A man entered the waiting room aboard the Trotsky. He was old enough to appear mature but yet still young enough to bear the energy of youth. At a guess he was in his early twenties, perhaps older, perhaps younger. He cast a glance across the room and approached the woman who was apparently the receptionist.
He gave his name, Jared Lane, and then took a seat in the waiting room and read over the pamphlet. Once finished he folded his arms across his chest and stared ahead of him waiting to be called.
Dmitry heard a gun shot from the Comissar office
''Heh, seems father was right...''
When Comissar entered his new office... ''Three at one time? Well ok...''
Dmitry followed another 2 recruits to new office. When he entered, there was Comissar, four chairs and three recruits. ''Ok, lets start''
-Greetings, comrade Comissar. Dmitry Dubovik here as ordered.
He stept near other guys and waited for Comissar to talk
Vladimir looked at each of the men that had entered the room. He motioned for them to sit, the Zenith still on his desk. He hadn't bothered to conceal it since its first use. Rather than wait to see if they understood his motion, he began informing them for good measure.
"Take your seats gentlemen, if you would your names please, and if you don't mind the reason why you think you're meant to be part of the Coalition fighter corps." With that, Vladimir took a shallow, but audible breath.
-Thank you, comrade Comissar.
Dmitry sat on the closest chair, checked his clothes and looked at Comissar.
-As i already said im Dmitry Dubovik, son of Andrew Dubovik and Irina Dubovik. My father was a soldier of a glorious SCRA all time I can remember him. My mother is a keeper in the gas miner on orbit of planet Tbilisi. Im woking as a courier, delivering fuel to other our bases. Since my father was killed by Outcasts forces when he was out in recon mission in Omicron Theta system, Im often remembering when he and I trained in art of war. He learnd me how to shoot, how to fight, how to fly on his VHF. From 14 years my dream was join SCRA and working with my father. From his death passed already 4 years. But Im still want to be like my father. All this time I continued training in military arts. My mother understand me, but I see how she worries. I cant blame her for that, but I cant leave my dream so easilly. You heard my story, comrade Comissar. Im avaiting your questions.
Dmitry taked some deep breaths after so long story and prepared to answer for all quetions he will recieve.
A man in his thirties just arrived on the Trotsky with his Griffin. He shortly appeared in the waiting room. James was nervous when he entered the room and did not notice the receptionist untill she was calling him.
Alice: How can I help you?
James: I-I am here to join the peoples' army
Alice: Very well then, fill this, take a number and sit down. You will be notified when you are to be questioned.
Quote:Name: James Burton
Age:30
Weight:87 kilos
Height:1.94 meters
Short Biography
James Burton was born on planet Manhattan. His childhood wasn't interesting at all, his father was in the Liberty Police with the rank of a Detective, his mother died to a bombing attack in another city. At the age of 17 he had the idea of joining the Liberty Navy, to "learn Liberty from a pilot's eyes" but the ideas are hard made into actions. He spend 3 years in the flight school and with his father that was teaching him military maneuvers. 4 years after he managed to join the Navy and within 4 years of service he managed to ascend to the rank of a Lieutenant. Liberty didn't have anything more to offer so he resigned and decided to move to the Omegas where he met the Red Hessians who he worked with for some time. Unfortunately after some disputes with them he seized all communications with them.
James: Here you go miss.
James finally took a sit, relaxed and was now focused on achieving his goal.
Jordan sat in the chair next to Dmitry. He listened to his story, then started after the silence continued for a few moments.
"My name is Jordan Nowell. I was born on Cambridge, but grew up on Leeds. My father works with BMM, the company that's tearing Bretonia apart. I grew up around pollution, Leeds is below habitable. Bretonia is being ruined by those who only care for credits. If the companies responsible were run by the citizens who lived there, things would be different, everything would be improved by those with sense. The Coalition will achieve this, and I want to help. I know that I may not be the best fighter pilot, but I can still pull my own weight in a fight."
After finishing, Jordan sat anxiously for Patrick to start.
