Let me introduce myself, I'm Alexei Ryzkhov. I would like to join the the SCRA because I don't only believe in it's pricipals, I also live them. The SCRA is the only faction, which would fulfill all the goals I had been working towards to.
I don't want to write a whole story here, but if you are interested, here is a link to my life in the Sirius system.
Please contact me whether or not you decline or approve my request.
Slightly caught off-guard by the state of things around the base of what he had heard was a tightly organized organization, Ryans made his way past corpses, bloodied coats, and a drunk--towards another room down the hall.
He paused only slightly before knocking apprehensively at the door... prepared to meet the "Commissar" he seeked, though not unprepared for a random brush at death, as it seemed commonplace in the area...
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[5:57:11 PM] InfernalTater (Lewis) [Formerly TLI-Inferno]:meanwhile, Aces 'I don't always miss my destinations, but when I do, I'm on the other side of house space.'
Name: Marco Ramius
Age: 50
Gender: Male
Height: 185 cm
Weight: 90 kg
Nationality: Rheinlander
Comrades! Finally I found you!
Let me introduce myself. I born on Planet New Berlin in a Krueger worker family. I was the eyewitness of the mass cutbacks, the decadent capitalist society's guilts against humanity. My father, when he saw he cant keep his family for the sake of unemployment, killed himself. My mother married again with a military officer, so I and my brother went to the Military Academy. One on our patrol we heared the coalition broadcast what transmitted Lenin, Marx ideas and showed the problems of the capitalizm and dictatorship. We can't found the source of the transmission, but what I heared was thought-provoking. My eyes started opening and slowly I can't believe the Rheinland propaganda.
This time I started to bothering with policy. I joined to the underground communist movement on Berlin. We agitated the workers, found labour-unions, join with each others against capitalism. Our backing's number growed up, we started to organize demonstrations, strikes, but the capitalist pigs and their puppets, the police forces took us, the leaders under arrest. My brothers died on this event. I was court-martialled and the judge sent me to Vierlande Prison. I wrote my memorials on named "Red Fist" untol I was in prison. After I got out from the prison I tried to take up the contact with my old comrades but noone remained.
The time of the idology is over, comrades! New times come, the new communist revolution. SIRIUS NEED TO BURN TO PURGE THE CAPITALIST PIGS!!!! *rattle* I WANT TO SEE RED STAR ON THE SKYYYY!!!!! *rattle* *rattle* COMRADES! GIMME A SHIP!!! I WANT TO FIGHT FOR THE REVOLUTION!!!
Commander Weise looked up from his desk, watching in unamused scorn as some fool began spitting on him. Once the tirade had ceased, he leaned forward slightly.
"So comrade, you wish to fight for the Revolution?"
"YES!!! LET ME FLY!!!"
"Err... I would, but spitting on a Commander of the Fighter Corps is generally considered a Bad Thing..."
BlamBlamBlamBlamBlamBlam!
Weise lowered the smoking machine pistol, and appreciatively blew smoke from the barrel. As the knock at the door sounded, he frowned, giggled, and lowered the weapon.
"Come Iiiiiin!" He sang in a high falsetto.
As Ryans entered the room, the door was slammed behind him, and the lights dimmed as Weise slapped his subgun onto the desk and tilted his chair backwards.
"So, comrade... why shouldn't I just turn your head into paste?"
Jack Handey Wrote:I can picture in my mind a world without war, a world without hate. And I can picture us attacking that world, because they'd never expect it.
Ryans paused, unsure if this was the place for wit, or if maybe a sly remark might -actually- save him from pasty brain syndrome
Well, besides the fact that likely your janitorial team is on overtime with all of these-- he turns slightly towards the corpse of the loud, spitting fellow-- -enthusiastic- folks you have had to dispense of, there is the matter of a serious pilot, who is ready to do what needs to be done.
