This is part of Faranesque's World Building Challenge from r/WorldBuilding. Check out my hub post for details.
Preface: Most of my posts from this point on will likely focus on the crew of the Rōnni and the refugees with them, now I've done some of the cosmic establishment from Day 1.
In today's installment, a spark passes from the Firmament...
XVII FUNERAL
The crew had gathered in the cargo bay again, but this time the mood was far more somber.
The trip through the graveyard had not gone well. Passing by the Numinous Veil was always a risk, and this time it had not paid off. The pirate skiff had swept down on them faster than expected and hacked past the defense grid to board the ship. The Rōnni had managed to jump away through hyper before the skiff's carrier had caught up, but this still left hostiles aboard. They'd been met by some of the crew and one of the Maldasi, but there had still been casualties. Most were recoverable. Bar one.
Hankar Martel lay on the slab, covered in a drab, almost colorless gray sheet. Gathered on the slab with him were the old sailor's few belongings-- his astrolabe, his cane, and the coil of beads left over from his merchant navy days, one bead for each month of his service.
Koroa and the rest of the senior crew stood in a circle around the slab, the rest of the crew around them standing solemnly, heads bowed. Finally, the captain broke the long, uncomfortable silence. "Hankar Martel. Born at Verdant Waters, upon Girman, of old Whardon. Now of Nowhere. You stood before the mast. You sailed the black with us all. You sat with us in confidence and camaraderie. Now you lie to take the final voyage."
He fell silent, and they all bowed their heads again. Slowly, Letta Celene lifted her head and spoke next. "When I first sailed with you, we clashed. I was hot-tempered. Remembered too much how Whardoni had warred with Pacami. I was angry and looking to fight over nothing. But you reminded me that we had both left our Worlds behind. We were not Whardoni or Pacami. We were Rōnni." She paused, taking a deep breath. "You are fallen at last. But I will not forget what you taught me."
She quieted, and leaned into the man to her right. Drazen Scarhide put an arm around her, and lifted his head to the bulkheads above as he spoke next.
"Hankar Martel. When Maldasi come to Rōnni, you were first to fight us. Other tribes leave impression, yesno? We both left marks on other. Still Scarhide treasures the one you gave." He touched a raised line of flesh on his chest. "For this, Maldasi honor you. Honor Captain. Honor Rōnni. Fought alongside you as if you were Maldasi." He bowed his head, then took one of his knives from his belt, laying it on the slab with him.
Next, he spoke an old word, corrupted Anteceptosi, whose meaning had been lost to time. "Yarra. Go now to find your place in the Land of Plenty. Yarra. May the Stars guide you to the House of Eternity. Yarra. You are fallen but not forgotten. Yarra yarra yarra."
Koroa nodded to him, and then looked down to the body again. "Go where there are no banners to divide us. Godenboraa. Bannerless forever."
"Godenboraa," the crew echoed softly.
Silence fell again, before Koroa took the coil of beads from the slab. Painstakingly, he went about the crew, passing each of them one bead, telling them, "Carry this with you for a span of days. A reminder that he is here, always, with you." The darker beads, the annuals, he distributed among the senior crew, keeping one for himself. And only then was the body set to drift in the black, as tradition demanded.
And so another spark passed from the Firmament.
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