SCRA Recruitment Centre

[Corsair]

"I am completely dedicated. I quite literally have nothing else to live for. I will give the Revolution everything I have. I have fighter and bomber combat training." She recalled the previous interview and the knife incident. She wondered if Broch would try anything quite so physical.

---

[Tabris]

Alicia looks around the room and nods to Rhys.

"Mr Rhys, you may enter now, but kindly leave your knife with me." she states calmly with a smile. "You'll get it back once you'v talked to Lt.Commander Warner, second Door down the hall." she cheerfully stated before going back to her work.

[Lunaphase]

A young woman walks into the recruitment center looking around, strolling without hesitation. She continues to the first room of the center, looking for the person to talk to.

Noticing the secretary, she walks over to the desk and waits for her to finish what shes working on.

"May i please see one of the recruitment officers? Im here to volenteer, My name is Haruhi Sinai, a pilot of the Liberty Revolutionary Forces."

---

[Balanar]

I do hope these gentlemen aren't as trigger-happy as I've heard, thought Falsus Lacuna. He was a young man, perhaps between 27 and 30 years old. It was hard to tell with his type, and it was doubtful whether he could have told you himself. With dark brown hair and darker eyes, his face was akin to that of an arabian merchant; not particularly attractive, but seemingly disguising a deep intelligence. Any conclusions a casual observer might have made to this effect, however, must have been instantly obliterated after seeing the clear flask he cradled in his arm.

Would anyone believe him to be intelligent, or even sensible, cradling that flask of purple liquid? I think not. It was a stigma; a brand of sordid failure.

Love, hate, pride, shame, ambition . . . all washed away by the cleansing, wretched fire of the drink in his arms. He had thrown his life in to this bottle, refilling and draining it countless times as he mindlessly wandered the stars. So many years he had spent, running from justice and lawlessness equally, and for what?

To where, to what did he intend to go? What was he running from, and more importantly, where was he running to? The mental strain had taken its toll over the years, and finally hit its breaking point. Today he would settle matters once and for all. That is, he thought, looking up toward the door, if they ever come to speak with me.

Join? He had never even considered the word in his vocabulary. He had never joined any group, per se. He had avoided clubs at school for the year and a half of his attendance, and he had never worked a day in his life. His money and equipment he stole, and his ship he built himself. Now, after two decades of meaningless lawlessness, he had had enough.

This day he was in the Coalition recruitment waiting room, sitting as if ready for judgment. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead, and he contemplated fleeing before his meeting. Taking a long draught from his purple beverage, however, he felt his nerves return to him. As the burning liquid slipped down his throat, some steel returned to his spine. He felt . . .

Fabulous. Words failed to describe the feeling he experienced as he sated his addiction, and he shivered a bit in delight. After a moment of thought, his train of thought re-engaged. It had been perhaps three months now, since the incident. Not long ago, he was reasonably content to persist in his meaningless life. However, the incident on Malta had changed everything.

Player. Womanizer. Pimp. That was what they called him, the man who had killed the woman he loved. He had loved a woman once, perhaps two years ago, before she died. More precisely, she had been engaged in some rather illicit activities at the time, and her "employer" had disliked her desire to leave the business. Worried that she would take away harmful information, the man had her killed. In return, Falsus spent years tracking him down and killing him. When the blood had stilled, pooling on the floor, a horror stole across his vision. The blaster shot intended for the pimp had been true to its mark, searing through the short man's head with ease. Thereafter, however, it had punched through his ornately carved walnut desk, killing the child crouching underneath it. Falsus had vomited on the spot.

Killer. Murderer. Monster. He had not been caught; he was too seasoned a criminal for that. Yet no matter how fast his legs, and no matter how powerful his engines, he could not escape his conscience. It grew, grew to a terrible monster which threatened to swallow his soul. So he had turned to alcohol. Finding little sanctuary in that delirium, his attentions had turned to the purple fluid in the flask he now held. His demons had chased him halfway across the Sirius sector, and he had finally discovered what he was looking for. Some sort of cause; some kind of . .

