The ceremony was sufficient. In recognition for his service, the guys up top had pulled out all the bells and whistles, even bringing some film crew. Most of Mjolnir not off base had come to attend, and they shared curt nods.
There were an unusual amount of people present, even under these circumstances, and it made Gus uncomfortable. A couple people, family most likely, came up and shook his hand, which made him even more uneasy. He wrote up a short, hollow speech about his flight leader on request of people there. It satisfied them, but to Gus it felt like bile rolling off his tongue, a careless affair.
They buried his empty coffin in some cold hole in the ground, near a withering oak tree. It had been raining before, a cold leaking drizzle from the sky, and the air was humid. He paid his respects shortly and left.
Another service was held some time later, for the rest of the base casualties whose bodies were not recovered. They had a list of names, two actually, on the rear chamber wall. Pagodin and Ralph were on there. Just names on a list now, lost to time. A growing feeling of disgust with the process made it intolerable to stay a moment longer.
It would be a couple more melancholy days before the rest of the squad returned from their leave.
Poll