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Chapter Text

For All Merckind
Chapter 0

Some might say that we are among the middle generations – born too late to explore the Earth, and born too early to explore the heavens. In the aftermath of world conflict, a time of peace has brought with us a spark of possibility. A possibility to, for the first time in world history, reach out to the heavens themselves.

This new frontier of exploration will bring many challenges and hardships. But for the institution of science and technological development, we will overcome: just as we have in the past decade, we will again.

It is with grave importance I tell you, this opportunity is not brought forth not only by possibility, but by necessity. For as I speak to you now, the union of the United Kerneuropan Alliance is working towards this very goal.

And so, not only to display our capability and willingness to pursue this new frontier: but also for the protection of our great union, the Pacific Federation Association for Aerospace Studies today is born. And it is of our utmost interests and intentions to be the first nation to successfully reach these heavens to ensure future peace for all mankind.

Chapter Text

For All Merckind
Chapter 1
“The Diplomat”

A man walked down a crowded hallway, an olive green two-breasted suit neatly draped across his body, a red tie resting on his chest, and his broad shoulders showing a dozen or so brightly colored ribbons and a silver star insignia indicating his rank.

Sweet dreams are made of this

Who am I to disagree?

I travel the world and the seven seas

Everybody’s lookin’ for something

A green beret sat on top of his head, well-shaven and clearly taken good care of with the left showing a similar star emblem to the one on the man’s shoulder. On the other shoulder, showed a small emblem: A chain, colored with red, white, and blue; poking at his privileged past. while below sat a small piece of text reading “PACIFIC FEDERATION AIR FORCE (PFAF)”

Some of them want to use you

Some of them want to be used by you

Some of them want to abuse you

Some of them want to be abused

The dark green suit the man was wearing was adorned with little buttons and grooves and whatever else, with a small black rectangle embroidered onto the left of his chest, with white text stating “HITMAN 2 - DIPLOMAT”. The man’s face was stoic, but with a specific aura of smugness that felt almost indescribable as he walked with an exaggerated swagger, clearly trying to impress.

Sweet dreams are made of this

Who am I to disagree?

I travel the world and the seven seas

Everybody’s lookin’ for something

A scar ran down his face, past his left eye and down to his cheek and through his sideburns. His eyes slowly wandered around the hallway filled to the brim with people, pushing several out of his way. The walls were adorned with paintings and decor and whatnot, which he always took a particular liking to.

(Hold your head up, keep your head up) movin’ on

(Hold your head up) movin’ on (keep your head up) movin’ on

(Hold your head up) movin’ on (keep your head up) movin’ on

(Hold your head up) movin’ on, (keep your head up)

His short red hair slightly danced in the still air with every step, his dashing figure quickly making it to his destination, a wooden door with “357 - CHIEF OF EXPERIMENTAL AIRCRAFT” written on in large, bold white text. He quickly moved to knock on the wooden door, the noise of his fist hitting the door alerting the person inside, a grizzled voice responding to it with a single word.

“Come.”

He quickly obliged the order, opening the door with haste, with the door being stopped by a door stopper before it could bash into the wall.

“Hey, Chief; got a minute?”

Inside, a man in his mid 40’s stood, face filled with scars and whatever else, wearing somewhat formal clothing while playing on a small mini-golf course to pass the time with the office itself being cluttered with pictures hanging up on the walls of test pilots and aircraft and papers and god knows what else.

“Uh, right. What can I do for you, Mister Kennedy?”

His exaggerated confidence slowly peeled away into a more reserved, calm, and shy way of speaking.

“Well… sir, uh, I wanted to talk to you about my er… my career.”

“Your career? That’s a mighty big subject for a Thursday morning.”

“Well, uh, not my whole career. I wanted to talk to you about-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you want to be part of the new Aerospace Association.”

“Yes sir. With the Test Pilot Corps.”

The man’s strokes came to an abrupt halt as soon as he mentioned the corps, with his face showing mild shock

“On the Test Pilot Corps?!”

He chuckled for a moment before speaking again.
“Wow. That’s- that’s ambitious. You think you’re ready to attempt to fly with the best-of-the-best in new frontiers never before explored?”

