Yakov's expression changed very quickly. He had babbled too long on the "softer" side of Revolution. He took a breath, collected his sentences, and began his response. " Indeed, education is something most cowards would hide behind, but we know that ideas, while well and good, are all false on their own merit. I have made my living in the mines (or what's left of them) of the Colorado fields, and have been transferred to others around Liberty. In these times, I served as escort pilot." He looks at his hands. "Now, one might think that life as an escort pilot garners little experience. I tell you...this is in no wise the case." He looks back up. "My mother did office work for my mining company before she went on to draw from my Father's years of misguided service to a damned mercenary company!" He became temporarily enraged, showing intense redness in the cheeks. "He could have served so much more..." Yakov regains his composure. "However, to be sure, I did not let this stop me from learning everything he had come to know about fighting." A very serious look overcomes Yakov's face. "I tell you the truth, just because I am a generally composed individual, does not mean I lack conviction in what I say. For these ideals..for this Revolution..I will gladly kill. I will happily tear the enemies of the people asunder. I ask you to let me prove myself on the battlefield." Yakov leans forward, obviously involving himself in every word. "Years and years of hard labor have not made me weak. I am not weak. Words must have actions, and that is precisely the reason I am here. Action. Action for the people, and against the enemy; it is time for those who will, to stand up and fight." Yakov again retired from his speaking, but this time quite tense; every muscle in his body on high alert.
