In My High-Top Stetson Hat
In My High-Top Stetson Hat
Arc: Hammer and Anvil
Summary: Funeral services for Commodore Dante Claybourne, TCN.
Date: 2658.244
Related Logs: None
Participants: Marakov Nucefora Victoria Maximilian Raine Paz Draygo Kayly Walsh James

Open to space on three sides, the flight deck provides space for returning craft to properly align themselves and engage the landing tractor beams. The beams themselves are generated from a series of emitters starting at the front edge of the deck, and ending about halfway to the recovery deck entrance - the closest to the ship they can still safely slow a fighter for landing. Bright red numbers halfway down the deck bear the carrier's hull code: 22, as well as serving as a visual reference for when a pilot needs to engage the beams or abort for another pass.

It's quite the view out here on the flight deck of the Majestic… the walls of the flight deck opening out into space, with a scattering of thousands of stars for a ceiling and a few of the larger asteroids from the system's belt visible in the distance immediately ahead of the stopped carrier. Of course, it would probably be more enjoyable if it wasn't for the rather dreary occasion that brings the Confederation officers to be standing here in neat rows, almost indistinguishable at a distance in their space suits. A single sleek black casing stands in front of the formation, closed, but containing the remains of the Majestic's former commanding officer. Behind it stands a lone individual in a TCN-issue space suit with no other markings visible. The just-arrived Admiral Marakov.

Captain Maximilian Barta stands with the men and women of the 221st, his space suit scarred and bruised with the injuries of long service. He's done his best, but the old man has an old suit, and the scrapes and dings on the material stand out in contrast to the sombre formality of the occasion.
What saves it from looking almost disrespectful is the attitude of the Captain himself. Maximilian stands absolutely ram-rod straight, the middle-aged fighter pilot's face a mask of granite, gazing off towards the service. His expression could not be sharper if it was forged from tempered steel. This is a man who's lost quite a few pilots, quite a few superior officers, and quite a few friends. He has gotten extremely, extremely good at going to funerals.

Matching the look of the admiral's suit, Nucefora's is just plain TCN issue with no real markings or distinguishing features. Even if the intelligence officer can't help but take a moment to marvel at the view out here, before turning his attention towards the officer presumedly about to address them all.

Standing with the other officers of the 221st, Kell looks like any other out there today in the space suit and like the others, he is standing to attention. For now, he is staring straight ahead like the others, remaining still and silent while his thoughts are on the Commodore who they have recently loss, one that is certainly felt by all on the Majestic.

Sadness. Rain is amongst those present, her bonsai too. She might be due for a chewing out for it but … she's respectful, dressed up and quietly considering the poor fellow. He was a pretty alright dude. Her face is one of quiet solemn…ness. She watches quietly for now.

Paz has been to her fair share of funerals this deployment, but they for other pilots, comrades in arms, (read - people she liked). Judging by the inscrutable, at attention and starting a a random star straight ahead, whether or not Dante counts among this is difficult to discern. She could be showing the valiant deceased Commodore the respect due a fallen senior officer. She could be wondering how the hell Raine found an airtight container to put her bonsai in. It's a toss up.

Kayly stands at attention in a group with some of the other medical personel. She gives a glance or two at the view on the flight deck before she turns her attention towards the Admiral, and waits for the procedings to begin, doing her best to not fidget in the uncomfortable space suit, that she's totally not used to wearing.

Walsh stands at attention in a pristine, unadorned space suit with the rest of the 221st. While he has not been given the chance to get to know the Commodore, he is nonetheless touched by a feeling of loss.

The silence is broken by the soft crackle of a suit radio clicking in, and the sound of the Admiral's voice carrying over the comms circuit. "We are gathered here today to bid a final farewell to a hero of the Confederation. Commodore Dante Claybourne died as he lived, in the service of the Terran Confederation Navy…" Marakov begins, pausing for a moment. "Though Commodore Claybourne commanded the Majestic only a few short months, his contributions to the war effort in Gemini cannot be overstated. The people of Castor, Junction, Regallis.." A moment's pause, and the Admiral's tone hardens for just a moment "And Troy." The change in tone fades as quickly as it appeared "owe their freedom to the efforts of this outstanding officer"

Maximilian's expression alters not an iota. The recollection of systems, of battles, does not appear to stir even the hint of a reaction beneath that crusty visage.

Nucefora's stargazing comes to an abrupt end as the Admiral begins to speak, instead staring straight ahead at the casket containing the departed Commodore's remains. He might look a little curious inside his suit at the Admiral's change in tone, but this certainly isn't the venue to voice such curiosity, and so he remains silent.

Paz remembers those battles all too well, and on reflection, is forced to concede that ol'' Commodore Claybourne knew his shit. There were more than a few of those scraps she wasn't entirely sure they'd make it away from. So, yeah, this is starting to become something of a downer.

If Kell could stand any straighter as the Admiral's speech starts, then he would. As the Commodore's victories are listed, each one is given a slight now by the Lieutenant though there is no visible movement from his space suit. Each battle he has participated in and he remembers them well, as well as how the Commodore treated the men and women under his command.

… and his big hat. Raine remembers the scrapes they pulled through, visits to the medbay and all of those things. She's standing straight too, still sad and thoughtful.

