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"People's Commissar, I am not applying to become a marine." He glanced over his shoulder warily. "I feel they'd tear me apart. I want to become a pilot. The simulators, they are lifelike, da? I have no problem with the destruction of an enemy ship. It seems more... Detached." He tucked the overalls back under his arm and raised his gaze again.
"I want to fight for the Revolution. To win back some pride for my family after my... My father, and to take part in the glory that the Commissariat has taught me of my entire life. I can do this, people's Commissar!" He was shaking slightly again. "If you give me this, I'll take whatever assignment is given to me. I'll patrol our stations - escort our ships - even attack Crete itself if needed!" The shake had now progressed past anything visible, and the little man seemed to be buzzing ever so slightly.
Then he deflated. "But da, I am a maintenance worker. That means I have not got the job doesn't it, people's Commissar?" He shuffled his feet dejectedly.