SCRA Recruitment Centre

[Omi]

A rusty, battered Startracker limps towards the Trotsky. Once the pilot receives permission to dock, he carefully and precisely manoeuvers it into place, allowing the docking nodes to clamp into the cruiser's grooves. The airlock light flashes green, and Lukas Hoffmann steps into one of the cruiser's corridors. Immediately, two armed guards step out from either side of the airlock and accost him.
"You here for recruitment?" one asks, drumming his fingers on the butt of his pistol.
Lukas nods, more nervous inside than his appearance would suggest.
"This way," states the other, turning and setting off at a brisk pace down the corridor. Lukas hurries after him, listening to the sound of his own footsteps on the metal floor and pondering his immediate future.

After about a minute, they reach the waiting room. Several other applicants are already seated, and some of them glance up momentarily as he steps in.
"Here," motions one of his guards, gesturing towards an empty seat. "Stay here and wait to be called."
Lukas nods, and carefully sits down. He clasps his hands together and sighs. Had he made the right decision by coming here?

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