*Through Gritted teeth Vladimir stood up his knees shaking slightly. He looked the general in the eye and said*
We must regulate transmissions coming into Omega-52 from external sources for our civilian population because, we must protect our civilians from those outside forces who may wish to harm them. As well as any turncoats who may be inside so that way can eliminate them quickly and efficiently, or make examples of them in public executions. Monitoring the incoming transmissions prevents would be spies from completing their mission and any would be missions to gain intelligence rendered impossible. The Security of Omega 52 would be a top priority if I were to be accepted to your forces.
The General smirked and pushed the recruit over once more.
"No no and more no. We regulate transmissions to ensure our public receive only the highest quality entertainment and receive nothing other the truth from the Ministry. Outside broadcasts are full of forgein propoganda which can fester counter-revolution.
He threw the knife into the recruits chest, before heading back to the table and pulled out a shotgun..
"You are useless to me boy. You will have no last words."
Mercilessly, before the recruit could say anything more, he pumped the shotgun and started blasting each of the recruits limbs off. He stared into the recruits pained eyes as his final round was delivered to the recruits neck, blowing his head clean off. He called for the marine guards.
"Guards, pick up what's left of this muppet and pack it into a casket. Fire it at the sun. Ensure every atom is vaporised."
"Attention all SCRA personnel on the recruitment deck, please report to the cafeteria for Protocol HighDog."All officers, marines, and the receptionist left the deck, locking the doors behind them. As soon as the last door locked, the temperature on the deck quickly rose as the engine vents were rerouted. After every last recruit was burnt to a crisp, a cleanup crew cleared everything out and made the walls look clean and sparkly. Once everything was clean, Kyu Tsukuda walked through the hall inspecting everything. "Good, now hurry up and send the message, I don't have all day to be here." She picked a seat on the bench next to the receptionist desk were Alicia took her place and waited for the recruits.
"To all men and women who may be receiving this message: The Coalition is looking for pilots, those who are tired of the broken regimes of Sirius, those looking for a change of pace in a fair, safe, and hopeful nation where class and racial distinction are irrelevant. Men and women wanting to see a change in Sirius - for the greater good of all mankind. Are you tired of pushy Royalists? Governments run by corporate criminals who care more for a few extra credits than their fellow man? Fractured feudalisms driving their people to the ground while they bicker in back rooms? Perhaps you're simply sick of having to risk your life in order to keep yourself from starvation? It doesn't matter where you're from as long as you share a view of equality and change... Though addicts and spies need not apply."
The gunmetal grey walls weren't too affected by the surge of heat that pulsed through the ship. Not much was able to shift those hardy, lead based Coalition paints - the kind that would usually be the cause for mass-recalls of children's toys because the kids started tripping out. Once the recovery crew performed its sweep, the heavy blast doors which sealed the rest of the ship from the main corridor unbolted and hissed as they slipped back open, their occupants greeted by a rush of warmer than usual air - a welcome change on such a utilitarian vessel. The Trotsky, true to its sisters, was built with comfort as a second priority. Commander Wight was walking down the hallways as everyone rushed back to their previous duties, dreading the thought of what might happen should they fall behind. He wore a rather bland grey, hooded jumpsuit, made of some strong plastic material... The kind used by HAZMAT teams when dealing with exotic chemicals. The legs were tucked into a pair of black, spit-polished military boots, and the edges of the hood were tucked tightly into the front of a gasmask with two small eyeholes shielded by a visor which let off a faint blue glow under the light. Some would have remarked about how excessive it appeared, he'd always respond the same. "Just call me paranoid," - and he was, he didn't trust that the corridors weren't irradiated by the engine blast - and who could blame him?
As soon as he caught sight of Kyu and Alicia, he took a sharp right and slipped into one of the two offices that lay just down the hall from the recruitment office, facing each other. There was a rather stock standard wooden desk awaiting him, as well as a considerably nice leather chair. Sliding around the desk, he plonked back into the chair and let out a relieved sigh, cracking his fingers and pulling himself up. To his right, an in-out box, lacking in any papers... For the time being. He opened the top drawer and smirked to himself at the sight of a .60 Officer's handcannon... He'd had enough waved at him that he really wanted to know just why it got the Commissar's off so much...
As a Storm lands in the Trotsky's hanger deck, a small group of men and women in grey coveralls were escorted off by a squad of Coalition Marines, they were volunteer pilots from Volgograd and JiangXi, hoping to prove their worth to be chosen to fly and fight for the Coalition's Militia, however one of them was separated from the rest and escorted through the bowels of the ship by a pair of marines, heading towards the Fighter Corps recruitment deck. He had short black hair, he stood at 5' 11", his overall figure was moderately muscular, while not good enough for the Marine Corps, it was 'passable' for those wanting to be able to fly for the Fighter Corps and yet still be of use on the ground. His arms had several old scars, likely due to working in a factory on Volgograd, making munitions for the men and women of the Military and Militia so they may continue the struggle yet another day.
