Cleaning up after chaos: A post Khan event question

[shardofwinter]

Not everyone who frequents the Nexus was unfortunate enough to be caught up in Khan's attack. Reynard had ended Winter in his own world and engaged in his usual annual seclusion that, as it always did, ended once he had run out of alcohol. The sight of an obliterated Nexus was not the pub crawling paradise he'd remembered it as. It seems that he's missed the action and stumbled into the aftermath. People are tired, disoriented, upset and in shock, or powering through their emotions by helping organise everyone else. Without much of a thought, Reynard falls into a group that is already working to set everything right again. Or as right as things can be set. As it turns out, an atmosphere of destruction and tragedy does wonders for a Spring-sick Winter spirit. 

He looks as awful as he feels, and far more sober than he'd like to be. He's forgone his coat, but kept his gloves on and a makeshift mask for the work at hand. Reynard has volunteered for the grim task of working with the dead. In a shaded area he helps move bodies to rest side by side, covered in shrouds that have started to vary in colour as they run through their supplies. These are the ones who have not, or cannot, be identified. 

It's been a long day, and it's been hard graft, and everything feels hotter than it is, especially with the cloth around his face. Reynard takes his gloves off, leans against the edge of a table, and pulls away the mask, revealing an unkempt beard. "What would you like to happen at your funeral?"

Comments

[strontiumdog]

Johnny smiles in a way that doesn't quite reach his eyes and one hand strays to touch his jaw. "Sure feels like it. Too many people are still in shock, but someone's got to dig the graves. Just as someone's got to move the bodies." He nods respectfully at Reynard's disheveled appearance.

"I've read about things like that, when I was young. That would be way, way back. Wouldn't help a lot of the poor sods here, I don't think." Johnny cocks his head to the side. "And no, it's not everyone's cup of tea. Most prefer spacings. Unless they're on Earth, then it's just regular old burial. Call it a personal preference. I just don't want to leave anything of myself behind for propaganda purposes - or otherwise. No doubt it'll better than whatever will happen to it than if I don't."

[shardofwinter]

Reynard nods in solemn agreement.

"I've seen some impossible things in my time here. A bell and string seem like small things to give if it saves us from burying someone alive." The last thing he'd like to do is find out he'd condemned some creature who could resurrect to a lifetime in a their own grave.

"Ah yes, corpses for propaganda. Not a pretty thing. I can't blame you for wanting to avoid that... Is a 'spacing' where they shoot you off into space? Like a sea burial. Without the fire."

[strontiumdog]

"Put like that, it seems like an alright idea. I'll see about implementing that."

A small smile tugs at the corner of Johnny's mouth.

"And yeah, pretty much. They say a couple of words over your corpse then shoot you out the airlock. Don't much see the point of it though. All it does is make up planetary debris for ships to accidentally plough through."

Johnny shrugs with one shoulder, half-heartedly.

"Some people like the idea of being preserved in perfect condition, floating forever. Not my thing. So long as my head doesn't end up nailed to a wall with a cam-drone clogging up the news for a week, I'm alright with it."

[shardofwinter]

Reynard nods his thanks and his approval. Even if the tradition was created for a very different reason, it's reassuring that it might be useful here.

"Floating in space in perfect condition and no control over your body." He wrinkles his nose and shakes his head, folding his arms in adamant opposition. "It doesn't sound right to me. If I had to worry about propaganda, I would be in agreement with you and I'd want my body burned. You keep your claim on your own body that way."

[strontiumdog]

"Well. It's about the only thing that I have left, these days. Makes sense that I'd want to keep my body mine."

Johnny tilts his head at Reynard, thinking through what little he knows about the man and what he's gleaned from their conversations. "But I notice that you didn't answer your own question, Reynard. I think... You'd be the type to prefer an old fashioned burial. In the earth, maybe the mountains? At the peak, of course." He taps the handle of the shovel and nods decisively. "And a simple headstone marker, or maybe nothing at all."

He pauses for a second then shrugs, ruefully. "Or you could want a giant snecking gold pyramid on a dying star with wine and women."

[shardofwinter]

"You've got a good sense of people, Johnny Alpha," Reynard tells him with a grin. Leaning back against a table, he takes a deep breath as he considers his funeral. "I'd like a sky burial. Old fashioned as it gets. Leave me at the summit of a mountain. Let Nature have my body."

He tips his head to pin Johnny down with a look. "And then I'd expect everyone to march back down and have a grand party with the women and wine you mentioned."