruul's father was beaten to death by an overzealous guard and his mother killer herself shortly after by flinging herself over the edge of an elevator transport descending into the depths of the mines. Neither incident was reported to Gruul, and he kept believing that one day he would get to see them. Then, one day without warning, he was loaded on to a shuttle and shipped off to the Imperial Academy.
This development, in and of itself, didn't really bother Gruul. He was always an easy going person and when they told him he was going to a place where his talents would be best used, he went along with it. Anything was better than the dreadful boringness of the Kessel orphanage. On the ship ride to the Academy, Gruul found himself looking forward to a whole new life. He would miss the parents he had never even gotten to meet, but figured that all children left the nest eventually. He thought that maybe if he did well enough, he might one day even be able to buy his parents freedom.
Thoughts of his parents drifted to the back of his mind as the years through the Academy came and went. He excelled in every scientific, mechanical, technical, or mathematical field that his instructors could put in front of him. Graduating at the top of his class, Gruul was on his way to a bright future in the Imperial Military Research and Development Division. Then the day that Gruul never saw coming, happened.
Shortly after graduating and being accepted into the RD Division, Gruul took his first honestly earned amount of money and put it into an account. This account was to be used to fund the re-trial and subsequent "reversal" of his parents' sentences. Gruul knew that this supposed trial was nothing but a sham. His money would go straight into the pockets of the warden of the spice mines, a few false documents would be drawn up and his parents would be released into his custody. After taking the money and drawing up the papers, the warden came across the death certificates of Gruul's parents. Never having known them personally, the warden had no idea they were dead. He imparted this news to Gruul over a brief Holo-Net call. His compassion was nonexistent and of course his ability to render a refund was impaired due to the illegal manner in which the transaction had occurred. Gruul was left stunned and financially ruined, sitting alone in a dark room, staring at a blank vid-screen.
To say that that was the bottom of the barrel for Gruul would have been a mistake. After the revelation of his parents' deaths, Gruul never found the motivation he had had in the Academy. His work was shoddy and his effort was less than satisfactory for the RD Division, and so he was kicked out. Left to fend for himself amongst a rag-tag bunch of Academy rejects, all trying to reinsert themselves into the good graces of the Empire, Gruul never found his most gifted ways again.
Six months after realizing he would never again be the person he was, Gruul decided to make a clean break. He would leave Imperial service altogether and find himself a small out of the way life, somewhere else. The Empire had no use for those that didn't fit in and he was not met with any resistance. He even persuaded two of his fellow cast outs to go with him. A female Twi'lek named Bross Senjad, with bright yellow eyes and long bluish tinted head tails, and a human male named Gorin Surestride, well built and blonde despite a dark hue to his skin, were to be his companions on a quest to mediocrity and anonymity. They pooled what was left of their money, bought a small ship and set out.
The three made it to an Outer Rim planet called Tattooine first. It was only meant to be a layover, but during a particularly bad sandstorm the trio's small ship was blasted by enough sand as to render it nearly inoperable. Despite the mechanical wizardry the three were known for at times, they couldn't get it running again. So they decided to salvage as many functional parts as they could and set off to one of Tattooine's few settlements to see if they could trade for something else.
Trading was the name of the game in Mos Eisley. The Imperial credits used for most transactions in the Core worlds were no good this far out. After several attempts at bartering for a "new" ship, the small group of friends could not make it work. So they settled for trading off their parts for food and shelter. A family called the Darklighters took them in for awhile and gave them what they needed. Gruul, Bross and Gorin worked on the moisture farm for several weeks, until Gorin was approached by a man.
