THE TITAN LEAD

Prologue(II)

Present Day. Funeral Ceremony. 412 Interstellar Era. Parnaxxus.

You never could have known which only makes you regret not spending the final moments with her in a much more earnest way. Hell, you would have rather stopped her from answering the call of duty that day, if only you knew what was going to happen. If there was no emergency declared, if the Imperial Strike Ships had not shown up in the Andronian Space Sector, if there was no resistance, if there was no war at all; so many ifs, so many possibilities to save her, and yet she now no longer walks beside you.

She died, while fighting for her people, for the cause she believed in, for the one she loved - You.

"There is Glory in battle, and pride in Victory. And I am here to have both of it. We will free our people from the clutches of this Imperial Monarchy. We will succeed. We will win it. Or else we'll die trying. But we will not go down without a fight."

Little did you know that she didn't tell you the entire truth. With war, came loss. Loss of the most valuable and beloved people whom you couldn't imagine your life without. A parent's warmth. A lover's touch. A child's smile for which you would give your life for. All gone. Reduced to ashes. Buried, with the conscience which made people hesitate and think before turning on each other.

What was this war about? A power struggle? Control over the resources? A showdown to symbolize one's victory as a sign of superiority?

But what was it truly? And will the cause ever matter? Will it ever be enough to justify the bloodshed that took place? Will it ever be a reason enough to make the incessant sobbing and howling of the now childless mother go away? Or to stop the tears rolling down the cheek of the husband who lost his dear and brave wife?

Will it ever be enough to take away the grief of the brother who lost his sister? The only person he ever looked up to? The only person he ever aspired to be like? The only person he ever got genuine, unbridled love from? Will it?

Today, you learnt a harsh lesson from the aftermath of war. A lesson you heard about before, but never felt. At least didn't expect to ever again, after losing your parents. The lesson about Death. The lesson that the history of war is only written down by the winners. And the so called "Glory" and "Victory" always comes at a great price. A price, which eats away a part of your soul. A price, which may even misalign your identity.

"Get ready now. The speech is almost over. Be prepared to receive the posthumous medal of valor and honor." says the soldier in uniform standing beside you. His facial expression being as neutral as the tone of his voice. But his eyes give away the pain and sorrow he is hiding, just like you.

The Squadron Co-Ordinator for the Andronian Space Sector, a rather important and impressive position in the RDC chain of Command, herself came to the ceremony to give a speech expressing her condolences and regret over those who died. It doesn't matter to you, however. Yes, Trysha is getting the honor and respect she deserves. But you'd rather have had all that in her presence; she receiving this medal than you.

Out of respect for the high ranking lady, and to honor the memory and last moments of your sister, you finally make an effort to listen to the Co-Ordinator's speech, instead of just mourning over Trysha's loss inwardly.

"This week, we lost many-a-brave daughters and sons to the hands of the Imperial Forces. To the hands of war. But their deaths ensured that we lived. It was on the 21st of the Angrodian Month, 412 IE, that Trysha Corson, Leader and Central Tank Troop of the Resekith Squadron, displayed immense bravery and valor on the battle plane. She, followed by her entire squadron of unquestioning and loyal five, made a dash towards the Imperial Strike Ship. Her quick eyes and clever tactics made short work of the escort ships." She then takes a slight pause, collecting herself and thinking on the way to proceed with the speech.

The sky is overcast, so is the temperament of those who mourn. But this isn't the first time the Chief had to speak about losing her men. And this wouldn't be the last time either. Death and loss were something she was now used to. Her resolve is steely, her eyes are sharp. She pushes on through her eulogy, despite every other eye trained on her begging her not to, as they couldn't bear to listen to it anymore.

"They successfully cleaved through the enemy's line of defense, while constantly being under heavy fire. It was a suicide run. They knew it, and did it. And when the time came to sacrifice themselves for a cause greater than any of us, they did so, without hesitating for a moment. They overloaded their Armature's matter/anti-matter core drive, and induced a chain reaction, which only got amplified in space."

You think about the final moments. What was she feeling, knowing she would be shredded to bits? Knowing that she would never come back home again, at least not alive. Knowing that you both would never get to see each other again. Could you have done the same thing, if the situation were reversed? Could you have fought as bravely and valiantly as she did? Could you have believed in a cause so great, that it made you feel proud on sacrificing your life for it?

You exhale out a deep breath, pinch the bridge of your nose, forbidding any more of those mundane thoughts to invade your mind. You focus on the speech once again.

"It was through the sacrifice of this brave woman, and her entire squadron, that our remaining troops got to see the end of the battle in their favor. Their sacrifice turned the tables, and saved countless other lives on our side. The Strike Ship was down, and the Imperials had to beat a hasty retreat. The Resekith Squadron. Trysha Corson herself. They are an inspiration to all of us. They inspire us to believe. To believe in something greater than ourself. Their actions prove that the brave hearts never back down. Not even in the face of death. And I assure you all; their deaths will not go in vain. They have progressed us a step closer to victory."

The Chief takes a moment's pause to assess the state of the crowd. Then she looks directly at you, and proceeds to speak, "May I now request Teeril Corson to join me on the podium and receive the well deserved posthumous medal, on behalf of his sister."

You try to get up from your designated seat, but your body won't budge. Your palms are sweaty, and your vision blurred with tears. You try once again, and this time, succeed to stand, with shaking legs. The soldier, who was standing beside you, offers you his arm and support, and you clutch on to it greedily. A part of you still refuses to believe that you are here to honor your DEAD Sister. But in all honesty, she isn't the only one who died. A part of you died with her on the 21st of Angrodian Month, 412 IE.

As you move towards the podium and start climbing its stairs, you think about everything that happened, and everything that was told to you.

"What if I don't want to believe in this cause? What if the only thing I want is to be with her again? I don't want this war. No one does. But that same war took her away from me." – These are the only thoughts swirling in your head, as you come face to face with the Co-Ordinator.

"Trysha Corson was one of the bravest, most loyal and one of the most dedicated Squadron Leader I was ever privileged to have under my command. She also talked a lot about you, child. She loved you, and was proud of you. Remember, you are not alone in these trying times."

The commander then lays one of her hand your shoulder, a quite informal and surprising gesture, and presents the medal to you in a small box with the other hand.

"I think I have found my cause." You mumble while staring down at your feet.

"Are you saying something?" The Chief asks with a quizzical look on her face.

"I couldn't protect her, nor could I be with her during her dying moments. But I can damn as well avenge her!" you shout out in your head, puffing out short breaths, with flustered and red cheeks and ears, and the tears dripping out of your eyes.

You silently accept the medal from her hands, give her a respectful nod and bow, and then proceed to get down from the podium.

"I will keep her legacy alive. The RDC is where I belong." Your resolve being stronger than ever to get in the war and fight. Or die trying.

This is where you step in. This is when you, the Titan Lead, were re-born. This is your story. The story of the person who ended the war. For good.