Memento Mori

Posted on Thu May 28th, 2026 @ 10:16pm by Captain Rhenora Kaylen & Commander Jennifer Baldric & Lieutenant Sarah Wilson & Commander Jenna Ramthorne & Commander Dean House & Lieutenant Commander Bonnie "Bon-Bon" Durnell & Remal Kajun

2,313 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: Pirates!
Location: Earth

Dean was the first there. He'd not asked Jennifer to join him yet, because he was there nine hours ahead of time so he could set everything up. He knew what he got from her she'd want. Some other things outside of her own being she'd want. Like going back to her time with Pike. There were so many different things he had to set up for her. It wasn't easy, but he was getting it done.

The morning broke clear and golden, the early morning rays lighting up the Golden Gate Bridge that served as a backdrop to Starfleet Command and it's Academy. Rhenora had sent out a message to the crew, inviting those who wanted to attend the memorial Command was rolling out for Batel. Dean had indicated he would take care of the preliminaries, Sarah was looking after the medical logistics and making sure there were no hiccups this time. Rhenora watched the sunrise, coffee in hand, padd in the other and Remal by her side in companionable silence. Her speech was half written, the rest could be done by feel if necessary, by reading those around her and pulling from the memories they had formed during the short time Batel was with them.

Remal stood beside her in formal attire, quiet and composed beneath the golden wash of the rising sun. The sharp lines of the outfit suited him, though there was nothing performative in the way he wore it. One hand rested lightly behind Rhenora’s back, grounding without drawing attention, his presence steady as the morning gathered around them.

His thoughts lingered on Batel, on the strange cruelty of how quickly someone could become woven into the fabric of a crew only to be torn away before the stitching truly settled. Death had walked beside him enough times in life that he no longer treated it as distant, yet moments like this still carried weight.

He watched Rhenora work through her speech beside him and quietly admired the strength it took to stand before others while grieving yourself. Whatever words she chose later, he already knew they would matter, because they would be honest.

The soft hiss of the transporter faded behind her as Jenna stepped out into the morning light, boots striking the pathway with measured precision. The replicated Honor Guard uniform sat immaculate against her frame, every seam sharp, every accent catching the gold of the rising sun. Whatever blood had stained the previous uniform now existed only as memory. This version appeared untouched, though the woman wearing it carried every mark the fabric no longer did.

Her red-violet hair had been drawn back with deliberate care, each strand in place as though discipline alone held the morning together. The breeze coming off the bay stirred the loose edges near her temple, softening what otherwise might have looked carved from stone. For the first time since returning to Earth, she appeared rested. Simply composed enough to stand upright beneath the weight of it all.

She paused briefly near the edge of the gathering, eyes moving across the preparations Dean had spent hours assembling. The chairs, the flowers, the distant silhouette of the Golden Gate Bridge standing watch beyond Starfleet Command like an old guardian that had seen too many ceremonies exactly like this one. Then her gaze settled on Rhenora.

No words came. None seemed necessary. Jenna moved to her side instead, shoulders squared, hands folded neatly behind her back in Honor Guard posture. Present. Steady. Ready to help carry whatever this day demanded from the people she called family.

Bonnie arrived quietly, almost cautiously, as though afraid to disturb the morning itself.

The soft gold of sunrise caught against the dark fabric of her dress as she crossed the grounds toward the gathering point near Starfleet Command. It was simple at first glance, understated by design, but cut in a way that fit her closely enough to soften nothing about her figure. The material followed the natural curve of her waist and hips before falling cleanly to just below the knee, elegant without trying too hard, which somehow made it more dangerous. The sort of dress that suggested somebody else might have picked it out for her if Bonnie herself had not spent forty minutes arguing with three different mirrors first.

Notably absent were heels. Bonnie had made that decision immediately and without regret after what she privately referred to as The Incident With The Diplomatic Staircase several months earlier. Instead, she wore simple black flats that made almost no sound against the pavement and dramatically reduced the statistical likelihood of public tragedy.

Her hair had taken the most effort. The wild dark curls normally existing somewhere between “contained” and “weather phenomenon” had been gathered and pinned back in an old Earth mourning style she had spent far too long researching the night before. Loose curls still escaped here and there around her face despite her best efforts, softening the severity of the style into something more human, more Bonnie. Small pins held the arrangement in place.

For once, she had arrived without dropping anything, tripping over anything, or accidentally setting fire to a console. The universe, apparently, understood funerals.

At exactly 1000 hours, Rhenora strode towards the dias, facing the assembled crowd with a sombre expression. There was a delicate line between a celebration of life and the mourning that comes with passing. One she had walked far too many times for her own liking.

"Good Morning, we gather here today not to mourn the life of a woman, but to honour that life, to learn and to celebrate the victories, the losses, and those that she touched during her time with us. Captain Marie Batel was one of Starfleet's finest, the youngest Captain of her time, balancing life in the stars with a position held in the JAG office. She was dedicated to her craft, to exploring, and to holding justice. But she also cared deeply for her crew, for all the people in the galaxy, and gave her life to protect them from a cruelty only she understood completely." Rhenora paused, her eyes casting over the audience to make sure the words were hitting the right notes.

Along with that and all of his preparation, that was different than the usual Starfleet memorials. Something he'd not even told Rhenora about. If she or anyone else had done any looking, she would find that where they were standing was the exact spot where Captain Pike's headstone was. Marie's was right next to it. Dean knew what this meant to some people, and after what all he'd endured and been through himself. He understood it himself.

Dean would, could have that moment to himself later, or with Jennifer, but not right now. It more important that he held his head high in her honor, her memory. He was also waiting with the burial guard so he could carry the casket over and set it down when they were ready for the procession.

