SCRA Recruitment Centre

[equinosz]

Dmitriy lurches 3 steps behind with a low cry, taking the paper off his head. The stamp still in his forehead, he reads the paper.

I'm here, because i want to help change this fraking world. I'm fed up with the exploiting corporations, who doesn't care with the common people. Oh my.. - He takes out the stamp of his forehead, with blood trickling down - One of my friend told me, that in the coalition it doesn't work that way. And you, every single person in the coalition are fighting for a world, that can be better. And I'm here, to join this invincible power. And as I'm able to pilot a craft, and maybe shot down the enemy, I think the fighter corps would be a good start for me to reach the common goal. I don't want an utopia, because that's not possible, with the grasp of most of the people. I just want a better place for that part of the human race who can appreciate that part.

He looks at the commissar and continues:

Okay, I stop telling fairy tales, I'm here to join in the ranks of the best pilots of all Sirius. If you think I'm not fit for it, just kill me, and you won't have more trouble with me.

---

Research is to see what everybody else has seen, and to think what nobody else has thought.

[MathiasCZR]

---<Incoming Transmission>---
---<Location Ronneburg Base>---
---<COMM ID: Alois Von Stukov>---
---<COMM MESSAGE TO: Coalition Recruitment Commissar>---

Greetings Commissar, My name is a Alois Von Stukov. I'am currently serving as a foward recon scout for the Red Hessians.

Over the years my superiors are becoming more and more incompetent of seeing the true goals of the Hessian Order. They have changed their ways from spreading the ideals of freedom and equalization for all, much like your communist ideals; to openly killing civilians and other factions to gain only money and dominate all of Rheindland. I joined the Hessian order to spread the glories of communism to all to be free from the diease of capitalist corruption that only seeks to use others as slaves for the wealthy. But it seems that goal to spread equzlization has failed for the Hessians. As for the Coalition it is the last great order that is willing to preserve and to spread the ideals of communism. I would like to serve this grand order with my life, because I believe in it! And as long as there is a spark of hope, it is most certainly worth fighting and dieing for!

I would like to personal meet a commissar to discuss recruitment options, anywhere, anytime.

---

[Aphil]

Commissar-Colonel Aloysius Rhade glanced up from his book as his console beeped. He read through it and immediately frowned. He remembered an old trick one of the other Commissar's had shown him.

He typed a reply message into his console.

"Congratulations Comrade Stukov, you've been accepted into the glorious Fighter Corps!"

In the message, however, a virus was slipped. When the applicant went to joyfully open his acceptance message, his console was overloaded, exploding into the applicants face, covering them in white-hot plasma. Whether the burns proved lethal or not, it was an effective way of conveying that the Coalition had no time for fools who couldn't follow instructions.

Rhade sighed, and went back to reading his book.

---

| Sirius Coalition | Information Centre  | Recruitment Centre | Visa Application | Communication Centre |

[MathiasCZR]

Alois slowly stood up from below the desk where he ducked from the resulting explosion of the computer.

But some of the cooling plasma got on Stukovs face. After wiping off the disgusting and cold plasma from his face, Stukov said to himself "Hmm... atleast I know these people are serious about what they do". "Well, I guess Il just have to do it the old fashioned way face to face" said Stukov. After couple of hour of hanging around the local bar and asking around about SCRA recruitment Stukov finally got some interesting results. Supposedly there was a Coalition recruiting post in Omega-3 on the station of Freeport 1. Stukov got his gear in order and then undocked with Ronneburg station, and then plotted a course to the Omega-3 Jumphole.

---

[Shryke]

Koniev shook his head.

"It's not a matter if you're fit for it or not. Believe me, you're not. We make you fit, that's why they call it training. I'm more interested in your motives. How can I be sure you're not a spy, a saboteur, or even worse, one of those Zoner hippy bastards?"

---

[equinosz]

I'm a man, who believes in a real equality, I condemn the overwhelming oppression, gently say I really hate the exploiting bourgeois class. With one word, I'm communist. Nowadays regrettably, thanks to the activity of the media and the people who don't even know the depths of the conception this is considered to be "evil". I am proud of it. And I feel that the lion is already waking up, and our numbers are going up. And why? Because we don't have any other chance. The slaves of the corporations are ruining our systems, our planets, our life! And I want to reach that. That is my motivation, to reach that. If I would be a saboteur I would have already tried to kill you. A very important person of the coalition would worth more than a single pilot in the eyes of our enemy, so I would sacrifice my life to try to kill you. Yet, I'm still here and although I have a sidearm, I didn't even think to take it out, and send a bullet to your head. Or I should have just send a rocket in the cargo bay. A zoner? Why would a zoner even want to come here. They're doing well in their outer systems growing plants. I'm here to fight! And if you give me a vessel that is able to fly and shot, I'll pilot it until I am able to do so.