The man slowly fixed his slightly slouched down stature before talking.

“Yes, sir.”

“The agency that will redefine aeronautics and engineering as we know it and propel this country to the stars and beyond?”

“Yes sir.”

“I like ambition in a pilot. You’re gonna be one hell of an astronaut.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I’ll let you know when you’re ready.”

The man looked on with complete and utter disbelief, his face moving from a jovial smile to a deeply distressed and betrayed frown as he turned away and reached for the doorknob to the closed door before stopping himself and turning back around.

“You know, I’ve been here for about 3 years now, sir.”

“Qualified as helicopter pilot, X-Plane pilot, SAR pilot, rocket engine specialist, and astro-astronomer. Been flight controller for 5 X-Plane flights and two SAR operations, been backup on 6 flights, and my performance evaluation is consistently in the 95th percentile. I’ve done everything this agency has asked of me! And so far, the closest I've been to flying up into the dark blue sky is standing ontop of the gantry at the top of the experimental aircraft hangar. Why can I not get a flight?!”

The man seemed almost unphased by the other’s outburst, only responding in a few short words.

“I don’t like red-heads. Everyone knows that.”

He quickly went in for another stroke, before the other stopped the ball with his foot to interrupt his little game.

“When. Do. I. Get. My. Shot.”

The man seemed almost ready to burst from rage, barely containing it to deliver just another sentence or two before telling him to leave.

“Just trust me when I tell you that when you’re ready… I’ll let you know.”

The older man’s imposing height intimidated the younger of the two as he began to speak in a much more spiteful tone.

“Now… I think it would be a great idea for you to get your foot off my damn golf ball.”

The younger relented, releasing his grip of the ball and taking a few steps towards the door before the older gave some final parting words.

“You can, err.. close the door behind ya."

Chapter Text

For All Merckind
Chapter 2
"The Jester And Monarch"

A man sat at a corner of a harshly lit white hallway, the bumps and grooves of the paint going onto the baggy blue flight suit the man was wearing, leaving concrete dust on his back. A cap sat neatly on top of his head, colored black with “NAVY” displayed in big, golden text. His feet tapped nervously against the hard tiled floor, a light tap! being heard with every one with his fingers also moving erratically against his crossed arms.

Next to him, a slightly younger woman stood with her back calmly arched against the same blank wall. She wore a similar uniform, if not slightly more baggy and unkept; but the suits were designed that way. The man to the side swiftly looked up at her, their eyes locking and giving a simple question.

“He- uh- did say noon, right?”

“That’s a firm.” she replied.

Small black rectangles sat on their shoulders, embroidered into the suit itself with their tacnames and call signs written on; with their name tags reading “HITMAN 1 - MONARCH'' and “HITMAN 3 - COMIC'' respectively. ‘Comic’ took note of the odd hat that the person across from her was wearing.

“What’s with the hat? You’re Air Force.”

“I err- lost a bet.” he justified, chuckling at the end of his sentence.

“No shit. What was it?” she asked.

“I was so drunk that I uh… don’t even remember it.”

“And you’re chosen for whatever Kaiser’s got planned for us. For Dust Mother’s sake, Monarch; I’m supposed to be the person that goes around those types of escapades around these parts.”

Monarch chuckled at her words. She was right after all. Suddenly, a white door; barely sticking out from the white walls around it; opened. Out stepped a man in his mid 40’s, in a similar blue jumpsuit with his short black and slightly gray hair waving with his movements.

“Sorry I’m late.”

Monarch quickly hopped onto his feet, giving a salute to the man while Comic only straightened her posture, slightly fixing her hair to make herself look more presentable.

“Good morning, sir.” Monarch said.

“Good morning to you too. Car’s been on the fritz recently.”

“How old is that piece of junk anyway?” Comic asked.

“6 years old or so, got it while you were still playing tennis in high school. Anyway, let's get moving. I don't have all day.”

He quickly began to walk up to a very large scarlet red door, a small yellow caution sign being put smack dab in the middle.

“I’ll be flying out to Prospero in a day or two to check out some of the mission control center upgrades for our new Aerospace Association, so I won't be able to give you all the details, but I’ll give you the gist.”