One night at an establishment in Mos Eisley, a tall dark haired man with a graying beard heard Gorin talking of the Rebellion against the Empire. Gorin had no love for either side, but was impressed with the small band of rebels' courage in taking on such a behemoth of an enemy. The tall man, hearing Gorin's admiration, mistook it for possible sympathy and approached the young mechanic. Without preamble, the mysterious man offered Gorin a chance to join the Rebels. All of this was done in whispers at a dark table in a dark corner of the cantina of course, but nonetheless caught Gorin's curiosity. He had no intention of going and fighting for a cause he considered futile, but the Rebel agent offered him transport off of Tattooine. Something Gorin and his two friends had been looking for for some time. Gorin assured the man he would talk to his friends and make a decision. The tall human, finally introducing himself as Yarro Dalen, told Gorin he would be back on Tattooine in three days time. Their further discussion was interrupted by a bizarre incident involving an old man and a younger boy fighting off some nasty looking alien low-lifes. With the threat of Imperial troopers coming to investigate, Yarro made himself scarce and suggested that Gorin do the same.
Gorin went back to his friends and told them of his encounter. Gruul was nonchalant at best, but Bross was enthusiastic. She was from a world much different from this one and the hot dry weather did not suit her. The three decided to try their luck with the Rebels. If nothing else, hopefully they could work long enough to buy, or if they had to, steal a ship and go about their lives as they had intended before they had been stranded on this desert world. All three said their goodbyes to their host family and made their way back to Mos Eisley three days later. Yarro Dalen was where he said he would be, but this time he was a good deal more agitated. The incident three days prior as well as a string of subsequent events had caused the Imperial garrison on Tattooine, and specifically at Mos Eisley to nearly double. Movement and freedoms in the small city were much more restricted. Dalen hurried them aboard his freighter and they soon took off from the landing pad and out into space.
Several hours of hyperspace travel took the foursome to a remote base in an unspecified system. At least it was unspecified to Gruul and his companions, as Dalen told them they didn't need to know. Landing in what appeared to be a small hangar built into the side of a gargantuan asteroid, Gruul, Bross, and Gorin found themselves, rushed off the ship and into the small office of Dalen's superior officer, Colonel Thigor.
Thigor was a slender man with a dark green eyes and rapidly receding salt and pepper hair. His features reminded Gruul of a Brek'thallian Murkstrider. Thigor wasted no time in informing the trio of what the Alliance was, what it was doing and what would be expected of them. Gorin seemed nonplussed, figuring the Alliance was just a smaller version of the Empire they had already left. Bross was optimistic but cautious of her new situation. Gruul just took in all in stride. Nearly unable to form normal human emotions, Gruul had become, since the day he learned that his parents were dead, a shade of a man. He was in no way unpleasant to be around or useless, he simply had no need for feelings that would just hurt him in the long run.
Thigor "interviewed" them separately and found that each one was a good fit for the Rebel Alliance in their own way. A smile, a handshake, and a signature on a form of intended service, and the three were on their way. They just weren't sure to where.
A month or two of training and another month of test runs on Alliance equipment brought the three up to speed on what they needed to know. During the same time, the three became closer than they had ever been. They hung around each other every chance they got and even though they were not all in the same exact unit, they saw a great deal of one another. The human feelings and emotions that Gruul had often put aside were starting to manifest themselves once again. In the form of infatuation. An infatuation with Bross Senjad to be exact. Despite their racial differences, Gruul could not help but be attracted to Bross's warm hearted personality and her exotic, but not unpleasing, physical form. He resisted the urge to tell her of his feelings, but never failed to find as much time to be with her as he could. Unfortunately, and unbeknownst to Gruul, Gorin had also formed similar feelings. He and Bross found even more time to be around each than did Gruul and Bross.
On the day that Gruul decided to tell Bross of his feelings for her, he thought he would be sneaky. He spent a tidy sum of money on some exotic flowers from her home world, and cooked up a small dinner for two. He used his "skills" to slice the security code on her door and crept into the darkened room. He closed the door behind him and quietly snuck into the living area. Noises from a side room attracted his attention. He tip toed over to the door and listened. When he could not make out the noises he opened the door manually, just a smidge. What he saw sent any feelings he had had spiraling down into an abyss from which he hoped they would never come back. Bross and Gorin were together in her bed. They did not see him and to his grave he would take what he saw and his feelings about the whole situation. Once again, Gruul found himself alone in the galaxy.
