" Remember, kid: fight with everything you have to stay alive, but if you die regardless, then take as many of them with you as you can. Less for the rest of the Militia to deal with. "

- SRS Pilot Tai Lastimosa

His name was the newest one.

The Wall of Honored Remembrance, located in the main, heavily foliaged town of the Harmony town of Serenity, was already home to the name of every son of Harmony who had fallen in active combat against the IMC.

Fronted by a bed of green chrysanthemums, white daffodils, and orange zinnias- white, green, and orange, the colors of the Frontier Militia's banner-, with a gravel footpath running through them, and with two larger than life, statues of FM pilots in full battle gear and poised like sentinels flanking on either side, the wall stood out sharply, even amid the already varied and pleasantly modernized architecture of Serenity.

Pedestrians, weather they were locals or visitors, were often seen stopping by it on their way past, and taking a moment out of their day, no matter how busy or in a rush they might've been, to walk up to it, to formally pay their respects ( no X required ).

There was inherent magnetism to the monument; it drew all kinds of folks toward it.

It was not elaborate in design, but it didn't need to be: a long strip of white marble, with ribbons of black running through it. On its surface, etched and carved forever into the rock, and inlaid with pure gold so that they glimmered and shone under the glare of the rows of spotlights that were trained on them 26/7, were the names themselves.

Frederic Kirks

Hansen Jerres

Dean Correa

Allen Zehena

And, too many more.

Those were just 4 of the names on the wall, but there were over a hundred more.

They had a lot that marked them as different from each other, but they had one that united them:

They were all sons of the Frontier. Sons of Harvest.

Harmony was a wealthy word ( by FM standards, at least ), with one of the highest standards of living among FM worlds. Still, that hadn't stopped droves of its men- and 18 year old boys- from taking up arms, and joining the ongoing fight against the IMC. Whether by formally signing up with the FMAF ( Frontier Milita Armed Forces ), or one of the various PMCs that were aligned with the FMAF- Angel City's Elite, the 6-4s-, these sons of Harmony knew that freedom and a future for the frontier would only come if they were willing to fight for it.

And fight they did.

Boots crunching into the loose pebbles of the gravel path, Lt. Jack Cooper could sense that raw fighting spirit emanating from the monument.

It was anything but stone and metal; those were just the materials it was constructed out of. Besides, they were hardy, enduring materials, and they could stand up for years and years, against the elements. Something built of them could easily be expected to last that long.

This, this testament to the heroism and valor of the fallen sons of Harmony, deserved to last.

Jack was absolutely certain of that. If there'd been no monument here, he'd have been the first to organize getting one here. Everyone who'd given their life to stop the IMC should have a psychical representation of it. Something that folks could touch, see, and stand in front of.

Something they could do that for, again and again. That's what a monument was.

Jack came to a stop in front of it.

At the moment, he was alone. That wasn't because the area was deserted, though. No, not at all. Rather, it was because everyone already standing at the wall had heard his approach, and when they noticed that he was an SRS pilot, they'd wisely opted to give him the right of way, and a respectful distance.

Jack wouldn't have asked them to do that- he didn't think he was any better than any of them, SRS or not- but, even so, he appreciated the solitude.

It helped, because he was here for someone else.

Reaching into one of his uniform pockets, Jack felt his hand close around two objects, cold and metallic to the touch. They clinked as he pressed them together.

Without looking, Jack knew what they were:

Tai Lastimosa's dog tags.

" Pilot Cooper, permission to speak freely. "

The veteran Vanguard class Titan, the one who the now-late Tai Lastimosa had adressed as ' BT-7274 ', spoke to Jack.

The freshly minted pilot in question, still not even half an hour into his new career path, blinked, startled, in his seat within BT's operator's compartment. Adrenaline was still surging through his veins, fresh from the recent battle against a platoon of IMC Marines- including a Titan. It was the first armed encounter he had ever fought through as a pilot of a Titan, and it still seemed surreal- that he was actually controlling an honest to God Titan, and fighting on foot anymore.

Which included having your Titan speaking to you. Using ' Pilot ', as a title. It was all so new to him. He was no stranger to combat, but not this kind of it.

Well, that would have to change, and fast.

He wet the interior of his dry mouth, and responded to his new Titan:

" Yes, BT ? What is it ? "

When the Titan continued, Jack could've sworn that he heard a note of actual sorrow, or emotion at least, in the Titan's speech. " Captain Lastimosa's remains cannot be taken with us, but he was my pilot. I, respected him. "

Again, Jack was sure he detected a certain tone: when BT said ' respect ', it was arguably as if he was both unfamiliar with the word, yetnot, simultaneously.

