Natalie had wandered through a fog of fear, disbelief, and, eventually, relief. April 12th had been a celebration that took place across the known universe on Federation planets and postings.  2401 had brought the terror of the Borg back and nearly grabbed the entirety of the human race off the board. Near being the keyword.  With the help of a rebuilt Enterprise D and the rebellious crew of the Titan, the day had been saved, and the bodies of the young returned to their owners.  That had been three days ago.

The death toll, the injured reports, and the various twists and turns of the plans that involved Changelings and Borg were still unraveling.  Doctor Beverly Crusher’s sterling mind had been assigned to remove the Borg influence, and already transporter modifications were being tested and sent out to the fleet, planets, stations, and beyond.  Natalie had woken up this morning, dragged herself through the sonic shower, and snagged a cup of coffee on her way out of her quarters.  She had resolved to push through the fog today and find something…anything to do.  The jangled panic that had run through the Academy since the hell-storm had broken loose on the 12th was less jangled and more worn and sore.  She’d fallen in with Cadet Goldsmith as they walked to breakfast.  Silent was their meal, and the others in the room didn’t choose to speak either.  The first bright spots of a solution were starting to spread in the darkness that hung above them.

Natalie stared at the flakes of oatmeal in her bowl.  The last flits of pancake hung on her fork.  Thirty minutes had passed since they’d sat down with their trays.  She let out a small sigh, “How you doing Phil?”

The heads of the other cadets snapped at the sudden sound, but Goldsmith was unnerved, “Been weird not talking.”  He lifted his eyes from the remnants of his cinnamon roll, “Thanks for asking.  I…I’m…it’s hard getting over just how close we came to destruction.”  He sipped his apple juice, “I grew up on the stories of my people’s near genocide.  I’ve watched the movies…I’ve read the books…stood in the holodeck programs…but there’s something about the moment where you’re staring down the metaphorical phaser set to kill…and someone will pull that trigger no matter how much you try to stop it.” He pulled a napkin from the center of the table, “It was over four hundred and fifty years ago.  We never stopped sharing the stories of our people and their memories.  My mother has the original books in environmental storage…the stories of my ancestors.”  He paused, “The ones who lived on…and those that were taken from us.” Natalie had studied her history in high school.  She knew the story.  She wasn’t sure what to say at the moment.  She put her hands across the table, palms up.  Phil’s eyes drifted to them, and he put his hands in hers.  They held each other’s hands.  After a few minutes, Goldsmith withdrew his hands to his lap, “Thank you, Nat.”

The gathered cadets had followed their lead, and the low thrum of conversation had started as a flutter until the volume felt like it had been before Frontier Day.  Pockets of hesitant laughter were heard, and the question was on everyone’s lips – what do we do now?  Natalie observed it all and wasn’t sure of the answer.  She looked at her new friend and wondered aloud the question.  He considered it for a moment and counted his answer on his hands.  He ignored Natalie’s stare and took his time before answering, “Sixteen generations have come since those days.  The ones who survived…they kept the memories of our family.  They made a vow…’never again’.  So much war had come since then…so much suffering…it seems the way of the universe.”

Harris wondered if he wasn’t wrong.  She reflected, “I read a poem in high school…by a guy named Alfred, Lord Tennyson.” She grimaced, “It’s a long poem…but the part that always stuck with me was a part about not to reason why.”

Goldsmith chuckled dryly and recited the lines she was referring to from the poem, ‘Forward, the Light Brigade!’

“Was there a man dismayed? Not though the soldier knew  Someone had blundered.  Theirs not to make reply,  Theirs not to reason why,  Theirs but to do and die.  Into the valley of Death  Rode the six hundred.

He shrugged, “I studied way too much literature in high school.”

They fell back into silence as Harris tapped at her PADD.  She smiled thoughtfully as she reread the entire poem and came to the end, musing on the final stanza.  She read from the device,

”When can their glory fade? O the wild charge they made!  All the world wondered. Honour the charge they made! Honour the Light Brigade,  Noble six hundred! 

Phil sat forward, “We say when someone dies…’May their memory be a blessing’.  Maybe that’s part of the answer to where we go from here.”  He looked around, “Maybe we organize a memorial service.  Ask cadets if they’d like to submit a name to remember.  We have a tradition…sitting Shiva.”  He tapped at her PADD and turned it around for her to read about it.  “Maybe do something similar here.  Help everyone find their way through this.”

Harris nodded along as he explained, “Let’s put it together.  Nobody should go through this alone.”