"Well I might have had a place for your sister... you are going to have to work just that little bit harder to compensate... So tell me, why are you here, what do you hope to bring to the Coalition... what makes you special... do you like Butter?"
"Well... Nothing makes me special.. I'm not special.. I'm the same as every other human in this universe...
I'm here because my grandfather told me a lot about you. What you stand for.. Your goals.. Err.. Yes I like butter, does that have any effect in the recruitment process?"
Awesome sigz by Cabulb
[20:44] Avalanche (Greg/Pharos): Yeah, I ****ing know serbian.
[20:45] Domjan1911: YUGOSLAVIAN YUGOSLAVIAN!
I am ashamed to say that unlike so many others here, I am a child a privilege. I was born into a wealthy family of four in a gated community on Planet Manhattan. My home was beautiful. It was an expansive estate with freshly manicured lawns, gorgeous fountains and dozens of indentured servants that answered my every beck and call.
My father comes from a long line of merchants, each more successful than the last, all the way back the ancient country of South Africa on Earth. There were Niekerks in the skies above Manhattan since the earliest days of Liberty. There were Niekerks blazing the path for capitalist expansionism and blazing a new trail of markets, enslaving ever more with the materialist, narcissistic lifestyle that poisons the souls of men sector-wide.
This is the shame I bear. My kin is responsible for the spread of that great plague and deceiver democracy. We were the ones who made it possible for the few to enslave the many, for the capitalist pigs to chain the worker in every way possible. We Niekerks spread that opiate religion wherever we went with a singular mind. Why not? A drugged populace is much easier to exploit.
You may be wondering, oh glorious premier, vanguard of the people's freedom, what would cause a boy with everything to turn on his family, their tradition, their so called honor. I was 17 when I took a trip after secondary school to Rheinland. It was in that corrupt, decaying society that I met my god: socialism.
I met a man in a bar on New Berlin. He asked me "Son, are you happy?" "Of course I am" I replied. "What makes you happy? Your clothes? Your friends? Your family? Your ship?" he asked. I answered, "All those things, and the things that I love." "You deserve none of them. They are the work of others, unjustly appropriated. Your friends? They are only thus because of your money. Your family? They only love you because your greedy father wants his property to stay in your family." The stranger then took me to the country. He showed me how the worker had nothing and the master everything. He showed me how democracy is impressed upon the people and deludes them into thinking that they matter, that they have a voice. He showed me how the women was enslaved in her home, her work ignored and unappreciated. He showed me how the man on the pulpit tells the worker to shut up and wait, your rewards are waiting just around the corner and to be obedient. I remember seeing all this and weeping at the tragedy and folly of mankind. How could it be that so few could dominate so many with so little effort? How could it be that the great mass of mankind was stripped naked of it's humanity? How could this continue?
Two people returned to the city. One was not the same man who left. Before parting ways the man turned to me and said, "Property is the root of all evil" and handed me a data chip. On it was a work entitled "The Communist Manifesto." I had never heard of it, but the more I read the more it made sense. All my questions, all my problems melted away. Utopia was before me.
Upon my return home I disowned my father, my mother, and my brother. How can they not only be part of such a cosmic scandal but not be the least bit shamed by having actively participated in the suffering of millions? It was disgusting to me now. All of it. The house. The servants. The marble floors.
I left with no where to go. No safe harbor to call my own. I heard a rumor while returning to Rheinland, the only place in the sector of which I knew something, of a shadow of a possibility. I heard what I and many had thought was impossible, that the coalition survives. I hope this finds you wherever you are. I hope that your grace sees me as worthy of joining the only hope for mankind's continued survival. I want to become a glorious member of the SCRA more than life itself. Nothing else has any meaning or holds any value to me. I will be a faithful servant of the vanguard. I will be a servant of the proletariat. Please consider my application.
-Koos Niekerk
So true is it that unnatural generally means only uncustomary, and that everything which is usual appears natural.
Mendel glanced at the beeping console that had a letter flashing upon it.
He rolled his eyes, "Excuse me..." he said walking across to the console and tapping in a few commands.
APPLY IN PERSON YA MUPPET!
The Virus slipped into the reply was untraceable, but effective, it was carefully designed to cause the senders comm array to overload and rupture, spraying white-hot plasma over the sender. Nasty, efficient, but definitely a good way to resolve the issue of not being able to read.
[font=Arial narrow][color=#FFFF66][color=#FFFF33]Faina Terenti (Фаина Терентий) arrived in Baffin on board of a supply ship. After the docking procedure with Shasta Orbital Skyhook, Faina asked a zoner about the Coalition Offices. She had a confident look on her face when she arrived at the reception. After reading all the announcements on the walls, Faina took a sit near a man that had some similarities with the men born on Jianxi. She suspected that he's another coalition member that wants to join the army but, as he was busy reading a magazine, she decided to listen to some music from her data-pad while re-reading the file she had in her hands.
" He told me what you do.. He told me that you help the people revolt against the goverment that supress them.. That you treat all people the same, so money doesn't matter, so power doesn't matter, so everyone could have a meal when they wake up.. After hearing all of this, I wanted to become a Revolutionary. But Corsairs.. Meh.. I was born in the wrong place."
Awesome sigz by Cabulb
[20:44] Avalanche (Greg/Pharos): Yeah, I ****ing know serbian.
[20:45] Domjan1911: YUGOSLAVIAN YUGOSLAVIAN!
Koos Niekerk hobbled into the Baffin recruitment office, wincing at every step from the pain of his freshly received plasma burns that covered the better part of his face and torso. "There's no better reminder of my insolence than a permanent facial scar" he thought, "I can only hope the great leader will still accept me." The idea of being called a muppet by the embodiment of the people did not sit well with him. Not at all.
He carefully negotiated the door, his searing burns feeling as though they were on fire. Upon entering the recruitmenthe drab, efficient office was devoid of any overt attempts at decor. "All the better. Nothing to get in the way of their glorious mission" Koos thought to himself. Through his one functioning eye, he noticed two figures sitting on a bench. One seemed to be thoroughly engrossed in a file she had clutched in her hand. The other seemed perfectly content by himself. Koos squatted onto the bench as best he could without crying out in pain, wondering how long he would have to keep up this torturous position until he could be seen by the man in charge.
So true is it that unnatural generally means only uncustomary, and that everything which is usual appears natural.
Yuri finishes reading his magazine and gets up to find some coffee. Finding a coffee maker in a corner of the room, he prepares the machine and turns the knob to "brew". On his way back to his seat he sees a fellow coalition citizen; however, she seems to be lost in her reading so Yuri decides not to interrupt, but leaves a note on the table saying, "Coffee brewing in corner. Be done soon."
After sitting back down, He notices a man with a scarred face walk in and sit down on a bench. Yuri walks over to the man and says, "I started a pot of coffee. It should be done shortly. Are you a drinker?"
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