As they entered the Recruitment Deck, one of the marines escorting him shoved him harshly into a seat and sneered at him slightly while the other took his folder to Alicia the secretary to be processed, the name was briefly seen on the cover as the marine handed it off to the lovely secretary.
Tabakov ,Nikita
As the young man waited he rubbed his eyes before staring around, his eyes were dark brown and at the moment focused on the Secretary as she sent off the file, likely to one of the recruitment officers. Nikita calmly and carefully tightened the laces on his boots under the watchful eye of the marine across the hall from him who clutched his AK tightly, as if expecting to drill a hole into one of the recruits at a seconds notice. listening to a pair of marines further down the hall chatting with eachother.
"So I heard we got a new batch of recruits for the Militia, what's the look of em?"the first one asked, he was slightly taller than the second one but less built as the other marine chuckled softly.
"Looks like most of them were Factory Workers from Volgograd, odds are those poor bastards will not live to see the end of the month by how green they looked to me."the second one commented with a grin on his face, the taller one nodded as he tucked his AK under his arm as he made sure his armour was secured properly.
"I heard that one of them had the balls to actually apply for the Fighter Corps! That poor bastard is likely to be pummeled or shot by the end of his appointment."was all he heard before the second one looked right over at him, nudging his companion to shut up as they continued to stand guard....Nikita sighed, well that did alot for making him feel secure...
Kyu smirked as Wight passed by. " Ey, baka, you know that comicon was last month right?" When Wight didn't reply, she turned back to Alicia and made idle chatter. When a recruit was dragged in, Kyu sat on the bench and watched. After the nearby marines finished their chitchat, Kyu stood up. "You, new guy, get over there to that office. If you take too long, you fail."
As Nikita made his way, Kyu spoke to Alicia about the file. After a few minutes, Kyu entered the office and sat opposite the recruit, tossing his folder onto the desk. "Tell me, who are you, where are you from, and why are you here. Try to make it quick too, I'm not here to listen to Charles Dickens"
Nikita was finally beckoned into one of the rooms by what appeared to be a Fighter Corps officer he stood up and followed him into the office as fast as he could, taking a seat where he was pointed towards and tried to maintain eye contact...Which was difficult because the common man like himself didn't interact with the Military Often, mostly it was political officers checking up on the workers' 'enthusiasm' and 'dedication to the cause' sent from the Ministry of Truth.
Still he managed to keep eye contact, barely, and gave a small nod which he hoped was confident.
"Yes sir, I am Nikita Tabakov, I was born in Omega-52 on Volgograd, I am here to join the Fighter Corps in the fight to protect our home and to stand with my people in the struggle to spread the Coalition into the Houses sir." he spoke, while his voice was confident, his mind was a whole other story, panicked and that Premier Katz willing he wouldn't be shot, he had heard rumours of 'itchy trigger fingers' and didn't want to end up like some of the less 'fortunate' souls that failed to meet the Fighter Corps expectations.
He tried not to fidget as he waited for Kyu to berate him, shoot him or simply nod and continue the questions...But that was very difficult as his mind kept drifting to the 'horror stories' of the Fighter Corps recruitment...Still the one about the Warbot seemed alittle far-fetched...
As the recruit was talking, Kyu took a sheathed tanto from her boot and put it on the table. When he finished, she stared at him. "Call me sir one more time, and this will be the last thing you see." She leaned back in her chair. "You want to help the Coalition spread. Why should it? If you're trying to leave the current working conditions, why would you condemn thousands, maybe millions to it?"
Nikita jumped slightly in his seat as she drew the tanto and put it on the table. Nervously he nodded his head in rapid succession, making a mental note to not call her 'sir' again...Although one of his friends would've said that she was 'questionable' as a woman anyways if she was carrying a blade from Kusari rather than a Coalition issued combat knife...
When she questioned him, he felt slightly insulted...Still his answer was calm and even, he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of a negative reaction.
"The Coalition must expand, a stagnated culture tends to die out without branching out, it is the natural order of the evolution of our society, I requested a transfer because I believe that I could better serve our home and the people of Sirius on the front lines, working in the factories is an honorable task so I wouldn't say condemn, that implies that there is something wrong with the way the Government is running it." he states before taking a small breath to continue. "So condemn?" He shakes his head "No, this is liberation compared to the working conditions of the Houses, just look at Rheinland if you want an example of poor conditions ma'am." he commented calmly.
Kyu eyed Nikita suspiciously. "That's a better answer than what I was expecting to hear." She pressed a button on the desk, and Alicia brought in a cup of coffee for Nikita and a cup of tea for Kyu. She took a sip, then thought for a minute. "Tell me what the fundamental meaning of Trotskyism is. And think carefully before you answer." She continued to drink as she waited for an answer.
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