The media reports after the battle were filled with the praise of Darren Vaclav, they couldn't find an end of nice things to say about him, the words 'courageous,' 'brilliant,' and 'commanding' all appeared frequently in their newscasts. Darren, of course, thought that all this was absurd, they all called him 'the civilian passenger' of the Calypso. 'Civilian Passenger.' Darren chuckled at this, "I'm a stupid stowaway who took a ship that didn't belong to me. It's like they want me to be their hero, I guess I sell advertisements." None of the stories told how he'd scraped the freighter on the docking bay of the carrier, or how he had forgotten the air lock and forced the ship to use its sealing mechanisms to prevent disaster. Darren Vaclav was a god to them.

To the fleet, he was a hero. Every soldier or officer he came across saluted him or shook his hand, some even hugged him. Everyone wanted to buy him a Guinness, or whatever else he liked to drink. Mothers of soldiers had sent him 'home-cooked' treats, fresh out of the box from the corner store. The soldier's sisters had all sent their pictures and fan mail to the famous Darren Vaclav, little boys sent letters telling him how they hoped to be just like him one day.

Of course, the officials hadn't let him eat even one of the cookies that had been sent to him. They were afraid someone might try to poison their favourite pilot. Instead, all of the packages were reduced to their base elements, and these elements were sold. For the first time ever, Darren had some money to his name. Of course, the money the freighter's owner had paid him for saving his ship's cargo was nearly six times as much as the "bake sale," but Darren didn't know about that yet.

All the fuss was making him mad, "Can't they see? I'm nothing! Not even worth the time of day! These people spent their hard earned money on me! Me! Darren Vaclav, 20th generation in a line of worthless people!" As he thought about this, he wondered why he cared, why should it matter if I'm so worthless?

Some of the news coverage did focus on the crew of the Calypso, though they didn't offer any conclusive reasons why the Calypso was in the middle of the battle. The reporters made some remark about the freighter straying from it's guild, and then went straight into describing the crew. The captain's name had been Neil Hayes, and the other man in the control room was Scott Hennessy. Aherne O'Farrell's funeral would be in two days, in Núa Dublin, where Aherne's wife, Erin, lived with their three children.

The government officials were housing Darren in the military section of the space station Galvan. He was constantly around military leaders, and ate his meals with some off-duty commanders. At one of the meals he decided to speak up.

"Aherne's funeral is in two days, I want to go."

All the murmuring between the officers stopped, and everybody looked to an older man sitting at the end of the main table. The man seemed to be thinking.

Finally, there was a response, "Well, we can certainly accommodate that, but we're going to have some rules for you. I don't want you showing up at the funeral in any way that the media could recognise you," the older man motioned to a younger officer, "Could you get him a black cloak? And take him to Núa Dublin?"

"Certainly, that won't be a problem."

"Excellent. Oh, and Commander Allen, you don't need to go to the funeral. Just take him to the city and point him in the right direction."

"Yes, sir," Allen said.

"Now, if I could have a word with you in private, Mr. Vaclav?" Darren saw that his name plate said Admiral Histon.

"Sure." Darren wasn't accustomed to "sir"-ing officers, and besides, he was technically still a civilian. He also didn't realise that it really wasn't necessary to answer the Admiral's question, he was simply expected to follow him.

Histon led Darren out of the officer's mess and into a small room that Darren guessed was the man's office. The walls in the office were flat white, like paper. There was a wooden desk in the middle of the room, and Histon walked behind it.

"Darren," he started, "Oh, sorry, have a seat. Not used to having heart to heart conversations with civilians in my office." Darren sat in the seat. "What was your relationship with Aherne?"

"He paid me ten credits to help him load some crates on to the Calypso He was an incredibly nice guy, I've never had anyone treat me well, good, I suppose."

"Aherne didn't tell you what the Calypso was transporting, did he?"

"No, but I did realise it was rather curious, whatever it was."

"Oh, really? What did you notice about it?"

