The burst of light washed over the CPW-Trotsky as it slipped into the abandoned reaches of the Coronado system. Weapons crews running tests as the ship settled into the secret rendevous point that had been pre-arranged with recruitment officers all across Sirius.
The location wasn’t a secret, but the position, plus the proximity of the asteroid field, it made an ideal place for the nimble cruiser to slip away from any potential thread.
The crew of the ship had largely been replaced, fresh to the task, hard eyed men of Arabic descent prowled the halls with smgs, ready to do the indomitable will of the Commissariat. While Commander Borodin, the ships captain, watched his scopes, his gunnery crews at the ready to do what had to be done.
The large table had been replaced by a comfortable leather couch, facing a high backed leather arm chair. A small table beside it where an ashtray sat.
The lighting was kept low, and the whole room had the feel of an after hours club. Calm, relaxed, not at all synonymous with the den of death and terror it had been in the past.
She gestured to the steward, who set a fresh pot of tea on a side table, and watched as he scurried outside, eager to get as far away from the shadow that was coming to take roost.
A soft cough, caused her to turn around, looking at the fine Pashtun features of his families Pakistani heritage, half of his face covered by a ritualistic tattoo that had become popular amongst the Pashtun membership of the Coalition during the Sol war, and had, thus, been revived amongst the resurgent Coalition in Sirius as a rite of passage for the tribes that had settled North Eastern Volgograd.
Yuveraj Khan.
Alicia swallowed, looking into his stark, icy cold eyes. The understanding that the man was an ardent Coalition fanatic, and a terrifying master of discipline for the ranks of the SCRA.
“Send the signal,” he said staring at her. “Inform those that want to try to join the Coalition, that we will accept them. I want them searched before they are permitted onto this deck, if you find any weapons on them… they are to be shot without hesitation.”
He cleared his throat, walking to take a seat in the arm chair, resting his head against the high back. Taking a moment to look through the rotating glass panels that separated the office from the Trotsky’s CIC. Officers carrying on their work, trying their best not to be noticed by the Commissar.
“Inform them that if they do not present themselves in person, they will be hunted down by members of the Commissariat’s Assassination squad and executed… any one who cannot follow a simple instruction should be exorcised from the ranks of the living in our constant campaign against incompetence.”
Alicia nodded again, “yes Commissar Khan.”
“Station Pasha and Dimitri in the room with assault rifles. If the applicants fail to satisfy my questions, or make any kind of threatening gesture, or display any method of alien mind control upon me, they are to shoot the applicant dead without hesitation.”
“Yes, Commissar Khan.”
“They will report to you first, and you will show them in, one at a time. If someone barges into my office without showing an ounce of good manners…” Khan drew a service revolver and set it on the small table beside him. “I will shoot them dead.”
“Yes Commissar Khan,” Alicia nodded her head.
“Very well,” Khan said, fishing a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lighting one, letting a tendril of smoke coil its way towards the ceiling. “See to it then. And when the first one arrives, send them to me.”
Alicia hurried out of the room, aware that the chilling eyes were watching her as she left. She pitied the first applicant…
[color=#FF0000]The Following Steps shall be followed, on pain of death. We do not tolerate half-heartedness and slackery in the coalition!
Stage 1: Make an application in person to the Recruiting Office aboard the Typhoon Class CPW-Trotsky, filling in all the appropriate information. If at first you are not accepted, feel free to re-apply once you feel the circumstances preventing your admission have been corrected, provided that you are still alive to do so.
All Applications will be made in person, in understandable, well punctuated English. You will be clear and concise. You will not ramble. You will include references, if applicable. You will not tell the Commissar what he is doing, he will tell you what to do. You will die if we order you to, you will live on our whim. You shall learn this, or you shall die.
Stage 2: Be questioned by the duty Commissar. If he does not like your answers, or you answer incoherently, or reveal that you may be a Spy, you shall die.
Stage 3: Fill out the SCRA Questionnaire (PM) Should you fail in the Questionnaire, you shall be terminated.
Stage 4: Once you've been cleared of the above stages, and authorized in SCRA Commnets, you shall be given a Sub-Lieutenancy in the glorious SCRA, and permitted by the grace of your superiors to fly a Partisan Light Fighter. Should you demonstrate that you are not worthy of the trust we have placed in you, we shall kill you with no warning. Let it be re-iterated, the Coalition is not for the weak of heart.
Stage 5: Provided you manage not to prove our trust misplaced, you shall be promoted to full Lieutenant in the SCRA, and granted the rights to fly the other snubfighters, as well as not face the threat of instant death every second of every day. However, if you break our trust, act in a manner inappropriate to the SCRA. Or if you demonstrate behaviour that makes us question your loyalty and commitment to the SCRA/Coalition, you will die!
![[Image: Coalition-sig.png]](http://i926.photobucket.com/albums/ad103/cplydon/Coalition-sig.png)