The estimated time of delivery is 30-50 years, and the cost is...wow thats a lot of zeros. Maybe you should just ask the armory master. She seems willing to give anyone anything they want...to a degree.
((Good idea. I shall do just that.))
Clothe myself, then stroll over to the Armoury.
"Excuse me, miss, but would it be at all possible for me to quickly re-enter stasis sleep for, say, thirty to fifty years?"
Ask that. Deadpan.
"Yes."
She points her finger at you like a gun and pantomimes recoil while saying "Bang." Everything goes black.
Of the ships remaining, is there one still in good view of the man-cannon? If yes, aim gauss cannon with sod boarding pods at that ship.
(Gonna launch remaining teams next turn, so people can request backup if they need it instead of taking an extra ship.)
Just a heads up, there's always the chance that one of these shells might hit a team already in there. Thats a possibility. Also, hitting one of those ships is gonna be a bit harder now that they've pulled back, so there's a higher chance of failure.
Failure in the sense that someone falling off a 12 story building and landing head first on an upturned crowbar.
So...I dunno bro, you still wanna do it? Because there's always the chance you might hit some team. I dunno bro. You want their hypothetical blood on your big synthy hands.
Yep, deciding to sleep with a magister's daughter was one of the stupidist idea's I have had. After shaking his head at this self realisation/confirmation, Vincent walks up to the woman at the kiosk and asks "Where am I? What is this place?"
"A space ship." The woman says. "Hey, would you do me a favor and drag that to the stasis pods in the barracks?" She points to a seemingly dead man laying on the ground.
Well apparently this is happening.
Hmm..
Become a NPC.
It should be better than 'just idle around braindead.'
Understood.
So this is where my character sheet was supposed to go.
Name: Jason Caldwell
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Appearance: He stands at 6 feet in height, with fair skin and a lean frame. He has brown hair and eyes, and a scraggly, brown beard. His default expression is one of determination, although what he is determined to do is anyone’s guess.
Personal information: Jason had a rather normal life growing up. He never did anything extraordinary or had anything extraordinary happen to him, but he always had a desire to see other places and adventure. When he turned 18, he thought that joining a group of mercenaries would be a good way to travel. Luckily, this life choice was not too bad for him, and he managed to get through the next seven years without any serious incident or injury. However, after seven years he managed to make a mistake that changed his life. While drinking with some of his buddies at a bar, he managed to get into a fist-fight with some arrogant punk. He was too drunk to remember anything that was said, but he remembered breaking the guy’s nose and being in jail before he had even sobered up. How was he supposed to know that the punk he fought was a Magister’s son? Well, that little mistake landed him a forced deployment to the HMRC. Or what was once the HMRC, anyways.
Reason assigned to HMRC: Assault Attempted Murder, apparently
Stats
Strength: 3
Dexterity: 3
Endurance: 3
Charisma: 3
Intelligence: 3
Willpower: 5
Skills
Speech: 0
Intuition: 1
Handiwork: 1
Conventional Weapons: 0
Unconventional Weapons: 0
Exotic weapons: 1
Auxiliary systems: 1
Medical tech:1
Profession: Mercenary (+1 to intuition and exotic weapons, -1 to medical tech and handiwork)
As for my first action:
Get some clothes on. Because walking around a strange ship nude, while liberating, is also cold.
Wander around and find the shadiest looking person, then ask what they are selling. Because shady people always sell the best stuff.
You get yourself dressed in the nice gray uniforms available to you and then go talk to the shady looking guy hanging out near a big pair of blast doors. You ask what he's selling.
"Alien shit. Prototypes. Artifacts. Whatevers you wants. Small containers are 3. Medium are 5. Large are 8."
Ohhh, my head. What was that?.. A rather nasty concussion, I guess.
Steve, how has the ground battle has fared? It appears as though it's over. Are any of your defensive installations in need of immediate repairs? What about the wounded?
Ask Steve. Wander through the halls of the Sword towards my footlocker and regain my posessions. Check if the suit have been punctured or damaged.
>Everything is fine for now. Things went pretty well. You get your stuff back out of the locker. It all seems perfectly intact and not smashed to shit or punctured or anything. Well, that's helpful.