"Well, whatever it was, it was packed in crates that were way to expensive for anything that Nechi produces. Another thing, the Calypso left the guild and found itself in the middle of a huge battle "

"I assure you, we weren't planning on that," Histon said with a chuckle. "Now, I'm still not allowed to tell you what the cargo was, but I'll tell you this: the Calypso isn't really a independent freighter. All of her crew members were enlisted in the Baern forces. In fact, all the fun you had with the weapons would not have been possible with a regular freighter. The Calypso's guns are far more powerful than a normal freighter's."

Histon continued, "Now, as to the reason we don't want you being recognised at Aherne's funeral. The more attention that is drawn to the sacrifice of the crew of the Calypso, the more likely it is that the media will discover the fact that the Calypso was owned and operated by the Baern forces. If the public was aware of this information, the D'Qulen would probably hear about it and start attacking all Baern freighters. I think you see the problem."

"Yes, sir, I'll be sure to keep my mouth--"

"Shut, yes, well you won't have to worry about that, we'll see to it for you," Histon smiled.

"About the cloak, won't it just attract more attention to see someone running around in a black coat?"

"No, not on Baern Prime. Politicians, priests, military, and common citizens use them to keep people from asking questions in traumatic situations. Polite people don't even try to talk to someone in a cloak."

"Okay." Darren stood up and turned for the door. He noticed an interesting shield on the wall, it had a white background and three red things on it.

"Oh, there's one more thing," Histon said.

Darren turned his head, "Yes?"

"The Baern Forces are very grateful for your protection of the Calypso's cargo, in fact, we're paying you quite a bit of money as a reward."

"Oh, thanks," Darren said distractedly as he headed for the door. Darren closed the door behind him.

Histon chuckled, "That kid's gonna make an out-of-place soldier, but he'll be a [darn] fine pilot." He logged on to his terminal and initiated a secure video conference with Baern Prime. A man several years older than Histon appeared, his hair was short and pure white. The man looked rather bitter.

"Tully? Histon here."

"What did you find out?" Tully asked shortly.

"Darren doesn't know what the cargo is. Also, you should know he's going to Commander O'Farrell's funeral, it would seem the two hit it off on Nechi."

"We can't have him associated with O'Farrell!" Tully began to yell, "If he's going to go at all, he's going in cloak!"

Histon replied calmly, "Already handled that, Tully."

"You think of everything, don't you, smart @$$? Life's not a bed of roses, you don't take--"

"'Anything seriously,' yes, I know what you think of me. But this has nothing -- I've as much right to speak as you -- this has nothing to do with Darren! It's also an argument for another day--" Tully's line dropped before Histon finished his sentence.

"Idiot." Histon logged out of the computer and left his office.

* * * * * * * * * *

Darren was in his room looking at the stars when he heard the door chime. He reached up and hit the comm. button, "Come in," he said.

The door slid open and Commander Allen walked through, he was wearing a black cloak with the hood on his shoulders. "You ready?"

"Yep," Darren said as he put on his cloak. Unlike Commander Allen, Darren pulled the hood over his head before leaving the room.

Allen led him through several different compartments and into a docking bay with many ships. Some of the ships were like the ones that fought alongside him in the battle several days ago. Others were freighters of various makes, and there were a few Allen called 'ferries.' Darren thought he meant Faeries, like the ones Aherne spoke about, but Darren didn't say anything to that effect.

Darren and James walked to the longest line of people in the bay, it was a line for the largest ferry in the station. Most of the people heading planetside today would be using that ferry.

Some of the people were obviously tourists who'd taken a visit to Galvan, and were heading home. Others were Baern forces heading for shore leave planetside. They seemed pretty oblivious to all the technology around them. Darren wasn't used to the enclosed space, the technology, or such a large group of people being so quiet. All of the passengers loaded in just a few minutes. Darren couldn't help thinking that it would have taken a much longer time to load a ship like this on Nechi, assuming Nechi even had the facilities to handle such a large vessel.