“What are you even trying to show us, anyway?” Monarch asked sheepishly.

He shuffled over to a black panel on the wall, pressing a red button positioned in the middle, opening the large door ahead to a balcony overlooking a heavily cluttered hangar, a black rocket-powered experimental plane sitting in the middle with crew working on it.

“This is what I was meaning to show you two. I give you Selene. Our newest (and first) X-Plane as part of the Aerospace Association.”

“Woah…” Monarch exclaimed, the wonder of the giant hangar filling his eyes with Comic seemingly equally awestruck. The trio walked onto the balcony, the monotonous tapping of tiles shifting to the clanging of boots on metal.

Kaiser turned onto an overpass, looking at the beautifully shining rocketplane below him before turning behind himself and talking to the duo behind him.

“Now… you may be wondering why I would bring you two out here, if I'm so busy and this isn't my place of work… yet. ”

“Well, I wanted to show you two these.”

He pulled out two lanyards connected to IDs, giving various information about them with the text above reading “PFAAS”

“This’ll be your next workplace for what'll probably be the rest of your career. You two will be test pilots for the new agency. You will be stretched to the limit, but you’re the best-of-the-best. I knew you two would be the perfect candidates for the Test Pilot Corps when I first heard about it. I expect alot from you two. But be assured, we won’t let that work go to waste.”

“Welcome to the PFAAS. Welcome to the future.”

Chapter Text

For All Merckind
Chapter 3
"The President"

The outside was freezing. Quite literally, too: Out there in the Antarctic’s winter months, the constant blizzards and dark overcast skies could make anybody stir crazy. Even somebody as resilient as Prez. With barely any human contact other than the people she was stuck down there researching with due to their temporary communications beacons being destroyed in the temperatures outside, it was hard to talk to anyone on the mainland. That was until they were able to find a specific patch of land at a specific time that for the next few days would be clear of any severe storms: allowing for the beacons to reach through to the mainland. While this was useful for transmitting the heaps of data they have gotten from the ice sheet in recent times, it also was useful for the occupants of the base to talk with their friends and family with Prez taking this opportunity in full swing.

She reached over to the small terminal in front of her, the screen flicking into static as the transmission went through. The screen eventually lit up into a slightly messy crew quarters; a breath of fresh air down here with how crowded and crammed everything felt. In front of the room sat a young man, brown hair neatly sitting on top of his head with a baggy dark blue flight suit hugging his body.

Prez quickly moved to speak.

“Hey, Monarch! How’s your leg?” She asked, wondering about the state of his leg since the last time they spoke was when he got a broken one from a botched landing.

“It’s doing fine. Which you would have known if you ever returned my calls.”

“Oof, sorry! Comms have been out for a week now. Constant snowstorms make it really hard to talk with others outside this base.”

“No problem, Prez. Anyway: I’ve got some news for ya. I’ve… been discharged from the Air Force.”

“H-how?! You’re the best pilot I know, damnit!” She yelled out in dismay.

She sighed, with the man in front of her adopting an oddly fitting smug grin despite the situation’s apparent seriousness.

“Well… fine, then. What are you going to do now? Not to the whole merc business you talked with me about a few months back, right? Right??”

“Well… I found a great new job. I think you’d love it!”

“Really? What?” she asked, with a smidge of sarcasm in her voice.

The person on the other end fiddled with some papers, pulling out a small patch and showing it to the camera, with Prez letting out a jovial yell in excitement.

“YOU GOT INTO THE TEST PILOT CORPS?!”

He swiftly chuckled but his laughter was covered up by even more celebration on her end.

“HOLY SHIT!”

“HAH-HAH! CONGRATS MONNY!” She yelled out, her eyes shining bright like stars.

“Yeah… I got it. And word is, the Europans got some major issues setting up their own agency. So you know the PFAAS is going to win this upcoming race.”

“And, err… Here’s the kicker.”

. . .

“How’d you like to come with me?”

. . .

Prez felt an utter shock when she heard what he said. She just… didn’t know how to respond to such a proposition. Whenever she looked at the stars as a young girl, she dreamed of flying up there herself but now she was stuck in Dust Mother knows where, doing fuck all.

This was her ticket to get out of here.

