Longhorn looks over the paper with all the empty columns and boxes, and looks up at the admiral. He seems somewhat under the influence of something. Perhaps he's on drugs, or just an experienced alcoholic who knows how to hide the side-effect.
Longhorn fills out the paper and signs at the bottom.
"Here you go admiral Andrews" while smiling confidently.
The man bursts into the recruitment office, looking hurried. Shouts are coming from down the street.
"Sorry, I'm in a hurry. Just thought I'd drop off this application. You can reach me at the Creed Hotel, room 334."
Upon shooting the officer a hopeful look, the man lays some forms on the desk.
"Again, I'm extremely sorry."
The man rushes out the door at top speed, with the shouts continuing outside.
The forms read as follows:
* Name: Max Ferron
* Age: 22
* Previous Jobs: Zoner escort and patrol
* Education: Freeport 5 Education Program, Self-taught pilot
* Brief Biography:
I grew up on Freeport 5, doing odds and ends Zoner jobs while enrolled in the education program. My parents were both adamant in trying to keep me out of House space, for whatever reason. I've been a pilot since I was very young, flying odds and ends missions in Omega 41.
Things took a turn for the worse, however, when the Nomad showed up. The pirate war was bad enough - but never had they actively attacked Zoners. The day my parents died - they were on patrol near the Omicron Gamma jump hole - was the day that I decided to leave. I fled Omega-41 for Cambridge to escape Edge World life.
So now I'm here, in House Bretonia, looking for a job.
* Reasons for joining:
I've never learned much of House life, but I have heard horror stories of what occurs in Kusari. It seems a worthy cause to fight them. I'll admit, I have no personal ties to Bretonia, but then again I have no reason to defect. Money isn't an issue for me - I'd like to join the cause because it seems like something worth fighting for - besides my interest in finally learning something of House life.
"Goooood, exactly as I thought" replied the Admiral with mock menace...
"I believe Strategic Command may want to look over your latest maps of the Omegas and Omicrons..."
Andrews was now typing furiously as he spoke.
"What do you know of Corsairs? What, in your opinion, is their worst quality?
Also, what information can you provide about those anarchists in the Zoner movement? I want supply routes, I want information on what's going on in the Omegas, particularly Omega 49."
"For one, I know the Corsairs are ruthless and bloodthirsty. Numerous times their raiding parties on the Hessians got carried away and started attacking our patrols - they killed many of my friends, Admiral, and I'd like to make them pay."
The man pauses, exasperated, and continues.
"As for what's occurring in Omega-49, I don't really know. I haven't returned there since I fled two years ago and supply lines will most likely have changed.
"When I was growing up however, the TAZ movement was growing quickly. My parents never took much stock by it and frankly thought they were a bunch of crazy lunatics. I personally agree, especially because this group simply forced their way onto the Council from out of nowhere. I know they're mainly based in 'Baffin,' a system I know little to nothing about..."
The man sighs.
"I'm afraid I can't be of much strategic use, Admiral, as we tended to avoid the action. What I can tell you was that I was one of the best pilots to come out of Freeport 5, and that I'd be happy to serve with the BAF."
He raised an eyebrow, somewhat suspicious of his lack of information. Still, they needed the pilots.
"Aight, kiddo, go get your uniform. You'll be watched closely though, since we don't officially have a Foreign Legion. Don't take it personally, pilot, we like immigrants here, we're just a bit edgy.
Also, a word of caution. Some of the boys aren't big fans of Zoners. See them as war profiteering bastards. As of right now, you are not a Zoner. You are a Bretonian that was born on a Freeport."
He glared, then shook Ferron's hand,
"You're no longer a civilian, Ensign! That means you now call me sir, am I understood!?"
"Right, you, Longhorn, why are you signing up to fight the short-arsed Kusari instead of joinin' yer countrymen to fight Rheinland, eh?" asked Admiral Andrews, pointing his pen at him, a questioning look on his face.
Longhorn starts to wonder if he's going to tell the story in details, but perhaps that'd be too time time-consuming?...
"My father died serving for the Liberty Security Force, but it wasn't just a tragic accident. It was a rescue
mission of several Liberty Navy pilots shot down in Kusari space. While under way to his destination in Kusari
space the headquarters suddenly lost all contact to his ship - claiming he died because of engine failure and
explosion.
The Liberty Navy won't explain what Navy Pilots were doing in Kusari, and keeps all cards tight. However,
leaked confidentiel files revealed that my father was shot down by Black Dragons, and The Kusari Police had
held back information that could lead to the explenation of my father's death. The Liberty Navy refuse
to comment, and I take their silence as a rejection of my Liberty blood."
"My mother called it a conspiracy, and shortly after the death of my father we moved to New London. So here I am
in Bretonia, wanting to fight the Kusari for the disrespect of human lives."
![[Image: sig-9566.jpg]](http://www.clintonio.com/sig-9566.jpg)