At the Captain's nod, the honour guard advanced and placed the casket on the stand, taking up their guard positions at the corners for the remainder of the ceremony.

Rhenora ran through an abbreviated version of Batel's career, focusing on the highlights of her captaincy and JAG cases. She segwayed into Marie's personal life. Noting her relationship with Pike and the absence of any surviving direct family. Rhenora paused for a moment, gauging the reactions from those before her.

Jenna stood motionless at the corner of the casket, white-gloved hands folded neatly behind her back as the Federation flag passed carefully through practiced hands. Each fold carried crisp precision, fabric drawn inward again and again until the broad field of stars became something smaller, tighter, easier to carry than the life beneath it ever had been.

Her eyes followed the movement without wavering, though memory moved far louder than the ceremony around her. She remembered another flag from many years earlier. Another coffin. Another service where words like sacrifice and honor had tried to fill the hollow space left behind. For an oh so brief moment, the morning air tasted like Alpha Centauri dust and childhood grief.

The muscle in her jaw tightened once before settling again. Then, almost unconsciously, her gaze drifted sideways toward Pike’s nearby headstone, and something softer flickered behind her composure. Not exactly peace, more like something closer to understanding. Marie Batel had finally come home.

Bonnie stood near the rear, with her hands folded loosely in front of her, posture carefully controlled in the way people managed when they were trying very hard not to come apart in public. The morning breeze had stirred loose curls near her cheeks while Rhenora’s words carried softly across the gathering.

At first, the tears arrived without warning, quiet enough that she almost looked confused by them herself. But funerals had a cruel gravity to them, pulling memories out of the deepest black hole. A year was apparently not enough time for the heart to update its operating system.

Bonnie lowered her eyes quickly, brushing at one tear before another could follow, embarrassed by the emotion despite nobody paying her any particular attention. Beside the grief sat something stranger, quieter. Understanding.

Not of death itself. That remained enormous and absurd and fundamentally rude. But of the hole left behind when someone vanished from the universe, and everyone else had to keep walking around as if they were fine.

Rhenora's speech drew to it's natural conclusion, and with the absence of any direct living relatives there were no personal notes. The Bajoran Captain added a few personal touches herself, snippets of conversations, glimpses into the woman they were now committing back to the ground.

" She could have chosen to return to Skygowan, to take her place as a living God on that planet, the Beloved Beholder who had sacrificed so much to keep them and us safe. Instead she chose to go quietly, without fanfare, without drama. She was not alone as she left us, and did so with more grace and courage that anyone could imagine. After more than one hundred years guarding the galaxy - she is finally at rest."

Rhenora turned to the coffin and address it directly
Take Ease Captain, We'll take it from here"

With another nod, the boatswain's whistle was blown, the bugle sounded, and those in attendance snapped to attention. The honour guarded moved with precision that made Rhenora oh so very proud. The coffin was placed on the lowering gurney, and the guard stepped back.

MU Baldric did her very best not to fidget, the uniform was horribly uncomfortable, the collar too stiff, and her hair pulled back too tight to keep it in some sort of order. She shifted and pulled at the collar, trying for a moment's reprieve without being seen, a hard ask in front of an assembled crowd.

The lowering mechanism engaged with a soft hydraulic hum, almost gentle beneath the distant cry of gulls drifting across the bay. Inch by inch the casket descended into the earth beside Pike’s resting place, polished wood disappearing beneath folds of shadow and morning light alike. The honor guard remained perfectly still through the motion, white gloves bright against dark uniforms while the bugle’s final notes lingered in the cool San Francisco air like something reluctant to leave.

Around the gathering, heads bowed in varying degrees. Some carried practiced discipline. Others carried exhaustion. Grief moved differently through every person standing there, though for one shared moment silence bound them together more effectively than any speech could have hoped to.

Jenna watched the casket sink lower until only the upper edge remained visible above the ground. Her posture never faltered, though something in her eyes grew distant again, drawn toward old ghosts and older funerals. She understood now why some cultures referred to burial as returning someone home. Not because the earth claimed them, but because eventually the fighting stopped.

The mechanism settled with quiet finality. No applause followed. No dramatic declaration. Only wind moving through the trees near the Academy grounds and the distant shimmer of sunlight across the bay.

Jenna stepped away from her guard position at last, measured and composed despite the ache resting behind her ribs. Her boots carried softly across the stone pathway until she came to stand beside Rhenora once more. Shoulder to shoulder beneath the morning sun, present together in the silence Marie Batel had left behind.

Remal stood quietly beside Rhenora as the casket descended, one hand resting lightly at the small of her back, steady and certain beneath the weight of the moment. The sound of the ocean beyond the memorial grounds mixed softly with the final notes of the bugle, and for a moment he found himself thinking about how many times Starfleet asked people to give everything they were, then called it duty when they did.

Marie Batel deserved more years than she had been given. More laughter. More mornings. Yet watching the coffin lowered beside Pike’s memorial, with Rhenora standing tall despite her grief and the crew gathered together in silence, he felt something quieter settle in him. She had been mourned honestly. Remembered fully. In the end, there were worse ways for a life to be carried forward.

At the conclusion, the crowd began to disperse, there was no 'wake' to formally speak of as there were no living direct relatives and the Sunfire crew were deemed only to have known her for a week at best. Rhenora knew better though, she knew that the crew needed the chance to talk, the blow off some steam and process their emotions in a supportive environment.

She worked her way through the crowd, identifying her crew easily and passed the word around. "Pilot's Bar, 1 hour" all welcome.

TBC

 

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