Trip stared down wordlessly at the corpse. He made no sound except the soft sobs that escaped his mouth. Tears trickled down his face, landing with small splashes in the expanding puddle of blood. Which he vaguely realized he was kneeling in, but made no effort to stand up, to move away from the horrible image before him. He had lost lives under his command before, hell, all of Earth had been destroyed and all he could do was watch. But this, nothing like this. He had never held a person while they died, had felt their heart stop beating, looked on as life was sucked away, and had been helpless to do a goddamned thing about it.
And Hoshi, why Hoshi? Why the hell had she lost her life, just to save his?
The tears began to blur his vision, he swayed nauseously. No! He wouldn't allow himself to pass out. He steadied, only one thought on his mind. He was going to kill the sons of bitches who did this, he was going to torture them and he was going laugh while he did it. He gripped the console, knuckles bright white, as he pulled himself up, staggering.
"Captain".
And then it all came back into focus. And the current thing occupying his mind, was a sense of urgency to up and leave.
"Tavis, do we still have warp?"
Thankfully that particular console was still functioning. And the Ensign jumped at the chance to leave before more raiders came aboard.
"Yes Sir, engines are both in working condition".
Trip nodded. "Then put'em to some good use and get us the hell out of here."
"Engage on your orders Captain".
Trip spared another look at the pirate's vessel. Damn! He really wished he had some photon torpedoes.
"Warp 3 Ensign, Engage"…
The service was held in the armory, where Hoshi Sato's cold, lifeless body was to be found in the hollowed casing of a photon torpedo. The words droned on, a list of her life's achievements, her service to Starfleet, to Earth. And in spite of these awards, these accomplishments, it was empty. The words issued from the Captain's mouth were mere statements. They may list her actions, her greatest moments, but in the end they were cold, impersonal, statements. Her spirit, her liveliness, none of it was conveyed in his speech, and he doubted it ever could be. His words finished, there was no music to send her off. The torpedo slid slowly along the rails, before the button was pressed, sending Hoshi Sato into the oblivion of space.