SCRA Recruitment Centre

[Gentlefood]

Christopher raised an eyebrow eying the container but attempted to keep a straight face. His fear only given away by the odd glance to the container. He answered, "Changing people's opinions must be done strategically. Start with the border worlds und move in. Show the people that their lives could be better, give them a reason to want what you offer more than what your enemies offer. People would spread the word amongst themselves, it would be a slow process."

He furrowed his brow thinking hard, "There are multiple ways to govern, through fear or power is an obvious choice. But it often creates... issues, for the ruling party if their power is ever put into question. Ruling through love is another option, but it is often the weakest form, at least alone. If one could be loved und feared, that is something much more tough to break. Das civilians probably fear die Rheinwehr und der Kanzler, but I don't know if they all love them. However fear is different from hate. This is a mistake das Hessians made."

Leaning back he continues, "If das Hessians believe that their acts of piracy und terrorism against das civilians make them feared, or this is a sad byproduct of their dependance on das civilians goods, I don't know. But it is having der effect of making them hated rather than feared." He shakes his head before concluding, "They have gut intentions, but they're going about them wrong, estranging the populace instead of uniting it."

Christopher relaxes in his chair before asking, "If I did answer incorrectly, I know you owe me no favors, but may I have a cigarette?" His face contorts into something between a snarl and a smirk, "I don't care if it ignites das flammen of mein own death."

---

[mtjsmith]

Han smiled and then burst out laughing.

"Burning one's self alive is certainly a most painful death. An intriguing choice of how you wish to die. Know that as a part of the Commandante's fighter corps - You could be shot at a moments notice.""

He opened the table's drawer and threw some papers at the recruit.

"However today is not your day to die. Fill those in and then report to the reception."

He flicked the remnants of the cigar at the door.

"Be thankful I didn't throw that at you."

---

[GrueZilla]

Looking distinctly and entirely out of place, a young, squirrely man walked into the recruitment office. He moved towards the desk, trying very hard to be inconspicuous and failing equally as much to do so given that he carried with him a small, metallic box covered in criss-crossing wires and flashing LEDs.

After silently picking up an applicant form from the desk, the man moved back toward a far seat in the room. He examined the form for a short time, and then leaned in toward the box in his lap and whispered into a microphone/speaker on the top face of the box, listing the labels of the form fields. He conversed with the box further, intermittently filling out the form, and then returned it as follows:

Name: Gammu Autonomous Vessel, Designation Eight (GAV-8)
Age: 2 years, 7 months, 8 days, 3 hours, 14 minutes, 26.5902 seconds at time of writing
Gender: n/a
Combat experience: Skirmishes with Slomon K'hara in my home system of Omicron Kappa; brawls with the occasional wayward, aggressive pilot
Occupational history: Observer of humanity, tasked with deriving an efficient solution to its problems
Interest in joining: Calculations lead me to believe that the Coalition is the solution

[MathiasCZR]

*An armored figure slowly walks in the middle of a hallway with his boots Taping the steel floor. *Tap* *Tap* Tap*

*Everytime he took a breath, it was slow deep intake, and as quickly as he took a breath it was vented out*

The figure walked up to a single doorway with two guards standing side by side. One of the Guards held out his hand to the armored figure, the figure relinquished his rifle without a word being spoken. The stranger was quickly searched by the guards, he was clean. One of the guards looked at the figure and nodded. The figure walked into the room with only a chair to be visible in the center of the room, everything else seemed to darkened out because there was only one light running and it was only shining on the chair. The figure quietly walked over and took a seat. He sat there, waiting, and staring to the blackness. Waiting for something to happen.

---

[aznremix416]

It all happened so fast. There seemed to be a problem with an influx of robots applying to join the Revolutionary Fleet. Well, not on Commissar Vorshevsky's watch.

the Commissar entered the room with an Marx-type EMP Rifle and shot one round at the robot designated "ammu Autonomous Vessel, Designation Eight (GAV-8)". The heap of metal quickly shut down, its system fried. It was dead as a doornail.

When the Commissar swung the gun around to a huge-robotic like armored figure the figure raised its hand in suprise. He kept his gun trained on the figure.

"Are you a human or a damn robot?" Vorshevsky asked, while pointing at a posted sign in the recruitment room clearly titled No robots or animals allowed

---

Recipient of the Hispania Memorium, Golden Fourragere, Halo of Valor, Order of the Red Star, and the Hero of the Revolution

[GrueZilla]

While the Commissar's attention was seemingly focused on the hulking armored figure, the slight man who had been helping the AI jumped up and ran frantically toward the exit, leaving the dead metal husk on the floor.

[arvg]

Mendel arched an eyebrow at the gangling man trying to escape the recruitment center.

The four marines behind him were equally unimpressed by the botched display of the hundred meter dash. They demonstrated their displeasure by leveling their carbines at the funny little man.

Mendel wasn't in the mood for gangly little men.

"Back in the room," he commanded, drawing a cigarette out and tucking it into the corner of his mouth. He sounded like a man you didn't want to question. The kind of man that enjoyed divulging a person's innards at their grandmother's Sunday dinner table.

He didn't like muppets, and he certainly didn't like it when they tried to get away.

---

[GrueZilla]

The man froze in place.

Damn, he thought to himself. In trying to avoid being seen by Vorshevsky, he must have missed the entrance of a second Commissar.

Having no choice but to comply, he returned to the room and stood in front of Mendel, trying not to look at the marines or their guns.

"Y-yes sir?" He stuttered.

[Aphil]

Commandante Aloysius Rhade was not impressed with this recruitment cycle. Not because of the recruits, but because of the Recruiters. Some, like Xu were constantly distracted with military affairs, others were simply slow and inefficient. Rather mercifully, instead of executing anyone, Rhade simply dismissed them from recruitment duty.

A new recruitment officer entered the recruitment office, looking unimpressed.

"I need new pilots. See to it that it's done quickly. I'm not the kind of person that likes to be kept waiting, and I certainly don't want to keep the nuggets waiting either. The sooner we get them in space and trained, the better."

With that, Commandante Rhade left the office leaving the new recruiter in charge of strengthening his Fighter Corps.

---

| Sirius Coalition | Information Centre  | Recruitment Centre | Visa Application | Communication Centre |

[Lanakov]

Commissar Sudoplatov entered the office and sat by his desk, inspecting it. He wiped the dust away from it, laid a case on it, which he opened. He produced a family picture (himself going hunting with a very large dog), tonight's Bortsch (he knew the day would be a very long one), Rodina cigarillos, and a revolver, which he placed on a cushion inside the desk's drawer. He had brought many bullets.

He cleared his throat and said in a slow, tired voice :
"Alright, Rosa, if there are any left in the waiting room..."
He sighed.
"Bring them in."

It was going to be a long day.

---

Feedback, insults, marriage proposals and declarations of fealty

If everyone was a bit more like Lanakov, the entire world would be more positive. Including pregnancy tests.