"Already have dinner plans." He muttered raising an eyebrow. "Alright lad. That seems to be everything." He paused slightly, glancing down at the paper work that seemed to be out of order.
A Secretary came into the room a few minutes later and placed, yet another, application on his desk. "There you are Commander. This one is waiting in the Lobby. Want me to send him in?"
Austin glanced over at the man waiting. "Aye, this shouldn't take long. Send him in." He waited for her to walk out before looking at Lancelot. "Ensign Humphrey Lancelot. You'll be assigned to the Suffolk. You'll have a room and board once you arrive to your new quarters. You'll also receive a standard issued pistol from your quarter master when you arrive. Congratulations lad."
"Next."
----
The secretary walked out of Commander Goodmen's office and over to Jason Tensdale. "Commander Goodmen is waiting for the next applicant, You can go in now and take a seat. You're second in que, now."
As Jason stood up to walk into the office, another familiar young man walked out.
"Hmm.. He seems familiar to me. Maybe he's in the reserve too" Jason tought to himself.
Jason stopped before knocking on the door. There was a sign:
Commander Austin Goodmen
Recruitmen Officer
*knock, knock*
"Come in" a voice said.
Jason then entered the office, with both hands behind his back, sholders back, and with a straight face.
Awaiting to hear what would come next.
The doors to the Recruitment Office swing open, and in steps a young man with a boyish grin and a look of awe. He stops at the entrance and looks around eagerly, taking in the setting around him.
After a heavy breath, he steps towards the front desk.
"I'd like an application to sign up for the Armed forces." he says in a rushed and not too overly-excited tone.
"But of course." the receptionist replies, and slides a clipboard and a pencil across the desk to the young man.
The youth takes the clipboard and smiles at the woman, a smile that hides his nervousness with sheer enthusiasm. He takes the form to a nearby chair and carefully fills in each line.
Quote:Name: Warren Siderman
Callsign: Wayside
Gender: Male
Age: 18
Date of Birth: May 5th, 799 A.S
Place of Birth: Planet Leeds
Nationality: Bretonian
Fitness: Athletic
Height: 172 cm
Weight: 71 kg
Vision: L: 20/20 R: 20/19
Brief History of yourself and your family: Grew up amidst the heavy industry of planet Leeds, where both my parents worked to scrape out a living. When the war with Kusari began I joined the local youth brigade, our duties consisted of handing out fliers, gathering bonds, and helping to build makeshift defenses around the local area. A few months ago, my parents decided to leave Leeds for safer space and joined the swarms of refugees leaving the system. I convinved them to let me stay and now that I'm of age I'm looking to make a tangible difference for Bretonnia.
Previous Medical History: No serious illnesses or allergies.
Combat experience: Some basic feild training in the youth brigades, but no serious combat experience.
Reasons for signing up for the Armed Forces: As above, now that i am of age, I'm hoping to really help out and defend my home.
List seven characteristics of your person that you believe makes you suited for the job. (Killing shouldn't be one of them.):
Eager
Inventive
Plucky
Honorable
Motivated
Spirited
Self-Aware
Are you transferring from the reserve fleet? If yes, why are transferring. If no, please explain where you're transferring from:
Not transferring from reserve fleets, transferring from Leeds Youth Brigade
After finishing the form Warren gives another sigh and under his breath he says, "Finally..."
He stands up and hands the finished application to the receptionist, who skims through the information quickly before putting it into a box on the corner of her desk.
"Please have a seat, you will be called back shortly" she tells the young man in a warm tone.
Another youthful smile spreads across Warren's lips as he turns to take a seat, as he waits he focuses on keeping his growing fervor under control.
"Mister Tensdale," Austin said lightly, "It seems you have a medical condition. Does that affect your flying at all?" He continued, pausing to let the man take in the question. Then he started to speak again. "You're application is fine. Though I'll need you to answer the pervious question and the follow questions." He smiled lightly pushing forwards a question sheet, that he just had laying there.
Quote:1.) How many Bretonian fleets are there, and what is the flag ship of each?
2.) Name two people on the Admiralty board?
3.) Who is the Bretonian Prime Minister?
4.) Name four of our enemies, excluding the Kusari Empire.
5.) If a trader is caught running the Leeds-Stokes blockade, what do you do?
6.) Name all the Bretonian combat vessels and their registration number. (Fighters/Bombers/Capital ships)
7.) You are in the commanders chair of a Bretonian Destroyer. You are leading a mix fleet of Outcasts, Bretonians, and Kusari rebels. Between you and Planet Leeds stands two Kusari battleships. Your forces consist of three fighters, two bombers, one destroyer, and a bretonian battleship. What do you do?
