Keryn knew that she should be there, among the workers clearing away the debris and remains of the pilots. It had been days since the end of the battle and nearly every other pilot had contributed to the cleanup efforts. A couple times she had made it as far as one of the clear glass windows that overlooked the hangar bay before her heart lurched and a deep pain stung her in the emptiness in her chest. In the end, she had invariably turned around and returned to her quarters.
She had been hailed a hero, both for destroying an entire Terran Squadron and single-handedly decimating a Destroyer. But Keryn didn’t feel much like a hero. She smiled amicably when others stopped her in the hall or asked to sit with her at the mess hall, but conversation was always light and she left them bewildered, unsure of how to take her aloof attitude. For Keryn, it was a time of soul searching, though she still remained unsure of what, exactly, she was searching for. Her soul was incomplete, having been torn apart by her own actions.
Mostly, though, Keryn spent her time avoided Yen Xiao. She had changed her routine to avoid him; going to meals earlier or later and working out in the middle of the night. He had knocked on her door a few times and had called more times than she cared to count. Eventually, she had simply deactivated her messaging service so that she wouldn’t have to listen to his concerned and upset messages. His messages had pained her as well, knowing that she was intentionally hurting him. Keryn knew that he loved her just as she loved him, but until she could find her own way and purpose, she couldn’t imagine herself spending time with Yen.
The ache in her chest was from more than just the loss of the Voice and her distancing from Yen. Many of her fellow pilots were now dead, Squadron Commander Garrix among them. While leading the Squadron against the Terrans, his Duun fighter had been struck by a plasma rocket and obliterated. There was nothing left of Garrix to bury. His memorial had been one of dozens conducted over the past few days. Keryn had skipped most of them. There was nothing to say to all those soldiers and Crewmen who had sacrificed their lives during the first real war between the Terran Empire and the Alliance in over one hundred years. They were the true heroes, Keryn knew. And it was that knowledge that made it difficult for her to accept when others called her a hero.
Standing in front of the mirror, Keryn adjusted her dress uniform and looked at her own reflection. She kept waiting for the reflection to move; to speak as the Voice had done in her vision. In some ways, Keryn wished it would move. Though she hated herself for admitting it, she felt a little lost without the constant criticisms and compliments of the Voice. But her reflection never waivered. It was just her own image she saw. The bruising under her eyes from lack of sleep and deathly pallor that had settled over her tan skin were only the beginnings of the physical manifestations of her inner turmoil.
Taking a deep breath, Keryn looked at herself once more in the mirror. The medals she had been awarded for her actions during the battle gleamed upon her chest, though she found their sparkle a little depressing. Finally, she understood what a fellow pilot had told her after her brother’s memorial service. After Eza had been posthumously awarded the Alliance Service Cross, Keryn had been telling the story of how he had earned the medal. A pilot had corrected her, letting her know that medals like that weren’t awarded, they were received. She hadn’t understood the difference then, but she found herself understanding now. A person was awarded a medal for performing admirably, either in combat or in peace time. But what was admirable about killing thousands of Terrans in a single attack? No, Keryn hadn’t been awarded her medals, she had simply received them.
And now, she realized as she stood in front of the mirror, the list of decorations that she would receive would grow by one, though this one carried with it a much bigger burden. As she walked out of the room, Keryn tried to remember any vignettes of wisdom that Squadron Commander Garrix might have imparted before his untimely death. Frowning, she realized that she couldn’t remember any. She hadn’t known him long enough for him to impart his wisdom. Turning off the lights, Keryn knew that she would soon be struggling to figure out the job on her own as she assumed the mantle of Squadron Commander for the Revolution.
Almost none of the pilots on the Revolution had been battle tested prior to the conflict with the invading Terran Fleet. Through her actions, or rather through the actions of the Voice, Keryn had become a hero and established herself as the premier pilot on board. Had she thought about it earlier, she would have realized that she was a natural selection for the position. But she felt like a fraud. It hadn’t been her that had performed those amazing feats of aerial acrobatics. They were assigning her to the role of Squadron Commander under false pretenses, yet she had never taken the time to correct their mistake. She would do her best to fill the role, though the threat of failure loomed ever-present over her shoulder.
The walk through the Revolution to the auditorium where her promotion ceremony would be held was a startling trip for Keryn. The interior of the ship had fared little better than the exterior. When she had first come aboard, the Revolution had been pristine. Now, around her the walls were buckled from unseen explosions. Black soot coated the walls from distant fires, spreading their dark marks across the walls like a drop of blood in water. In parts of the ship, electrical wires hung from the ceiling where workers slaved to restore power to damaged sections.
Entering one of the only operational lifts on the Revolution, Keryn pressed the button for the correct floor and leaned her head against the cool interior wall of the elevator. She had tried to come up with a memorable speech, but everything she wrote felt trite. Hoping to make up her speech in the heat of the moment, Keryn now worried that, possibly, that decision had been a mistake. Weariness crept into her thoughts, leaving them muddled and unclear. When it came time for her to speak, Keryn wasn’t sure if she’d be able to say little more than a polite “thank you” before departing the stage as quickly as possible. Smiling softly, though the humor did not reach her eyes, Keryn thought that exiting the stage quickly might not be a bad idea. At least her promotion would be memorable.
As the lift doors opened, Keryn walked the short distance down the hall to the large double doors that would lead to the auditorium. An honor guard had been posted in the hall and they nodded politely as they opened the doors. Very little noise escaped the auditorium, though Keryn quickly surmised that it was due to a subdued mood in the room rather than a lack of audience members. In fact, Keryn realized with a start, the room was nearly packed with pilots, soldiers, and Crewmen. In her mind, the ceremony was going to be a low-key event, attended only by those with directly vested interests in her promotion. Instead, a hundred sets of eyes turned to observe her entrance.