---

Research is to see what everybody else has seen, and to think what nobody else has thought.

[Shryke]

"Yes, you did bring a gun. But when you passed through security your gun was disabled. Fancy stuff, some of these latest adhesives. By now that weapon of yours is nothing but a club. Did you really think we would let you walk around armed? But no matter."

Koniev pulled out Dmitriy's dossier from the pile on his desk. He opened it, and skimmed through the pages before tossing it at his feet.

"I'm going to wager you don't survive Fighter Corps training. Prove me wrong, and I'll kill you anyway for making me lose my money. Fill out the bureaucratic crap and give it to Alicia."

He leaned over to his intercomm.

"Alicia, have our marines escort the rest of the applicants to the other waiting room."

After a minute of no response, the secretary responded.

"It has been done, comrade commissar."

The other waiting room was actually the nearest airlock. As Koniev lit up yet another cigarette, he felt the ship shudder slightly as the ship's gunners vaporized the frozen corpses.

// Recruitment is closed for the time being. All that are waiting, we're sorry we couldn't get to you but all of the available slots have been filled. You may re-apply once recruitment opens again.

---

[arvg]

The wind-blown snowdrifts swept as far as the eye could see across an ancient ocean, long vanished into an age of memory. The snow drifted as the cold wind stirred it up, swirling it around in a brief flurry before setting down to form a new pattern in the snowdrifts. It was a world that lay in a long forgotten corner of Sirius, ceasing to exist as a functioning participant of the galaxy when a shift of its axis plunged it into perpetual winter. The Great Wars had passed that planet by, leaving it untouched, as had all the wars before.

A shadow descended out of the heat-less sun, the Coalition Storm switching to its turbine engines and skimming low over the drifts. It stirred up clouds of snow in its wake as it sped towards its destination laying upon the horizon, a massive structure of steel girders rising out of the plains of snow like a stricken claw gripping upwards towards the heavens.

The Storm swooped closer to the ground, drawing attention from a herd of shaggy haired creatures that migrated southwards. Some of the beasts turned their great heads and stared up at the strange bird-like vehicle as it shot overhead. It was an unusual sight to them unaccustomed as they were to anything in the pale grey sky but clouds.

The icy fortress drew closer as the small craft angled itself for a final approach. Curling about the great guard spires, it arced up to hover above the broad landing platform. Its wings folding, the Storm touched down with a whine of its VTOL engines that reverberated throughout the structure, brilliant floodlights illuminating the area as the Raptor’s boarding ramp descended.

Coalition Troops spilled out onto the long abandoned docking platform, moving to secure sentry guns, and reinforce the structure for what was to come. Each of the conscripts taking up sentry posts, high above the snowy drifts.

A pair of VT-COSSAK war bots clanked down the ramp next, flanking the thin form of the Coalition Premier himself.

Alvin Katz had come to the end of nowhere, personally, to deal with the recruitment.

The inside of the fortress was barren, great gears and shattered rafters overhead, and a single beam of light flooding down from a shattered tower high above. And there, in the center, a table was dragged. Behind it a Coalition flag was nailed to a pillar.

Walking around the dusty table, the Premier shrugged off his heavy greatcoat, watching as the two warbots took station at either side of the vaulted doors, pan-loaded assault weapons at the ready.

Katz slowly rolled up his sleeves, noting that it was still cold in the room, but a few years on Volgograd soon taught a man to deal with a little cold, and the room had nothing on a Coalition night.

Over by the door, Alicia had set up her own desk. A people's Commissar, and a veteran of many such recruitments, she knew exactly what was required of her, a worn wooden desk, a rugged lap top and a fresh pot of coffee, and the place was already starting to feel like home.

"Comrade Premier," she announced, "the men report that the coded transmitter is up and running. We should have applicants soon."

Katz lit a cigarette as he stood behind the table, rolling the smoke around his mouth a little before exhaling.

"Good Alicia, let's see how they deal with me directly..." he smiled as he drew the .60 assault pistol from his shoulder holster and tossed it down on the table. "I think the last few batches have had it too easy. I want to see, for myself what kind of men choose the Coalition."