Ryans stopped for a second to take a more serious approach
I won't pretend to understand fully how the Coalition operates... hell, I've never seen a group that goes through such an interesting recruiting practice... however my history demonstrates and my demeanor must show that I'm an able, coolheaded man. Perhaps someone who can prove useful to a leader as yourself, as well as the Coalition as a whole. I won't pretend that there are private feelings that have brought me to this place, and that will remain with me until the end, I'll always carry my private grudge for the colonies and their governments. However I pledge on my life, upon that very grudge for which I live to rectify, that I will serve the Coalition to my fullest capacity. May it be the means in which I exact my revenge upon the governments of Sirius...
Ryans completed his statement, and then relaxed slightly and smiled
...I also can pledge that I will never spit upon any of my superior officers in my anxiety to serve...
-
[5:57:11 PM] InfernalTater (Lewis) [Formerly TLI-Inferno]:meanwhile, Aces 'I don't always miss my destinations, but when I do, I'm on the other side of house space.'
Heinrich Geusau stepped into the Commissar's office with apprehension gnawing at his heart. Though the thick, long-cut overcoat he wore, emblematic of Rheinland's New Berlin students, warmed him, served to foster the illusion of his bulk, and concealed the laser pistol, Rheinland Federal Police standard issue, whose grip he was even now nervously toying with, it could do nothing to protect him against the anxiety grown from spending two weeks on the run, could not conceal the marks in his haggard, faintly pale face that told of great upheaval in the Rheinlander's fortunes, could not instil him with the courage and he had had to summon up by sheer force of will, rather than by any easier expedient, as of late.
This Commissar did not reach this position of his by being trusting or incautious, Heinrich mused as he turned his shoulder slightly to grasp the doorknob, doubtlessly, he has already located this weapon of - mentally, he hesitated for just an instant, a reflex born of unfamiliarity, though he no longer felt an urge to retch at the thought, no matter how faint - mine. Hah! He has most likely already deduced the make, and must be skeptical of a policeman's presence here!
His jocularity was feigned, however, and Heinrich stepped into the whitewashed, painfully clean and pressed office of Commissar Weise still holding on to the vague tendril of the thought "sober up". Heinrich was well-educated, and, being the man he was and the "nonconformist" he had been at the University of New Berlin, had read those manuscripts the rectorate denounced from the pulpit and was familiar with Libertonian literature down to the common modes of expression of the diverse and varied people of that House. Had his mental equilibrium not been grievously disturbed by his recent experiences and his current, precarious situation, setting foot in the halls of that unfamiliar, great, and remote Coalition, most Brobdingnagian manifestation of Heinrich's philosophy, whose very existence the average Sirian believed to be the province of dusty history hours, Heinrich might have conceived of the phrase "a tough outfit", and picked at it and mulled it over with interest. As it was, however, all intellectual pursuits were driven from the Rheinlander's mind at the instant the Commissar fixed him with a gaze less steely than titanium-alloyed.
Heinrich recovered well. Scheisse, he permitted himself to think, before the resolve he had painstakingly pieced together over the course of the last few weeks and a natural distaste for such coarse expressions regained control, but he maintained his steady if somewhat wondering gait and stepped before the Commissar's desk with a boldness that was partially his height, an impressive two meters, partially an act, put on for the Communists' benefit. Turning out his pockets, Heinrich plucked the pistol from the inside of his overcoat, butt held between two fingers, and set it down - sachte, of course, best to move with grace - on Commissar Weise's desk. Hands firmly behind his back, legs spread apart, the Rheinlander passed a hand over his thin blond air before addressing the officer. Must he salute? Presumably, presumably. He did so. Have the formalities been dispensed with? Very well, then; he, as the saying goes, who hesitates is lost. "Herr Kommisar!
Ich bin Heinrich Geusau, und ich moechte Ihrer Organisation beitreten!"
