Trotsky Huaing Backstory

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>Access Interview File Designation "Horseshoe"
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>Access Interview Designation "Mercenary"
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>>Commencing Playback of Audio Interview File Designation Horseshoe/Mercenary
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*There is some muttering, indistinct.  Suddenly, a man with the heavy accent of one more used to speaking Russian than English can be heard.*

	"You want know why I am having interest in the mercenary work?  A good question, I suppose, but will need long answer.  It began several years ago.  We lived out in woods, far from any real settlement.  Out in Boonies, is I believe English term.  I live with Father.  Mother died when giving birth to me.  Sad, but it happens.  We were asleep when bandits come.  They capture us, tie us up and throw us in shed while ransack house.  They say they will kill us later.  Father, though, he is Capellan Special Forces.  He cut ropes with hidden knife and tell me to run.  We start running, but bandits see us.  They start shooting.  Bullets, everywhere, whizzing past us.  Father is struck in head, but Bandits cannot hit me-they were too drunk, or perhaps just bad shots.  But I, I am good runner.  I run like wind, and climb cliff.  They cannot find me, so they leave.  It is then that I realize: I loved it.  That feeling of being alive after facing down death.  The rush, is amazing.  Father spoke of it to me before, but now I feel it, like lighting flowing through blood.  I remember that feeling.  I have spent rest of life chasing it."

	"Of course, I cannot live alone.  I make it to house several miles away.  They took me in, for Father was local hero for time spent in military.  I study hard, very hard, and make it through high school with offers of money for university, but life behind desk or in lab not for me.  Instead, I enlist.  I go to Capella War College, and take advanced training for to be Mechwarrior.  I do well, and am finally deployed.  Finally, I think, I will experience what it is to truly live again.  I will bet life on skill and metal."

	"Nothing happened, of course.  Is routine deployment.  I arrive.  I sleep. I eat. I patrol-so many patrol.  Boring!  Still, I do my best.  I trust that I will next be deployed to battle.  But no!  I am released from service, and offered desk job!  So I leave.  I come here.  I will lay my life on the line for money, if not my nation.  And I will feel that thrill again."