Faction? Perhaps that was the word. He sought an escape from the ghosts that haunted his memories. He wanted something to do; someone to help. Someone had recommended he approach a coalition recruiter; that they fought for the sake of all their comrades. They sought a world where men and women respected each other as equals; nothing more, nothing less. Camaraderie was such an appealing escape from his past. Perhaps he could do something with his life. As this possibility stole across his mind, the hand clutching the flask tightened, and his knuckles turned white. The bottle shattered, cutting his hands and showering him in purple fluid. Looking down at his stained outfit, he shook his head in disgust. Whatever, he thought. If they'll have me, they'll have me soaked in blood and a dirty past. Gritting his teeth in determination, Falsus did the bravest thing he had done in his life. He continued to wait, dripping blood and liquid cardamine.

EDIT: Small correction to one word in the last paragraph. Readability purposes only.

---

~ Characters ~

Balanar the Nightstalker - Artemis Marquise - Kane no Tsubasa - Maximilian Immelmann - Hipparchus, the Cartographer

[Shagohad]

Her eyes rolled. "Alright. Let me rephrase it. What do you know of the Revolution? Of ideology?"

---

"THE HULL HAS BEEN BREACHED AND THE SCIENCE IS LEAKING OUT!"

[Luis]

Rhys imagines what type of ship does the Coalition has for him. He puts away his hand knife and folded his hand in front of his chest. He looked toward the Secretary with a face of hate - yet, that was his mood from since he left the Freeport 11.

He stretches his arms and stands-up. Takes a few steps, rotating his shoulders as it crackles. Before him stood a wall with the map of Sirius System. "... Sirius. - Can't beleive our Speices went this far out of Sol System. Yet, running away from death. BUT, not for long - I soon will be one of those who chased you all Alliances. Hmph!"

Rhys turns around and look at the chair he sat on. Before he sat down, he remembered his mother saying - "...*My sweet child, if you become a fighter pilot, please be a hero for Sirius. Not an evil man*..."

However, not even a tear in his eyes dropped down. His mother betrayed him, or atleast he think she did - when he was 16. Therefore, not even his mom he will apologize. He suffered for 9 years on Freeport 11 - working hard in order to survive.

"Mother, I used to love you. You brought me into this world, but its not you that will bring me out of it. I will be the one that will bring you out. I hate what you did to me in the past; and whats done, is done." says to himself as others watched him.

He slowly sat down as the secretary watched.

[Tabris]

Before Rhys could move on Alicia picks up a small comm unit, listening for a moment before nodding, holding up a hand she signals his attention to stop him.

"Excuse me, but it seems that there was a mistake, records cannot locate which ship you come from." she said, reaching into her desk and pulling out a stack of paperwork. Pushing it towards him with a smile.

"If you would be so kind to fill this out with your shipname, date of arrival and origin we'll be able to send you into the office soon." she stated cheerfully as Haruhi walked up to the desk and asked to see one of the Recruitment Officers, she nods with her cheerful smile and nods.

"Ah you'v been expected Mrs Sinai, kindly go down the hall and go into the room second door on the left you'll meet with the officer assigned to your casefile." she states cheerfully, diving back into her own paperwork.

[Lunaphase]

The woman nods at the secratary. "Thank you."

Proceeding down the hall per her instructions, she knocks on the door with respect, awaiting an answer, her hand shaking slightly as she does, but she steadys herself for the road ahead.

---

[Serpentis]

The Civilian shuttle glided into the dock of the Trotsky, it carried one person, no other.. People, only the one man, with his luggage. Two briefcases and a bag, he wore a black suit with a white shirt underneath.

He nodded at the personnel that met him, gave them his luggage and went to the recuitment office, or, to be precise, the Secretary of the recruitment center.


As he walked in he awaited his turn to talk to the secretary.. He waits until they are done, then he approaches.



He nodded and gave the secretary a salute

"Previet kamrat, I am operative.. Strike that, citizen Ivan Rasputin.. I have come to talk to your recruitment officer, could you direct me further"

He smiled at the secretary and awaiting a response.

---

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[Tabris]

As Ben started to relax in his chair, finally, he was jarred awake by the knocking of the door, blinking several times to get the tiredness out of his system as much as he can and shutting the desk drawer shut he gave a firm shout.

"Enter" he shouted, firmly but without anger nor annoyance, it wouldn't do for him to get annoyed with a potential fighter pilot, not unless he or she was a moron who deserved to die...In that case he had a pistol on standby.

Folding his hands ontop of the metal desk he waited for the person to walk in, he had the only chair so the applicant would have to stand, a tactic he adapted to put pressure upon the applicant and reveal their true nature once combined with questioning.