Arnold Claude was, without a doubt, the most easy-going manager that I have even worked with.
He was kind, supportive, patient and he allowed me to have my phone or tablet on the shop floor. 
His passion for clocks extended about as far as my own, yet he was still more than efficient at selling them.
If I worked on Saturdays, he would give me a lift home and at Christmas he would get me a box of Heroes.
He was the first name that I added to a confirmed list of the people killed on board the Screnac.3.
His frozen, bloated body was directly in front of the Piti.
It was not until we stopped moving that you could see that he was indeed moving very slowly, in one direction; away from the ship that he had been travelling on.
That fact that he was not alone out there hit hard.
Out of sight, scattered amongst the stars were the bodies of too many human beings.
Lost and alone.
Left to wander the realms of space without ceremony.
I could not let it happen.
“Orthus!” I all but cried out as I maneuvered myself up the ramp onto the bridge, “is there any way to bring him on board?”
“What for, Laura MacPhaid?  He cannot be saved,” Orthus turned his head to me whilst keeping his eyes on the selection of consoles in front of him.
“But he can be buried,” I had to work hard to stop my voice from wobbling, “is there any way we could bring him and the others to Virrion?  They deserve a proper burial.”
He turned his attention away from his screens, satisfied that he was safe to do so and, tilting his head back a little, said “this is a human ritual.  Burying your dead.”
“Not so much a ritual and more of a ceremony,” Bernard’s voice came from behind us, “burial or cremation.  Either way, it’s a way that helps a lot of people move on.  I’m with Laura on this, can we take them with us?”
Orthus gazed at the floor in contemplation.
“We might be able to transport them in the cargo bay,” he thought out loud, “we would have to seal it off and open it to the vacuum.  We would also need to keep that area sealed so that they remain frozen otherwise they will begin to decompose.  We have no space suits though so it would be tricky to get them on board.  Unless Laura MacPhaid uses her ability to direct them inside and secure them.  We would need to link the interior cameras to the projection system so that we could see into there.  Laura MacPhaid, could your energy move through the hull of the ship?”
It took a moment for me to realize that the last sentence was a question being directed at me.
“Oh, uh, yes, I can do that,” my mind hurried to catch up.  The thought of moving around the dead bodies of people that I cared about was nauseating, however I owed them whatever dignity I could afford.  I knew that I would have to go through with it.
“Then,” Orthus’s head finally nodded down again, “it will be my honour to help your people to their resting place.  I will set up the interior of the ship so that you will be able to see in every direction as well as into the cargo bay.  As we come across your people, you can maneuver them in and secure them with cargo straps.  Please go to the bay now and make sure you bring up everything that will need until we reach Virrion as, once the door is open, there will be no way to get down there.”
Bernard gave a deep nod in thanks and headed back down the ramp.
“Thank you, Orthus,” I dipped my head as well, “this will mean a lot to so many people.”
“Think nothing of it Laura MacPhaid,” his voice held a warmth that had not been directed at me in a long while, “I pulled you all from your planet, I consider myself responsible for your wellbeing.  If I can be of any use to your race, I am more than willing to offer all that I have to rectify what has been done.”
A lump rose to my throat.  In all of my time blaming myself, it never truly occurred to me that Orthus was feeling the same guilt.  I had been thinking of him as humanity’s saviour, whilst he had been feeling the burden of our weight all along.  His guilt had been put aside, or possibly even drawn upon, to get us the guidance, travel, training and support that we needed to continue to survive.  He had been cast out by his government for saving us, yet was still doing all that he could to ensure that we would reach into our own future.
I had nothing that I could say to him in that moment, emotion choking my thoughts and causing my breath to catch.
“I shall begin to scan for organic material within the distance that anyone might have drifted to by this time.  Let me know when the bay is ready.”
He spared me my emotions.  I do not know whether he knew I was struggling or if he really just wanted to get started.  Either way, I simply nodded and descended  the ramp.
The others had all moved down to gather their belongings.  The plan was to use the spare beds as storage compartments; the dividers prevented items from drifting free and the straps that kept a being in place as they slept provided the necessary restraint for larger objects.
I took my time to inspect the straps that would hold our people, making sure that I knew how to secure them at a distance.
When everything was set and everyone back on the middeck, the ramp was raised up and the airlock sealed.
The Piti swayed slightly as the bay door opened and the vacuum of space removed all of the oxygen.
The interior cameras came online, giving the floor the illusion of being see-through.
Taking a deep breath to steel myself again the task at hand, I stretched out to Arnold.
Instead of taking direct hold of him, I moved around him, gently propelling him in the right direction.
