It takes three hours to get everyone on board. And there's still some grumbling about Finley being in command, but the nice thing about soldiers is that even when they're upset, if they have a task to do, they'll just grumble while they do it.
There was a lot of debate that happened behind the scenes about Finley's command, things that will probably come out at some point, she knows. Stupid ideas like a shared command or the Republican first officer they'd tried to stick her with. Finley had sacrificed all the other senior leadership to keep Evan, Russo, and Brandi. And she hadn't been able to argue her way out of carrying a contingent of diplomats that were mostly made up of people who'd belonged to the neutral party during the war.
Useless people in Finley's opinion. If you weren't going to fight for anything what was the point of living?
Finley had waited in the main landing bay of the Loss while Evan and the others got everyone on board and had them double check their room assignments. As expected, there were a few mix-ups that took minutes to get sorted and Brandi had to adjust all the command access systems to the new leadership.
Inside the bay, the ship builders had used the name plates of the destroyed ships to create the northern wall.
Since there was no norther pole in space and some stars were perfectly capable of changing positions when they felt like it, all ships had a center point designated.
The captain's seat.
In every ship it sat at 0 – 0 and all measurements and sections and numbering of any kind started from there. For the most part, all the ships still ended up on a similar enough design that soldiers could transfer ship to ship and work without issue. There were only so many places you could put a captain's seat that made sense anyway, but there were a few exceptions.
The UES Loss was not one of them. Finley's captain's seat was where it generally was, in the center of the main command deck at towards the front of the ship. In terms of the ship's design, it was point zero and also true north and twelve o'clock. It was the starting point for everything really. Which was fitting given the captain was supposed to be the heart of the ship. Entire crews being built around the ideals and leadership of a single person. There've been entire crews that took on a new religion, not something Finley supports, and crews that had to be broken up because they took on too many of their captain's toxic traits. But there had also been crews famed for their closeness, who'd followed their captain into retirement rather than serve under someone else and crews that new one another so well they could react without speaking on combat. Finley wasn't sure what this crew would turn into, there wasn't really a way to tell, but they were definitely going to become something.
Provided they all survived this.
The northern wall of the bay had the name plates of the Firefly, the Usaley, the Triton, the Wayfarer, the Israel (and what had they gotten from that fucking ship, Finley wondered), the Washington, the iChing, the Simba, and several others that were too damaged to read directly, installed.
It would make a good Memorial Wall, Finley thought. A tradition on all ships where photos and memorabilia of those lost was kept to honor them and the bay was large enough that even with the small fleet of fighters and shuttles and heavy equipment that anyone paying their respects wouldn't be in the way.
It was the first time she'd seen any sign of sentimentality in the new government.
And it wasn't like it wasn't like they were the first government to try and erase the memory of a war once it was over. There was a long history of civilizations and governments throughout human history erasing significant people or events after they stopped being useful.
It was disappointing to think that was what was happening to Finley and her new crew. That they were, all five hundred of them, getting erased because of a war none of them started but they'd all been expected to die for anyway.
A warm presence appeared at her shoulder. It wasn't Evan or Russo. She could pick them out blind and deaf after all this time.
It was someone new. Which meant there were 497 options, but then there was a whiff of pine and smoke and the light Texas accent that the population from that area had somehow managed to hold onto. "The Wayfarer was mine."
Beau Callahan. "The Firefly and the Usaley." Finley offered, then she pointed to one of the nameplates to damaged to read but somehow tingled at the edges of Finley's memory. "Think that one is too, I think." She narrowed her eyes and tried to force the memory forward.
Beau grinned. "So many memories."
This close his eyes were terribly bright. Almost like Evan's but a different shade of blue. Evan was famous for his starbright blue, but Beau's were more like the Pacific Ocean. A deep, dark blue of a place that was still a mystery to the race that inhabited her planet.
And they stayed on Finley's as she looked back and agreed. "So many."
They stared at one another, each waiting for the other. Finley hadn't been involved with anyone since she lost Antony with the Firefly. Evan's romantic life was a rather famous mess among the Federals and Russo's was just as famously a complete mystery. Finley's had been proper wild before she'd met Anthony and while they'd had their moments it was the steadiest relationship she'd ever had.
She missed him, when she had the time to think about him.
But Beau Callahan was interesting. And attractive.
And they were all going to be stuck together for a while.
He was clearly interested, judging by the warm interest in his eyes and the scant distance he'd left between them.
Well, at least something was looking up.
~ tbc