Patrick calmly sat down , listening to the Story's before he himself nodded , he looked at the Commissar and began to tell his own
"My Name is Patrick McKinley , Comrade Commissar , I was born in the Magellan System. My Father was freelancing multiple jobs while my mother raised me. I myself worked in the lower classes of Planet Manhattan and Pittsburgh, but i got layed of by the Captialist Bosses , credit hungry , when they hired cheap work from out of the Systems and about 1000 of us Common Workers got fired. It is at that point that i decided to , as a Common man, work for the better of the Common Man, which brought me here to the coalition , as i see many goals the same as mine, but mostly, the Common Man fighting for Common Men."
He Paused shortly
"I am not a person of giving great speeches about how much better i am then anyone else. Because i am not, we are all men fighting for the same cause, side by side, Common Men fighting for the Common Man."
He looked at the Commissar , waiting for his Reply
Vladimir simply nodded until each man had finished speaking, and decided he would start with Dmitry.
"Dubovik you seem to be more interested in accommodating a family name as opposed to actually serving the people. Perhaps the most beneficial thing you could have done was honor your mother's concern for your safety and stayed home. If there is a reason I'm wrong, do enlighten me." Vladimir brought his hands together on the table, silently waiting for his answer.
Shrill klaxons shrieked with the pulsing of crimson warning lights.
Horatio gazed from shuttle cockpit on to the pockmarked chassis of the vessel that had served as both his station and his home for so long.
Bright green text flared into view in the display glass:
EVAC SHUTTLE HMS-RUBICON SEPARATING FROM GUNBOAT HMS-ULTIMA RATIO.
The hull of the Rubicon hissed as the umbilical cables detached from its mother ship. A sickening thud followed utter silence as the Ultima Ratio grew ever smaller from the observation window.
With a sigh, the former commander pressed his warm palm against the cold glass of the cockpit.
Red text burned into his retinas.
CONFIRMING ORDER TO SCUTTLE: HMS-ULTIMA RATIO, COMMANDER HORATIO NELSON - 162JK5
VOCAL CONFIRMATION REQUIRED
"Confirm order. Alea iacta est. The die is cast."
ORDER CONFIRMED. REMOVING CORE LIMITERS, INITIATING MELTDOWN.
Small motes of white light gently punctuated the otherwise lifeless hull of the Ultima Ratio. Plumes of heated gas erupted violently from the various decks while the plating glowed red-orange.
Horatio stared unblinkingly as the increasingly distant hulk that had been his home transitioned from a soft glow of red into a bright flash of white before dying down into nothingness.
Another line of text interrupted his gaze.
COURSE SET - OMEGA 50, CPW-TROTSKY
***
Horatio adjusted his Bretonia Armed Forces dress uniform as the bay doors to Boa Vista hissed. He winced as he walked, noticing the unfamiliar lightness of the suit now that it had been stripped of all badges and insignia.
His boots clicked rhythmically on the ground as he strode up to the reception desk. Removing his hat and tucking it under his arm, he addressed the receptionist.
"Evening Madam. Horatio Nelson reporting in for admission as directed."
-Well. Comissar. I understand why you could think that Im carying about only my family name, but I can assure you this is not my main and last goal. Serving the people - this is my main goal. I did not taked about it because I know that will be another story.
When I was young, I was interested in other Houses. I collected all information about their politics, people, resources and even military. And more I learned then more I started hate their leaders. Rheinland dont carrying about its people. Hessians and Bundshug is best proof of that. Bretonia selled itself to BMM and other corporations, and became most dirty part of sirius. Liberty politic system is antitesis of Communism. Kusari is more-less good, or I just dont have all info about it. And Gallia with its monarchy and ''Fleet of Revenge''. And more then this - a lot of terrorist, grug dealers, pirates and fools. Who cares about simple workers? About children? About all of us? No-one. Exept Coalition, Red Hesians and Bundshugh. There is some other groups and factions of cource, but they usually dont want join us in our revolution and claiming us ''commies''.
So I decided, I was born right for that work. Fighting for all good people who dont have other hope for best future. Even if I will die, I will die for our people, defending all who was offended by Capitalism. And will I be remembered or not, I dont care. Because freedom of all people is more important than my family name.
Dmitry completed talk and taked some other deep breaths. Talking about Capitalism always makes him angry and tired, but he could talk about it all day long... He looked into the Comissar eyes, so he could see that Dmitry talked ''from a clean heart''