I was quite tired due to many traffic jams, when I succesfully arrived at BAF recruitment centre on planet New London.
Hopefully there weren't other expected recruits then me. After entering the recruitment office, captain Carl Peterson caught me and bring me to his office. He was friendly and funny all the time of recruitment procedure.
His first words were:
" Ahh! New recruit is comming! "
" You seems like a strong support for our lines! "
" Nice to see another, I hope experienced pilot who wants to join our national forces! "
" Okay then. Lets start with recruitment procedure."
" Don't worry. It's just a papework which we need to complete."
" It won't take much time "
~ captain took recruitment lists and gave them to me ~
" Take your time "
~ In order to join fill in next few rows ~
~ Then I started to write ~
Full Name: Peter Anderson
Age: 23
Place of Birth: Planet Cambridge
Parrents & Their current jobs:
- Markus Anderson , Engineer on battleship Ark Royal in Newcastle system.
- Isabella Anderson ( Mason ) , Head scientist of Planetform research centre on planet California Minors
( Liberty )
Tell us about your skills:
I'm very good "AIMer". My front skill is maneuvering. I can stay alive everytime it's needed.
I'm quite proffesional engineer, because my father taught me how to handle it.
- His first words before he started to teach me were:
" The most important part of ship is engine."
" You can have hundret of guns, but without engine you will be just a hovering space base."
Tell us about yourself:
" Do we need to fill everthing is this list sir ? "
Captain: " Sure. All informations in this list will allow us choosing new recruits. "
" Okay then. I will try to explain it as best as I can. "
804 A.S. - 816 A.S. basic school & high school completed.
In 816 A.S. I graduated West Point Military Accademy and I became Military specialist in communication center on Planet Leeds. We've had not many duties there, because most of those duties took communication base on battleship Derby.
817 A.S. I became freelancer. Not much work to do... but well paid.
818 A.S. I heard about Gallic invaders and I started to think about joining BAF.
And here comes last point ... uff
Do you own any military or civilian ship ? ( If YES, fill the rows below )
YES.
I have very heavy fighter docked on planet New London.
~ Ship Informations ~
Class: very heavy fighter
Ship name / ID: Eagle / Civilian CTE-6000
Crew: U2B - Automatic repair robot
Weapon specialization: Heavy hull damage. Good refire rate guns.
Codename weapons: 4x CERBERUS
Armor upgrade: Universal Armor Upgrade VIII
~ Recruitment list ends ~
" I've done."
~ Captain threw a smile and took papers from me. ~
" Our recruitment officers will have a look on your reply and you will receive ressult as soon as possible. "
" I hope in our next meeting "
" Me too captain. "
" Thank you for your precious time and have nice day! "
I closed the door to captain's office and headed back to the hotel.
(
. Peter Anderson, I was impressed by your biography but there is one more document you need to sign. I already have sent it to you. Finish it and then I will inform you about the results.)
. Peter Anderson, your application is accepted. Prepare your ship as soon as possible and contact high ranking member for combat training in salisbury.
Read the following Manuals, to get more information about Bretonia Laws and Military career requirments:
-
"QCA Diplomacy Manual"
-
"Bretonia Ranking System"
Ten hours have passed since one of the Bretonian ships has been stolen right from under the noses of the post guards. The ship has been used in a six hour long ruthless fight against the Corsairs, taking on and destroying several of their light fighters. It suffered great damage, though the skillful thief managed to return back to the royal fleet dock in New London, surrendering afterwards. He was not armed, nor violent.
Two armed soldiers dragged the man responsible for the chaos created. Although tall and muscular, he did not put up a fight. Stepping on the metallic, reflecting floor, the echo rang loudly as a dim reminder of his inevitable fate, docile, as a beaten circus bear. He expected a life sentence, or even worse, death. But it didn't matter to him anymore.. Ever since he lost his only son to the Corsairs on that blasted trading route, his life had ceased to hold any crumb of meaning.
Nearing a large oak desk in the middle of the spherical chamber, he could now see, in the dimly lit room, a fourth man, dressed in high attire, signifying his role in the royal army to be quite important. The official held a digital clipboard, and upon it, typed out in detail, was laid this unlucky man's life.