In the coming months, Gruul found himself coming up with excuses to not spend time with Gorin and especially not Bross. Not in the slightest bit suspicious of him, two months after Gruul had found them together, they professed their love for each other to Gruul. He played along and congratulated them and wished them a happy future. Not even a week later, he asked for a transfer and was on the first shuttle away from the only two people he had ever really known. They bid him farewell and wished him luck, but couldn't get the looks of confusion off their faces. Gruul had simply left. No reasons or apologies, he was just gone.
Gruul's life in his service to the Alliance was unspectacular. Nearly four years after he left Gorin and Bross, he had not achieved one single promotion or commendation. Nor had he received any reprimands or notes of misconduct. His record was unaffected by anything truly noteworthy in a good or bad way. Two years spent on a Rebel freighter shuttling refugees to and from various safe-houses. Five months spent rewiring an entire super computer network for a small covert Rebel base outside of an Imperial communications relay station on a backwater world he couldn't even remember the name of. Seven months serving as an assistant to the head mechanic on an Alliance gunship. And finally it was approaching a year where he was now, acting as a first officer to the Lead Technician on a Mon Calamari cruiser. But not just any Mon Cal cruiser, the lead Mon Cal cruiser. Home One.
Human technicians were rare aboard Mon Cal ships because of their unique mix of bio-organic technology and purely man made tech. Mon Cal technicians were the only ones who could fix the artificial parts and "tend" to the bio-organic parts. Gruul's unbelievable knowledge of all things mechanical gave him an upper hand however. His superior officer on board the Corellian gunship had recommended him for such a station. He had never done anything above and beyond the call of duty, but his effortless manipulation of all things mechanical not only made him a perfect choice, but also made his superior's work look shabby in comparison. Thus, Gruul was transferred and onboard his new home ship, before he could even say thank you. Not that he would have, as Gruul had kept his interaction with anything non-mechanical to a minimum ever since his departure from Bross and Gorin.
His new assignment was at the very least fascinating to him. Gruul found that the strange blend of technology on Mon Cal ships was something he could challenge himself with. Challenged was something he had not been since his days at Kessel first learning the ropes of all things machine like. He worked hard and found that he could adapt to what he needed to learn and to his new surroundings. At least to the technical part of his surroundings. He found himself pulling away from interaction with other living beings even more because of the fact that he was surrounded by aliens. He didn't really know anything about the Mon Calamari and the few humans that were on board as part of his team, made no real attempt to get to know him. He was…content.
Content, that is, until the day someone walked back into his life with a flourish. Sitting alone in his bunk, after his shift, a call sound came from his door. Before he could even mutter an entrance offer, the door retreated up into its recess and before him stood Bross Senjad. Stunned speechless, Gruul simply stared as Bross entered, gave him a brief hug and sat on the bunk at his feet. After uttering some semblance of a greeting, Gruul was regaled with tales of adventure, excitement and a life far more interesting than his. Bross had apparently used not only her talents and skills but her charms as well, to work her way up the ladder. She was now a Colonel, in charge of an entire technical platoon, and had her own ship. She had been in battles, saved people's lives, and had narrowly escaped herself from some cold weather world called Hoth, a place Gruul had never heard of.
Nearly an hour later, Bross blushed and bowed her head. She apologized for having talked for so long about herself and asked him of his own tales. When Gruul found the words, he also found that his life had been, well, boring. Not being able to think of anything exciting to tell her, he made a quick error in judgment and asked of Gorin. He realized his mistake nearly as quickly, as Bross's head dropped to her chest and her eyes closed. After several minutes of attempting to control herself, Bross opened her eyes and looked at Gruul. She then spent several more minutes telling him of Gorin's heroic sacrifice. He had become a soldier first and a mechanic second. This caught Gruul by surprise as Gorin had never been one for fighting, but according to Bross, Gorin eventually found that he was as adept with a blaster as he was with a hydrospanner. Because of this, he was thrust onto the frontlines to not only fight but to repair any battlefield equipment, actually on the battlefield.
