The Commisar stopped pacing, looking at the applicant.
"hmm" he muttered to himself.
"You say what makes the Coalition different is some people's desire to kill? Comrade, that is utterly ridiculous. Every pilot and every citizen of the Coalition fight for a goal, remember we are not Bounty Hunters or bloodthirsty freaks."
Vorshevsky motioned to the guards.
"I am sorry comrade, but you are just not set out to be a pilot in the Coalition Fighter Corps. If you truly want to do your duty, you can find your place in many other different positions. Be a propoganda agent, work as a laborour in the shipyard. There are many ways to serve the glorious Coalition."
The guards moved forward, grabbed Lev, and escorted him out of the room. The Commisar breathed a sigh and sat down behind the table, waiting for the next person who think they are worthy enough to join the Coalition Fleet.
"Next!"
Recipient of the Hispania Memorium, Golden Fourragere, Halo of Valor, Order of the Red Star, and the Hero of the Revolution
A series of deep sounding footsteps began to ring as the door to the Commisar's office opened, revealing a very large and heavily built man appearing to be in his late thirties-early forties. Slowly bending under the doorway and turning to close the door, the man walked into the middle of the room, a deep and serious look upon his face as he spoke.
I am Canis Nikolaievitch Domrey. I believe I am next to be tested sir.
-"If we do not learn at least one thing a day....Our minds turn to stupor"- Kyle Sparrgrove -2005
Commisar Vorshevsky sized the newcomer up and down before pulling out a "Cuban" style cigar and a lighter. As he lighted his cigar he pointed to the wall on his right without looking up from his light.
Hanging up on the wall was a single poster:
Vorshevky flipped his lighter back into his pocket, inhaled, and blew a puff of smoke into the applicants face.
"Tell me, what does this poster mean to you?"
Vorshevsky took out his pistol, released the clip, and started to snap bullets in.
Recipient of the Hispania Memorium, Golden Fourragere, Halo of Valor, Order of the Red Star, and the Hero of the Revolution
Canis ignored the puff of smoke hitting his face as he studied the poster for a few moments, turning back into the Commisar's gaze.
To me it defines the strengths and hardships of a working man. The clenched fist showing one's determination to pull his weight no matter the problems he or she endures. It's fading shows that despite one's labour's, it is always disfigured and distorted by those who wish it so, may it be for profit or personal gains.
-"If we do not learn at least one thing a day....Our minds turn to stupor"- Kyle Sparrgrove -2005
A slight drop in his head showed for a moment of discomfort, however he took a deep breath and strengthened his position before the Commisar.
The ones who simply take what a man or woman has worked through their own sweat to create and produce. One's who care not for the result or well being of the people doing so simply for the coin that they can make buy selling what was made, and then toss them away when they're no longer useful. They use their power of wealth and the position they gained from it to manipulate facts and images for their own gain and protection, leaving nothing for the common man except the lie's they were given as the elements beat down upon them.
-"If we do not learn at least one thing a day....Our minds turn to stupor"- Kyle Sparrgrove -2005
Near the end of the applicant's speech, the Commisar cut him off, pointing his gun at him at a non-threatening but gesturing way. "Yea yea, I've heard the same thing over and over again by all the other idiots that try to join our glorious fighter corps."
Vorshevsky perked up and leaned forward in his chair, "So tell me what makes you different? Why are you here? Give me a good reason why I shouldn't put a bullet in your brain right here right now."
Recipient of the Hispania Memorium, Golden Fourragere, Halo of Valor, Order of the Red Star, and the Hero of the Revolution
Elaina knocked lightly on the open door frame to the recruitment office before walking inside. She was relatively young, with black hair framed a pretty but unremarkable face, contrasting against her pale skin along with her large, dark eyes. They were hard eyes, not the eyes of a young woman, as they were cold and stoic.
She stood at attention, indicating military history, before the recruitment officer's desk, hands clasped behind her back, and gave the officer a short nod. "Sir. I am here to enlist." she said simply. After a short pause, Elaina continued. "I originate from Liberty from a middle class family, and have been near combat vessels most of my life."She paused for a moment, her expression blank, but it was clear that she rememberd a bitter memory.
Elaina sighed, before talking again. "I understand that you have quite a job to do, so i'll make it brief. I know how to fly combat vessels, both for combat, and for reconnaissance. I've led ship to ship boarding parties, successfully capturing vessels. I hold no pride to this, it is just something that i have done." Without looking down, Elaina reached into a pocket and pulled out a Coalition pamphlet. "In the Coalition, I understand there is a hope for fairness and equality for all, and I would much wish to be a part of it, as it holds everyone on an equal standing, and holds no preference for one over an other."
Carefully folding the pamphlet again, Elaina placed its back in her pocket. "Ask me any questions you require, and I will answer as Honestly and as extensively as i can."
The Trotsky's recruitment office was a hive of activity. Everywhere there were people trying to join the Coalition's Fighter Corps, some being brought out in body bags, or bleeding from injuries. Into this fray walked a man in his late twenties wearing what looked to be a set of worn combat armor. The look on the man's face was one of cold resolve that indicated he had been through considerable turmoil. This man was James Blackburn, a former Liberty Navy Special Forces pilot and Order agent.
Slowly James approached the nearest open recruitment desk and glanced down at the woman staffing it. "My name is James Blackburn and I am here to apply for a position in the Coalition's Fighter Corps" He said coldly.
In response, the woman handed him a Coalition pamphlet and pointed to the waiting area. "Fill this form out and take a seat, you will be called in shortly" the receptionist finished.
James nodded and proceeded to take a seat in the waiting area.