He stood at the edge of the memorial, the tall dark onyx towering before him. He looked in between the names, careful not to take in too much. It was foolish to even come here, the odds of triggering something were incalculable. Still, on today of all days there was nowhere else to be. The crowd was large by modern standards, perhaps thirty wide and three times as many deep. They all stood fixated on the memorial, in front of which a small stage had been erected. The man, perhaps a priest, was talking into a microphone that was suspended by a hanging cable. His voice boomed across the empty space of the square, bouncing back and reverberating. He spoke of honour, and how well we had all acted, how we lived on because of our actions. He reminded us that there had been no other choice, that in the wake of the coming onslaught, sacrifices had been made. And besides, they had only been a small colony.

His eyes flickered briefly on a name, engraved into the dark onyx and it brought back a surge of memories. A young family, eager to start again, happy for the opportunity. Lives cut short. He began to tune out the names again, but that brought back the preacher. The speech, or sermon, must have been finished because some of the surrounding people started applauding, others cried. He directed us to look up at the sky, to gaze at the large dark hole where our moon had been. It was a sombre sight, a reminder of the war and the love lost. For a time he was unable to look away, and when he did the square was clear, save for a lone janitor sweeping debris off the stage. He had been lost in thought, thinking of the events that had happened so many years ago.

No one was quite sure where they came from, or what they wanted. Even what they looked like was unknown for a time. What was known was that their tech outmatched ours. Their ships could slip and weave, chewing through three of our cruisers before vanishing again. Every able pilot and Gunner was deployed to the front, and we mounted a defense as best we could. The moon turned into a worker relief station, ferrying food and medicine to the war, and injured soldiers or empty ships back home. The dance seemed to be endless.

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Eventually we realized we were losing, it wouldn't be long before the moon fell, and they began boarding the planet. Those days were cold and hard on the ground. Most were content to watch the news on the encoders, desperately hoping for the tide to turn. It seemed the enemy knew we were losing as well, their raids became more brutal and less predictable. They hit hard and fast and frequently. Eventually we had no choice, we were backed into a corner.

Every ship was scrambled in one desperate push back against their blockade. They were the bait, engaging as many of the flagships as they could. They even managed to draw the attention of one or two of the moving shipyards. It was what we needed. The planetary defense systems were refocused on the moon and it was detonated. He had turned one of the keys himself. Shit, it had been his goddam idea. Chunks of debris and shrapnel had shot off across space. It tore through the green tint of their shields before puncturing their vessels. We had timed it well, each of our ships in the battlefield knew exactly when to slip, and we had avoided casualties. For the most part.

He gazed at the monument again. Except for those stuck on the moon, who had been sacrificed. He thought sometimes that they had lost something more as well. Some kind of cosmic connection darting back across time. A link to lost ancestry and distant peoples, all who sat under the pale moonlight. It was too bad, to lose something like that, a bad omen. But there was no going back now, and he had no regrets. Besides, the sun would rise in the morning. Like it always did. He turned and walked back down the streets toward the port.

He tried to push back the thoughts that kept him up at night, not only of those on the moon, and the details of their case files, but other thoughts too. Thoughts of other survivors. One skittering enemy ship, tumbling through the endless space, desperately fighting against the damage. One bee left to return to the hive, with lustful thoughts of revenge on a blue earth.