One night during a raid on a small Imperial shipping post, Gorin and his unit were backing up an advance recon unit. The recon unit was discovered, attacked and nearly destroyed entirely if it hadn't been for Gorin and a few volunteers riding in on a large ground transport and giving cover fire as the remaining recon unit soldiers were loaded in. Gorin nearly made it himself until a random and rather unlucky artillery shell went off right next to the transport. Gorin had been the last one on that side to load up on the transport and therefore was the closest to the shell. A few hours later, he died in an emergency ward on board a medical freighter, from massive internal injuries.
Gruul had no idea what to say to his one time secret love interest. She cried while reciting the story and all he wanted to do, even after all those years, was to grab her and hold her. But he didn't do that as he eventually made up his mind that that would have been inappropriate. The look in Bross's eyes however, said exactly the opposite. She made no move towards him though, and after an awkward bit of silence, she looked at the floor one last time and then got up and excused herself. She left without looking back at him. Gruul felt badly for her, and in a way, that made him feel better. Maybe he could still have feelings without them turning on him. Maybe he could still have her.
Bross stayed on with Gruul's Mon Cal cruiser group. Her technical unit was assigned to maintain and repair all the ships and equipment for the Home One attack group. The reason for this reassignment was because the attack group had been designated as the primary spearhead on a special mission that had not even been named yet. Several weeks of special training and test scenarios gave Bross and Gruul plenty of time to see each other. Bross had asked that Gruul be given a special field commission to help her oversee the entire technical aspect of the setup phase for this mission. Gruul had not declined the offer, but he hadn't gone into it with much enthusiasm either. He had no idea how to act around Bross and he couldn't get any hints from her behavior either. However, the two of them coexisted well enough, that a new bond formed. Not that of friends, or lovers or even family, but one born out of mutual respect and admiration. One that allowed them to work together better than maybe any two people had ever worked before. Home One's battle group was more than ready, and before they knew it, the time for the mission came.
Gruul received his assignment at the same time Bross did. They did not receive the same one, however. Gruul was to stay on Home One and assist it's chief engineering officer, while Bross was to be the chief engineer on another of the attacking Mon Cal cruisers, in a different assault group. When they received their orders, they quietly looked at each other. Neither could bring themselves to say what needed to be said. Instead they both just slid effortlessly into each others arms, and held each other, for a long time. When they finally parted it was without words, but with looks. Each silently pleading the other to be careful, and promising that if they did reunite, that the recent embrace might turn into more. They then turned and walked to their respective assigned areas. Bross got on a shuttle to take her to her own attack group, and Gruul went to his quarters.
Nearly a week later, Home One and it's support ships, were gathered with every other attack group at a specified secret rendezvous point. Waiting for the go signal from someone named Landu or Landau or whatever, Gruul sat strapped into his seat amongst the other technicians, patiently waiting for something to break on board so that they could go fix it. A short period of time went by before they all felt the familiar pull into the backs of their seats as the hyperdrive engines kicked in. Gruul knew through the gossip mill that they were going to a place called Endor. He had no idea where that was, he only knew the story the Rebel leaders had given them. This was a very important mission that could spell the end of the Empire and bring freedom and blah blah. Gruul had heard the same speech dozens of times. But he had felt an air of anticipation and uncertainty all through the last week. This mission did feel different. He only hoped it didn't end any different than any of the others he had been on. The ship pulled again, this time the opposite way as the hyperdrive powered down and the sublight engines kicked in. Wherever Endor was, they were there.
A few brief moments passed and they all began to unbuckle themselves from their flight seats. This, however, was a bad idea, as the ship suddenly lurched to one side as it performed an evasive maneuver. Gruul was thrown to his seat again and he heard a warning klaxon sound over his head and throughout the ship. A battle stations call was sounded in Mon Cal speak and in Basic. Not long after other sounds came drifting down the hall. Sounds of turbolasers firing, of ion cannons going off, and of the shields absorbing damage. The sounds of battle.
