Premier Katz, blowing cigarette smoke at the recruit, swung back on his seat.
He toyed with his pistol, sitting it on the table in front of him as he offered the recruit some advice.
"Drugs are very bad for your health, son."
He stood up, holstering the gun, staring at the young man.
"Outcasts suffer from a weakness, addiction that corrupts the very essence of who they are. Dependancy that creates a conflict of interest. Who is your master? The Will of the People, or the seductive call of your next hit? I know what your answer would be today, you will stand there and lie to me that you can manage your addiction, and were I inclined to allow you into the fighter corps, you would serve loyally... for a while."
He walked around to behind his chair, resting upon the high back with his elbows.
"Then something will happen... some one will be just that little faster than you... that little bit better than you. And you will remember the crutch that Cardamine provides you in the cockpit. You will struggle to resist it, I am sure, but one day you will find yourself up in the Taus hunting your former bretheren, seeking through murder to attain just that little bit more to satiate your hunger."
Katz shrugged, "and your Commissar will watch, while you rack up Outcast kill after Outcast kill, nothing will be said because you are doing the work of the Glorious revolution, even though your motives are entirely selfish."
He held up a finger to silence the protests.
"Then, one day you will be assigned to... say... the Corsair front, where Cardamine is non-existant. Your kill record will spiral into the drain, your performance will slip, and you will become a liability in the cockpit."
"Pressure will mount, you will become desperate. You may find yourself in a dark corner of a Freeport giving head just to afford that one hit you need to get back on top... or you may desert your squadron, heading back to the Taus and that endless supply you know lies up there. Leaving those friends who counted upon you at the mercy of the cannibals."
"Sooner or later you will be discovered, they have a saying in the Commissariat, "His Watchful Eye sees all." and you will be apprehended... there is no where to hide from them, they will find you. Even if they have to kick in every men's room stall door in Omicron 74. And when you are finally brought before the Commandante of the Fighter Corps, you will writhe and whine that you were the victim, that it was the Cardamine that made you defile your uniform, forsake your duty and abandon your friends..."
Katz lifted a finger and pointed to the door.
"I cannot trust you, go find your mother and tell her how sorry you are... because there is no escaping Cardamine. Then make a difficult choice, either spend a life descending into hell, or spare yourself, your friends and your family the pain of being dragged down with you by putting a bullet into your skull."
He studied the youth a moment, pain in his eyes, before he turned his back, signalling the interview was over.
'Here's your precious Coalition! You're no son of mine you snivelling littl-' The rest of his words were cut off by the howling winds and whine of the Rhino's engines as it was forced to hover twenty feet above the ground on this forgotten world. One of the cargo bay doors had opened from the inside, and a father had pushed his son into the barren expanse as if he were delivering a package.
The son belly-flopped into the deep snow, the thud masked by the roaring of the starship's engines above him as it began its climb out of the atmosphere. He sighed into the snow, not moving for several seconds as his mind struggled to cope with the sudden change of surroundings. Cosy cargo bay to freezing wasteland, and all he had were the clothes his father had been merciful enough to give him, and his toothbrush.
He would've lain there forever, accepting his fate, were it not for the thundering activity present at the nearby docking platform. He could feel the vibrations in the snow, coursing through his body. He craned his neck to glance at the speck of human civilisation, then with a grunt pushed himself onto his feet and began the trek.
Lights guided him toward the entrance to the complex, his eyes squinting ever-tighter as the cold bit into his exposed eyeballs. He didn't even see the war bots, which had watched the scene and monitored his progress through the snow.Finally he felt a door, and with a jolt pulled it open, stepped inside and yanked it shut behind him. Then he saw the table before him, the secretary and most important of all - the flag of the Coalition. His bitter resentment he felt for his father thawed slightly - he'd abandoned his only son, but so he could pursue his dream.
He staggered up to the desk like an outdated automaton, his taut muscles restricting his movement but slowly defrosting. 'I'd like an interview please,' he managed to groan as he began stretching his arms and legs in an attempt to defrost them.
[17:45:39] Wolfs Ghost (Murphy): Tom, you have problems. Go kill yourself.
[19:25:12] Johnny (Jam): Tomtom, I will beat you with a spoon.
[14:22:56] Prarabdh Thakur: KILL HIM WITH A SHEEP.
[17:40:48] Eagle (Junes): Tom should be slapped with a spoon.
[11:32:18] Warspite: Thank you for being so awesome Tom. <3
[18:17:36] Metano: I love you tomtom
[20:06:24] Warspite: I will seriously give you epic head.
' Wrote:Edit: also, Tomtomrawr, fappin' like a boss.
Kasheyev elbowed his way in behind the applicant, more out of the fact he'd lost feeling in his hands then any lack of social tact. He dumped a slightly damp set of forms on the female Commissar's desk, doing his utmost to avoid looking the woman in the eyes. That would have been inviting something painful. Without a word, Nikolai stepped back, pondering the wounded applicant's fate. It was a terrible shame. That had been a clean bandage.
Eddy allowed himself to be pushed aside, not due to his inability to resist but because it suited what he wanted to do. There was no point in standing like a lemon in front of the secretary's desk. He cautiously resumed his stretching as he regained more and more feeling in his extremities.