//Please send the answers to these questions to me over the Private Message (PM)
-----
After a few minutes, the Secretary walked in once more and laid a piece of paper down infront of Austin. She sighed lightly and walked out.
"Mister Tensdale, I've reviewed over your answers, and you're forgetting a combat vessel." A smile came across his face as he set the paper down. "Congratulations, Ensign Jason Tensdale. You're to be stationed with the Leeds Planetary Fleet. You'll have room and board on our base planet-side, and a room on the Derby. Your quarter master will give you a standard issue side-arm. Dismissed."
He waited for the man to walk out before shouting out the door. "Next!"
My name is Gideon Brayson and I am submitting my application for a commission in the Bretonia Armed Forces. I request to be assigned to the British Intelligence section. I was born and raised on Cambridge by my father Eli Brayson and mother Rachel. My father wanted to join and serve but was not medically qualified to do so. His dream and mine has been to serve our great nation especially in the fight against the Kusari occupation.
I am 22 yrs old and just earned my Accounting degree from the University on New London. I have flown ships travelling Sirius in my fathers shipping company. I have flow escort at times and the transports. I had to study while working and flying for my father. My mother raised my two brothers and 3 sisters while also working for the family business.
I look forward to hearing your decision. I believe I will be of great asset to the BAF.
Warren sat in the hall, his leg nervously bouncing up and down. He heard foot steps in the office he had been watching out of the corner of his eye, and, much to his delight, the previous applicant stepped proudly into the hall. Before he could question the young man, a voice boomed from inside the office, "Next!".
Warren half jumped out of his seat and made his way to the office and stepped inside. Standing at attention and doing what he could to hold back both his smile and his stomach bouncing up and down inside his gut.
"Average" was the word that described the man that approached the recruiting centre doors best. Short brown hair - but still a tad over military standards - brown hair, medium height and build, a bit past his prime age. His face was the epitome of neutrality and indifference. He was wearing his best suit - not saying much - that was passed down from his father. He peered up at the flashy new sign, and pushed his way through the doors and into the reception room.
His eyes instantly found the desk centered in the middle of the room, where two men were switching posts. One muttered something about a graveyard shift and the other laughed in turn before sitting down at the desk. He gave a brief sigh before pounding away at the keyboard, eyes fixed on the monitor, not even taking notice of the man standing in the doorway.
Mister Unremarkable stepped up to the plate, tapped on the desk, began a quiet "excuse me" before being cut off by the soldier behind the desk, who pointed to a stack of papers in a bin titled APPLICATION. He wasn't new to the recruiter job. His eyes flicked to the man a mere moment before pointing out the papers and returning to his computer. The "fine" attire, quickly combed but uncut hair, everything about his appearance and poise spoke of his intent.
The hopeful man gave a little sigh, scooped up a paper and clicked out a writing utensil and began filling the form out. Basic questions: name, age, nationality, the list went on for awhile. Zalus Rockwell, 37, Liberty born with Bretonnian heritage. Nothing that would make a difference between him actually getting in or not, merely database entries.
Finally, he got to the important questions. Flight experience? He thought on this a moment. He wasn't flying until he was into his 30's, but he picked it up quick. He wasn't much of a shot but he could talk his way out of situations with pirates better than most, and knew a good amount of the space. There wasn't much room for an autobiography however, so he just settled for putting 5 years - Mining and Trading.
The next question was another thinker for him. Why do want to join the Bretonnian Armed Forces? Life long reflections came back to him. From an early age he learned that there were only a few ways to make it in the world - a rich family, luck, or dirty deeds, and he didn't have the first two. He was that poor kid with the funny accent for as long as he could remember. Opportunity never knocked for him, and his family never had a ship that could leave the planet so he was locked on California Minor until he was halfway through his 20's. That was when his heart finally turned to rock and started working for himself and himself alone. His family inherited a decent sum from a deceased family member, however instead of it getting spread evenly throughout his family, a "malfunction" in the system caused it all to go straight to Zalus. It was just enough to get him a craptastic ship, but it did the job - it had a cargo hold and the ability to go into space.
His crusade of selfishness didn't stay on California Major. He never pulled the trigger on a gun, but he moved the barrel from his head to someone elses. He passed on criminal messages to police and military for the sake of his cargo, he shipped goods in between warring states, shipped goods to bandit bases. He had ditched other merchants to be picked apart by pirates while he escaped. He never slit a throat, but he'd definitely stepped on a few fingers.
His self reflection finally over, he tapped the pen on the paper a couple times before thinking of the right answer: to do some honest work. Satisfied with his answer, he handed the paper back to the recruiter, saluted, and stepped out of the recruiting centre.
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