Gruul finished sealing the ruptured plasma coolant conduit and sat back on his haunches. That had been a grueling, searing experience he hoped he would never have to repeat. Normally such tasks were given to lower ranking technicians, but they were mostly on other jobs, or dead. The battle outside was obviously not going well. This ship, his ship, Home One, was slowly falling apart. He stood and glanced out the transparisteel port next to the maintenance station he was at. Bross's ship was still to their starboard side, where it should be. He knew it was hers, not because he bothered to remember names, but because hers was the Mon Cal cruiser with the wings. It was also, in his opinion, the most beautiful to look at. He figured that seemed somehow appropriate since Bross was on board. Then he shook his head and looked down at the floor. That had sounded silly even in his own head. His thoughts were interrupted though, by a bright flash outside the porthole. It nearly blinded him and he had to turn around. After his vision cleared he turned back around to the view of the battle outside.
What he saw next produced an emotion he had never felt. At least not since he had found out about his parents, all those years ago. What he saw, was nothing. An empty space where Bross's ship should have been. Occasionally streaked by laser blasts or passing fighters, the space nonetheless was empty. No debris, no escape pods, not even the faintest hint that a ship, especially one of that size, had ever been there.
Gruul's brain couldn't process what his eyes were seeing. His mind swirled with all sorts of reasons why the ship could be gone. It deviated course, it began emergency maneuvers, or maybe his own ship had inverted and he wasn't even looking out the same side. Then the call came. A warning to all crew members to hold fast and prepare for more evasive maneuvers. The Death Star, whatever that was, had a fully operational weapon and had just blown their sister ship out of the sky. Their only choice was to go head on with a fleet of Star Destroyers behind them. Gruul only heard one part of that message. Then a wave of unavoidable grief washed over him. Tears formed in his eyes and he dropped to his knees. For the first time in his adult life, a real, honest, human emotion swept through him and he couldn't control it.
Several minutes passed before another warning came over the speaker. A major plasma conduit had ruptured next to the main engine. Not the coolant, but the actual super heated plasma was leaking out this time, and the engines were building to a critical state. Gruul pulled himself up and wiped the tears from his face. He had a job to do. It was the only thing he did well, and he knew it would take his mind off of Bross. Besides which he didn't really want to die.
Gruul Pendar made his way down the various hallways leading to the engine room. He ran at a pace that sent him whirling past several crew members, and sent a few others whirling themselves. When he reached the crossway section between two passageways and the hall to the main engine room, he was accosted by two Rebel marines who grabbed him before he could head into the hallway. He struggled against their grip before stopping to look up at one of them. The marine saw the anguish and determination in his eyes, as well as the technician's patch on his shoulder. The marine nodded to his comrade and they let him go without a word.
Rushing around the corner, Gruul was faced with a small contingent of technicians, soldiers, and officers. The techs were human but the rest were Mon Calamari. They were all staring through a tinted but transparent window into a room where a two thousand degree geyser went off every few seconds, from a rupture in a large conduit along the right wall. Gruul didn't even hesitate as he grabbed a pressure/heat resistant suit from an unaware tech and jumped into a revolving door next to another fully suited tech. The tech tried to push him out, but he hit the close button and sealed the outer door of the small antechamber. Not able to communicate through his suit, the tech gestured frantically. Gruul simply pointed to his tech's patch on his shoulder. A patch with two more stars on it than the other tech's patch had. He suited up quickly and turned to see the others. A larger Mon Cal with salmon colored skin and large yellowish eyes stared right back at him. He gestured for Gruul to exit the chamber, but Gruul stood his ground and shook his head. After a few moments more of staring at each other, the Mon Cal heaved a great sigh and looked down at the floor. Just as quickly he looked back up at Gruul and then snapped a salute. Gruul was at first stunned. No one had ever saluted him. He wasn't technically in the military. He clumsily returned the salute, eyeing all the people before him as he did so. With one last look at the Mon Cal officer he turned back towards the room and watched.
