Space. The promises of space held such high hopes for the human race. A once thought, never ending expanse that would continue on forever unexplored quickly shrank with the advent of modern technology. The far, unexplored regions of space blacked out across all maps suddenly became encased in light, shining bright for all forms of adventurers and entrepreneurs alike to stake a claim in. In 1999 A.D., the looming shadow of the 3rd World War brought into existence the Earth Federation. With its sudo-knightley portrayal of world peace, the Federation received absolute power over the earth's territories and divided them into 11 districts, maintaining a tight, militaristic grip to prevent the outbreak of what would be the anticipated 4th world war. At this time, a hopeful few idealistic leaders of the Federation announced plans to begin 'Space Colonization' within the next 20 years, should the war never come.
The war never did come, and in 2005 A.D., work on the first two space colonies begins. Countless hours of manpower consumed, and trillions of dollars in resources were diverted into space. 40 years of constant, hard labor yielded the Federation's first two Colonies at Side 1, the first grouping of colonies. In 2045, with a population of over 9 Billion, the Earth began to exile citizens of the most congested areas en masse, creating the first instance of the human race living in space. To signify such a magnificent mark on the timeline of humanity's' existence, the Federation began to address this new, golden era as the Universal Century.
To be the head of the colonies, Laplace Station, a massive colony within Earth's orbit intended to be the residence of Earth's Prime Minister, Ricardo Marcenas, is constructed during the same time period. Celebrating the transition into Universal Century, Prime Minister Marcenas holds a ceremony in which he began to unveil the 'New Constitution' of the U.C., including the right of the colonies to govern themselves, free of the Earth Federation. Unfortunately, a horrific terrorist attack occurred, blasting a massive hole into the space station's residential section, killing all inhabitants of the station, including the Prime Minister, forever losing his message of Colonial independence. In response to the Laplace incident, the Federation forced all Colonies to exist under their control, and became subservient to the Earth; to live under them, both on an economic and social scale, and those living in the colonies began to be known as 'Spacenoids'. Derogatory in nature, this label did nothing but drive another wedge into the terrestrial divide, and the colonies themselves became nothing more than dumping grounds; places where the federation would forcefully deport unwanted inhabitants of earth, without say of the civilians, or the colonies.
The colonies remained in disarray and a cycle of poor leadership who were unwilling to speak out against the Federation until U.C. 0046, with the rise of Zeon Zum Deikun.
Zeon Zum Deikun. To mention his name aboard the colonies today would be almost illegal, and possibly result in arrest if in the presence of anyone loyal enough to the Federation. To many still, he was the man who changed everything. A man who, amongst great depression, brought relief, and amongst scattered disarray and mistrust, brought guidance. With his deep, heartfelt messages about humanities destiny in the stars, he filled the hearts and minds of all he preached to with hope. Hope that one day all of the suffering would end. In U.C. 0058, Side 3, led by Deikun, declares its independence from the Federation and the Republic of Zeon is born. A year later in response the Federation places strict sanctions on the new republic, in hopes of choking out the fledgling country by disrupting the supply of vital materials such as food, water and natural resources. With fears rising of possible Federation military action against Zeon and upon observing increased Federal troop build-up, Zeon forms an organized standing military to better defend itself against any attempt to dismantle its sovereignty. Nine years later on Earth, a motion was brought forward to the Federation's government to allow colonial autonomy, and was immediately denounced, the intentions of the Earth Federation to rule over the colonies once again made clear, tensions rise between the two powers at an alarming rate.
In October of 0068, tragedy strikes the colonies with the death of their hero and leader, Zeon Zum Deikun. In the wake of his death, Deikun's political rival, Degwin Sodo Zabi, declares that he would lead Zeon in prosperity and begins a massive arms race amongst the colonies to quadruple the Zeon army. Filled with pride and the desire to protect the now renamed Principality of Zeon, millions of young men and women flood recruiting offices. Following in the Principality's footsteps, other Sides and colonies begin to revolt from Federation control, and soon Zeon was not alone, growing from a small uprising, to a large scale insurrection.
