Ceremony to the fallen

Tonight, the world stopped for the first time in thirty years.

The streets and building roared under the gigantic fireworks coloring the sky, the mesmerizing holographic display over the city showing the long-lasting story of how humankind conquered over the invaders.

The cruelty of that battle turned into a hymn of honor and sacrifice, the will of men prevailing over those living outside the planet.

Kids beamed and cried over the huge screens that showed the massive robots they so much dreamed about piloting. Tsys pilots were heroes, after all.

Camera passed by the front row of Privates, all as straight as an arrow, looking to the front almost without blinking, the anchor's voice blabbing abut how important, historical, this moment was.

It stopped, framing a young man's face, his dark red hair almost black because of how short it was. The light gray in his eyes flickered with the reflection of the flashes in front of him, his squared jaw pointing up with solemnity.

He was well-built, as it's expected from a well-trained military man. But there was something within his aura that made others look up to him. He didn't consider himself to be a leader. Much less a hero; but for the love of everything holy, he could die protecting what he believed in.

This was the first time the soon-to-be pilots were shown to the public, as their training and even existence is erased from the planet until they were ready to be officially promoted.

His face soon was exchanged with a list of names, rolling up like the credits of a movie, honoring those that died during the ten years of training.

The anchor, with a heavy tone in his voice, named each and every one of them. The more than three hundred soldiers, brothers, sisters... sons... that died for the cause. For mankind. For freedom.

After the names of the fallen vanish from the screens, three heavy cannons were shot to the sky, in memorial of the three nations that mourned the soon departures.

Soon after, a man in his mid-fifties covered the screen. His thick, long, black and white beard matched his also long hair; tied in a tight, high bun. More than twenty medals of different shapes and sizes hung by his chest, proof of his status and renown. 

A golden piece of fabric around his arm, with three red stars lined up inside a circle embroidered in it, depicting this was no one else but Julius Loreman; leader, ruler, governor of The America United Nation (AUN).

"Our beloved nation is here united once more to celebrate our new heroes." He spoke with a well-rounded voice. He rose his arms, wide open, embracing those watching him. "Heroes that have walked to hell and back to prove their worth to the cause."

His words echoed in every corner, in every house and every screen.

"Today, we welcome the men and women that will protect us from those above us!" He rose his voice, his eyes almost bulging at the effort. "For humankind to prevail from those trying to conquer our souls and keep us from our freedom!"

People roared to his fervor, cheers quickly turning into cries. When they finally died out a few seconds later, he proceeded.

"Earth hasn't been witness of alien forces within our atmosphere in more than two thousand years, but don't be fooled, my friends." He warned, lowering his voice an octave. "They will come back." 

His certainty made the tension grow higher. 

Everyone knew the day would come, but not many thought of the event actually happening. Like it was something too foreign for them to even think about. Something that spoke loudly of how people had been living for the past couple of centuries.

The First Great Alien War turned, even though it was recorded and continuously shown to the public, turned more into a parable; detaching from the fact that people, in fact, died and suffered for the ten long years the war lasted.

"Together, brothers and sisters," the voice rose again, along with his arms shot up to the sky, "we are the resistance. We are our own masters! And for that, for freedom...!" He called.

"Shall our souls be sacrificed!" The people chanted, proud of belonging to such a cause.

The camera, once more, framed the huge, metallic bodies behind the stage. Thousands and thousands of confetti showering those underneath, and officially establishing the start of the ceremony.

One by one, each Private stepped forward in stage.

Private Louis Growdie, badge number D30240804-563. Designated unit... D-4380.

A female voiced called over the speakers.

Regardless of what unit was assigned, becoming a pilot was a major deal. They were also ranked from S to E, just as the private ranks and, within the military rank assigned in the ceremony, they were set to perform different duties.

About half privates had already been called by now, when tension started to build up. No Tsys pilot had been called so far.

During the ceremony, there was no specific order in which the results were announced. Therefore, it was basically a roulette.

Private Bianca Nolen, badge number S30240809-2. Designated unit... Tsys 08.

Finally, and under the name of the so awaited robot, the masses roared to congratulate the first of the three elite pilots of the nation. And, to top the notice, it was a woman.

The first one ever.

The blonde, standing forward and with a perfect, stand position, bowed. With firm steps, she marched to one side to receive her new badge; where Julius was waiting for her with the metallic plate in hand.

Stopping right in front of him, she let him pit the plate in her chest.

"No wonder you received such an honor, Miss Nolan." He watched her from above with a pair of tired, brown eyes. "For freedom..."

"Shall our souls be sacrificed." She finished without making eye contact, with her chin up, saluting him once more before getting back in line. 

Next to her, Alec was still standing tall.

Private Alec Blaydd, badge number S30240809-1. Designated unit...