“A communist is a man united with his fellow man. United in suffering and in wealth, a man who has made a commitment to the wealth fare of all around him. Brother, sister, father and mother. This is the very definition of a Comrade, and something you needed to know before you came here.” Katz rolled his shoulders. “My instincts tell me you aren’t a spy… but I have my doubts that you are really committed to the cause. That… I fear… is crucial to any member of the Fighter Corps. A desire… a want to belong.”
Katz motioned as the Warbot slung its weapon, grabbing a hold of the applicant and roughly picking him up.
“Take him back to his ship, and put him on it… I don’t care if he gets a little… bruised along the way,” Katz returned to his paperwork. “I don’t like having my time wasted… if he struggles at all, use a shovel to scoop what’s left of him off of the floor and pour him into his ship.”
Via moved and clanked his way out of the office as Katz took a long, deep breath. Lack-luster effort, insanity, was this all that was left in Sirius? Where were the revolutionaries? The Titans of Communism that toppled the Alliance?
“NEXT!” he yelled, slamming his teacup down. He was in a foul mood.
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