RECRUITMENT RULES

---

[Commissar]

Nikolai Kasheyev shivered, the freezing gale of the planet cutting their way through even his over coat. He swore, the sound snatched away from his lips by the wind, steadying his heavy assault rifle against the waist-high wall of the guard post. The rifle made no protests. Despite the cold, Kasheyev had no doubt that the battered weapon would fire, were it needed. Not that such a scenario was likely, this far out. The Conscript did not know their exact location, nor did he have any great desire to discover it. What use was a secret, once it was known to all? He had his task, and that would have to be enough, much as his heart may rumble its discontent.

The technology of the Coalition was functional, if not exactly user-friendly. The Storm on the pad below him was testament to that particular fact, as was one of many relays to his rear. With it, he could communicate with any of the other guard teams. Improbable as such a need was, it was only through preparedness that it was so. The simplest failure here could have drastic consequences.

Thus, his annoyance. He threw another damp cigarette to the ground, watching as the wind carried it into a nearby snow drift. He was capable of more. He could do more. All had their role to play in the Coalition and Kasheyev stoically refused to believe that his was that of a simple rifleman. That the Premier felt the need to look for foreigners to fill the ranks of the Fighter Corps irritated him, though to express such a view would have been unwise, to say the least. No, instead, he was to sit outside watching the local wildlife for threats of assassination. Unless the closest one had bomb hidden beneath its fur, it appeared the Premier's life was safe.

Nikolai's post was closer then he would have normally liked, the Gunboat obscuring much of his field of vision. Close enough to see the Premier disappear into the cavernous structure, clanking war-bots leaving identical trails on either side.

Perhaps this would be his chance.

Seizing on the impulse, the soldier pulled himself from the wall, handing his rifle to the man behind him. A few words, muffled through their winter gear, and irritated motions toward his fly were enough to secure his passage to the structure's main door. Steadying his grip on the gate, lest he slip on the compressed snow left by the droids, Nikolai hauled the door open.

There was the softest of hums as the war bots turned to face him, weapons raised menacingly. The man froze, halfway through the doorway. Of course, freezing would do little to stop the hail of lead no doubt headed in his direction. Slowly, he raised his hands, allowing the metallic door to swing back into place with a final-sounding 'thud'.

He simply stood stock still, feet parted, as if on the drill square.

Somehow, the Conscript could swear he smelt coffee. Alicia, waiting at the nearby desk, observed his situation impassively, her fingers dancing across laptop keys as if he wasn't there. Something about her manner prevented Nikolai from attempting to draw her attention. In his experience, the notice of a Commissar, female or not, was rarely something to be sought. No, he would speak only when spoken to.

---

May you live in interesting times.
| Sarah McFarlen | Jane Hartman |

[Tutashkhia]

Greetings to all Coalition Leaders/Members.

Aleksandr Kurcov, is the son of 2 ex Reinland military pilots who had managed to migrate to the Liberty systems, through bribes, favours and string pulling did they manage to get to Planet Manhatten in Libery. It was here, they lived in Georgia, and soon had their baby boy. Both being Military trained pilots, it was soon obvious that their son would inherit the same amount of skills if not more then his parants, and so as soon as he came of age, he was put in for his pilots training and license in order to fly. It became very clear very quickly that his skills would become desireable, surpassing his instructors remarkably quickly.

Soon he was noticed by the Forces of liberty, both the Navy and the Police were eager to have the young ace sign up. However by this time the war between liberty and Reinland had escalated to its current status, and so Alek had no intention of joining with the Armed forces of those who would see harm to his home land, however, he didnt take his frustration out on the liberty forces either, and remained a neutral Freelancer.

It was during his time freelancing, that he caught wind of the rumors surrounding the coalition, unlike other citizens, who were digusted, fearful or otherwise dismissive of the coalition, the rumors intrigued Alek, the wars all the houses seem to be having with one another seemed crazy to him, he knew joining an army would only serve to cause blood shed, but something about the coalition seemed to speak to him, as if they had the right idea, the right goals, to unite all the sectors together. This spark on its own was enough for him, now aged 19, he leaves the boarders of Liberty, finding all the information he can on the coalition and their ideals, certain they are the ones who will stop the wars that plagued his homeland, that were the very reason he had to be raised away from it all. If anyone was going to make use of his supposed disireable Skills, it would be the coalition. After pulling his own strings and Favours, Alek found the way to contact them, and apply himself to the Coalition Forces.

---

Tutashkhia Reports