Chroncle 10, Episode 3, Prologue

Location: Myrmidon war memorial; Lester 3
Galactic Coordinates 160,205,136,45,96 Beta Galaxy

Time: IRY 2489

A star that was a too pale yellow hung in a baby blue sky, bathing the too green grass and trees that decorated the slightly uneven landscape that stretched as far as the eye could see.

The scene was all too real. Almost like an artists oil painting that had lines that were too sharp and colours too exact. Or maybe it was more like a dreamscape? Not that this land could be called a land of dreams anymore.

Rows of white plastirock seats had been arranged neatly in a series of crescent moons around a white stone needle that rose fifty metres into the air as if to bayonet the sky. Spread around the entire collection of seats like an honour guard flew the flags of a thousand species. Just a few moments ago, the last of the seats had been filled. Not just with the ever present Terrans who formed the backbone of the Interstellar Republic, but Dai-rue, Tekarians, Eloean, Veelox, Thriss, Garotzind and about a hundred other species that represented those who had given so much to protect the greatest civilisation in recorded history.

As General Tierny adjusted the cuffs of his dress uniform, he stepped up to the almost insignificant platform that had been placed at the foot of the needle. A flag of dark blue flag spread over with stars around a laurel reef hung from the front of the podium providing what seemed a more realistic colour than nature while the white of his uniform made him almost blend in with the needle behind him, but the black sash that he wore from right shoulder to left him stood out proud.

A soft breeze disturbed the plants and grasses and made the flags flutter in the breeze giving an otherwise silent wind a voice.

A voice of the dead.

A voice that could not compete against the baritone of the general, but acted instead like a soft chorus underpinning the reason for the gathering.

“Those who have seen war are destined to relive it. At night they hear the screams of friend and foe. When they close their eyes, they see the faces of the soldier who was cut down next to them. When they are alone, their minds return to the field of battle and ask one question. Why?”

“Throughout Terran history, our darkest moments have brought out what poets and writers have called a spark. One tiny light that can shine like a beacon to bring in a new dawn that blazes brighter than a star. A spark that turns night to day, fear to courage and despair to hope.”

“On this field, among soldiers who were outnumbered, outgunned and without hope, a single spark flared to life and lit their night ushering in that new dawn. A dawn that was forged in the blood of soldiers from a thousand worlds, a dawn that was tempered with the fire they brought forth.”

“On this field, the tide of the Myrridon war was turned.”

“On this field, soldiers went above and beyond the call of their duty and showed a civilisation something that is even more precious than armaments.”

“On this field, hope arose.”