Funeral for a friend

Two days later

Fixer, Scorch, and 38 stood, heads bowed, in front of a burning pyre. They were in the middle of Kachiero, and not alone. Behind them, the Advisor, a few Clone Troopers, and most of Kachiero's remaining population stood. The Wookies growled quiet prayers, while the others stood silent.

The news had come only yesterday. Tears formed in 38's eyes. He missed Sev, but at the same time, he was punching himself mentally in the gut, as were the rest of the Delta's. 38 wondered why he was crying. He was merely a Clone, a Commando perhaps, but still a Republic Clone. He wasn't supposed to be like this, he was supposed to be a drone, like the others, there only to do their duty. But then again, they'd come so far since Zero hour. Geonosis, Muunlist, the abandoned Republic Cruiser, Thyferra…Kashyyyk! They'd become more than a squad of Commandos. They'd become friends, family…brothers. This couldn't be real. Sev was so brutal, the aggressive side of the squad. For him to go like this…it wasn't right.

They'd fought so hard, and so long, winning victory after victory for the Republic. But now they'd lost, and no victory could wash away this defeat.

38 looked to his right, and saw Fixer comforting Scorch. He sniffed a little. They still had each other. They had to be strong, for Sev…for the Republic…

Flashback

38 placed his helmet on his bunk as the Advisor walked into his hut. His hands were clasped behind his back, and his voice was heavy. 38 got up, and saluted.

"Sir."

Advisor nodded solemnly.

"38, I have bad news for you…"

38 bit his lip.

"What is it sir?"

The Advisor sighed.

"As you know, we have been tracking Sev ever since Kachiero," The Advisor paused, "Approximately two hours ago, his vital signs went negative. Shortly after, his beacon went inactive," The Advisor took another pause, and let it sink in, "An hour later, a Gunship passed over the area. It landed near Sev's last recorded position…and…"

The Advisor shook his head. Letting his head drop slightly, he held his right arm out toward 38. In his hand was a chunk of helmet, but as 38 looked closer, he saw it wasn't a normal chunk of helmet. It was a chunk of Commando helmet. 38's eyes widened, and he took the chunk. He felt a shiver go down his spine as he looked at it. The helmet was beaten and scorched, but 38 saw the engraving on the helmet. His legs nearly collapsed. Feeling sick, 38 dropped the chunk, and fell backward onto the bed. He rested his hands in front of him.

"W-w…was there anymore remains?" He asked. The bile had risen to his throat now, almost choking him. The Advisor shook his head.

"Just a lot of blood. We analysed it, and it checks out," The Advisor put a hand on 38's shoulder, "I'm sorry, 38, but this is the way it had to be. There'll be a funeral tomorrow. A lot of people will be attending; many owe their lives and well being to Sev. I hope to see you there."

With that, The Advisor turned, and walked out quietly. 38's fists clenched, and he screamed. Jumping up, he screamed some more, and then lunged at the mirror. It smashed under 38's relentless barrage. After a few seconds, he yelled.

"Wwwwhhhhhhyyyy!"

His fists were now bleeding, crimson droplets falling into the wash basin in front of him. Looking into the shards of mirror, 38 saw his lost comrade in the reflection. Suddenly jerking, the bile shot up, and 38 leant over. He wretched, and coughed up the bile, the sickly liquid oozing down the basin's plug hole. On the floor, the chunk of helmet rocked from side to side. Above a black scorch mark, a small engraving could be seen. It simply read: 1107.

End flashback

38 watched the chunk of helmet as it's inside padding shrivelled and turned to ashes. Eventually, the chunk itself blackened, and slowly burnt away. The trio watched on throughout the night, until the pyre itself had burnt out completely.

Kneeling, the three Deltas retrieved an urn from their backpacks. Bowing their heads slightly, they slowly pushed their urns into the ashes. Once they were full, they removed the urns, and closed them. They all nodded to each other.

"I'll miss the big guy…" Scorch said quietly. Fixer nodded, and patted Scorch on the shoulder. 38 nodded.

"I think we all will. Scorch. Fixer. It's time you got some rest. We have a briefing at 0600, and we have a new recruit to welcome."

Fixer and Scorch nodded. Standing, they saluted him slowly.

"Night sir."

"Night sir."

38 watched them walk off into the darkness. Sighing, he took a handful of ash, and squeezed it.

"You're not dead Sev, I don't believe it. I won't believe it. You're out there somewhere, and we'll find you. I don't care what Command thinks anymore. They don't see us for more than Clones and I finally believe it, it was clear when we were called back. But don't you dare be dead Sev; this isn't the death you deserve to have…"

Letting the ashes fall, 38 stood up. He was tired, and his chrono told him he had five hours until the briefing. Walking onto the bridge leading to his hut, he dropped the urn over the side. It fell through the air, hitting leaves and branches, making a small commotion among the wild life below. A few seconds later, it smashed on the ground, sending a cloud of ash into the air. A small gust went through the jungle, and the ashes were blown away.

You're not dead Sev, you're not dead…