Heinrich Geusau stepped into the Commissar's office with apprehension gnawing at his heart. Though the thick, long-cut overcoat he wore, emblematic of Rheinland's New Berlin students, warmed him, served to foster the illusion of his bulk, and concealed the laser pistol, Rheinland Federal Police standard issue, whose grip he was even now nervously toying with, it could do nothing to protect him against the anxiety grown from spending two weeks on the run, could not conceal the marks in his haggard, faintly pale face that told of great upheaval in the Rheinlander's fortunes, could not instil him with the courage and he had had to summon up by sheer force of will, rather than by any easier expedient, as of late.
This Commissar did not reach this position of his by being trusting or incautious, Heinrich mused as he turned his shoulder slightly to grasp the doorknob, doubtlessly, he has already located this weapon of - mentally, he hesitated for just an instant, a reflex born of unfamiliarity, though he no longer felt an urge to retch at the thought, no matter how faint - mine. Hah! He has most likely already deduced the make, and must be skeptical of a policeman's presence here!
His jocularity was feigned, however, and Heinrich stepped into the whitewashed, painfully clean and pressed office of Commissar Weise still holding on to the vague tendril of the thought "sober up". Heinrich was well-educated, and, being the man he was and the "nonconformist" he had been at the University of New Berlin, had read those manuscripts the rectorate denounced from the pulpit and was familiar with Libertonian literature down to the common modes of expression of the diverse and varied people of that House. Had his mental equilibrium not been grievously disturbed by his recent experiences and his current, precarious situation, setting foot in the halls of that unfamiliar, great, and remote Coalition, most Brobdingnagian manifestation of Heinrich's philosophy, whose very existence the average Sirian believed to be the province of dusty history hours, Heinrich might have conceived of the phrase "a tough outfit", and picked at it and mulled it over with interest. As it was, however, all intellectual pursuits were driven from the Rheinlander's mind at the instant the Commissar fixed him with a gaze less steely than titanium-alloyed.
Heinrich recovered well. Scheisse, he permitted himself to think, before the resolve he had painstakingly pieced together over the course of the last few weeks and a natural distaste for such coarse expressions regained control, but he maintained his steady if somewhat wondering gait and stepped before the Commissar's desk with a boldness that was partially his height, an impressive two meters, partially an act, put on for the Communists' benefit. Turning out his pockets, Heinrich plucked the pistol from the inside of his overcoat, butt held between two fingers, and set it down - sachte, of course, best to move with grace - on Commissar Weise's desk. Hands firmly behind his back, legs spread apart, the Rheinlander passed a hand over his thin blond air before addressing the officer. Must he salute? Presumably, presumably. He did so. Have the formalities been dispensed with? Very well, then; he, as the saying goes, who hesitates is lost. "Herr Kommisar!
Ich bin Heinrich Geusau, und ich moechte Ihrer Organisation beitreten!"
"Why?", the Commissar must be asking himself, the Rheinlander reflected. How best to lay out, to, ah, illustrate my motivations? How to evoke the event, here and now, for the Commissar, that resulted in my putting a lifetime's worth of held convictions into action? Heinrich considered the matter - briefly, necessarily, given the importance of this affair and the... disregard in which the stocky man, seated before him, evidently held applicants (judging by the machine pistol dangling loosely from his hand) - and resolved that simplicity, in terms of speech and storytelling, would perhaps be - wie lautet der Begriff? auspicious. Indeed, sighed Heinrich, within the safe harbor of his mind, and launched into his tale, his voice faintly halting at first, then growing deeper and more confident as the story progressed.
"Herr Kommisar, I shall speak frankly, directly.
I am Heinrich Geusau, as mentioned, a Rheinlander (Heinrich permitted himself a faint smile), obviously enough. I hail from eastern Dresden - Rheinland's natural resources repository, a system dominated by mining corporations. My father I never knew; my mother raised me, she is a Daumann Heavy Engineering escort pilot. Perhaps you are aware of the firm, as splendid and tangible an example of hoary capitalism and good-old-boy greed as any one cares to name. Incidentally, I am a capable combat pilot, I pestered my mother until she relented and permitted me to practice with that Eagle of hers. I have remained competent in this discipline due to regular outings - I, ah, keep in shape, as a Libertonian might call it.
Through diligent study, I received a scholarship to and a position at the University of New Berlin after the period I spent at high school drew to a close. I became fascinated with the doctrines of certain thinkers, political theorists, to be more precise, as a youth - prolonged habitation in Dresden leads naturally to development of abstract thought. Marx, Engels, Nietzsche consumed my attention - their concepts, their philosophies convinced me, I was riveted by the principles behind the science of Communism. I employed my scholarship, potentially a road to an academic career - hah! as if such a pursuit held value, held merit - to further my studies of this, yes, political theory that seemed to me so simple - applicable - logical - valid! To strive to implement such a system, here and now, in modern Sirius, seemed, to me, to be a noble purpose.
During the three years of my four-year scholarship that I have completed, I moved increasingly among student groups the Federal Republic's media and its governmental pundits consider "radically left-wing". The ghost of a smirk passed over the Rheinlander's face, to be quickly replaced by the same stolidly neutral expression the Rheinlander had been maintaining throughout his monologue. I was unaware of my intentions in terms of furthering Communism. Was my only devotion to the cause to be that of argumentation and scholarly debate, or, rather, was I to become an activist, furthering our political goals by walking the streets and carrying a banner?
Suffice it to say that the decision, at any rate, was wrested from my grasp some fourteen days hence. Rheinland, as you are no doubt aware, Herr Kommisar, was never the most socio-culturally tolerant of colonies, but after war was declared with our Libertonian... neighbors... what had once been frustrating conservatism degenerated into a state of what some of my more excitable fellow students would declare to be Faschismus.
We... were raided. By the Rheinland Federal Police. Our "leftist" circle, that is, sir. We were considered dangerous, seditious, a potential threat to the peace of the University and the surrounding campus. The corner of Heinrich's mouth twitched upwards; a sneer or a wry grin, it was impossible to tell. I will not recount the details of that night now, but let me make my position clear, Herr Kommisar, by informing you that the pistol lying upon your desk was taken from a Federal Policeman... and he did not surrender his sidearm willingly. No... no, I took it from him by force," spoke Heinrich; he seemed to marvel at the novelty of his first act of murder, his first irrevocable crime. How strange it was to him to have blood on his hands, then, though by this point in time, he was keeping the nausea at bay, and rested easier at night.
Heinrich raised his chin as he concluded his account; simple, yes, but he believed he had mapped the essentials reasonably well. Ja, he was satisfied. "And so! I stand before you, Herr Kommisar, alive, liberated, but now undeniably committed to furthering the political theories I learned and held dear to my heart by the most (Heinrich refrained from employing the word "radical") violent of methods - of all possible methods. My having survived the raid, and the subsequent chase - I am a quite competent fighter pilot; not to seem arrogant, but I dispatched my pursuit with relative ease - ought to be a testament to my capabilities. I will - of course - answer, promptly, should an interrogation prove necessary."
The Rheinlander coughed, the muffled, slightly embarrassed cough of he who has recently abandoned a lifelong tobacco habit, and placed his hands gently on the edge of the Commissar's desk. "Will you have me... comrade?", said he, tasting the unfamiliar word, retreating slightly from the strangeness of it, and refrained from amending "please".
