Chief Petty Officer Bilbrey looked up from his paperwork, appraising the composed young man standing at parade rest in front of his desk. The fellow was either Navy mad and thought standing like that would impress, or there was some form of training in his background.
Clearing his throat, the chief started the standard line of questions.
"Name?"
"Theodopholus Alexander, but I go by Theo when it is appropriate."
Bilbrey paused, then looked more closely at the youngster's face. An almost invisible nod and a slight narrowing of the eyes precluded the next question.
"Would you be one of Those Alexanders?"
There was a brief hesitation, more a change of mental gears than a thing of the clock.
"Yes, Chief. Technically, I am Lord Alexander... The Navy is, after all, a family tradition, especially for younger sons."
Nodding briskly, Bilbrey continued.
"Your age?"
"Twenty one as of yesterday."
A cocked eyebrow accompanied the question, "Will you be listing Earl Stirling as next of kin?"
Theo nodded. "I will, and, yes, my father knows I am here."
The paperwork continued, citing military school, participation in team sports, and all the other humdrum that make up a human life.
We all have an Angelic and a Demonic side. Use of them determines good or evil in the end.
It is good to know that you come from a family with a tradition of serving the Armed Forces, Mister Theodopholus Alexander. You will receive the questionnaire soon. But don't expect a mere surname to help you, no matter how famous it is.
Admiral George R. Hall
Welcome aboard, Ensign Theodopholus Alexander. Please report to battleship Harlow for briefing. Your Templar will be waiting for you there.
Do not fail us.
The Doors open up at the Cambridge recruitment centre.
In comes a man about 170 or so cm, fairly well built with brown hair and a trimmed beard.
He walks casually up to the recruitment officer who's sitting behind his desk, filling paper work.
The officer looks up and says, so going to say something or just stand there?
As i have come to understand the armed forces needs pilots for the war and i also heard the pay is good, am i correct this far?, the man asked.
The officer who of late have been getting those questions more often got a little cranky and replied. We are in a war, so ofcourse we need pilots and yes the pay is good since it's a high mortality rate, happy now? And dont forgett that if you and i say IF you get accepted into the armed forces you can also make a difference for all the people depending on the military to protect them and their homes. Thats what you really should be thinking about.
Whats your name by the way mr?, said the officer.
The man stood there, thinkning. Well i cant argue that protecting Bretonian lives is a priority, but some glory wouldnt be too wrong either. The name is Richard Sharpe, sir.
Well Richard, how about ou take these forms and fill them out, over there in that room. And then you can go to the waiting room, there you will be notified if you are illegible for armed duty.
Richard took forms and started to fill them out.
Name: Richard
Lastname: Sharpe
Age: 38
Gender: Male
Current Occupation: Voluntary Secondary fleet
Last Occupation: Freelancer, mostly protecting transports.
Birthplace: Planet Cambridge
Parents: Monica Sharpe, Brian Sharpe
Siblings: Tom Sharpe and Nick Sharpe
Criminal history: None
Richard went to the recruite officer again and gave him the form and went to sit down in the wating quarter.
The Officer took the forms and sent them to be analysed.
Greetings, Mister Richard Sharpe. Please answer the questions that will be sent to you soon.
Admiral George R. Hall
Welcome aboard, Ensign Richard Sharpe. Please report to battleship Harlow for briefing. Your Templar will be ready for you there.
But, do not perceive the Armed Forces as a mere workplace. We fight for a goal higher than money. I see that you have a family. You will understand.
The Recruitment Centre in Cambridge was rather empty compared to the usual.
It was a quiet cloudy day and it was crawling its way to a calm ending,a nice
tranquil evening.
Just as a few drops of rain touched the ground a man entered the facility.His footsteps echoing in the large entrance,he moved to the large mahogany front desk.Behind the desk,on the wall under the BAF insignia,there it was,those 8 words every Bretonian man cherished:"The highest of distinctions is service to others"
As the man whispered this sentence to himself studying the writing,the attendant cleared her throat for a third time and said "Sir,how may I help you?" a fourth.The day was about to end and Annette had very little patience left for people with personal issues seeking the answer here.Whether it was for vangeance, to prove oneself,to get over a loss.She couldn't care less.They were the worst.
Luckily this one came to after the fourth time she asked,she's seen worse.
"Sorry birdie,feelin' a bit jaded 'twas a long haul" he responded with a big heartfelt smile.He seemed like an average fellow really.A bit tall,a ginger beard around his chin with black hair,(She wondered to herself if it was dye or not) and he had this weird,funny accent.(Who says birdie to people?) Otherwise he seemed normal likeable even."Definately" Annette told to herself "Definately,with that smile".As the assistant snapped out of her milisecond thoughts and analysis about this man, as he asked for the nearest available recruitment officer.
