Cira demanded I post this here from our offshoot thread]
Sarge was so deep in his shell he didn't even realize it was time for the speech until the guy next to him gave him a subtle nudge. Giving an exhalation more aptly termed a huff, he stood and made his way up towards the stage, overwhelmingly concious of just how many karking people were here. The last thing Cira would hear before he was out of earshot was 'shoulda thrown me from the window.'
Sighing, he made up his way up to where some cheeky karkhole had decided to put a podium... and another friggin' pamphlet. He frowned, hefting it and turning it over in his hand to read the laundry list of accomplishments he'd had.
Most decorated soldier in the Protectorate...
He stared at that pamphlet probably longer than he should have, a glaze settling over his eyes. Finally, he blinked, set it down, and rested his palms against the sloped surface of the podium. The microphone was on, he knew that because everyone else had already been up here not feeling embarassed while speaking.
"Seems I didn't get my marching orders until I sat down." He says dryly. "Shoulda figured I'd be the last to know I was speaking." There came a few chuckles at that, but his voice was quiet, introspective in a way Cira would know far too well. "I assume I'm supposed to regale you with stories of my triumphs and tales of heartbreak, build up your confidence and patriotism."
His lips creased downward. "But I'm not entirely sure how well I can manage that. In fact, according to this - " he held up the pamphlet. "I'm retired. Last I checked I was still dead. Guess the Pyre does have a sense of humor." A snort was heard. "I"m sure many of you know of me through word of mouth - seems everywhere I go people know me, but... I don't know them."
That seemed to put a weary smile on his face. "It's nice to know you've accomplished something in your life, and every time someone gives me a faint bit of a smile and feeds my fragile ego with a bit of an awed look... I'm reminded I've done something." He looked down to his chest. "As if I'm not reminded whenever I button this vice of a uniform." Again, a few chuckles.
"But as cliche as it sounds, I wouldn't be where I was today if it weren't for the folk around me. Many of you know the Lord Protector as your employer, guiding hand, leader; whatever you term him, he's in charge. But before that he was, and still is, my friend. I wouldn't have survived the end of the plague were it not for his help, and I'd like to think the same is true for him."
There was a long pause, thoughts gathering in his mind as he thought of what next to speak. "Either way, it was him that guided me to join the Pyre, and my tenure here began the same way it was served - by breaking into the Lady Protector's office." A cheeky grin split his face at that, and he visibly winked over to her table in an exaggerated manner. Cue cat calls and clapping. "First time I ever broke in, she threatened to throw me from the window. I spent the whole time hitting on her. She was not amused; can't imagine why." He chuckled.
"Second time I broke in, former Protector Alcori stunned me, called up the Lady, and then stunned me again." His chest shook as he laughed. "I didn't look back after, doing for the Lady what I did for Ayden, and along the way I managed to be, more often than not, in the right place at the right time." A finger rose to scratch behind his ear, and he had to take a minute to make use of a water bottle thoughtfully left for him in the hollowed out shell of the podium he wanted to cling to.
He was a bit more at ease now, thankfully, despite the cotton mouth. "I do have to say, though, in all my time traveling the galaxy, I've never found a place quite like this. It ain't an easy job, and Force knows it can be thankless - I've been nearly thrown from dropships more times than I care to count - but it's fulfilling, and you know that no matter how deep the hole goes, one of you buddies will be right there with a shovel to knock you unconscious so you won't fight the rope he's tied to you to pull you up."
What a fabulous mental image. "I don't even know where I'm going with this, really, considering I wasn't given forewarning, but... the more I think back, the more I realize how much like home this place really is. I, personally, never knew where home actually was." He looked down at the podium, brow furrowing, before he looked over to Cira then the crowd. "But I found it here, in a redheaded boss who couldn't stand me, and a group of soldiers who helped make building this Protectorate possible. I've always heard that earning medals isn't about you, it's about the guys next to you, and I'd say that's pretty true. I wouldn't have survived Denon without Sergeant Chenna and her squad, and I'd never have been able to blow that bridge on Eriadu if Jorus hadn't flown into the fire to deliver me to the objective.
It's a long road, life, and some days are longer than others, but as people like me - the 'old guard' - phase into retirement - or death, in my case - new heroes will rise in our wake. I considered building the Protectorate a labor of love..." and he did his best to not look at Cira, "...and I've found that many of you share the same sentiment. Maybe one day I'll be so lucky as to shake one of your hands when you step up here to tell everyone about the time the ol' Sergeant Major of the Pyre bumbled his way through a nonsense speech about who knows what."
He gave a tired smile. "But then again, that's all I've ever done; bumble through things and hope they turn out alright. Pretty sure I was actually trained to do that, come to think of it." He shook his head. "I've spoken enough, I think. Have some drinks, live it up, pretend I don't exist and everyone enjoy your evening." He needed to sit down, get plastered, and forget life.