[17:45:39] Wolfs Ghost (Murphy): Tom, you have problems. Go kill yourself.
[19:25:12] Johnny (Jam): Tomtom, I will beat you with a spoon.
[14:22:56] Prarabdh Thakur: KILL HIM WITH A SHEEP.
[17:40:48] Eagle (Junes): Tom should be slapped with a spoon.
[11:32:18] Warspite: Thank you for being so awesome Tom. <3
[18:17:36] Metano: I love you tomtom
[20:06:24] Warspite: I will seriously give you epic head.
' Wrote:Edit: also, Tomtomrawr, fappin' like a boss.
Alica stood up from her desk and pointed at Recruit Kasheyev.
There's a transport out back. I suggest you get on it.
The commotion that had transpired outside and even now in front of her was amusing to say the least. A father throwing a mere boy to the wastes of Volgograd meant that the boy must have done something terrible in his life to warrant such an abandoning.
What was worse, it was a Rhino that sped back up into the Atmosphere. How did a symbol of Libertonian greed, corruption and capitalism make it's way to JiangXi without being shot down?
Suspecting spies, foul play and a million other things in her mind - Alica sat back slowly and carefully. Like a graceful swan, she showed nothing on her face of her next move. Tapping a few keystrokes on her laptop - It summoned the Orbital Defence Fighter wings. Her directions were understood and within a few minutes - Alica was delivered a delightful time stamped show of the lead fighters gun camera. Bits of the Rhino were now falling back towards Volgograd, none of which would survive re-entry.
Now for the boy. Alica was not one to get her hands dirty so she summoned a Commissar from the waiting transport. It was again a few moments before he arrived.
Recruit... Eddy?
The boy, unknowing of his coming fate, was led to a small room ajacent to where the Premier sat looking at communications she had past to him. He did not look up, or acknowledge the Commissar.
Well. You're clearly a spy. We watched that whole drama unfold in front of us. If that man was your "father", he deserved to die treating a mere child like that. If he was your handler, however - it would make more sense. And clearly, deserved to die. Oh and he did.. spectacularly I must admit. The cockpit was ripped open and he wasn't wearing a space-suit. He was suffocated, frozen, depressurised and then burnt up in the atmosphere. Quite a combination.
He circled around the boy staring intently at him and produced a knife in his right hand.
As for you. If your father abandoned you here, you must have committed some sort of crime, piracy or be brainwashed in such a way as to harm the Coalition. If you're here because of some sort of hidden agenda from our enemies, they will find so such success today.
He charged at the boy and stabbed him in the heart.
You are not worth a bullet.
Two warbots entered the room and ushered the Commissar out. One was armed with a flamethrower, the other with an freeze gun. The freezing fog engulfed the boy freezing him into a statue complete with icicles. The second warbot engulfed the ice sculpture with blue burning flames, reducing the sculpture to nothing more than fluid and dust which slowly drained it's way under the floor and out under the complex.
Katz looked up from the communiques, listening to the commotion in the other room.
"You're supposed to take your time with spies," he shouted through the walls. "This isn't a marathon with your last lady of the night... you aren't paying by the hour."
He shook his head as he went back to his notes.
"Commissars these days... they just ain't what they used to be..."
The wind was, as usual, howling.
The snow was, as usual, blinding.
Drago Cojocaru was, as usual, filled with hope.
He rode on silently, his heavy, grey fur coat barely protecting him from the biting wind, the low roar of the motorized quadricyle occasionally punctuating the quiet periods in between heavy gusts of millions of frigid knives of air and ice. One had to appreciate his hardiness. After all, he had managed to acquire a commodity such as his current mode of transportation on Volgograd, and such was no easy task.
He was from Volgograd, used to such harsh treatment. But in this land, he saw beauty. Not only the beauty of the landscape, but beauty in the hearts and minds of the people that were hardy enough to dwell here.
Drago had decided he was ready to risk his life to defend the cause which united all the peoples of the Coalition.
After having finally reached the dark, steel fortress, he looked up with a grin and dismounted the vehicle. Whatever happened after this, he wouldn't need it.
He pushed his way through the heavy doors and wiped the cold snow from his brow.
Finally, he had his chance to serve the Coalition.
Unfortunately he did not make it two steps from his quadricyle before feeling a prick at the back of his neck, for sticking from the area was a small dart tipped with a sleeping agent. Slowly the man wobbled unsteadily, unable to maintain muscle tensity due to the powerful drug in his bloodstream. Finally he tilted forward and that simple act brought him down, falling over he crashed into the snow of the planet. To the right of him in a rather large Snow Bank, Two men in Tundra Camouflage rose from the snow, they gripped their Tranquilizer Rifles tightly as they approached the downed figure. No expressions could be seen due to their white ski-masks that hide everything but they're uncaring eyes.