She told him to follow and scurried towards a waiting room leading him to a door.
"Thanks birdie" said the man with the same smile.
She nodded and smiled back leaving him facing the door.
He knocked it receiving an instant,confident response of "Come in!"
He entered and saw an middle-aged militaryman with a stern face and a shaved head working through papers.A man who clearly saw some action.He noticed the nanomechanic implant's faint buzzing while reforming different hand gestures while the veteran was going through the papers.
The veteran looked at the man studied him for a while narrowed his eyes a bit and asked " You're Irish aren't you?" skeptically.
The man smiled again calmly relieving some of the tension created by that blunt question and anwered:
"Aye" and kept smiling and said " And I wish to enlist."
Sergeant sighed shook his head and pulled out a form:"Name?" he demanded.
"Anderson O'Mulligan" the man answered firmly.As the sergeant scribbled his name,Anderson was hopeful about this interview, he wanted to be a part of something greater and this was it. He felt pure joy in that moment.He was going to serve others.He was going to distinguish himself.
And that was clearly readable from Anderson's face and his iconic big smile.Sergeant gave out a long sigh again,took off his glasses and shook his head.
"Look,to be perfectly candid,you seem like a fine lad,It seems that you are here because whatever reasons you may have but you are here because they are yours.But you being Irish will be on your way.You will meet a lot of guys that are hurt by the Molly's even some good men will be a little skeptical about ye.It does not matter how much you tell them othervise.It may not even be enough to show that.I am not telling you not to do this but I think you should think twice before we go on I think you should ask yourself that if you could endure this.This comes from experience "
Right then Anderson noticed the remains of an Irish accent worn out with years of formal tone.The man clearly suffered what could be defined as heavy prejudice every day of his service.
Anderson pondered a while trying to get a better grasp of the situation.He shook his head and his smile narrowed a little.
"I dont mind bein' slagged and I knew how 'twas I even expected to be branded a blackguard right 'ere.I wont back down. I will in me ring!"
Sergeant gave him a faint smile.Admiring his enthusiasm he replied:
"Fair play lad. Quick then fill out these before it starts bucketing down!"
Anderson smiled at the radical change of tone and took the papers.Sergeant looked him in the eye still smirking:
"Work on that accent, a formal tone is encourged...eh boyo?"
Anderson nodded still smiling and filled the rest of the form.
----------------------------------------------
Name : Anderson O'Mulligan
Age:25
Height:1,88Meters
Weight:95 Kilograms
Place of Birth:Leeds
Flight Skills:
Ships Flown
Freighters and rather bulky ships. (Camaras,Pelicans had my fair share of trading after dropping out of med school)
Bombers(Flown a Roc for 2 years as a part of a group escorting large convoys through edge worlds)
-----------------------------------------
Anderson gave the form back to Sergeant,smirking and said
"Thank you sir! " in a soldierly manner.
Sergeant gave out a loud sigh filing the form,he got up his chair looked at Anderson and said
"Well then if that's all;get out of me office you bowsie It is already lashin' out of the heavens and I am late for me afternoon pint."
"That was a lit'le stereotypical,sir"Anderson chuckled "Mind if join?"
Sergeant made a approving head gesture took his coat and led Anderson out of the office.
As they walked past the front desk desk Annette gasped a little.For the 5 long years she spent behind that desk she never saw Sgt.Durnin laughing and joking around with someone let alone a chuckle.He was a stern,proffessional,revered, veteran.She liked him but like most of the personnel in the building she was a little afraid of him too.But there he was horsing around with that young man.
There was something cheerful about that man.Something people needed these days.Joy.
Greetings, Mister Anderson O'Mulligan. Please answer the questions that will be sent to you soon.
Admiral George R. Hall
Welcome aboard, Ensign Anderson O'Mulligan. Please report to battleship Harlow for briefing. Your will find an array of ship classes ready for service there. Since you have some experience with bombers, I advise you to take a Challenger. A handful of those can take on a small capital ship squadron, if properly operated.
Do not fail us.
The doors swung open with little resistance as the man stepped into the recruitment centre.
"Woah, probably shouldn't've done that." He muttered, looking up to notice the officer immediately in front of him.
"In a hurry, are we?" Said the officer, staring the man up and down as he approached.
"No I eerr...pushed a bit too hard. Yanno, like you do when you need a massive dump and it requires the extra bit of power?"
The officer continued to stare at him, apparently unmoved by his poor attempt at toilet humour. He reached for his keyboard and looked to the left to see his assistant smiling like she was a fan of what she could see.
"Name? Age? Why you're even here?" He monotonously spoke, appearing to direct his speech directly into the man's soul.