" If we cannot bring his body to Harmony, then we must bring something there that represents him. He must be put to rest, properly ".

Hearing BT say these things opened Jack's eyes, both literally and figuratively.

They'd hardly gotten to know each other, but so soon, Jack and learned something about BT: He was not just a machine, or at least, he didn't behave as one. Machines didn't express these kinds of sentiments. BT was demonstrating loyalty, and brotherhood; things that a machine should've understand, or care about.

Now, Jack was beginning to understand what the great Captain had been telling him during all the training he'd given Jack. He'd told him that an SRS Pilot's Titan was, yes, no machine at all.

It was a brother in arms to that pilot. And brothers cared for one another, even beyond death.

Jack processed what BT had said, thinking as such. He exhaled, then pressed his mouth into a firm line as he automatically decided what to say back.

" Definitely, BT. Lastimosa taught me everything I know about being a Pilot. That's the least he deserves. "

" Don't worry; leave it to me. That's a promise. "

A promise.

Jack pulled the tags from his pocket, and looked at them.

He had promised to return something that was Lastimosa's to his home, to Harmony. He had promised the late Captain that, and he had promised BT. His captain, and his Titan. He had promised them both.

He couldn't return Lastimosa's remains to his home, to his native land. Jack wanted to have done that, but it wasn't an option anymore. Typhon, where Lastimosa had fallen, was nothing but dust and echoes now. Blown to smithereens by the destruction of the Fold Weapon.

But, Jack had saved the dead Captain's tags.

They sat in his palm, as he stood in front of the monument. Jack ran his fingers back and forth over them, as he read the names. He didn't know any of them, but that was not important. They were all FMAF, and that marked them as his brothers.

Fighting for freedom.

They'd paid the ultimate price for it.

Lastimosa was one of them. Jack finally found his name, carved into the stone, among the others.

Tai Lastimosa.

Just past the end of his name, the symbol of the SRS was carved as well: the diamond, with the snarling wolf. It told to everyone who read his name, that he'd been a member of the elite of the elite- the best that the FMAF had to offer. The denizens of the Frontier had every right to regard the SRS as heroes, fighting for the sake of true freedom and liberty for all of them.

But, to Jack, things were different.

He wasn't here to pay respects to any hero. He was here, because Lastimosa had been the catalyst for the biggest change in Jack's life to date; his ascension to being a full fledged pilot, and an SRS one to boot. Jack had realized his dream, in large part, because of Lastimosa mentoring him the way he so capably had.

He should've been able to come home again. Instead, it fell to Jack to give at least something of him back to Harmony.

Exhaling, Jack slowly knelt, letting his armored kneepads press into the ground.

At the base of the wall, there was a narrow ledge, where visitors could place items left in remembrance and honor of the fallen. There were bundles of flowers, photos, and formal military covers, all placed and propped up, arranged by those who'd left them as respectfully as they could.

Just in front of that, was another narrow strip, but of soil. Protruding up from it, were numerous dog tags. Stabbed into the ground, they glinted in the late afternoon sunlight.

All of them- the tags, the flowers, the collective remnants- they were all as a part of the monument as the marble itself. Each told a part of a fallen son of Harmony's story.

Each stood for someone.

" Captain, I wanted to say, thank you, again ", Jack murmured, only loud enough for his own ears.

" I still remember the lessons you gave me. I, wanted to be a Pilot more than I could ever say, and you were the one who helped me get there. "

For a moment, Jack suddenly wasn't sure how to go on. His throat suddenly had a lump in it for some reason.

"But, more than that, you were my mentor and my commander ", Jack nonetheless persisted. " I was proud to learn from you, and I'd have followed you into battle anywhere on the Frontier, on any world. You wanted to free the Frontier, because you loved it so much. "

Jack exhaled again, doing what he could to ignore the rising senses of grief, and anger in him. They'd been there all along- he knew that- but, now that he was right here, at where the fallen of Harmony were honored, they were raising their heads again.

Determined to finish what he'd come here to do, though, Jack went on:

" So, because you can't do that anymore, leave it to me, sir. For you ? You've earned a rest. Your homeworld, your land, will remember you. "

With that, Jack solemnly placed the tags into the soil, end first. They poked up, and caught the light, as their brethren did.

Jack now stood, as straight and tall as he could, and rendered a salute.

" And, so will I ".