The first man kicked Drago's side slightly to make sure he was out while his comrade covered him, after he received no response they shouldered their rifles and dragged the poor soul by his legs inside, letting his head hit every single obstacle they could along the way. The inner Hall was almost as cold as the outside and the decor was quite inhospitable, dragging the man to a side-room that had nothing but a metal chair bolted to the floor, two tables pushed together at the side of the room and a Comm-Unit built into the wall by the reinforced door.
They picked up the man roughly by his shoulders and shoved him into the chair, the first man unshouldered his rifle and trained it on the poor fool while the other man walked to the Table in a calm practiced manner, reaching to the back of his utility belt he grabbed his Survival Knife and started to cut lengths of rope.
Once he was satisfied he carried as many of the lengths over as he could and tied the battered and bruised man into the chair, his arms, his legs and even his chest to prevent him from leaning forwards. It was around this time that Drago regained conciousness. The Commissars took up positions on either side of the door, their weapons trained on the bound man while they waited.
Minutes later the door to the room opened once more, the handle was gripped by a skeletal-looking Robotic arm, he wore the standard Uniform of a Coalition Captain, his cap covering his mop of brown hair while his eyes were concealed by black glasses.
He merely stared at the unfortunate victim for several moments before smirking sadistically while nodding to the Commissars, shouldering their weapons once more they walked towards the man, one of them cracking his knuckles as the first man drew back his fist and launched a punch into the face of the man.
Blood and acouple rather un-brushed teeth went flying into the corner of the room, quickly followed by more blood as the second man launched his fist into the other side of the man's face. The Captain held up a hand briefly, causing them to pause before shaking his head sadly.
"That's enough for a moment Alexei." He ordered the first Commissar with a light tone before looking to the other one who had failed to remove teeth in his blow."Heinrich, you need to put alittle more force behind your blows, otherwise your comrades will think your soft and unable to lead them into battle...Now again!"He ordered, shouting the last part harshly, Heinrich nodded gleefully rounding back on the bound man and rabbitpunching the man harshly in the face again this time a tooth went flying the Captain chuckled as the beatdown continued.
Fists were flying into Drago's body, his face, his stomach and his chest the pain was beyond compare. The Captain merely watched with a smirk as the two Men got their jollies in beating the man. After several minutes he held up his hand again causing the fists to stop. Drawing his TT33 from it's spot he walked over to the beaten man putting the barrel of his gun under Drago's chin and forcing him to meet his eyes for a moment. Smiling he jammed the pistol into the man's knee sharply before firing a single shot, causing blood and bone to errupt from the other side and a loud scream of agony from Drago.
He backed off and nodded to the Commissars."Alexei, Heinrich, finish him off than return to your posts." He ordered harshly, he stood rigidly while Alexei gripped the man's head in his hands and gave a sharp twist, a loud crack was heard before the man's whimpers of pain went silent, now limp in the chair. The Captain nodded and as he left the room he spoke calmly"It's strange how many visitors we get..." was all the legendary Ben Warner said before vanishing into the cold halls of the facility.
Checking his watch, Katz calmly stood up, accepting the great overcoat that Alicia handed to him, he slipped it on.
It was time to go again, he had work to do back on Volgograd, and time was pressing.
The platoon reformed upon him, as they climbed back aboard the Storm class gunboat. Whisking skywards, leaving the facility once again to dereliction and abandonment.
The People's Commissar Mendel had his hands shoved deep into his worn overcoat, glaring balefully at the poor receptionist that was occupying the seat that Alicia, the head of Recruitment Administration would normally occupy.
"I didn't ask you if you had a bloody cat," he snarled around his cigarette. "What is this, open day at the bloody antiques road show? Where the bloody hell is my bloody chief assistant, and why isn't she sitting in that bloody seat instead of your dumpy looking backside that looks like it is frantically begging you to lay off the last doughnut of a bloody box of two dozen?"
He ran a hand down his face as she began to cry.
"Get out!" he commented, picking up a handful of pens and hurling them at her, "get out before I have the damn forklift come in here and haul your sorry carcass outta here!"
He watched her run, clutching her purse, tears streaming down her face.
"Ruddy useless," he murmured rolling his eyes as he went behind the reception desk, slamming the coffee maker up onto the table, and wrestling with the stubborn leaver. After a few seconds he pulled his gun and clamly shot the coffee maker, turning about as Alicia walked through the doors.
"About bloody time too!" he snarled, "and where were you?"
Alicia surveyed her boss with a light, self-satisfied smile and didn't answer him as she scooped up the phone and ordered maintenance to deliver yet another coffee maker to the recruitment offices.
"Your on the right today," she said motioning to the office with the rotating glass panels to the Trotsky's CIC. "We've got a new Commissar coming in to handle the overflow..."
"Great, some namby pamby wet nurse to coddle the masses," Mendel snarled as he stubbed out his cigarette into the ruins of the old coffee maker. "Tell him he's late, shoot him in the foot if he offers an excuse, and for god sakes send the damn 'open for business' transmitter going..."
Alicia nodded, "Already done sir. It's transmitting, telling people to come directly and Rendevous with us in the Alberta System..."
"Alberta," Mendel rolled his eyes. "Of all the end of nowhere, rotten fisted, pug ugly systems on the map... fine, get it over and done with. The first one to apply doesn't get shot..."
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