He counted nearly eight seconds between eruptions from the plasma conduit. That might give him enough time to reach the manual shut down of the conduit, but then he would have to reach the far computer panel and hope that it was still functional, so that he could reroute the flow of plasma. Otherwise another rupture would just happen somewhere else along the line as the pressure again built. He looked to his fellow tech and pointed at himself and then at the manual shut off valve. Then he pointed to the other tech and then the computer panel. The mechanic took a moment to understand what he meant, but then nodded his head. They looked at each other for a moment, before Gruul looked down and opened the seal on the inner door.
A blast of heat that made Tattooine seem as though it were an ice planet, hit Gruul and his companion. They stumbled back but stood their ground. Gruul waited for the wave to pass and then started counting, eight…seven… He ran for the shut off valve as the other tech made his way to the computer panel. The other tech frantically started pressing buttons as Gruul grabbed the manual shut off valve and turned. Only it didn't turn with him. It was nearly melted in place by the multiple blasts of super heated plasma it had sustained. He tried with all his strength to turn it, but to no avail. Three…two…He continued to yank on the valve even as the plasma once again started to surge from the rupture. Gruul averted his face and used all his weight to pull on the valve. A wave of pure super heated moisture hit him and the valve. It blasted through his suit and nearly knocked him unconscious just from the heat. He couldn't breath and he was sagging to his knees. The plasma however once again melted the valve a little, and with no immediate ability to cool off, the valve moved. It's liquidized outer metal allowed it to be pulled into the proper position. The plasma slowly abated and Gruul let go of the valve.
He slumped down against the wall and tried to breath but his lungs were fried. As was much of his body. Pain wasn't so much of an issue as was his determination to turn his head. He needed to see if the other tech had finished his job. Gruul lurched his head around and looked out the corner of his eye. The computer panel flashed green and the other tech slumped to the ground as well. He didn't seem injured so much as completely fatigued. Gruul tried to smile at him, but what was left of his face wouldn't let him. The tech stared at him wide eyed and didn't move. He saw out of the corner of his other eye a faint glimmer of the others standing outside cheering. He just couldn't figure out why they were all standing in darkness. Had the lights gone out? Then they were gone. He couldn't make out anything except the darkness and some pain. Then, as if some greater being had blown out a candle, there was nothing.
One week later, the souls of all those who had died during the Battle of Endor, both on the ground and in space, were laid to rest. A large contingent of people from every ship and unit in the Alliance attended. The ceremony was held in the largest cargo hold of Home One. The hangar was usually used to house a few squadrons of fighters, but they had been removed for this occasion. A solemn silence was held over most of the crowd. A few people crying or whispering could be heard, but nothing more.
Several high ranking officers spoke to the attendees about a great many things. From honor and duty, to the victory at Endor, to the coming struggles to remake a Republic. None of them spoke of individuals or certain events. They simply referred to the thousands of small draped burial containers on the hangar floor, as heroes. Men, women, and creatures from a dozen races that had no such distinctions, had lost their lives in the fight to destroy the Emperor, Darth Vader and the Death Star. Each person who spoke at the podium referred to them in the same way.
A list of names and ranks scrolled across large screens on either side of the hangar. Every confirmed casualty of the battle was listed there for all to see. More were being added even this long after the battle, and many people were afraid to look at it, in the fear that it might lead them to find a name of someone they knew but had not yet found. Alongside the screens were plaques, inscribed in some sort of precious metal from a world far, far away. Everyone who passed one had to stop and read it. One of the Rebel leaders from the battle even read it out loud during his time at the podium. The inscription had a different effect on each person who read it or heard it, but the overall meaning was clear.
For those among us who are heroes. For those among us who are not. For those among us who made the ultimate sacrifice. For those among us who will benefit from that sacrifice. For those among us who believe. For those among us who do not. For those among us who were once our brothers and sisters. For those among us who will be. For those among us…for those heroes who shall forever be among us…we hereby inscribe and dedicate this, to you.
End.
I would like to dedicate this to all the real heroes we have in the real world. Keep up the good work in the endeavor of your choosing, and never stop being heroic.
Let there always be heroes, fore on the day when there are no more, we shall all be lost.