The entire interior of the ferry was a bright white. Darren felt blinded by it. He wouldn't have been surprised by the interior if he'd been in the civilian areas of the space station. Aside from white, the only colours in the civilian sectors were from the potted plants in them. The common areas in the military sectors of the station weren't painted, so they were coloured like the metal used to construct them.

A woman dressed in a grey suit directed Darren and James to some empty seats. James spoke to her, "Hey, it's this guy's first time planetside, do you mind if we get window seats?"

"Oh! I'm sorry, I had no idea. Of course." She led them closer to the front of the vessel, since all the rear window seats were filled.

A few minutes after they had been seated, the ferry began to move. After the ferry left Galvan it accelerated and Darren could feel the artificial gravity compensating for the movement. He'd never felt that on the Calypso, evidently the ferries weren't as advanced. When the ferry arrived at Baern Prime the crew fired the reverse thrusters, and began it's descent.

The ferry seemed to catch fire as it hit the atmosphere. Darren panicked for a moment, but then realised that Commander Allen didn't seem to notice the flames.

"Does it always do that?" Darren asked.

"Do what?" James said as he leaned his seat back.

"-- catch on fire!"

"Oh, that, don't worry about it. The ship isn't really burning, just the air around it. When we slow down some more, it'll stop all together."

James seemed likely to take a nap, so Darren gazed out the window at the approaching ground. He couldn't make out too many details yet, the ferry was still to high. He could see the major continents and some rivers, but nothing man-made was visible yet. The ferry seemed to be heading for a spot of ocean near one of the larger land masses.

Soon Darren could see a few settlements on the nearest continent, and then he noticed an island. That seemed to be the ferry's destination. The largest city on the island was soon visible, the rows of buildings were uneven, with different heights, different roofs, and weaving roads. The ferry fired reverse thrusters again, and Darren could see a large beige pad with bright orange paint marking a circle.

A voice spoke over the intercom, "We are initiating final landing procedures, we ask that you, please, remain seated until you are instructed to leave the ferry. Thank you, and have a good day."

The de-boarding process was a lot less organised than the boarding had been. Everyone gathered their bags at different rates, people passed slower passengers, there was some pushing and shoving, and a good deal more chatter. Those who had gathered their bags were trying to get out as quickly as politely possible. Darren and James didn't have any bags, and since they had taken seats fairly close to the front, they didn't wait long before exiting the ferry. Outside, the passengers all went in different directions and at different rates. Some had to pick up baggage, and others met family. Some simply started walking down the street.

The street was like hard, rough rock. Concrete. Small buildings lined the street. A pub (which doubled as an Inn) was on the left, a doctor's office faced it from the right. Darren couldn't see the buildings beyond those two. The outskirts of Núa Dublin seemed to be attempting to look like a small town. Darren had seen the larger building from the window of the ferry and wasn't fooled.

James waved at Darren and then pointed to the pub. They wandered through the crowd separately and met just outside the pub. Then James opened the door and went inside with Darren following close behind.

"We'll wait in here for just a bit, let the crowd die down, okay?"

"Sure." They took seats at the main counter.

"Hey, 'Keep," James said as he taped a little bell on the counter.

"Y'ain't gonna drink at this hour ah the mornin' are yah?" A voice from the back room called.

"We're just back from Galvan, are rythm's screwed. So, yes, we'll have a drink."

The voice in the back room grumbled a bit, but soon the short stocky man appeared at the front counter. "What'll it be?"

"I'll have a shot of whiskey," James said.

"An' you?" the man asked Darren.

"Water."

"Ah, there's uh sensible man, 'never drink before 11 in the morning' me da always said. And right 'e was!" Soon, the man set down small glass of whiskey and a glass of water.

James finished his drink just as soon as he got it, but Darren just sipped his water slowly. The barkeeper went back to the back room. They saw a few heads pass by the window, slowly the noise outside began to die down. James stood up, and walked to the window.

