A young man walked into the Revolutionary offices, in tattered, but well fixed Bretonian Industrial worker's uniform, and seeing the path clearly marked to the Commisar's office, followed it, knowing that this is what he must do. After knocking on the door, he heard the much anticipated "enter". He boldly, but respectfully entered the office, closed the door, and waited for further instruction.
"What do you want" snapped the Commisar, being a very busy man, and what is your name? "My name is Yakov Smirnoff Sir,I have come in hopes to join your ranks. The Commisar didn't seem to have any emotion, or expression whatsoever, leaned back in his chair and simply said "go on.The potential recruit began firm, but respectful. "My family has long been plagued by the failed capitalistic system somehow accepted by this current world we live in. I Sir, am of Bretonian descent, and was raised on the industrial capitol of Bretonia, Leeds. My young wife and I could not have the children she desperately wanted because we could not even afford to feed my baby sister. This is what I have come from. I have since lost my young wife, and my little Sister. I am a very early riser, a very hard worker, and none of my seven brothers can whip me in a fight. I can follow the orders of my superiors without question or thought. I don't want to keep you long Sir, so if there is any more you wish to know, please ask. I am ready, willing, and able to any task.
Incoming Transmission
To: Coalition recruitment center
Subject:Recruitment
Name: Yop_Solo
Age:19
Gender:male
height:1.68 meters
weight:65
Place of birth:Planet houston, Texas System
Priviete Komrad! My real name is only knew by me, my nick name is Yop solo, i'm native from the planet houston, texas system, in the liberty imperialist governement, by 2 times in my life i've tried to help my country, i was thinking it was the best governement, wasn't it... They dont give me any chance , they treat us like animals, i'm tired of this, its time to change, i want a better world, a better governement, i want to join the coalition...
I've been flying on small figther since 2 years and i've got some abilties on larger ship. I think i could help the coalition into this war against the oppression of the houses. Contact me, i'm ready to fight.
Gorodetsky sat deleting messages from one 'Yop Solo' without even reading them. If he couldn't apply in person, he wasn't getting behind the controls of a fighter. As simple as that.
As Heinrich Geusau entered, the Commissar was removing the garish name tags that Commander Weise had left everywhere.
He humoured the recruit, allowing him to blabber for a while. When he mentioned Friedrich Nietzsche, his hand instinctively reached for his pistol, but he didn't draw, allowing him to finish.
The Commissar sighed, running his free hand through his hair as he drummed the fingers of the other on his pistol's grip.
"You're long winded, aren't you? You better not be some overblown Nietzschean nihilist, right?"
As he spoke, he put a cigar to his mouth, after, of course, sniffing for traces of explosives. He sparked up and awaited his, hopefully short, answers.
Heinrich did not dare to laugh at the implications of the question - that he should appear to be a nihilist, simply for mentioning Friedrich Nietzsche's treatises among those he had read and been influenced by! he, a nihilist! quite the reverse! - as he was perfectly aware that to laugh at this point in time would be most distressingly suicidal. Instead, Heinrich stiffened his back a little and stood up taller.
"Nein, Herr Kommissar! I merely mentioned his works as being relevant to me because they offer such radical criticism of socialism; I reasoned that it would be best to analyze all positions on the philosophy I was contemplating adopting as my own rather than make an unwise decision. Nietzsche, in his own words, (the Rheinlander prayed he recalled the quote correctly) hated "the socialist rabble, the chandala apostles... most among the rabble of today."
Heinrich wisely chose not to criticize long-winded or overblown. After all, at times, he feared it was all too true.
Commissar Gorodetsky, blowing cigar smoke at the recruit, swung back on his seat.
He toyed with his pistol, sitting it on the desk in front of him as he offered the recruit some advice.
"Be careful what you read, son."
He stood up, holstering the gun, staring at the young man.
"Sub-Lieutenant Geusau, you will swear to follow orders to the letter, regardless of personal opinion. You are no longer an individual, you are a part of a greater whole. You now serve the people."
He almost smiled as he offered his hand for Geusau to shake.
"Welcome to the Coalition. Go suit up and get some of those Alliance bastards!"
A few days after sending his message to the Coalition, Yop solo decide to go into the closest recruitment center, he didn't have any answer, maybe the message never arrive... "Maybe got to finnally repair my ship" said Yop after landing close to the recruitment site.
He pushed the door and entering, after waited for an hour a Commisar finally accepted to see him.
"What do you want"? asked the Commisar.
"I'm here because i want to join the Coalition Sir. I' sent a message few days ago bu....
He was interrupted by the laughter of the Commisar
"Its you who sent that poor message? You haven't the balls to come see us the first time, i dont know why you will be better this time, go away kid you make me lose precious time..."
Yop tried to catch up, he want a chance, he hoped that the commisar give im one...
Gorodetsky watched his trainee Commissar speaking to the applicant on a viewscreen. The fool believed that the youth, who could count the amount of times he'd ever shaved on one hand, most likely, was himself. He didn't know whether to be insulted or honoured. Maybe he looked younger than he thought?
Never mind, he thought, activating his communicator.
"Lieutenant, please put on your gas mask."
The Lieutenant Commissar donned a full face mask as the door bolted shut. Yop Solo hadn't a chance as he began to hear faint hissing sound. The colourless gas quickly had him convulsing on the floor, dying within several minutes, the junior officer sitting timing it with his watch.
"Experimental gaseous weaponry proves to be little more effective than early twentieth century variants, sir," he offered on his mic.
Man walked down a hallway towards the recruitment office aboard the Zhukovsky station. He had expression of grim determination on his burned scarred face with an eyepatch covering the burnt eye, his gray longcoat trailing behind him. Approaching the recritment office doors. Harsh voice was heard from inside of a room, and several maintrance workers were cleaning up bloody mess on the floors. Air smelled of blood, guts, plasma weapons and general carnage. Nicolai stoped in his tracks, adjusted his coat and cap, shifting several reccomandation papers in his hands. With long sigh, he knocked on the door and entered the room.
"Good day comrade commissar! I am marine sergant Nicolai Zakharev, I would like to request transfer to the space forces. Here are reccomnendations from Major Bigeard as well of Commissar Captain Bjorn Thorvaldsson." Said Nicolai while handing papers to the commissar.
"I hope everything is in order, Sir." he said with now more relaxed face, saluting as he straightened up.
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