Funeral Wrongs

Posted on Wed Apr 2nd, 2025 @ 1:55pm by Commander Alex Flynn & Chaplain Lucreavus Palu

500 words; about a 3 minute read

Mission: The Serpent's Tooth [3]
Location: Multifaith Space, Civilian Sector
Timeline: After 'Never around when you need one'

“Death is always sad. A sentiment some would call obvious. Our Vulcan friends may even say untrue. But we’re here today, because someone died, and now we’re sad. Or at least, we want to be.” The Chaplain was adjusting his obviously improvised sermon as he felt the mood of the crowd in his El-Aurian fashion. Nobody seemed particularly bothered that Lieutenant Kakistos was dead, but most of the communications department had at least showed up.

Nomitive determinism he supposed, even if it did mean something very different in the Betazoid. This was not turning into one of his better eulogies.

“It is Altha’s domain as a place of inviolable and eternal peace, Imza’s gift of compassion for all suffering, a fate set by Fana as nature intends, and the ultimate truth that Tholta would teach us. On Betazed they say souls cross time like clouds cross skies. Some day, we may cross his path again. Until then, we bid him farewell. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” Chaplain Palu said, feeling like he was back on form as he pivoted to theology.

A Betazoid lament began to play, and the communications staff who had attended shuffled out awkwardly.

“Well that was brief. But it did what it needed to. Thanks.” Alex said, standing up and moving to the chaplain once everyone was gone.

“No trouble, really. People are usually sadder at funerals, but what can one do.” Palu said.

“Be less of an asshole in life, it might be said for the late Lieutenant.” Alex observed.

“You’ve a mind for philosophy, Commander. We must grab a drink sometime when we’re both off-duty.” Palu suggested.

“Sure. Is it true you were involved in that Fawkes caper?" Alex asked.

"Oh yes. I was brought on as an appraiser on Regulon." Palu admitted.

"What really happened there? Even I can’t get into half the files.” Flynn asked.

“Oh, the official story isn’t far from the truth. None of us knew the now-Madame Ambassador was the one killing people. She did a bloody good job making it look like someone else did it though. She even managed to turn that half-Bolian bruiser against the Cardassian. Killed each other, in the end.” Palu explained, recollecting.

“Eidelwel and her cousin sold the boat soon after they sold the smuggled weapons to Ferengi peacebrokers. Melted them down into replicator matter. Poor Doctor was killed rescuing the Bajoran girl from Afsanjoori, but he took the whole rotten head off that particular snake.” The Chaplain recollected. “Any more detail than that, I’m going to need a pint in front of me.”

“Deal. What’s your usual watering hole?” Flynn asked.

“The Vicarage, thus far. Which is what I’ve been calling my quarters. Any suggestions?”

“I swing by Freddie’s most nights.”

“Freddie’s. I’ll stop by.”

“Groovy. See you there, vicar. Thanks again.” Alex told the Chaplain.

“Any time, my dear Commander.” Palu responded with a deferential semi-bow.

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