And yet, a part of her still wanted to stay.

“Would the PFAAS ever let a friend group fly together on missions?”

“Well, from what I’ve heard (and seen); Dip and Mick got into the program just fine. You will too, Robin. I bet on it. You’ve been preparing for this your whole life, Robin! Just take this opportunity already! I know you hate it down there!”

“I.. don’t know, I… I’d have to put my research down here on hold for like what, 4, 5 years?”

“ I offer you a chance to be one of the first people in SPACE and you’re talkin’ about research? I- I just… don't get it. 2 years of flight training, you aced your specialized test pilot training and your first flight in some of our top-of-the-line experimental fighters but… instead of flying up back into the sky, you’re chasing research at one of the ass-ends of the world!”

“This research is very important to how technology might operate in the harsh environment of space and the upper atmosphere.”

“So come with me and bring some of those shiny metals you’re developing with ya, and figure out how to use that shit in space!”

“So… are you in?”
. . .

“Of course I’m in!”

Chapter Text

For All Merckind
Chapter 3.5
“ASCANs”

Comic walked down a busy yellow-lit corridor, the monotone taps of her dress shoes against the tiled floor filling her ears alongside whatever chatter she heard. She nervously walked to a brown door, one of many in the hallway, and gingerly opened it. Her brown hair collected into a ponytail slightly danced as she moved, her simple attire of a very dark blue blouse and long skirt giving her a simple yet effective first impression. The room was filled to the brim with people chattering and talking, with her paying no attention and swiftly moving towards a desk at the front, softly putting her books down and sitting.

Cobb entered the room shortly thereafter, looking alot more reserved and seemingly doubting her own ability being a reservist. She wore an outfit much resembling Comic’s, just with a tint of golden yellow. She slowly wandered to the front of the bunch of desks, finding one at the front of the far left; right next to Comic.

“Hey, errr… can I sit here?”

“Sure!” Comic replied, swiftly reaching her arm out to pull the wooden chair, Cobb quickly sitting down.

“Thanks!” she responded, laying down her books on the desk in a neat stack.

“What’s your name?” Cobb asked.

“Evelyn. You?”

“Joan.” She replied.

Suddenly, a door swung open from the opposite side of the room, out stepping a man in his late 30s opened the door. He wore a casual, if not formal, outfit consisting of a crisp white button-up, belted slacks, and black dress shoes. His hair was light brown, with small amounts of facial hair all around his chin and lower section of his face below his mouth. His walk was confident but with an aura of professionalism. He quickly wandered over to the large wooden desk in front of the room, sitting on top before delivering a little speech.

“Settle down, ladies and gents and let’s get this show on the road!”

The entire room quickly sat down, shuffling as they began to listen to the man in front of them, clearly of a higher rank than anybody else in the room.

“My name is Dominic Zaitsev, also known as AWACS Galaxy. I’m head of the Test Pilot Corps, also known as the Astronaut Office; and I'm here to welcome you to the PFAAS. Congratulations. As of this moment, you are officially Astronaut Candidates, affectionately known from this point on, as ASS-CANs.”

The entire room chuckled at the final part of his introduction, before settling down once again.

“You come from near and far from all across the Federation. Those of you who were part of the Air Force’s Test Pilot program, Peter Kennedy, Hitman 1, plenty more, I know you’ve been waiting for this day for a long time.”

The entire room shifted its focus to the two sitting right next to eachother in the middle of the bundle of desks, as the entire room became filled with applause before Galaxy continued.

“But this isn't the Air Force. No. This is a rigorous 24 hour-a-day, 7 days-a-week training program preparing you for test piloting and space travel. There are 20 of you here today, I expect that number to go down quite a lot in the next few months. Honestly; I don’t know if any of you will still be here.”

“Here’s how this works.”

A small noise of a pencil on paper began being heard from the middle of the room, Comic taking quick note of it as she looked behind herself and saw one of the candidates quickly taking notes.

“I’m going to be grading you as we go along. And everything you do will be graded. Pilot performance, academics, your character, and motivation. I’ll post results periodically. If your name’s not on the list, you’re cut. Grab your stuff, go home.”