"Why?", the Commissar must be asking himself, the Rheinlander reflected. How best to lay out, to, ah, illustrate my motivations? How to evoke the event, here and now, for the Commissar, that resulted in my putting a lifetime's worth of held convictions into action? Heinrich considered the matter - briefly, necessarily, given the importance of this affair and the... disregard in which the stocky man, seated before him, evidently held applicants (judging by the machine pistol dangling loosely from his hand) - and resolved that simplicity, in terms of speech and storytelling, would perhaps be - wie lautet der Begriff? auspicious. Indeed, sighed Heinrich, within the safe harbor of his mind, and launched into his tale, his voice faintly halting at first, then growing deeper and more confident as the story progressed.
"Herr Kommisar, I shall speak frankly, directly.
I am Heinrich Geusau, as mentioned, a Rheinlander (Heinrich permitted himself a faint smile), obviously enough. I hail from eastern Dresden - Rheinland's natural resources repository, a system dominated by mining corporations. My father I never knew; my mother raised me, she is a Daumann Heavy Engineering escort pilot. Perhaps you are aware of the firm, as splendid and tangible an example of hoary capitalism and good-old-boy greed as any one cares to name. Incidentally, I am a capable combat pilot, I pestered my mother until she relented and permitted me to practice with that Eagle of hers. I have remained competent in this discipline due to regular outings - I, ah, keep in shape, as a Libertonian might call it.
Through diligent study, I received a scholarship to and a position at the University of New Berlin after the period I spent at high school drew to a close. I became fascinated with the doctrines of certain thinkers, political theorists, to be more precise, as a youth - prolonged habitation in Dresden leads naturally to development of abstract thought. Marx, Engels, Nietzsche consumed my attention - their concepts, their philosophies convinced me, I was riveted by the principles behind the science of Communism. I employed my scholarship, potentially a road to an academic career - hah! as if such a pursuit held value, held merit - to further my studies of this, yes, political theory that seemed to me so simple - applicable - logical - valid! To strive to implement such a system, here and now, in modern Sirius, seemed, to me, to be a noble purpose.
During the three years of my four-year scholarship that I have completed, I moved increasingly among student groups the Federal Republic's media and its governmental pundits consider "radically left-wing". The ghost of a smirk passed over the Rheinlander's face, to be quickly replaced by the same stolidly neutral expression the Rheinlander had been maintaining throughout his monologue. I was unaware of my intentions in terms of furthering Communism. Was my only devotion to the cause to be that of argumentation and scholarly debate, or, rather, was I to become an activist, furthering our political goals by walking the streets and carrying a banner?
Suffice it to say that the decision, at any rate, was wrested from my grasp some fourteen days hence. Rheinland, as you are no doubt aware, Herr Kommisar, was never the most socio-culturally tolerant of colonies, but after war was declared with our Libertonian... neighbors... what had once been frustrating conservatism degenerated into a state of what some of my more excitable fellow students would declare to be Faschismus.
We... were raided. By the Rheinland Federal Police. Our "leftist" circle, that is, sir. We were considered dangerous, seditious, a potential threat to the peace of the University and the surrounding campus. The corner of Heinrich's mouth twitched upwards; a sneer or a wry grin, it was impossible to tell. I will not recount the details of that night now, but let me make my position clear, Herr Kommisar, by informing you that the pistol lying upon your desk was taken from a Federal Policeman... and he did not surrender his sidearm willingly. No... no, I took it from him by force," spoke Heinrich; he seemed to marvel at the novelty of his first act of murder, his first irrevocable crime. How strange it was to him to have blood on his hands, then, though by this point in time, he was keeping the nausea at bay, and rested easier at night.
Heinrich raised his chin as he concluded his account; simple, yes, but he believed he had mapped the essentials reasonably well. Ja, he was satisfied. "And so! I stand before you, Herr Kommisar, alive, liberated, but now undeniably committed to furthering the political theories I learned and held dear to my heart by the most (Heinrich refrained from employing the word "radical") violent of methods - of all possible methods. My having survived the raid, and the subsequent chase - I am a quite competent fighter pilot; not to seem arrogant, but I dispatched my pursuit with relative ease - ought to be a testament to my capabilities. I will - of course - answer, promptly, should an interrogation prove necessary."
