The Red Sun Rises: Voyages

by The Atlantean


Memorial

Every ship in the Reagan Task Force was at all stop, sitting there in the deep aquamarine sea. Far to the north, a strip of land marking the Atlantean coast was barely visible with the naked eye, a green strip in the vast blue.
All senior officers and as many personnel as could fit on the Flight Deck stood at attention. Their focus was the batch of American flags, covering one hundred two small sacks, near the bow. The flag on Reagan and her escorts flew at half-staff in memorial of Nebraska and her crew, lost at sea the day before.
Admiral Robinson, Commander Amber, and Princess Celestia stood with the sewn sacks just in front of them, along with the DCA, RO, and several others.
“Today we commemorate the loss of USS Nebraska, SSBN-739, and her crew to the Celestial Sea. One hundred two souls were aboard her: brave men and women who volunteered their lives in service of our country. In our journey to return home, they payed the ultimate sacrifice in ensuring that it be done.
“Throughout history, many have laid down their lives in service of their people. The sailors aboard Nebraska are no different. Every one of them knew what they were doing; they all were prepared to meet the Heavenly Father. Today we pray and hope that their sacrifice will bring us closer to home.”
After the religious ceremony was conducted, several men leaned the bags over the side. The small boxes inside slid out the open end and into the sea. While all flag-covered sacks were tilted, every single sailor on every ship slowly saluted the represented remains of their fallen comrades. One played “Taps,” and and the mood deepened.
Celestia followed suit, saluting the represented remains. She figured she did it wrong, but felt better trying to show respect. She was wearing a spare uniform, the most formal attire really available. Next to her was Amber, with her solemn, serious face. On Celestia’s right was Robinson with the same expression.
As each box slid over the side, seven soldiers fired three volleys each on their rifles; the twenty-one gun salute. It took an hour for every lost sailor to be honored, buried at sea in an unknown world.
After the proceedings, Celestia asked Amber how she felt.
“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m kinda jealous of Nebraska’s crew right now, since they don’t have to deal with the possibility of either Trump or Clinton becoming President this election. But I mourn them at the same time, for they’ll never come home to their families. And the same goes for my pilots; I plan on visiting their families at least once to express my sorrow for their loss. So, in the end, I have a mix of feeling towards a burial, always have, and will until the day I die. Yourself?”
“Me? I feel the loss. They were not my people, but I still have an inclination towards sorrow and regret in this form. Unlike my alicorn form, where I feel at home, where I don’t worry about death. It’s an interesting experience.”
The two walked back inside the carrier after most of the others had. They had spent the entire day giving the lost men and women a burial at sea, so Celestia lowered the sun behind Reagan. The carrier sailed on into the dark unknown, the sunset at her back.