On the third of January, 0079, The One Year War begins. Launching a surprise attack, Zeon strikes at the remaining Colony Sides of Side 1, Side 2 and Side 4. Less than a month later, with the colonies that were not destroyed in the opening stages of the conflict secured, Zeon turned its attention to Earth, and begins to invade, catching the Federation off guard with their massive deployment of a new weapon of war; the Mobile Suit. Slaughtering federation naval craft and vessels, these weapons allow the ground invasions to proceed almost uncontested, dropping from the sky all across Federal Earth. Now, with unhindered resource gathering across massive sections of Europe, Africa, Asia, North America and the Middle East, Zeon begins to outfit its military, developing more advanced mobile suits and weaponry, continuing to crush the Federation, whose own military struggled to advance past traditional tanks and first generation mobile suit technology. However, this advantage is not maintained, and by January of the following year, The One Year War ends with the withdrawal of all Zeon forces from Earth, back to the reformed Republic of Zeon in space. Uneasy peace falls across Humanity as both sides begin to heal and recover from the devastating loss of almost half of the human population.
In the twenty years that followed the war, small scale conflicts of revolt continued to appear against the Federation whose troops continued to oppress the citizens of the colonies, crushing those who stood against them. Chemical attacks, colony drops, secret nuclear weapons; hundreds of thousands more die under Federal rule, even after the war had ended. Even legendary war hero Char Aznable, who had seized control of the Republic of Zeon in the 80's, launched multiple attempts over the two decades to return the power to its former high. However, he is eventually killed in action, marking the end of the Republic of Zeon, as in the early months of U.C. 0100, the Republic of Zeon surrenders unconditionally to the Federation, giving up its autonomy and dissolving quietly into the night. Believing that after nearly 50 years they had finally secured their colonies once again, the Federation declares that all hostilities have ceased, and that there could finally be peace amongst the human population.
For the next 11 years, the Federation continued to place sanctions and strict, imposing legislation onto the colonies, as if to punish them for trying to gain their freedom. Any sort of rambling of rebellion, any peaceful protest of Federal rule, any tag a graffiti that even as much as denounced the 'good name' of Earth was dealt with harshly; the jail time, excessive. Many times demonstrations result in bloodshed as Federation police forces began to lose patience, and in U.C. 0111, in the Side 3, Close-Type Colony of Dresden, tensions came to a boiling point. A two week protest by civilians of Dresden over the economic sanctions, combined with forced over population that had plagued the colony began to escalate into violence. Food shortages and economic decline ran rampant, and the citizens were going to make their opposition clear. As Federation Police forces pressured the protestors to disperse, they became violent in their methods, and the protestors responded. From the rooftop of a nearby building someone threw an improvised explosive device onto a Police Mobile Suit, destroying the head sensor unit and causing it to collapse to its knees.
Seeing the outbreak of the violence, acting commander of the Federation Garrison Police Force, Colonel William Arndt, declared this an act of terrorism and gave the order to open fire into the crowd, ironically in order to stop the escalation of the violence. Heeding his orders, with the police force's disregard for the colonists, they opened fire into the crowd with not only small arms fire, but with their RGM-89D Jegan Mobile Suits. Witnessing the massacre playing out, an ex-Zeon pilot named James Roodman, now working for the Federation, became overwhelmed with the agony of the colonists and responded. Using his own 89D, he laid into the Federation forces, devastating 8 city blocks and destroying 5 hostile Jegan's before his own unit faulted and collapsed to its knees in the street. His mobile suit disabled, the entire colony watched as another Jegan pressed his beam saber to the cockpit and executed the hero, his last words broadcasting throughout the colony and witnessed by millions across the Earth Sphere tuning into the media outlets; "Sieg Zeon!"
Amidst the two months that followed what would be known as the Dresden Massacre, movements were made in the underground of Side 3 to respond to this event. Some of the population had seen enough, and were ready to act. Unknown to the Federation something was coming, and this time it was not a Neo-Zeon attempt to reclaim their throne. This was more than Char, more than any war that had been fought before. This was all or nothing, for the future of the Spacenoids and all of humanity.
"Next." A voice demanded down a damp, dark hallway lined with sitting people, the voice echoing for almost an eternity in the mostly vacant building. With hesitation a figure stood and proceeded into the doorframe nearest to them where only a fading glimmer of light peaked through, the others turning their heads and watched as the figure, now revealed in that light to be a male in his late twenties entered, almost afraid to stare into the light too long, and the others in the hallway all looked away, possibly for the same reason. An armed guard in the hallway stared at those still sitting in the hallway, smoking his cigarette calmly but with a continuing impression of stern control over those in his presence, making sure his submachine gun was comfortably visible, yet tucked securely into his torso for control, just in case anything had not gone as planned. His eye focused on figure specifically, a boy probably no more than twenty two or so who unlike the others did not cover his head or his face with a hood or hat, a brazen choice seeing the grave nature of the reason behind the whole occurrence. He smirked, unsure if the boy was stupid or brave, while at the same time, the boy's own eyes looked to him, then focused down to the gun in his hands. To him, this was all very sketchy. Sure, this was something that had to be done in complete silence, without even the smallest hint making its way to the authorities. But everyone here came here of their own free will, was the armed guard and absolute silence necessary? Maybe it was to prevent any kind of Federal infiltration or intervention. Regardless, it created quite an unfriendly atmosphere. When he was told to come here to speak with the movement leaders, he never assumed it would be like this. An abandoned water treatment plant on the south side of the colony near the docks was not what he imagined would be the assembly point for those interested in this kind of work. If one could call it work, as to most that had come here this was about their home and the future of their people.
