The room was hot in his greatcoat, the applicant found. This was standard; turn up the heating if the applicant was dressed warmly, turn it down if he wasn't. It made conditions more uncomfortable.
Gorodetsky, in his own long coat, leaned back, feet on his desk, raising an eyebrow. For some reason he recognised this nancy boy...
Reenlistment?! Of course... he looked different in a uniform, after all.
He nodded.
"Honourable discharge after serving in a somewhat uneventful tour of duty, no demerits or criticism from superiors..."
Gorodetsky had no reason to deny this ponce an opportunity to get himself killed. For the Revolution, of course.
"Welcome back, comrade Mao! You will be returning as a Lieutenant, any objections?"
Stenka Razin sat patently outside the Zhukovsky recruitment office. He'd been there for some time, 2 hours to be precise, though this was hardly any fault of theCoalition recruitment. No, Stenka had requested the entire day off work to ensure he be there on time.
He had dressed in the best of his 3 sets of work overalls, carefully pressed the night before, with only a few small stains and his name embroidered in small print across the breast pocket, though none of this could hide the grease embedded under his fingernails and the stench of coolant, the result of a life maintaining ships.
He took almost no notice of the shouting going on inside, not even flinching when he heard the booming gunshot.
His name was called shortly after.
Clutching his recruitment papers, Stenka carefully stepped over the body of previous applicant, and stood in rigid military salute before the officer at the desk.
"Stenka Razin, mechanical engineer for the Coalition, reporting for enlistment" he stated enthusiastically in a thick accent, the result of many years in the Coalition.
The officer payed no attention to him, seemingly preoccupied with the files before him. Figuring this was reason to go on, he placed his papers down on the desk carefully.
"I've spent my entire working life aboard this station maintaining The Peoples fleet, I wish to fly for the revolution and bring glory to The People. My far..."
He was interrupted by a loud gurgling from behind him, the previous applicant having decide he was not quite dead yet.
"should i take this man to medical sir?" Stenka inquired, again getting no response other then further gasping from the dying man as he drooled blood over the deck of the station. Stenka gave the man a sharp kick to the head with his steel capped work boots silencing the man, obviously the Commissar had decreed his life counter productive to The Revolution and as such, he was of no value and would not be missed.
Looking back up Stenka continued where he left off. "My father was a designer for much of the inspirational media that lines this stations halls and i hope to prove I've inherited his values, The Peoples values, and will do what The Revolution requires of me."
Stenka stood again in rigid salute, awaiting a response from the Commisar
Commissar Gorodetsky nodded as he saw Stenka Razin enter. Well-presented in his overalls, but not looking lke some sort of ponce. A good start, a good first impression.
He smiled, just a little, when he stamped on the dying man on the floor. Good, he was capable of doing what needed to be done... not some child-like idealist that thought they were all some sort of happy-smiley hippy organisation. Excellent.
Well, time to ask a question or two, reasoned the Commissar, appearing to be rapidly taking notes on a sheet of paper...
After about thirty seconds, he turned the sheet of paper to the patient young man, showing him a (very bad) sketch of what appeared to be a sheep.
Stenka Razin stood confused for a few moments, he was not aware of any such test as this.
"Commissar, I'd like to report i'm in excellent mental and physical health, you'll find the results of my mandatory Coatition entry medical report with my enlistment papers, including psychiatric evaluation and Rorschach...."
He stopped short, and the Commissar pointed sharply back at the drawing.
"I see a sheep" Stenka stated, thinking back to his fathers inspirational media, "A sheep faithfully following its shepherd commands even as the shepherd makes ready for the slaughter, just as the citizens of the Alliance follow their leaders."
"The Revolution takes care of It's People" he stated, smiling proudly.
On hearing Razin go on to assure him that he was of sound mental health, Gorodetsky barked out a laugh, cutting him off from speaking further.
"Perfect answer, Sub-Lieutenant Razin. We want disciplined pilots that will follow orders to the letter, but we don't want drones.
Go speak to Quartermaster Bethune. He'll sort you out with a uniform and will have someone explain our 'Codename: SKYPE' communication channels. Then we'll get you into a fighter."
Gorodetsky then stood up, shaking the new pilot's hand.
The Commissar raised the index finger of his free hand as he sat back down, indicating that Grigory should wait a moment, smoking away on his cigar with an unreadable face.
He typed away for a moment.
"The records we have on the ship you arrived on seem to be in good order, but we'll need to confirm your full name, pilot."
As he asked him this, he dismissively offered Grigory a stubby, fat cigar, obviously not caring whether he took it or not.
Zvezdny Gorodok Recruiting Section, Omega 52, Coalition Space
"Youri Aliabiev. Youri, Youri, Youri.... Why'd you do it Youri? Why'd you lie to me?"
As the Commissar looked on, with a pitying expression on his face, Youri stared in horror.
"We know you're lying Youri. We know it. Everyone lies, at first. They all do. It's terrible, really. Now, I'll give you a chance to redeem yourself, but it's going to be tough. Are you ready?"
The candidate straightened his shoulders, and nodded. The Commissar reached inside his long coat and pulled out a small, round object. He examined it for a second, then tied a string around the pin, and placed it in the chest pocked of Youri's jacket.
"Now, I'm going to ask you a question. If you get it wrong, I'm going to pull this pin. If you get it right, I might pull it anyways, but maybe not. You never know."
The Commissar reached into his pocket, and drew out a flask, taking a large swig, then passed it to the recruit. It reeked of vodka, and the Commissar sighed with satisfaction as the alcohol seared through his veins.
Jack Handey Wrote:I can picture in my mind a world without war, a world without hate. And I can picture us attacking that world, because they'd never expect it.
Youri tried to justify it self : "I'm...I'm not lying you sir..." said the young men with a little voice, but stop when the commisar talk again and take the little object... He was thinking about what this object was... but dont want to be right this time...
Youri did not expect this, and, with a little hesitation he finally said :
"Its... its would be an honor to drink with you Komrad commisar"
He take the flask that the commisar give to him and ,wearing a toast to the coalition, drink it.
"Spassiba Komrad commisar, true vodka!" youri was a little more confident now, thinking that he maybe have a chance to be one of thoses pilots who fight for SCRA, for the coalition!
Youri give back the flask to the officer and say :
"I'm ready for your question Komrad commisar!"
...
Youri have never understand fast... but, was it the real question of the commisar or a simple invitation to drink?
...
Nah, wasn't so easy...
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