Post by Bowhead on Jan 27, 2015 18:29:08 GMT
Seated firmly in a colossal throne, various weapons and trophies of war lining the metal walls of the planetary fortress, the machine idly stared at a computer terminal before it. Upon the screen appeared to be job listings, all having in common a request for firepower. As he considered his choices, the digitized intelligence occasionally summoned a smaller, holographic screen displaying nearby traffic leaving the Sol System to ensure none came too close for comfort... the anti-titan batteries outside the base loaded and ready to fire on a moment's notice. Any unauthorized vessels that drew too close would find a rather large laser flying by their vessel as a form of warning, at least he was classy enough to not just begin with trying to kill an intruder.
"Hmm... why is it none of them are willing to supply a ship with a large cargo bay? It's not like I'm asking for much... and I can bring more than enough military might to bear to repay the kindness." He wondered aloud to himself on the desolate dwarf planet's binary moon, the extremely thin atmosphere provided by his exhaust to the moon ensuring his voice did not travel more than a few meters. "Actually, let's just put up a seeking notice... here we go. Single blue cyborg looking for combat job, has own guns. Employer must provide ship with at least ten by ten meter cargo bay and pilot. Contract must include repayment for spent ammunition and fuel in addition to promised pay. Payment is to be given as one quarter of the total ammount on arrival at least, with the rest being issued after contract is completed. There, posted. Now we wait..." He grumbled, putting up the application as well as his several hundred-page long resumé to the galactic extranet, as well as an extra note "'Exotic Dancer' does not count as a combat job, those that attempt to hire me for that purpose will be, summarily, shot.".
"Hmm... why is it none of them are willing to supply a ship with a large cargo bay? It's not like I'm asking for much... and I can bring more than enough military might to bear to repay the kindness." He wondered aloud to himself on the desolate dwarf planet's binary moon, the extremely thin atmosphere provided by his exhaust to the moon ensuring his voice did not travel more than a few meters. "Actually, let's just put up a seeking notice... here we go. Single blue cyborg looking for combat job, has own guns. Employer must provide ship with at least ten by ten meter cargo bay and pilot. Contract must include repayment for spent ammunition and fuel in addition to promised pay. Payment is to be given as one quarter of the total ammount on arrival at least, with the rest being issued after contract is completed. There, posted. Now we wait..." He grumbled, putting up the application as well as his several hundred-page long resumé to the galactic extranet, as well as an extra note "'Exotic Dancer' does not count as a combat job, those that attempt to hire me for that purpose will be, summarily, shot.".