"Next." The voice called again as another stood and entered the room, and next would be the boy. His heartbeat unintentionally began to race, nervous about what would come on the other side of that door. What if they didn't accept him into this? Would he go back to fending for himself on the street? Stealing to eat, robbing the better off to pay for essentials. No, he couldn't go back. But more than just a desire not to, there wasn't an option to go back. He knew roughly what was going on here, and they wouldn't just allow him to leave. Not alive, anyway. If they didn't accept him, it was over. When the doors opened the boy swallowed what little saliva had built up in his dry mouth and stood, even before they called for him. "Next." Reverberated through the hallway, and immediately the boy was at the door, causing the man at the door, who had been looking down at a clipboard, to jump in the air slightly. "Fuck," he cursed, holding his chest as he inhaled a deep breath. "Don't do that. Let's go." He replied, pointing in the boy's face before leading the boy down the hallway as the door closed and locked behind them. That single hallway quickly lead to a flight of stairs, then another hallway, and then another hallway until finally they came to a final door. Was this where this meeting was to take place? It seemed like an eternity since they first left the first hallway, as if time was running at half speed. The silence that filled the lower corridors of this facility was sobering, sending chills down the boy's spine, and as the gears in the door rotated and unlatched, they only got worse. Almost blinded by the light emerging from the well-lit room, Amaury covered his eyes until they adjusted to find a U-shaped desk with several men and women, some wearing uniforms, others suits or lab coats, staring at him. "Amaury Dietrich?" A voice originating from the head of the table asked as Amaury was pushed into the room and the door behind him locked. A tall, stalky gentlemen obviously well into his late sixties or so, and likely the one in charge based on the uniform that he wore. It was unmistakable; a Zeon Naval uniform, the rank of which Amaury was unsure, but he knew from pictures he had seen from the War that it was of higher class. Nervously, Amaury swallowed and nodded, placing his hands behind his back as he carefully looked around, all eyes on him. These people were intimidating, their presence almost crushing in nature, as if they had their hands around his neck, strangling the breath and words from him.
"Your father was a soldier during the One Year War, correct?" One of the interviewers asked, looking at the boy's file as he nodded. "Y-yes sir." Amaury replied, afraid to say little more than what was required to answer the question directly. "For Zeon, correct?" The next question rang out from an elderly woman who did not appear to have even the slightest ability to smile, but before he could even answer, another question was asked, this one from an unknown proctor. "What was his MOS?" The boy looked around and swallowed nervously, thrown off by the question at hand. If he had been a Federation pilot, why would he be here, after all. "Y-yes, Zeon. H-he was with the 107th Terrestrial Assault Force, one of those who landed in North America. He was a Zaku pilot. My mother as well, though she served her time in space." He stuttered, recalling what his mother had told him, just as another spoke up.
"Where is your father now?" Amaury looked at the speaker for just a second before looking down at the floor, then back to the speaker. "He was... killed shortly after the Gryps Conflict during the first Neo-Zeon uprising. Before I was born." His response was short, almost lacking in emotion, as if he had told the story before and had memorized it. It really did not bring him much pain to speak of it, having not known his father, being more like information than anything else, though at their next question he winced. "And your mother?" The voice questioned as Amaury's eyes narrowed briefly before shifting to the floor. "She's gone." He replied as the group immediately fell silent for a second or two before severals amongst the board looked at one another and beginning to whisper amongst themselves. They were quiet, but he could still make out what they were saying, and one word stuck out amongst the rest; Newtype.
He had heard this term before, being used to describe the supposed next evolutionary step in human evolution connected to those born and raised in space. It was a theory once, but at this point in time the world was well aware of the Newtypes, even if that term was being forced into the darkness. But, if they were questioning his status as a Newtype, they wouldn't find much. He didn't feel any different from anyone else, he simply felt normal. Or, what one would feel is normal. Normal for an orphan boy left to fend for himself in the colonies, living on the street.
