By Lasharo Mahal
Net-7 Senior Correspondent

After decades of crisscrossing the galaxy, I often think I've seen it all. Journalists see many things that average citizens don't, and after a while we tend to view most occurrences with a cynical eye before we dismiss them. So there isn't much that truly touches this old woman's heart anymore.

For example, just on my most recent trip I've seen vicious trade wars between former friends and colleagues, heroic rescue efforts that failed despite extraordinary bravery, amazing feats of courage that saved countless lives (while the heroes went thankless), and other newsworthy events that certainly deserve notice.

But those stories will have to wait for another day. Today I'd like to tell you about a simple yet profound moment I witnessed at Somerled Station.

I was enjoying a relaxing walk around the indoor park on Somerled when I came across a young pilot, still in his flightsuit, sitting on a bench. He had a stunned, grief-stricken look on his face, and I knew his news wouldn't be good. I sat beside him, and listened to his story. He told me how his friend and mentor, Grandreeper, had gone on a routine patrol and never returned.

I heard this young pilot describe his friend's prowess in battle and tell many tales of heroics with his guild, Starfleet. He left no doubt that Grandreeper was admired and respected among his peers for his prowess and courage in battle. Obviously, this was a pilot who had left a lasting impression among his colleagues.

But then the young pilot left, saying he did not wish to be late to his friend's memorial service, and I watched him head purposefully toward the docking bay. I had other questions for this young pilot, but suppressed my natural reporter's curiosity and let him go on his way.

Soon I found myself leaving Somerled as well, no longer interested in the hustle and bustle of the marketplace. And when I floated out of the docking bay, I beheld a sight that will stay with me until the end of my days.

There, right outside Somerled Station, were hundreds of Grandreeper's friends and colleagues. Their ships stretched as far as I could see, and they were all there for a single purpose - to pay respect to a fallen friend.

Upon closer inspection, I realized that while many of these mourners were from Grandreeper's guild, the vast majority were not. They were simply everyday pilots, wishing to add their sentiment and convey condolences to Grandreeper's family. No one had to be there, but they all felt compelled, if only for a short while, to forego their pursuit of glory and profit in order to pay tribute to a fellow adventurer.

They told stories of his epic battles, swapped tales of his heroism, and some just remembered sitting in a lounge and recounting missions with him over a drink. And slowly they drifted away, each mourner going about his own life with perhaps a little more respect for the delicate balance of the universe.

And now, as war breaks out and hostility again spreads across the galaxy, many more brave pilots will fight, and die, and we will certainly hear their stories. But amidst all the tales of war and glory and sacrifice, we would all do well to remember that there are other, quiet heroes as well, who live on in the hearts of their friends and family. And long after the stories of war have faded into history, the legacy of true heroes such as Grandreeper will persevere.

Rest in peace, friend, with the comfort of knowing that your comrades will carry your legacy among the stars.