SCRA Recruitment Centre

[arvg]

The wind-blown snowdrifts swept as far as the eye could see across an ancient ocean, long vanished into an age of memory. The snow drifted as the cold wind stirred it up, swirling it around in a brief flurry before setting down to form a new pattern in the snowdrifts. It was a world that lay in a long forgotten corner of Sirius, ceasing to exist as a functioning participant of the galaxy when a shift of its axis plunged it into perpetual winter. The Great Wars had passed that planet by, leaving it untouched, as had all the wars before.

A shadow descended out of the heat-less sun, the Coalition Storm switching to its turbine engines and skimming low over the drifts. It stirred up clouds of snow in its wake as it sped towards its destination laying upon the horizon, a massive structure of steel girders rising out of the plains of snow like a stricken claw gripping upwards towards the heavens.

The Storm swooped closer to the ground, drawing attention from a herd of shaggy haired creatures that migrated southwards. Some of the beasts turned their great heads and stared up at the strange bird-like vehicle as it shot overhead. It was an unusual sight to them unaccustomed as they were to anything in the pale grey sky but clouds.

The icy fortress drew closer as the small craft angled itself for a final approach. Curling about the great guard spires, it arced up to hover above the broad landing platform. Its wings folding, the Storm touched down with a whine of its VTOL engines that reverberated throughout the structure, brilliant floodlights illuminating the area as the Raptor’s boarding ramp descended.

Coalition Troops spilled out onto the long abandoned docking platform, moving to secure sentry guns, and reinforce the structure for what was to come. Each of the conscripts taking up sentry posts, high above the snowy drifts.

A pair of VT-COSSAK war bots clanked down the ramp next, flanking the thin form of the Coalition Premier himself.

Alvin Katz had come to the end of nowhere, personally, to deal with the recruitment.

The inside of the fortress was barren, great gears and shattered rafters overhead, and a single beam of light flooding down from a shattered tower high above. And there, in the center, a table was dragged. Behind it a Coalition flag was nailed to a pillar.

Walking around the dusty table, the Premier shrugged off his heavy greatcoat, watching as the two warbots took station at either side of the vaulted doors, pan-loaded assault weapons at the ready.

Katz slowly rolled up his sleeves, noting that it was still cold in the room, but a few years on Volgograd soon taught a man to deal with a little cold, and the room had nothing on a Coalition night.

Over by the door, Alicia had set up her own desk. A people's Commissar, and a veteran of many such recruitments, she knew exactly what was required of her, a worn wooden desk, a rugged lap top and a fresh pot of coffee, and the place was already starting to feel like home.

"Comrade Premier," she announced, "the men report that the coded transmitter is up and running. We should have applicants soon."

Katz lit a cigarette as he stood behind the table, rolling the smoke around his mouth a little before exhaling.

"Good Alicia, let's see how they deal with me directly..." he smiled as he drew the .60 assault pistol from his shoulder holster and tossed it down on the table. "I think the last few batches have had it too easy. I want to see, for myself what kind of men choose the Coalition."


RECRUITMENT RULES

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