((Ahh, I see. So I'm like something of a sergeant or something pretty low down in the command chain. I was kinda expecting that since I'm a face of the unchained that I would have a bit of a rank but I was thinking that Captain is a bit high up for a new player to start as, but this makes sense now, thanks.))
((Yeah, you're somewhere between corporal and sergeant. The marshal is roughly equivalent to a technocrat lieutenant. Major Caine, being ex-military, is actually equivalent to a major. However, since most of the praetors are dead, (colonel ranks) Major Caine has a higher effective rank. The highest left in your splinter of the Unchained that fled from the prison))
"So... Taric made you guys?" Dom asked, confused. "And I still don't know what's going to happen if I touch it. I mean, I've seen enough fucked up shit here between that weird shit that got on us, the ants, and those yellow leeches those people in New Hensfield were wearing like they were going out of style or something." She looked at the blue chitin with an unsure expression. Would it really harm her? That was the thing now, wasn't it? She had told Sizier earlier he was probably the only person she could trust, but could she really? Out here, in the depths of space and away from civilization, the only person she could truly trust was herself. Right?
...Fuck it. I go down that road, I'm going to be walking it by myself. I'd rather trust and be betrayed than be alone again. She sighed and took the chitin. "...Sorry. I appreciate the thought." She checked on the armor, and put it back on since it looked ready. "So... you know about this thing?" she asked the Immortal, jerking a thumb at the repair baths.
You take the small nodule of chitin. It's slightly warm to the touch, but it seems to have no other particular properties. The immortal nods to the bath after you accept the nodule. "Model twenty-four Repair and Reclamation Sink. I could tell you more, but there is really no point in knowing it. I don't know why I was made to." The immortal shrugs, picking up a suit of medium combat armor off one the armory's racks and buckling it on. "It is, however, interesting. Almost magic, if I could forget that we know why and how." The immortal gives you an eyeless look, then almost bows. "I do not know if we will speak again, Dominique Wakeman. We are all grateful that I have been able to thank you."
The armored immortal leaves the armory as enigmatically as it entered, leaving you wondering what the hell it was talking about.
"I say we take cover first sir. We're pretty open here, and they've a marksman in their team-someone who I'm sure did in this wound here. We need physical and probably mental cover barring any other..erm, telepaths around.
"Also I got the impression that the hit would've either announced our position in the smoke, or announced the confirmation of still-present-hostiles--I didn't see the man go down, but I assume he just shrugged it off or...They're either going to be cautious, or they'll just issue a wipe-out order."
The Marshall smiles. "Son, I'm fine with them knowing where we are, makes it a lot less legwork for us. Want to know what makes a Technocrat a Technocrat? Arrogance. Despite the fact that they just lost their goddamn gunship, they're going to charge us down. The Technocracy hasn't fought anyone they couldn't roll over in centuries. We've been doing it all our lives. They come to us, and we'll burn them down. As for cover, we've got part of a building. They won't have jack that isn't on fire if they get close enough to do anything but snipe, and they will try and get that close."
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Topic: Deviation-22. The End of All Things. (Read 536987 times)