The Rheinlander coughed, the muffled, slightly embarrassed cough of he who has recently abandoned a lifelong tobacco habit, and placed his hands gently on the edge of the Commissar's desk. "Will you have me... comrade?", said he, tasting the unfamiliar word, retreating slightly from the strangeness of it, and refrained from amending "please".
A man of seemingly Rheinlandic origin stepped into the commissar's office. Soldier's haircut, blonde. About 6,5 long with a cold determination in his eyes. The commissar looked up, signaling him to come closer. Probaply thinking; Another one.... 'Name, comrade'. 'Claus Fechter, Herr Commissar.' the man replied. 'Well than, Fechter. You're obviously here to make the biggest mistake of your life. I'll probaply just...Shoot you anyway. Try to convince me not to.' The look in the Commissar's eyes said it all; 'Tired of these fools.' Claus grabbed something out of his pocket and gave it to the Commissar. It was a datapad with a scrap of Rheinland news from a few years back.
'Fechter estate destroyed in explosion on planet Hamburg! Loving wife and daugther of sixteen killed! Husband missing, persumed dead.' Cause of the explosion unkown. 'Yeah, so, what does this have to do with you being here?', the Commissar continued. Claus kept looking infront of him at the wall behind the Commissar, but his eyes grew cold, oh so cold. 'My wife, Herr Commissar, my wife and beautiful daugther, murdered for speaking agains the Gott Kanzler. This was no accident, it was an assassination. I crawled from under the rubble only to find their bodies, devoid of life and soul. I held them for what seemed an eternity before I was chased away by the sound of dogs and Rheinland soldiers, Herr Commissar. The worst part? Those fascist dogs continue their...their...Policy behind the scenes even now, without me even getting close enough for my rache.' 'Now let me guess,' the Commissar continued, 'you want to take your rache...Your 'revenge', through the Coalition.' 'Amongst other things, Herr Commissar. I belive that the coalition is the only way to stop things like this from happening ever again, I believe that the Coalition is the only way I will ever find peace, as for the rest of Sirius.'
The Commissar sat back and seemed to think...'Hmm...Claus, I think that...'
Commissar Gorodetsky walked into the room behind the applicant, putting a hand on his shoulder.
"Privet, Mister Fechter," he said in a cold, emotionless tone.
"I see you have met one of our trainee Commissar-Lieutenants. Unfortunately, you've failed the first test by mistaking him for myself or another person in a position of authority."
He sounded disappointed. He nodded to the man that was sat on his seat,
"Good work, Lieutenant, you may leave. I'll call you if any bodies need disposed of."
Gorodetsky's subordinate nodded quickly, obeying like a well-trained puppy, nearly tripping as he hastened to the door.
"Now, Mister Fechter, I'm just after a good smoke, so I'm in a slightly less irritable mood. Slightly."
His hand rested on a high-calibre pistol at his side, not hidden by his greatcoat.
Realising his mistake, and noticing the Commissar's hand on his pistol, Claus felt less certain of his cause with every passing moment. He started to speak.
'To become a part of the great and mighty Coalition forces, Herr Commissar. To make a difference in a cold and corrupt world. The people of Sirius are led blindly by Fascistical sheppards. They live, die, suffer, and get murdered under their regieme. People close to me, espescialy. Murdered for uttering their voice. With the Sirius Coalition Revolutionary Army, I believe the face of the galaxy can be changed, and I desire to be a part of that. For the people'.
Claus paused for a moment.
'Herr Commissar,' he continued. 'If I am to be deemed 'unworthy', I'd rather be killed here, by your hand. Alone, I cannot change this galaxy. Almost everything I hold dear has already been taken from me, and if I should be denied today, my reason to live would be as well.'
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