A/N: Over the past few months I have become completely obsessed with this game and have had a lot of ideas running through my head about it. Because Ethan was my favorite character in the game, I though it obvious to write about him and his obviously exciting past. I've made several assumptions of the Advent Rising world and think that I may actually be close to some of it's untouched lore. I hope you enjoy this story and can get completely immersed in the universe just as I have.

Advent Rising and all characters associated with it are properties of Majesco Games, not me...

Chapter 1: A Lowly Private

Ethan Wyeth's forehead struck hard against the metal support beam above him as he fearfully lunged forward, sitting up in his bed. His mind instinctively ignored the pain as the wailing sound that had woke him grew louder. His heart was pounding wildly from the sudden fear that was coursing through his veins. He breathed deeply as his eyes studied the darkened room around him, the crowded barracks suddenly moving with rapid haste and urgency. The ear-piercing noise continued to sound, but no one seemed alarmed or afraid, only him.

Ethan sighed with annoyance as his heartbeat slowly returned to normal, his mind calming with the realization of what was going on. It was morning, and the 'wake-up-call' had been sounded, just like every other morning. And just like all those other mornings, he had another bruise on his forehead.

I've been here almost four damn years and that siren still scares the shit out of me, his mind mocked his embarrassing action.

Ethan casually wiped the developed slabber from his slightly stubbled chin as he quickly gazed around the rectangular room, which was slowly getting brighter as his eyes adjusted to the maintenance lights that flashed on. Dozens of his fellow Federation soldiers were waking up and rushing away from their bedsides, quickly straightening their quarters and then hurrying to the showers before the facilities got overcrowded. He watched them as usual, as they spastically rushed, wanting to be ready before the Sector Lieutenant came. It was like this every morning, and like every morning the room was clear within minutes, and he was alone. He closed his eyes and breathed as he calmly rested into his bed once again, the loud intercom signal to wake his ass up finally switching off.

Two more hours of sleep.

A smile arched across his face, not so much from being able to rest a while longer, but from the satisfaction of knowing that he was disobeying orders.

For quite some time he had been just like the privates who had rushed and cleared the barracks, hurrying to impress the higher officers and earn a shot at being the captain of his own ship. Hell, he'd have settled for Sector Lieutenant by now. But no, after the first three and a half years of kissing ass on Tarsus, the Federation orbital training base, and seeing that it got you no where, he'd decided that trying your best just wasn't worth the time and effort. But apparently it was only his time that was being wasted, since all three sectors that he had been stationed with before had already excelled, either manning their own aircraft or running errands for generals he'd never even met before. Sure, sometimes things like this were normal, certain privates falling behind others, not being able to keep up with the natural talents needed to make it in the military, but he suffered from none of those faults. He was Ethan Wyeth, son of Logan Wyeth, the famed miner turned pilot turned admiral. He had no faults. He was born to be in the military, he was born to fly. (The mere fact that he had finished at the top of each of these boring sectors was enough proof of that.) But then again, it wasn't his fault that he was still stuck as a private anyway.

Someone high-up doesn't like me. Some other admiral I've never heard of. Either that or that asshole Cryton.

General Samuel Cryton had been one of the leading military officers on Tarsus since before Ethan had ever been thinking of the military, but ever since he'd arrived Cryton had had something against him, something that Ethan had never understood, a kind of deep hatred more serious than a simple disliking. It was almost like Cryton had wanted to hate him. And ever since the man had been promoted to general of the Federation's new political/military sect, it seemed that Ethan was falling even further down the military ladder. The first few months of his disobeying orders had received a lot of attention from the 'higher-ups,' but after Cryton had took charge, all of that attention had stopped, like the General wanted Ethan to be forgotten about.

Hell, I've already been forgotten. I'm working on my fourth different sector stationing for god's sake. I'm 23 years old, surrounded by a bunch of 19 year old rookies who can't fly worth a shit, and they'll still see the cockpit of a shuttle before I will, guaranteed. And I'm not going through this bullshit basic training anymore.

By sleeping in late every morning, Ethan was purposely missing out on the basic protocols and lessons required of all Federation sectors. Each private, except for him of coarse, went through the same routine every morning: wake, shower, follow the Sector Lieutenant to a morning briefing, then participate in three hours of daily drills. And not even the fun drills at that. Only lieutenants and captains got to play around with the flight simulators, privates were only granted access to the self-defense and firing corses. And as many times as Ethan had been through the same drills, he had no doubts that he could kick anyone on the entire base's ass, big or small, no problem. He might not have been the tallest private in the station, but his body mass was far from gangly, and he couldn't wait to test out four years of built-up anger and muscle. The basic training wasn't too stressful, but still, he'd been running the exercises for four years. Most privates only went through them for ten months at the most. Even the pitiful marines had to endure less time.