The closer he got to the ship, the more we could see of him.
His clothing and hair was singed.
His limbs were positioned so that he looked as though he were floating in a sitting position, catching the sun in a swimming pool.
As he entered the bay, I carefully pushed his arms down and straightened his legs, lying him out upon the ground as gingerly as I possibly could.
It was not until after the straps were secured around him that I allowed myself to look at his face.
His eyes were wide, frozen, they shone like glass under the lights.
His mouth was distorted; twisted into a silent cry.
His skin burnt red from the radiation and bloated from the vapourization.
He still had the same salted-black, sharply trimmed hair.
He was the best person that I had ever worked for.
He was a good friend.
My hand covered my mouth and I held my sleeve up to my eyes to absorb the tears.
My breath came up in sobs as I struggled to breathe.
My voice cried out, ragged and screaming.

Having finally seen a victim of my existence for the first time, it was hitting me on an entirely new level.  I felt them die.  I experienced the pain and fear that tore through them.  However, as much as I knew that were dead, in my head I was hoping that it was some terrible fault with however the link worked. 
No.
It happened.  I have seen them, looked into their eyes and now I know. 
We were to locate and bring aboard the ones that had drifted furthest first, working our way towards the wreckage of the Screnac.3.  The path went like unravelling a ball of wool, a spherical pattern leading to the centre.
I was borderline hysterical throughout.  My heart shattered with each new face that gazed up at us through the floor.
My hands shook violently yet I kept them moving.
My eyes ran dry yet I continued to cry.
Their faces will stay with me forever, I need no vision to tell me as much.
Forty-seven bodies were found, all human.
Three humans and three tharat were missing.
Gheetoh theorized that they may have been close enough to the power core of the engine to have been vapourized by the blast.  Their deaths would have been instantaneous, it is unlikely that they would have been very aware of what was happening.
We have no information about the tharat; their names, ranks or who they were.
The humans however, them I knew.
Tony Reynolds was the dad of the family I grew up next-door to, I used to hear him whistling when I was in the kitchen and would whistle along if I knew the song, we would pass several minutes simply whistling together.
Paul Rosa was Phoebe’s estranged brother, he had some degree of aspersers, however it had not been addressed when he was younger and his personality had become so spiteful and abrupt that had eventually cause an irreparable rift in their relationship.
Leo Wilkinson worked at the cinema for a while, he was originally a seemingly nice guy, however he developed an overwhelming crush on Amelia and when she rejected him, his attempts to woo her turned to bullying, turning many other team members against her in the process until he eventually quit.

Regardless of how I thought of them I genuinely hope that they were not in any pain in the end.
I cannot hope for as much for the following;
Eddi Allen was the manager at my first job out of university, he gave me the chance at a career that I completely squandered, his camp, American personality was unable to persuade me out of my anxious bubble.
Florence Bailey was the daughter of one of my dad’s friend, she taught me how to turn meat on a BBQ and use a pen knife without embedding it in my leg.
Daisy, Graham, Nick and Gabriella were the family across the road who would occasionally need a babysitter, the single mum, Gabriella was close friends with my mum for a number of years, she tried to impose herself as an authority figure in our family, it did not make me like her.
Louise Buckley was a classmate from primary school, she taught me how to really annunciate the word ‘fuck’.
Oscar Burton was a teenager who was doing his Duke of Edinburgh at the charity shop I volunteered at, after he finished the award he ignored me around town, too cool amongst his friends to acknowledge a stuffy “grown-up”.
Susanne Carter was the second manger of the charity shop during my time there, she would occasionally buy us cakes from Marks and Spencer and would always stick up for volunteers against arsey customers.
Arnold Claude was my manager at the clock concession in the department store, he was a breath of fresh air after the power hungry upper-management of the cinema.
Natalie Cooper was in my class at university, despite the fact that we never hung out, she was always friendly towards me.
Melanie Coslett was in my class at college, she had a Julia Roberts smile and a cheerful personality that would brighten up the gloomiest of days.
Gabriella Curtis was my History teacher at secondary school, she had a quiet voice and mousey demeanour, yet was one of the few teachers that I was able to focus on in lessons.
Aarnold Dick was my Physics teacher, despite his suggestive name, he was respected and liked by his students and made the subject easy to absorb.
Alfred Diya was one of Sylvia’s brothers, I did not know him well at all, I dare say we never really spoke more than a sentence to one another.
Perry Diya was her father, a less than reputable person, he lived in the same town as me and I was never able to keep up with whether or not he was on speaking terms with Sylvia, so I would tend to ignore him.
