“… and in the end, maybe she was too special a gift, and we didn’t deserve her. But before she left, I learned some things from her. She taught me that your family is who you surround yourself with, those who love you for who you are. They may not always be your blood, but they will always be by your side. She also taught me that all it takes is one person to shine the light for others to see the way. She was a single, extraordinary light, for her time here. And even though we may not be as extraordinary as she was, if we come together, we can shine just as brightly. We have to take control when no one else will. We have to take a stand for those who cannot. We have to make the effort for those who do not have the strength. And we must do all this while we are here, now, because tomorrow we may be gone. If we want the ‘verse to be the beacon of civilization it can be, we must rise from the ashes of this tragedy and kindle that glorious light together, because no one will do it for us. That is what my sister taught me. I think that is how she would want to be remembered. Thank you.”

The dignitaries and sponsors who lined the platform and the small audience gathered beneath the overcast sky rose and applauded Simon as he finished his speech. He nodded his head in thanks and smiled, feeling his cheeks flush slightly. He also felt a familiar sensation, but one he had not experienced in a long enough while that it seemed new. He felt whole. His smile broadened as he realized how good it felt. He stepped back from the podium and towards the crowd on the platform. His father met him first, wrapping him in a powerful embrace.

“That was beautiful, son. She’d be proud of you.” Gabriel Tam wiped a few stray tears from his eyes.

“I know. Thanks, Dad.” He glanced up at the former Academy dormitory, the part that actually looked like a school. It was being gutted in the process of the renovation, but the large sign posted in front of it proclaimed it as the new River Tam Memorial Rehabilitation