Koniev's cold hard stare was starting to break Nancy a bit. His lips were dry, his heart rate was booming, and his hands, sweaty and shaky were grasped tightly behind his back. He knew what he wanted to say, but his body was having second thoughts about helping him, rightly so, Leroy was putting it under a lot of stress.
"Ah...I..." spluttered Nancy
"..I...believe that the Fighter Corps risk themselves for many reasons, all of which are important, commissar.." said Leroy. He knew if he could get into the flow of speech, things would get much easier for him.
"...They risk their life for the greater good of the common man, a fight for a far superior governing system. They risk themselves so that the factory worker may live fairly and untouched by the claws of more greedy and powerful men, merely because they were unlucky to be born without that power and status...b..back on liberty I would so easily ruin the life of my workers for mere profit, for mere personal gain, to stuff the fat pockets of me and my peers. That blind ignorance that they..that I followed. Those people need to be woken up so they can see clearly.
"The first and primary responsibility of the Fighter Corps is to protect the Coalition and its citizens. I couldn't give a rat's ass about some idiot in Liberty who thinks we are the devil incarnate and believes the rich people will allow him to climb the ranks and get into their club."
He reached into his pack of cigarettes and lit one up.
"Seems like you're hunting for vengeance to me. And I have no spots for people who want to use the Fighter Corps as a means of getting revenge. So you have placed me in a conundrum."
Koniev pulled out his pistol, a six shot revolver of a higher caliber. He opened the chamber and counted the number of shots left.
"The conundrum is that you have not proved to me that you can benefit the lives of our citizens. To protect the lives of those already within our borders, living on our stations, and those that are committed to the cause. Protocol tells me I should put a bullet in your head. But bullets are valuable. They were made by a citizen, and I don't want to see his efforts go to waste on simpletons."
He lazily pointed the gun at the applicant
"You speak of our governing system, yet you know nothing about it. You speak of our cause, yet you don't understand it. So let's try something a little more basic. Tell me why I shouldn't pull the trigger."
Leroy wasn't scared. Oh no, Leroy was utterly terrified, what sane man wouldn't be? The commissar's gun silently mocked him as he stood there like a fool, struggling to even think, let alone respond. Leroy was by no means a pessimist but he knew what was coming. He wasn't going to lie to himself. This was his swan song. He wiped away the blood from his face.
"I have no tales of awe inspiring feats of bravery and I can't boast great skills in combat. But I am no man to hold a grudge, and if I sought revenge on anyone, there are far easier and more effective ways to do so. I left my past self behind me, I have nothing to gain from clinging on to strands of petty hatred." He paused breifly."I came here for no greater reason that I believe strongly in what you, and your people teach. I have nothing but respect for your people, and would think it as the greatest honnor to be given the right to help protect them. However, I shall not reject and stain the hard work of the man or woman who made that bullet if the Coalition sees fit for my death." He stated.
Dmitriy looks at the woman and nods, when she tells him to go in.
Good day commissar! I'm Dmitriy Vitalievich. I'm here because of... -he looks at the man sitting at the desk and changes his mind- Well, I think i don't have to tell you why I'm here.
Research is to see what everybody else has seen, and to think what nobody else has thought.
Dmitriy looks at commissar with open mouth. He couldn't even understand half of the sentence.
-Umm... May I ask what speed does the weapon have? An Improved Debilitator mark 1 or a Natterturn Zwei with a projectile speed with 750 meters per second, or a mark 2 debilitator with 650 meters per second? And how far does the target cross my line of motion?
Dmitriy looks at the commissar, who don't seem to care about his questions.
Well...let's see... If the projectile has a speed of 750 meters per second and the target is at 200 meters... The projectile will hit the target 0,2667 seconds after the actual shot. This means the target moves... 180 multiplied by 0,2667- He seems a bit unconcerned - That is 48 meters... As the target moves on a.. a transversal angle... that's 90° plus 8,8711... So by the help of the sine theme... We have to aim about 21,72 degrees to hit the target.
The commissar doesn't show any contentment, so Dmitriy quickly continues.
When I fly I never try to calculate things like this, sir. I would be shot down at least ten times, while i would be thinking on this. And I would have to start it again, as the target would be in a completely different way. I try to fly by intuition and by experience, although I don't have too much.
Research is to see what everybody else has seen, and to think what nobody else has thought.
The graying commissar took out a sheet on paper and wrote why are you here in large block letters. He stood up, and walked up to the recruit, who flinched ever so slightly. In one swift move, he stapled the sheet of paper to Dmitriy's forehead.
"Now, can you read what's written on that sheet of paper?"
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