38

Delicious smells waft up from the kitchen as another waiter brings out several plates of appetizers for a nearby table. Your stomach growls and you think you might order a snack. But having perused the menu earlier, the sheer volume of choice is overwhelming. Life back home is definitely more complex than the life of a trooper. Easier, safer, and probably longer. But sometimes you do miss the simplicity of life in uniform.

"Have you ordered yet?"

The question jerks you from your thoughts.

"Anything's better than the ration packs we lived on in the field," you say.

"You got that right!"

You stare at the menu, trying to shake off the sudden flood of memories—of dirt and cold, of blood and smoke, of steel and the endless rattling of guns. When you think back to the first time you set foot on Cerberus, and the ideas you had then, you wearily shake your head. You expected combat, but nothing had prepared you for the brutality of war. Or the nobility of those on both sides.

You reckon you'll have nightmares for the rest of your life, but at least you still have that life to experience.

"You decide," you say. "I'm having trouble concentrating."

But it was all worth it, to bring peace to a war-torn planet and start the long process of rebuilding their society. Other colonies rose up as well, but the Astral Force has responded to every threat and restored the peace.

You raise your glass, remembering fondly all your fallen comrades, from both sides.

"To the future," you say quietly. "And to freedom."

End