Ethan thought that the Federation might have made an exception in its military protocols over the past few months, since the tension of the Independence Wars was growing even more serious, thought that maybe even the lowest marines would be trained in flight combat. It was the most needed sector of the military. Since the Allied Nations always attacked from the Beltway Colonies, strong and willing pilots were always needed to deflect any assault or destroy any threats before the rebels could reach groundside on Edumea. Many disasters had occurred in the decade and a half that the Independence Wars had been waging, most of them being from lack of good pilots.

Well that could easily be solved. They've got one of the best right here, in private sector 52, and they don't even know it. God, you think that my name would at least get me somewhere. After what Dad did, I thought this military crap would be a straight shot to captain, maybe even general. Guess I was wrong.

After the Beltway Colonies had finally gained the firepower and technology to raise their own military, they'd joined to become the Allied Nations, a rebel group of idiots who didn't agree with the Federation's militaristic ways, or how the political world was run on Edumea. No one knew exactly how the rebels had come to live on the few pieces of rock that circled on the far side of the planet, but many ideas had been thought up over the years. Some thought that several criminals who had been banished from Edumea over a century ago had started the uncivilized colonies circling the planet, but others, the more irrational and paranoid, had a different theory. Rumor was that over ten centuries ago, another planet filled with human life, unlike Edumea at the time, had been destroyed by 'aliens,' and that only a few humans had survived. The few lucky people who got out then set up shop on a floating piece of their destroyed world, and eventually ended up at the uninhabited Edumea, where they built an ingenious ship and restarted the species, making these mythical survivors the true human ancestors.

What was that planet called? Edagior? Ah who cares, it's all bullshit anyway.

He did agree however, that the story held some credibility on the Allied Nations behalf, because supposedly the ancient idiots who were too chicken to go planet-side and too hard to get along with had stayed on their crappy little asteroid colony instead of settling on Edumea. And the words 'coward' and 'stubborn' fit the Allied Nations perfectly.

And yet after two decades, this war is still raging. God, we don't even know why this stuff started. Something about the Federation keeping secrets, and with those ruins they found beneath the city. Maybe if we knew what we were fighting for...or maybe if the Federation would stop-

Ethan jumped once again as something fell hard against his shoulders. He quickly jerked around, ready to defend himself. And stopped as a familiar face stared down at him, smiling. "Sleeping late again?"

Ethan returned the smile. It was Ekken Taylor, a rookie Federation officer he'd been stationed with for the past six months, the only one of eleven that he actually wasn't annoyed by. "Well I was trying to, until some moron came in and woke me up."

Ekken's grin grew wider, his teeth showing brightly against his ebony skin. He quickly wiped the heavy sweat from his bald head, and Ethan realized that the man had just returned from the exercise coarse, something that usually took three hours, which meant that he had just spent all of his extra time thinking, instead of catching up on rest. Shit.

"Eh, I didn't think you'd mind." Ekken's accented voice continued. "Besides, they say Daven's looking for you, something to do with Cryton."

"Great." Ethan was unenthused. Daven Ganton was one of the top captains on Tarsus and one of the privates from Ethan's original sector, not to mention that he seemed to share Cryton's hate for the overdue private. "What do the pricks want now?"

"Don't ask me, but as usual, it'd be best to avoid it."

"What's Cryton gonna do?" Ethan joked with sarcasm. "Keep me in a private sector for another year? That's original."

"Yeah, but he knows you hate it, so that's exactly what he'll do." Ekken tried to sound supportive.

"Let him." Ethan simply spoke as he quickly got up from the bunk, careful not to hit the awkwardly placed support bar he'd gotten personal with earlier. "One more sector stationing and I'm gone. Maybe then Cryton will realize how much he needs me."

"I think he already knows." Ekken paused. "He just doesn't care."

"Then he won't care if I skip put on a few morning drills then will he?" Ethan quickly grabbed his Federation one-piece standard uniform from the storage compartment above his bunk and climbed into it, sliding his arms through and finally zipping it up the front. He tried his best to hurry, wanting to make up lost time. He secretly scoffed at the uniform's dull color, the grey giving away his pitiful rank. It should be black, the color of an officer.

Ethan gave another smirking glance at Ekken before casually walking away, trying to straighten his dark brown hair as he strode down the middle of the rectangular room, headed for the exit. He purposely ignored the other ten privates who had returned to their quarters, knowing that he wasn't a favorite among the group. The motion controlled door slid swiftly open as he neared it, and he stepped outside of the dark barracks, shielding his eyes as the outer light hit them. Another morning, another boring-ass day.

Ekken stared at Ethan as he strode out of view. He grinned with a forced smile. Whatever Cryton wanted, he hoped it was something good. Ethan Wyeth was on the verge of snapping, and he didn't want to be around when it happened.