“Kill the lights, let's get to the program overview…”

Chapter Text

For All Merckind
Chapter 4
“Sprouting Wings”

The sun softly went down on the scenic Oceanian seaside, the golden rays being interrupted by a large rectangular and boxy building as well as the rest of a bustling space center. On the apron of the space center’s runway, four plastic chairs sat neatly arranged with a cooler containing an indeterminate alcohol sitting in between two groups of two chairs with the sun to their backs and a hangar to the right. On the leftmost chair to the hangar sat a reserved and short Robin Kuo; TACNAME Prez. An open bomber jacket laid on her shoulders over a green blouse with an ID attached alongside some jeans and sneakers. Beside her sat a somewhat intoxicated Evelyn “Comic” London with alcohol in hand in a similar outfit. Across from the cooler relaxed one Peter “Diplomat” Kennedy; a dark green jumpsuit easily recognizable as one of a flight suit draping over him.

“You think Monarch got the job? He hasn’t come around for a while.” Dip asked.

“I’m sure he got in, we just need to wait.” Comic replied.

“I know Monarch, he’s a lazy bum. Just wait for him.” Prez quipped before a door from within the dark open hangar opened, a man clad in full flight suit with a helmet covering the majority of his face with only the mask undone stepping out with a simple name tag and ID revealing his identity.

“ HITMAN 1 | MONARCH”

“Well I’ll be a dust-damned son of a bitch, look who it is!” Dip mouthed.

“Cascadia’s sweetheart.” Comic teasingly told the other three.

Two aircraft, easily identifiable as single seater variants of the famous F/E-4, flew just above the sea, white jets of water flying up like waterfalls due to the force of the engines.

“Foxtrot 8-4-8, 8-5-7. If we’re going south of the route, fuel’s gonna be a major problem. What’s the deal?”

“Just a little detour… just to see if you’ve got any stones left.”

The pilot of the second craft traced his finger across a small map, the ATC speaking out to the two jets.

“You’re, uhm, flying in dogfight territory, sign.”

He eventually traced to their current position, over territory the duo knew as being owned by the aerospace association.

“Shit…”

“See what I mean, kiddo?”

“Mhm. I’m going to kick your ass, Cobb!” The pilot groaned out, pulling his left arm from the throttle to the window, pulling out a middle finger which the former K-9C quickly reciprocated.

“Lights on, Nate.”

Suddenly, the two aircraft turned away from each other, ready to engage the other.

In a small, cluttered office, Kaiser awoke, letting out a tired groan before shutting up his ringing alarm clock. He quickly pulled the blank, white blanket over him to side before getting up from the folding bed, quickly putting on some sandals and moving over to a door in the side of his half-office, half-quarters, moving over to a sink and brushing his teeth before leaving and changing out of his pajamas and into his work attire, folding the bed into the wall and sitting down in his office chair at his seemingly quite busy desk.

Suddenly, the office door opposite from the desk was knocked on, which he quickly replied to.

“Come in.”

The door was swiftly opened, Monarch sheepishly walked in, a somewhat oversized sweater and leggings, seemingly attempting to make himself more comfortable with his first days in the space center.

“Oh! Hey, Monarch.”

The two experimental jets dashed and weaved across the open Oceanian skies, the two taking turns tailing each other and failing to achieve a lock, before Cobb finally was able to get into a reliable position to start chasing the other’s jet.

“Aha… slippery little bastard! Ain’t gonna save you, though.” She taunted, the piper of her plane lagging just behind the “enemy”, before.

“CHECK THIS OUT, CHEESEDICK!” Nathan screamed, pulling the nose up and bleeding massive amounts of speed, one of the elevators scraping into Cobb’s jet as the aircraft maneuvered, leaving a gash.

“Oh, no you don’t!” She joke-scolded him, turning the jet in such a way that even after the maneuver, she was still on his tail.

“There ‘ya are… sorry sailor, saw that coming!”

Nathan seemed to get more and more frantic with the aircraft’s maneuvers, trying desperately to get her off his trail, but before long…

“Piper’s on!”

“FOX 2!”

…the dogfight was over, with a resounding loss on his part.
“That’s all she wrote, buddy!”

The two jets got into formation at around 500 meters above the sea, Nathan seemingly very dismissive and angry at her success.