'Rian Daniar, age 50, born on Leeds in a small town by the capital city, served in the royal fleet as a battleship marine and later on as a pilot, advancing in the fighter status from light to heavy. Married at the age of 18, had a son at the age of 20, wife dying due to childbirth. Retired from the army due to severe depression at the age of 40, same year his son joined the Gateway Interstellar. Ten years later, yesterday, his son died in a terrible, regrettable Corsair attack. Today, he forcefully removes an imperial heavy fighter from the fleet's docks, whilst breaking the arm of one of the security employees and engages the Corsair fighters which were presumably present at the previously mentioned attack. The ship was damaged beyond repair, yet brought back to the fleet docks by Mr. Daniar, inflicting a loss of 20000 credits to the royal fleet's budget, which will be deducted from the personal savings of the accused.'
Finishing the story by slamming the clipboard onto the desk, the Commander laid back in his chair eyeing Rian up and down. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he clasped his hands together in a clap, then another one and then a third.
Rian stood silent, his head bowed before the judge and jury of his fate. Hands cuffed together, as well as ankles, he'd given up hope on everything long, long ago.
'We need more men like you, Mr. Daniar, the Crown needs more men like you and your services-'
'I'm done, throw me in jail and let it be finished.'
'You don't seem to understand.. The Corsairs killed your son, the product of love between you and your wife, the only thing which made her live on, was him. And now he's dead. I'm offering you the chance not to reap a couple of drunkard half arsed pilots, but to kill as many as you can, funded by the crown's efforts to make what's wrong, right, of course. You give me the rest of your life.. and I'll give you the satisfaction of hearing their screams while their skin boils and their eyes pop out of their sockets.'
A long moment of silence followed, Rian's breath getting heavier and heavier with each passing moment. He took a step forward and the two soldiers aimed their rifles at him, though the Commander signaled them to stand back. He took another step and reached the desk, placing his heavy, cuffed palms on the wooden surface. His voice ached, torturing him, as he spoke. He felt as if he was selling his soul, his body, his mind, for vengeance, for the chance to cause more death and destruction, for retribution.
'Where do I sign..'
'Where do I sign..'
(
The commander smiled and pointed the two documents placed on the desk.
. Rian Daniar, you need to sign here and ... here. You sound to be a promising pilot but
the commander lowered his voice Dont try to steal anything while you are on duty or the consequences may be different.)
. Rian Daniar, your application is accepted. Prepare your ship as soon as possible and contact a high ranking member for combat training in salisbury.
Read the following Manuals, to get more information about Bretonia Laws and Military career requirments:
-
"QCA Diplomacy Manual"
-
"Bretonia Ranking System"
It was an ordinary day in the recruitment office in the capital of planet New London. It was raining heavily, as usual. Suddenly, a relatively young man opened the heavy door with a lot of noise. He was very tidy and clean, with a polite smile on his face. "Good day *thunder striking*, ladies and gentlemen!", he said loudly, with British accent. "I'm here to make mighty Bretonia even mightier!" The recruitment officer greeted him also, but with just "Greetings".
"I see that there's not a lot of good mood in the air", he answered. "I hope that I can fix that. I'm the proud captain of HMS-Debeli_Boda (character full name), a Dunkirk class Bretonian battleship". He really said that with a lot of pride.
"My little, nimble "battleshrimp" fought in lots of battles, many of them weren't so small. The most recent large battle she fought was against two Zoner Juggernauts who violated the rule about no Zoner caps in Bretonia. A BAF destroyer, gunboat and a snub were on my side. We kicked their asses! I did it literally! I mean, my ship literally put her head into a juggernaut's ass to destroy it by collision. My friends say that I like to get into people's asses... She also spent much time in Connecticut, where I practiced. If you recruit me, please don't take my ship from me just to give me some bloody Templar, it would ruin me and this wonderful day *thunder striking*." He said that with a lot of excitement and love for his ship.
When the recruitment officer woke up, he asked him why does he want to join BAF, the captain answered: "When I was a cargo keeper in my friend's freighter about six months ago, he passed trough Bretonia once. He was carrying 111 units of light arms, but he didn't know that they are illegal in Bretonia. He was caught by a BAF very heavy fighter (I think the pilot was Tim Garland, but I don't remember quite well) and defeated very quickly, although he had good fighting skills, and he had to hand over the goods. That was the day I was impressed.