Zoe Drew was in my form during secondary school, she had a blunt and occasionally nasty personality, however we would occasionally play card games in-between lessons.
Dexter Evans was in my class at primary school, I do not remember much about him other than the fact that he gave me a shiny Gyarados pokémon card because he had two and I had never owned a shiny before.
Alexandra, Emilia, Grace and Spencer were a family that were friends with my family when I was little, Grace (the mum) cooked potato soup without seasoning and wore thick, wooly socks over her leggings.
Peter Fox was another university classmate, he was essentially the leader of our class and had good relationships with everyone, not to mention a wicked sense of humour.
Jason Higgins was one of my English teachers, he was Australian and loved to do impersonations of Steve Erwin using classroom equipment as props.
Roxanne Hines was a neighbour of Sylvia’s, we only met a few times in passing, she seemed to have an abrasive character that was always moaning that Sylvia’s pram was taking up too much space in the stairwell.
Mathew Holmes was Jennifer’s ex-step-father, he was a very intimidating man who I was genuinely scared to spend time with, he did seem to mellow a little after the divorce however.
Rebecca Kennedy was a manager at the cinema who left only a month or so after I started, she was one of the good ones and would bring ice lollies to the team members who were on the midnight close shift.
Claire King was in my girl guide group, she was good at baking and helped me to develop a sense for opening the oven at just the right time to stop the cakes from deflating.
Zachary Lee was our college course leader and Photography lecturer, he was not the most emotionally present person but his sessions always had an interesting twist to them.
Keira Mason was in my university class, a stereotypically small but loud girl, she picked the people she liked and stuck with them.
Mike McGuire was one of the team members of the cinema, young and not too bright but he would talk your ear off if you gave him the opening.
Karla McNeil was one of the few that I did not know, I had walked pasted her in town a few times and noticed the fact that we both had the same batman logo tattoo.
Wesley Norton was our Sound Engineering Lecturer at university, he looked a little like a balding Tom Jones, his lectures were not memorable yet I somehow still absorbed the information.
Frederick Pollard was a supervisor at the cinema in the last year that I was there, verging on hipster and aiming for upper management made it difficult for him to be likeable.
Issie Price was one of the guide leaders, she had plenty of personality yet would always let the other leaders be in charge.
Alice Reed was in the year above us at university, she acted in the music video our group produced and turned up uninvited to one of the few attempts I made at hosting a house party.
Shelly and Lyndon Rhodes were a married couple who were friends of my mum, they would occasionally turn up at family events with a large box of Roses or Quality Street.
Trevor Robinson and Abraham Rowland were two guys that I met at a succession of house parties during my college and university years, we never spoke since but occasionally swapped the odd like on Facebook.
Lola Shaw was one of my secondary school classmates, she was prim and proper with a cheeky sense of humour and gave me my first mobile phone, a Nokia 3310, because she got a new one and her parents had plenty of money to spare.
Ross Spencer was one of the regular customers from the cinema, he would always get a large hot dog and drink combo with three scoops of ice cream despite the fact that his breathing was laboured from simply placing the order.
Thea Stewart was our lecturer for D.T.P. (desk top publishing) at college, she would rush through the lesson, assumed that we knew what she was talking about and then disappear for the remainder of the hour.
Basil Stone was our college lecturer for radio, she owned her name and was a bit of a techno flower child, it always felt very much as though she were teaching using someone else’s lesson plan.
Brody Walton was the most vile regular customer at the cinema, he would bully whoever was serving him into getting free upgrades and food, even on the Christmas day which we were open one year.
Hall Wayne was a university classmate, typical flirtatious pretty-boy yet actually quite serious when it came to getting some work done.
Margaret Williamson was a form-mate in secondary school, we never worked together and rarely spoke, yet I always heard her laugh loudly when she was with her friends.

Their lives should not be summarized with one sentence.
They should be surrounded by their loved ones, by their friends and families.
I cannot bring them back.
I cannot bring them peace.
However, if there is even the slightest chance that I can bring their killers to justice, I will strive to do so.
I do not believe that I will be able to sleep soundly until I do.
With my own impending deadline, maybe I never will.
All I can do is try.
Deia insisted that I rest before we begin our investigation of the Screnac.3, but how could I sleep.
Every time I close my eyes they are there, visual reminders of my most dire failings, followed quickly by my own death before I wake up gasping.
I begin to understand how Buffy felt being told, “death is your gift”.
I need to pull myself together; for them and for myself.
I have been in my bunk sufficiently long enough that I can convince my doctor that I have rested.
I need answers.