Captain Carruthers is there as well, in her dress uniform, looking all crisply pressed and her shoes even look polished. She stands at attention and listens respectfully, staying very quiet. She's familiar with some of those battles personally, though not all of them. She hasn't been with the majestic quite that long either.

James is standing among the other 221st pilots with a grim expression under his helmet. He listens carefully to what the Admiral says, and his eyes go cold when he notices the hardening of the Admiral's voice when he mentions Troy. James has to bite down on his tongue to avoid lashing out verbally at the Admiral.

Kayly continues to stand at attention, listening to the Admiral, as he gives his speech. She notes the change in tone at the mention of Troy, but since she wasn't around for that, she doesn't know the reason for the change, and just files it away mentally.

"While fleet command may be able to fill the Commodore's billet. I think I am safe in saying we will never be able to replace him." The Admiral pauses for a moment there, glancing down towards the coffin in front of him and then back to the gathering of suited figures before calling out crisply. "Company. Atten-tion." And then a brief pause. "Present Arms"

Nucefora quickly snaps to attention (as well as he can inside a space suit, at any rate), raising his arm in a sharp salute at the second command to be issued, trying his best not to look too relieved for the admiral's brevity.

Paz snaps to and salutes, if the suit makes this not quite as snazzy looking a move as it is in a full dress uniform, that's hardly her fault.

Maximilian snaps to attention, his arm flying up, his salute out of the textbook. He is more than rigid.

Raine too will snap a salute off. It's a bit tough in the suit and might resemble a penguin at attention more than a proper officer, but such is life.

Kayly snaps to attention herself, her arm moving into a salute at the Admiral's order. Or at least she does those things as best she can while still in the space suit.

As Walsh listens to the Admiral, his thoughts drift towards personal tragedy. The battles mentioned have no particular significance to him, but the themes of duty and service bring the memory of his brother's sacrifice to mind. He finds the change in tone surrounding the mention of Troy strange, but the significance of this also escapes him. When called to attention, he snaps off a smart salute.

Once the 'Atten-tion' is called, Kell snaps to attention with his arm snapping to a crisp salute. If space could echo sound, then the crescendo of a snap of boots would've been heard. Eyes narrowed and focused, the Lieutenant continues to give the Commodore his full attention and respect.

James whispers "All too true." with his raido not transmitting when the Admiral mentions that the Commodore is irreplaceable. When the orders go out he stands as close to attention as he can get and snaps off a crisp salute.

Marakov's attention turns towards the seven suited marines with laser rifles standing off towards the edge of the runway. "Make ready. Aim. Fire." There's no crack of rifles, not here in the vacuum of space. Just the quick stacatto of the admiral's voice as it quickly issues the orders. "Aim. Fire." And a third time. "Aim. Fire." Three volleys of seven shots tear through the darkness of space at the admiral's command, and the magnetic repulsor system concealed beneath the coffin gives it a gentle push to slowly drift off into the dark. "Farewell, Commodore. You'll be missed." Marakov notes in a much softer, less official-sounding tone.

Paz holds her salute and manages, with a great deal of difficulty, not to cross herself.

It's hard not to tear up a little. Big and scary or not, Dante was a pretty awesome dude. Raine takes a deep breath and manages to stay still too. She watches the goings on without a word.

It's easy to show no trace of emotion whatsoever. Maximilian may not have even been at the funeral. He may have sent a statue. Once the third volley is unleashed the Captain drops his arm back to his side at almost the speed of the shots. All business.

James holds the salute still feeling guilty about letting the attack force through, and wondering how he couldn't have seen something so obvious coming, and warned the others before it was too late."

Space suits are good for no emotions, even if they wrinkle whatever you're wearing underneath. Snap to attention, wait. Wait some more. And miss a good commanding officer. Good bye.

"Order Arms" Marakov's tone returns to the quick, professional snapping of commands. Dante's remains drift slowly away from the carrier, with a brief flicker of blue as they pass through the shields and them disappear against the overwhelming dark of space. "Company Dismissed."

Paz lowers her salute smartly and, like the true professional military officer she's learned to con others into thinking she is, does that funny two-foot turn to pivot instantly in the same direction as the rest of the row she's in. Not an easy thing to pull off in magnetic books, either.

Raine lets her arm fall in turn too. She feels a bit sad still, and is somehow glad the suit hides most of it. It's hard not to be sad though. It'll be strange without that hat bobbing about.

Salute lowering, Kell continues to watch as the coffin slowly floats away, a fitting military funeral for a great man and a great officer. "You will be miss, sir." The Lieutenant finally says in a quiet voice, to no one in particular.

Perhaps surprisingly agile in zero-gravity, Nucefora quickly lowers his salute and efficently turns about and then breaks away from the formation… heading back along towards the force field that marks the entry back to the hangar deck, and the land of atmosphere once more.

Kayly lets her arm drop as the as the coffin drifts off into the cold darkness of space. She remains silent for the moment, seeing as there's not a whole lot to say in the first place.

Maximilian is dismissed, so he leaves. There is startlingly little more to it than that: no whispered words of regret, of friendship, of loss. Not even a stutter-step on his way back to the hatch. He simply turns and goes. Rapidly.