About a month later, my friend bought Atlas, the IMG transport. He traded on route planet Leeds-planet New London for a bit more than two weeks. I traveled with him again. Something woke up in me then. Since those two weeks, I have a strong patriotic feeling for Bretonia and I need to do something with it. Not only the need to defend Bretonia as a state. I find the English ladies most beautiful - it would be an honor to fight for them.
Because I'm born in a merchant family, I knew how to gather enough money for my mighty battleship and defend what I want. Now, please recruit me, so I can do it officially. Those ladies like official BAF captains very much... Sir, you fell asleep again!"
When the recruitment officer woke up for the second time, he just took a paper and said to the captain to complete it and sign it. When the captain received the paper, he thanked to the recruitment officer for "listening". As he turned to sit at a desk, a note could be seen suspended on his back. On the note was written: "MY SHIP IS UGLY!".
*the officer yawned and sighted the note and the words on it: "MY SHIP IS UGLY!".*
. To the unknown independent captain of HMS-Debeli Boda, your application is denied.
A man, in his twenties walks into the office. If the officer didn't look at his face closer, he would have thought for sure he was well in his forties. The recruitment officer looks him up and down and then up back to his face. His face had not been shaved for a while. His nose was long and crooked as if he had been in a few brawls in his time. His hair was black with a few strands of premature grey. The officer looked down at his feet again and saw that when he walked in, he had a very pronounced limp. The old-looking young man held a knotted, darkly wooded cane with a steel handle in the shape of a lion. The officer had seen quite a few grim faces, but there was a peculiar aura about him. The officer didn't know what to think of him, so he started the conversation plainly.
"Name."
"Robert, Robert Huntington, sir"
His voice did not quaver like most of the recruits. This was going to be a hard one to break.
"Age."
"21 sir."
Seeing as he had a struggle standing in one place, the officer said,
"No need to call me sir, I've gone through with thousands of you. Please, sit."
"I'd rather not sir."
His voice was confident. This boy did not want any type of pity from anyone.
"Ok...Tell me Mr. Huntington, what brings you here?"
"I believe it may be fate, sir. I was convicted of a crime I did not commit. I was... I was convicted of a murder."
"Were you put in trial justly?"
Now with some quavering in his voice,
"Yes sir, but I was the only one around to be convicted of."
"Who was the victim, my... my..."
"Spit it out!"
"My Step-Brother... you see, it was a Kusarian. My brother was a former BAF officer, Lt. Charles D'White? It was a quick death."
"Do you have any remaining relatives, we could contact them to get an..."
All the sudden, back to his formal self when he came in,
"No sir, they are all dead. Stokes attack."
Showing Pity and seeing that the young man could not bear it anymore he stood up.
"I see, give me your application and come back in a week."
"Thank-you sir."
"Please, if you have any concerns. Call me."
"It's 20-years sir."
"20-years what?"
"Prison, I've heard the Leeds mining pits are Hell."
"I'll talk to you again Mr. Huntington."
The man limped out of the office with the "tap, tap, tap" of his cane.
The recruitment officer sits on his desk. He watches a cockroach, who's very very very great grandfather somehow was able to board the Bretonia before leaving earth, skitter across the floor. He was still thinking about the young man that had stepped into his office a week before. He reread the application for the hundredth time.
Convicted Criminal Enlistment
Personal Profile
Name: Robert Huntington
Place of Birth: Stokes Mining Station
Date of Birth: 2/2/???
Home: None
Relatives: None
Crime Committed: Murder
Crime Details: Victim: Charles D'White, murdered by step-brother in his private residence. Felon claimed he had no part in the murder, a Kusarian killed Mr. D'White, but he was the only person in the area at the time of the murder.
Crime Sentence: Leeds work pits.
Eye Color: Grey
Hair Color: Black
Height: 6' 2'
Weight: 157 lbs
Disabilities: Right Leg limp
Comments: Very stubborn, often will not talk days at a time. Not a very demanding prisoner. More than willing to join the Armed Forces. Probably wants to die.
