The Eagle slammed itself forward, nearly smashing through another batch of ships, if it wasn't for the autopilot and shielding preventing it from doing so. The pilot swore and scrambled around for the ignition, quickly remembering he wasn't driving a car, and smiled as he disengaged the powerplant, allowing the ship to hover gently as the cockpit hissed open.
The pilot was handsome, he had short hair, a Bretonian. He had an air of joy about him, like everything was going as planned. He checked out the hanger, stacks of ammunition, troops in uniform with mean looks about them, like they knew what he was thinking, or wanted to arm wrestle with him, or get drunk. Or both.
He straightened his tie and blazer, and threw aside his small briefcase. This wasn't the place for a briefcase! This was a military ship and it was about time he learned how to act like one of them. He slipped off his tie next, it was far too formal, and he couldn't breathe well with it on, blazer and untucked shirt it was.
His name was Kurt Caesera, he was a Doctor, mostly, trained also as a surgeon and a paramedic should the need arise. Years of study at Cambridge University had prepared him, moving on to medical training at Chesterton Medical School. By 812A.S, he had graduated and began working in various clinics around Bretonia.
Life was good at first, but tending to Refugees at Holman Outpost took it's toll, Kurt saw the true horrors of war, the corruption of Bretonia and Liberty. He spent a year travelling, soul searching, and after reading a small leaflet, he had come to try out for the Coalition.
They were idealists, and he was sure he would come in handy to them. He hoped. He was allergic to bullets afterall.
He pinned a small Hammer and Cog button onto his blazer, proceeding to follow the signs to the Recruitment Office.
There he found a rather attractive Secretary (so he thought), who simply nodded to the seats, indicating he was to wait. He obeyed, sitting down and smiling at the middle aged woman beside him.
"Fingers crossed they like my resume..." he whispered to himself, crossing his fingers, and attempting to do so with his toes.
Doctor Kurt Caesera - Lieutenant in the Sirius Coalition Revolutionary Army.
Education: Studied at Cambridge University, Trained to be a medical practitioner at Chesterton Medical School.
Trained in ship maintenance, basic pilot and combat skills at the Coalition Hong Kong Training Facility.
Operations: Gold Thirteen, Gold Squadron
Medical Team, CPW-Trotsky
Zhukovsky Medical Centre, Zhukovsky Station
Jo slowly entered, her feet shuffling occasionally as she steps inside. She looks nervously at the Lieutenant Commander before throwing a cursory glance at the desk's spare chair, then back up to the recruiter.
"E-Evenin', ma'am..." she says, her voice laced with a thick Texan drawl.
She gives a light nod, possibly in response to the first question or acknowledgement to the latter, pursing her lips for a second. Her tone remains muted, and nervous, but she at least forces a hampered smile.
"M-My motivation ma'am..."
Another slight pause, her jaw hanging loose for a second.
"To be fr-frank, ma'am, I was a transport p-pilot fer Interspace a'fore. Alot'a to'n'frowin' but er..."
She draws a breath, it once again ragged.
"I'll be blunt...it's borin', and lonely work. No-one t'talk to, nothin' interestin' t'see..."
Her tone slowly strengthens as she speaks, her motivation raising her morale slightly.
"But it ain't enough. I fly in Kusari, Bretonia, Liberty...it's all mundane. Y'all go beyond 'at, y'obviously ain't in th'places I sit, so y'gotta be elsewhere...somewhere interestin'. But it ain' just explorin' I wanna do..."
Her shoulder sag slightly as she licks her lips, evidently nervous.
"I'm...Texan, I ain' meant t'just sit down and do nothin'. It's in m'blood. I don't mean I wanna head out there n'kill everythin', I just want an adrenaline rush occasionally. Hell, all people do. I think joinin' you would do 'at...and in exchange, I work m'a** off for y's."
Her confidence suddenly evaporates as she finishes talking, biting at the inside of her cheek and bottom lip.
Her lips formed a straight line of disinterest. "So let me get this straight. You came here...because you're bored?" Angie's eyes flicked to the pistol. "So you know nothing of the Coalition, communism, or the great Revolution? Trust me, there is a wrong answer."
"THE HULL HAS BEEN BREACHED AND THESCIENCEIS LEAKING OUT!"
Her eyes widen suddenly, accompanied by a rapid shaking of her head.
"No, no, ma'am, it ain't at! I mean, yea, boredom is a part of it, but it's more'a drivin' force b'hind it. People ain' meant t'sit n'do one thing ferever, they gotta adapt, n'change. Boredom's what kicked me int'a findin' a new line a'work, but I approached the Coalition instead a' say...bounty huntin', 'cos of their ideals n'motives. I do know about 'at stuff, y'can question me and I'd be able t'give ya' a correct answer, right as rain. I'm just sayin' what motivated me t'seek new things..."
"Listen here, little girl. We don't fight because we're bored. We fight because we're dedicated individuals who desire a cause. Now if you're so 'bored', then go and fly around a super nova for all I care. Get the hell out of my office." In order to emphasize her words, she jerked her hand towards the gun.
When the woman had skittered out faster than anything that could possibly exist, Angie shouted, "NEXT!"
"THE HULL HAS BEEN BREACHED AND THESCIENCEIS LEAKING OUT!"
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