"Well, it looks pretty clear now. Let's be going."

"Are you going to pay him?"

"Whoops!" James put his hand inside his cloak and pulled out a few pieces of printed paper and left them on the counter.

They walked out of the pub, and headed in the direction of the landing pad. James led around the perimeter of the pad, past the Transit Authority building, and to what appeared to be a small neighboorhood.

"So, you just keep walking down this road 'til the pavement quits, To your right'll be a dirt road, keep with it and you'll find a church yard. They'll be holding the service out of doors. I'll meet you back here at 17:30 local." Allen handed him a device. "This comm. is pre-set to contact mine. If you need to get ahold of me before 17:30, just call me, okay?"

"Sure." Darren started walking down the road, leaving Allen felling awkward.

Allen called after him, "Dare!" Then he muttered, "Whoops, shouldn't call out 'Dare' I suppose."

Darren looked over his shoulder, "Yeah?"

"You're crazy, you know that?"

Darren shrugged, "A place like --"

"Hush! Don't say that name! I get your point though. See you in a few hours."

* * * * * * * * * *

Evidently, Darren had arrived early. The chairs were already set up, but only a priest and a flower-deliverer were in the church yard. When Darren approached the church yard, they looked up at him for a moment, but said nothing.

Darren sat on a chair in the last row, and looked around. To his right was a small church building. It hardly seemed possible that a colony only two-hundred years old could have a church as old as this one appeared to be. Darren thought they might have aged it on purpose, though that seemed pointless to him. He didn't dare look around to much, as someone might see his face and recognise him, so he looked down. Everywhere he'd been on Baern Prime, the grass had been so green; this wasn't the exception. Aherne had explained that the brilliantly green Eire of his ancestors was on Terra Prime, but Darren couldn't imagine a greener green than he'd seen on Baern Prime.

The priest and the florist were still talking quietly in front of Aherne's casket. Fortunately for Darren, people soon started filling the seats around him. He guessed that the woman who sat in the middle of the front row was Erin, Aherne's wife, but wasn't certain. She had three children with her, and all were dressed in black. The woman had bright red hair, and seemed young, but Darren couldn't see more without showing his face.

As the crowd gathered, the priest spoke with many of them, but avoided Darren. Apparently, Admiral Histon was quite serious when he said no one would bother Darren while he was wearing the cloak. After most of the seats had filled, the priest walked back to the front of the crowd and stood in front of the casket. The priest began by saying a few words in Latin, and then began preaching on the resurrection of Christ. Darren had never heard of any such thing, but the priest stopped speaking about Christ without getting to what Darren would have considered the main point. The account seemed to be missing something.

Then the priest began talking about Aherne's life, the sort of man he was, and the things he did in his lifetime. He seemed careful to avoid mentioning precisely what Aherne was doing on a civilian freighter, or even that Aherne was enlisted in the Baern Forces. If Darren hadn't known those two things, he wouldn't have realised that the priest was leaving the important bits out. Darren felt the priest was rather adept at leaving things out.

The longer the priest spoke, the people seemed to be more affected by his eulogy. The woman in the front Darren had noticed before seemed to be the most emotional. Darren realised he was holding his emotions back, too entranced by watching the crowd to feel anything. He quit watching people and just listened to the priest. Soon, he too was crying.

The priest finished his eulogy with another prayer in Latin, ". . . Inclina, Domine, aurem tuam ad preces nostras, quibus misericordiam tuam supplices deprecamur, ut animam famuli tui Aherne, quam de hoc saeculo migrare iussisti, in pacis ac lucis regione constituas et Sanctorum tuorum iubeas esse consortem. Per Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen." The crowd repeated the "amen." *

* My apologies to any Catholics who know how this sort of funeral is supposed to actually go. I've done as much research as I can on it without actually going to a Catholic funeral. Just pretend that a thousand years from now they've forgotten/misremembered a few things, okay? Thanks.

Chapter Four is on the way!