Public Hall of Rememberance

[Laphisto]

As you enter the Hall of Remembrance aboard Aurora Station, a solemn silence greets you, replacing the usual background hum of station activity. This place is a permanent fixture of the station, a sanctuary dedicated to the fallen and the missing—those who gave everything in service to the Lilaste Order. The air here feels different, as though even the station itself respects the sanctity of this space.

Banners hang from the towering walls, muted in color but unmistakable in their meaning, each bearing the emblem of the Order. These banners gently sway in the artificial breeze, their movement the only sign of life in this otherwise still chamber. The room is bathed in soft, ambient lighting, casting a gentle glow over the scene without drawing attention away from the central focus.

At the heart of the hall stands a holo projector, a permanent installation. The projector is a standard piece of technology, simple and unadorned apart from the personal touches added over the years. Ribbons in colors of mourning are tied around its edges, and small emblems representing various battalions and units have been carefully carved into its base. These subtle decorations elevate the projector from a mere tool to a sacred memorial, honoring the soldiers it displays.

The projector hums quietly as it cycles through its endless task, casting a soft blue light upward into the room. Above it, a large holographic display flickers to life. The faces of the fallen, rendered in blue, slowly rotate in midair. Each face is accompanied by a brief, glowing inscription: the name, rank, ID number, and final moments of the soldier it honors. The details are simple but powerful:

• Captain Jara Ven
  • ID: 5624-LO
  • Status: KIA - Battle of Ropagi II
  • Cause of Death: Shipboard explosion while leading evacuation efforts

Her face is solemn, her eyes forward as if she's still in the midst of her final command. As her image fades, another appears:

• Private Valis Kurn
  • ID: 7812-LO
  • Status: MIA - Attack of Mon Cala
  • Last Seen: Defending His position after Crashed LAET/I

His expression is fierce, a testament to the bravery that led him into the thick of battle. His fate remains unknown, but his memory lives on here.

Each name, each face is treated with the same care and respect. The stories of their sacrifice, where they fought, and how they died or disappeared, are displayed in soft, glowing text. Some entries are accompanied by small holographic icons—personal crests, unit insignias, or awards—adding a personal touch to the memory of the individual. The projector never stops, its quiet hum the only sound in the hall, as it eternally cycles through the names of those who can never be forgotten.

The Hall of Remembrance is more than a memorial. It's a place of reflection, a place where members of the Order can come to pay their respects, to remember comrades lost, or to seek inspiration in the bravery of those who came before them. The quiet stillness invites you to linger, to stand among the holograms of the fallen, and reflect on the cost of service to the Order. Here, in this permanent sanctuary, the memories of the lost will endure, forever rotating in the soft glow of the holo projector, a lasting tribute to their sacrifice.

 

[Dravin macovish]

Dravin entered the Hall of Remembrance, his steps slow and deliberate. The soft hum of the holo projector cycling through the names of the fallen greeted him as always, but today felt heavier. Seven of those names were his, faces that belonged to members of his squadron, friends who had trusted him. He had led them, assigned them their roles—and he had lost them. Especially those who had filled the cursed 8th slot.

He made his way to one of the smaller mini projectors, his hand hovering for a moment as he prepared to summon their names. The cursed 8th slot—it had become something of a haunting shadow within his squadron, a position that seemed to doom whoever was assigned to it. Seven lives lost in that position, and no explanation. No one liked to talk about it, but everyone knew.

As the projector flickered to life, the faces of the fallen appeared before him, rendered in soft blue light. Their names, their ranks, all too familiar.

Sergeant Orvin Drex
Private Tor Jamar
Corporal Helys Arn
Lieutenant Risa Balen
Captain Fen Gorran
Private Valea Gorn
Ensign Jero Tala

Seven faces, seven lives. All had taken the 8th slot. All had never returned.

Dravin's eyes lingered on each face, the familiar tightness in his chest returning. He clenched his fists, fighting back the guilt that gnawed at him. He was their squadron leader. It had been his responsibility to protect them, to make the right calls. But no amount of skill or leadership could change what had happened. That cursed 8th spot had claimed them one by one, as if it were marked for death.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. The words felt inadequate, but it was all he had to offer. Each face in front of him carried memories—bravery in battle, laughter in quieter moments, and the gut-wrenching loss when they didn't return.

For a moment, he allowed himself to stand there in silence, paying his respects, letting the faces of his fallen squadmates wash over him. It was his burden to bear—the curse of the 8th slot, the weight of leadership, the responsibility of ensuring their sacrifices weren't forgotten.

He took a deep breath, steadying himself as he looked at their names one last time. They deserved to be remembered, not just as casualties of war, but as individuals who had given everything. "You'll never be forgotten," he vowed, his voice stronger now. "I'll make sure of it."

With a final glance at the projector, he turned and made his way toward the exit. The central projector continued its endless cycle, and in time, their faces would appear there too, part of the greater memory of the Lilaste Order's fallen. But for Dravin, their memory would always live with him—seven lives, taken too soon by the cursed 8th slot, a burden he would carry until his own end.

As he left the hall, the quiet weight of the past followed him, but so did his determination. He would ensure their memory endured, and he would take the 8th slot next. No one else would fall to it again if he could help it.