Prison Warden
Norbert Markley
The officer looked over at the door, nobody there. Of course there would be no one there, it was 1:00 in the morning. He ran the night shift normally. He looked at the phone, picked it up and dialed a number. With a few rings, a prison guard picked up.
'Hello?'
'Yes, this is Howard Bighton of the BAF Recruitment Office. May I speak with prisoner #2246?'
'It's one o' five sir, normally prisoners aren't willing to talk at this ungodly hour.'
'Yes I know, can you at least leave a message?'
'Yes I can.'
'Tell him to come down to the recruitment office tomorrow morning.'
'This morning, sir?'
'Yes, yes.'
The officer completely forgot that it was morning already, early, but the morning.
'Will that be all?'
'Yes, thank you.'
Officer Bighton hung up and dozed.
Early the next morning, Robert Huntington hobbled down the long flight of stairs down to the recruitment offices. By the third floor, Robert's right leg was dragging slightly behind and he tripped and fell down the flight of stairs, his cane tumbled down to the next flight. A few minutes had passed when he heard the faint footsteps of someone coming up. Louder and louder they came towards him. An elderly man walked up and saw Robert's cane. The man was average in size and had white hair. The creases on his face showed that he was a kind man, but also showed that he had gone through a lot of stress. He picked the cane up and seeing Robert slumped on the wall helplessly he asked,
"Is this yours?"
Startled in disbelief, the old man that had picked up his cane was Former Fleet Admiral Sir Stanley Nelson.
"Yes sir."
"I see you are going down to the recruiting offices. Would you mind if I join you?"
"No sir."
Still shocked, he stared at the kind but stressed face.
"Tell me young man, what brings you to the BAF, Mister...?"
"Huntington, Robert Huntington and I'm down here for Criminal Enlistment."
"I see, what did you do?"
"Nothing... I mean, murder. I was convicted of killing my brother. But I didn't, I swear."
"Really? Sometimes I question the judicial system now and days."
"I saw him get killed, by a Kusarian."
"Who was your brother?"
"Step-brother, Charles D'White. He served in the BAF for years."
"I see, well I think it would be logical to assume that the Kusarian would kill your step-brother for vengence."
"That is what I told the Judges sir."
Now they were at the office doors, The Admiral opened the door for Robert and he smiled his grim, sad smile back. They walked past the secretary, the secretary smiled at him as if he were an old friend. For all Robert could guess, they might have.
"Mr. Huntington?"
Before heading into Bighton's office he stopped.
"Yes?"
"How much is the bail?"
"One million credits sir."
"Thank-you."
Huntington was about to open the door when he turned around and asked,
"Why do you ask sir?"
"Ah, no reason. Good day Mr. Huntington."
"Good day sir."
Nelson smiled his warm smile then walked away.
Huntington stepped into the office.
"Morning Mr. Huntington."
"Morning sir."
"You seem a bit lighter today."
"Yes sir, it has been a good day."
"The Prison knows you are here right?"
"Yes sir, they have the tracker."
"I heard about those, what if you go out of bounds?"
"Shocked sir. Like a dog and a dog collar."
"I see."
There was a moment of silence.
"What do you need from me sir?"
"I told you, you don't need to call me sir."
"I know sir."
Bighton's eyes grow sorrowful. He analyzes Robert's face. He looked different. He had shaved, that is why he looked different. He looked at his body, he was standing straight as always. The recruitment officer sighed.
"Mr. Huntington, I regret to inform you... You cannot be accepted into the BAF, your criminal record isn't spot on, even before... the incident, and we rarely take people with... well... disabilities."
Robert's eyes darkened. His grey eyes looked emotionless.
"Robert, we have several other opportunities for people like..."
Robert started to the door. The tap of the cane stopped. He turned around and spoke,
"People like me? There is not a single person like me in all of Sirius."
"I know that, but people with..."
Robert's anger flared,
"A burned leg? A leg that was burned by the same man who killed my brother?"
"I didn't mean that, please come back."
But he didn't listen. He stormed out the door and walked the 5 flight of stair that took him there. And went back to his cell.