"My name's Halpern. Matt Halpern. I'm 24, bored of feeling alone when at home on Planet Cambridge and I spend most of my days flying alone through Bretonia and it's neighbouring systems. Time for a change I think and...that's why I'm here"
The Officer typed away, occasionally glancing at Matt like he was some inferior being. Halpern felt himself getting agitated. The Officer stopped, tapped his desk and put his hands together.
"Going to need a bit more than that. Elaborate."
"Y'see, it was a lone encounter with two Gauls that really inspired me to get into the ranks of the Armed Forces. They mocked and spat as they usually do. So I took 'em both on. The surprise attack gave me something to work with and though my ship wasn't in the best state, I sent them running. I'd dreamed of doing things like that since I was younger. My parents were born-again pacifists so I defied them too. I had to take my own path because if I didn't, I could be in hiding like they are. Hell, I don't even know where they are right now but there's no way I could sit there in my self-pity and do nothing about it. I'll make 'em proud, even if they're the opposite of fighters."
Again, the Officer typed away, apparently paraphrasing judging by how quickly he got through all of that. He leant back for a second and folded his arms. Halpern had no idea what to do except twiddle his thumbs behind his back. It'd been a long time since he'd felt like he was below someone else.
"Alright. I can see you've got motivation. I hope you can handle yourself out there. A lone encounter is a rare one. There's normally more than two and I know better than you what they're capable of. But you've given me enough I suppose"
Still unable to read exactly what the Officer was thinking, Halpern looked straight at him and uttered...
"Teamwork is key. That's something I haven't found while flying independently. That's why I'm here. I hope you understand."
The Officer glanced at his assistant who was leant against the wall adjacent to the waiting room door. He made a quick hand gesture to suggest she opens it.
"Wait in there. This time, try not to break the door."
"Yes sir" Replied Halpern, slowly walking towards it.
Greetings, Mister Matt Halpern. Please answer the questions that will be sent to you soon.
Admiral George R. Hall
Welcome aboard, Ensign Matt Halpern. Please report to battleship Harlow for briefing. Your will find an array of fighters and bombers there. Choose your ship wisely. You may, of course, keep your own ship if she is proved capable enough.
Also, when you are aboard the Harlow, please take more care when you open the doors.
There is an unusual rumbling sound disturbing the quiet idyllic music comforting the late patrons at the bar in the recruitment center; though one would never really be able to tell what a “Late” hour was at a busy space station, the dimmed lights were programmed to create an ambiance of retirement hours for those whose shifts were done for the space day.
The Recruitment officer, a middle aged man was sipping at his gin looking slightly frustrated as usual. He gulped down some and frowned as he looked away staring outside the window of the bar, “I am so tired of this job”, he said without looking at his assistant who seemed nervously ready to nod his head at anything the officer said. “Yes ofc…..” he quickly lifted his glass and stifled a cough as he realized he was going to agree to something that could have been considered mockery by his boss.
“What are we recruiting these days?” he went on slightly curling his lip in disgust. “Criminals? Thugs? Turncoats and traitors? Brutes from all corners of the universe? Hell I’ll be damned if we don’t start recruiting aliens soon.” He runs his hand over his sweating bald head as he puts down his goblet.
“Oh I remember the ‘good old days’ when we had fine patriotic gentlemen looking for a fine lucrative career and the glory for serving this fine nation. All we have now is brutes trying to trade off their time for some military service. MERCENARIES!! We are hiring mercenaries for the queen that’s all!” He slammed his glass on the table as some disturbed onlookers turned to see what the commotion was all about.
The liquid trembled and rippled in the glass as he watched it dizzily. The rumble grew into a crescendo and the entire bar was shaking, the table was shaking and the glass was trembling. He looked at the goblet quizzically. How hard could he have slammed his fist on the table he wondered? Suddenly the sirens began to sound loud and a cold and measured female voice announced “Attention all personnel. Security breach! Security breach!”
As officers began to scramble to their defense stations and pilots began to rush to their hangars the drunken recruitment officer stared out the window wide eyed as a swirling electric blue light danced around an elongated structure that seemed to faintly materialize into existence. The assistant followed his gaze nervously and backed off stumbling on his stool as he took in the massive ship that was materializing right in front of the space station. It was the biggest ship he had ever witnessed in Bretonia. He stared at it in amazement as an officer quickly rushed to their side. She pulled up them up urging them to evacuate the bar immediately.
As they retreated stepping back still watching the craft that was materializing she said “O my god that...that”.....”That’s the Bretonia Carrier”, the assistant completed for her.
“It's not one of the three we already have!.”
A tense squadron of phaser rifle wielding guards watch attentively as the door to the docking bay slides open…
Quote:
If space can be infinitely large it must also be infinitely small