"Why are you here?" A questioner next to the center man asked sharply, a stern tone in his voice. Amaury stared at first, and then looked down. Why was he here? Surely that had to be a trick question. There had to be a right answer and a wrong answer that they were looking for. Nothing had really been told to them about what exactly 'this' was, so they must have been trying to pull from him what he thought this was. "To fight for our people." He replied, his hands shaking a little as he felt uncertain if that was the right answer. "To fight for an end to all of our suffering, to stop what happened two months ago from ever happening again." He added, looking back up at the head interviewer and staring into his eyes with a sort of dedication, as if to show his words were true. The room grew quiet again as the interviewers all looked at each other, and they remained silent. A feeling of dread washed over the young boy, knowing now that something was wrong. Did they presume him now to be a spy, trying to confirm a conspiracy so that the Federation could act upon it? A twisting, pitted feeling developed in his stomach, and he felt as if he would throw up, until suddenly, from an unobserved corner of the room, came a voice. Amaury though he had felt someone there, in a way he couldn't explain, but was too afraid to divert his attention from the oppressive nature of the interview team in the center of the room, and even now was hesitant to look.
"Oh come on, clearly he is here for the same reason we all are. Just like he said, to save us all from the Federation, before they decide to 'pacify' us all too." The voice stated as some of the interviewers began to look at the tall committee head sitting in the middle of the U, who sighed and stared down the man. "Edward, you know you were not allowed to speak at these meetings." The center head scolded calmly as the figure in the shadows of the room came forward. "Well I'm sorry Admiral, but you are all missing something. I mean come on now, the son of a pilot who survived the war and moved on to fight for Neo-Zeon in the first uprising? What more do you need. Clearly he is born to be a pilot, and what we need right now is pilots. It's not a choice, it's a necessity, and this one will do well; I can feel it." The man stated as he walked forward towards Amaury until he stood directly next to him, looking at the boy and then back to the panel with a wide smirk. "He is obviously dedicated to his belief, or else he wouldn't risk to coming here to meet with us in this run down water plant. Especially with the persecution we all face just for talking about this sort of thing."
As the man spoke he reached out slowly and placed his hand on Amaury's right shoulder, standing just a little taller than him. He, unlike the rest of the others in the room, did not wear a uniform, just simply plain street clothes common of the colonies. On top of his physical appearance, Amaury also noted that he also spoke with an accent, though he was unsure of the origin. But from the way he was speaking, he assumed this man was a pilot. A brief staring match followed between the Admiral and this Edward, before the Admiral sighed. "Fine, take him. Start him on the training immediately, but if this fails, it's on your head." He stated as a door to the side opened, and Amaury's face lit up. They were going to accept him after all? It couldn't be this easy, could it? Maybe he was making it more complicated in his head than it really needed it to be. "Welcome aboard, kid. We will be depending on you." The admiral says sternly and waves Amaury to the side to exit through the open door.
"Thank you Admiral." Amaury said with an obviously excited and stunned tone, his voice nearly cracking as he struck a salute, just as he had seen in videos of Zeon soldiers in the past, and proceeded to calmly but hastily leave the room. Following behind Edward, who was blatantly grinning at the Admiral for his own little personal victory, Amaury waited for the door to be shut and locked before immediately speaking up. "Thanks for your help back there Edward." He said quietly, still fired up from the whole experience as he looked around the hallway, which seemed to be leading even deeper into the abandoned plant. This place had to run deep underground and into the inner workings of the colony substructure, but how far exactly did they have to go? Edward looked over his shoulder and smirked. "Eh, don't mention it. And its Monty, don't call me Edward. I despise that name." He said with a chuckle as Amaury acknowledge his request and nodded a single time.
"Alright, Monty. Gotcha." He replied, and with only a brief moment later, asked what was really on his mind. "So, where do I start?" Confused and in the dark about where they would go from here, this was completely uncharted land he was now in, and it made him feel uneasy to say the least. "First let's get you a uniform. You can't represent the new regime wearing those tattered gym clothes." Monty smirked and laughed lightly, looking back to the boy with a grin to show the intention of a joke. "Then, you're going right to the simulator. We need to see what your father left you beside your name, and there is no better place to start." Amaury blinked and stopped for a brief second before following Monty once more. So he would be a pilot? That was more than he could have asked for. Though, he didn't really know what to ask for to begin with, but this was perfect. All he had to do now was not blow his shot at making something of himself.