“Ah, jeez… we call that a ‘clean kill’.”

“We call that dumb luck , Cobb! Guess that makes us 2 out of 3-”

An explosion rocked the entire aircraft, with Nathan seemingly pouring over every ounce of information on his dashboard.

“Oh- that’s not good… warning tone.”

Cobb looked over at Nathan’s damaged bird, noticing heavy smoke and flames under one of his two engines.

“Oh, Jesus, Nate, you’re on fire! You got flames under your left engine!”

“Ah shit…” He very quickly flicked the left engine off.

“You better get out and walk, Nate.”

“More like go for a swim!”

“W-who cares! Nate, get the fuck out of there!”

Nathan quickly flicked his visor on as he prepared to eject.

“This is Foxtrot 8-4-8, Foxtrot 8-5-7 is flight abort above the gulf, I repeat, 8-5-7 is out above the gulf!”

A massive explosion rocked him to his core as he flew high above the cloud cover, the G-forces smashing him against his seat with the parachute nearly tearing as it deployed early.

Without missing a beat, he immediately unbuckled his seatbelt and floated down, watching as the seat fell into the sea.

Monarch looked out onto the open sunset, the flat terrain going uninterrupted for miles behind him while the inviting, calm ocean waves crashed against the small peninsula the space center sat on.

He felt.. oddly relieved. ASCAN training, even for a pilot like him, felt exhausting. But finally he was past it. Now was the time to sprout his wings and fly again. Suddenly, the hangar to his side which he was propped up against started rumbling as a gigantic I/A-52 maneuvered out, a strange vehicle strapped to the side; some kind of rocket plane.

He quickly took the hint and made a break for it, rushing inside to grab whatever he needed before flight.

“Alright Monarch, you’re strapped in and are ready for flight.” the voice on the radio echoed.

“Let’s go around the horn.” Galaxy ordered.

“GO for Engine Power-Up.”

“Booster.”

“GO!”

“FIDO?”

“GO.”

“INCO.”

“GO.”

Prez softly leaned against the table she was sitting over, letting out a few short words.

“Okay… Selene, you are GO for Engine Powerup and airlaunch.”

“Roger that.” Monarch replied.

“Starting countdown.” E-6 said.

“5… Main engine start.”

“4…”

“3…”

“2…”

“1…”

Suddenly a giant jolt went through the rocket plane, pushing Monarch forward before he pushed the throttle, the main engine igniting like a forest fire as it quickly accelerated.

And I think it’s gonna be a long, long time

Till touchdown brings me ‘round again to find

I’m not the man they think I am at home

Oh, no, no, no

He was overcome by a sense of whimsy, almost woozy being in the sky again. It felt freeing. It felt for lack of a better term, good. He could barely even process what was happening, the joy of flying again felt intoxicating. The plane screamed across the skies of Oceania, neither the I/A-52 or the two tailing jets being able to keep up as he pushed the throttle to the limit.

He finally got what felt like control over his senses, softly pulling on the stick and raising the nose after a short sitrep over the craft’s systems.

“Both engines look good, beginning pitch program.”

I’m a Rocket Man

Rocket Man, burning out his fuse up here alone

“Roger that, Selene.”

The spacecraft - no, aircraft - he reminded himself swiftly gained altitude as he started to pull the stick closer and closer, the aircraft breaching the sound barrier shortly after.

“There is Mach 1.” he said.

And I think it’s gonna be a long, long time

‘Till touchdown brings me ‘round again to find

I’m not the man they think I am at home

Oh, no, no, no

The aircraft slowly raised its nose to almost 90 degrees before Monarch squeezed the button on top of the stick, releasing the sleek rocket below.

“Releasing!”

“Firing main engine!” Mission Control added.

He felt a small jolt from the jettison, before he quickly pulled out of the ascent, the rocket barely missing the cockpit as he yanked it away, leaving scorch marks on the fuselage as the plane went for the ground, going into a stall from the extreme maneuver and forcing Monarch to very carefully dive and gain speed before pulling out of it.

“Selene, are you alright? Telemetry indicates a heavy dive.” Prez questioned.

“All clear,” Monarch groaned.