Holy shit that's a lot of pages m8, at that point wouldn't making it a single PDF make more sense?
>Employer: No gods, no masters
Only man.
>Submission Method: Chemical
I just need them compliant and obedient, no need for any more force or variables that strictly necessary
>Origin: Imperial Deserters
My subordinate officers, senior NCOs, and other ranks came with me when it became clear we were going to be sacrificed for some generals ego. Now, however, for half the work of a soldier they can live like kings. If that's not a great deal I don't know what it.
<Military: 25pts
<Veterans: 5 pts (1/2 price from origins)
<Vat Born x2: 20pts
Of course the old unit can put down their managerial roles and slide back into the body armour when things get rough - but it's so much more efficient and comfortable to just keep the clone banks and vita wombs running and replace the losses as needed. It's not like the Vat-brats are actual people or anything.
>Ship: Imperial Transport
When we decided to cut and run we took possession of the closest ship to hand. She's not the shiniest, best decorated, fastest, or best defended ship in the void but she gets the job done very well indeed. Being a common enough design to not attract attention has saved my hide more times than I care to mention as well.
>Port: Space Station
We heard the distress call pretty soon after we made it out of the warzone. Some kind of trouble with the cogitators, I'm not a tech-adept so don't ask me what sort. We weren't fast enough to make it there in time to help, and we only meant to pick the bones anyway. What we found was a perfectly set up base of operations for our new business. It must have been some kind of illegal research station, it was stocked with the clone rigs and drug production facilities we've come to rely on and something … else.
>Lieutenant: The AI, The Veteran.
So, yeah, at the bottom of our shiny new space station was a cogitator deck. Perfectly normal, you need a fair amount of number crunching to keep one of these things operational. All perfectly standard except for the single stack at the centre of the deck, with all the others arranged around it in perfectly straight radial arms spreading out from it. The central stack was almost impossibly small, and sleek, like a thin shard of perfectly chromed steel, barely half the height of a man, with the towering blocks of wire, cable, and other materials spread out around it. Once I touched it a thousand lights flickered on over its surface and it started speaking. It seems pretty helpful, and it can't be too dangerous, I mean it's just a machine, right? Even if the machine does scare me sometimes I know I can always trust Sarge (I think that might actually be his legal name), he's been with me since I left the Academy and the old bastard always knows what to do when things go south. He's seen more shit than most Space Marines, and I couldn't ask for a better NCO.
>Crew: AI
So after we'd come to terms with the fact that a cogitator could think it tells us that it can do most of the work on our ship too, if we install a few cogitators where and how it told us. That was an absolute blessing to be honest. We'd been running the ship with the most skeletal of skeleton crews (and none of us navy men of course) so just being able to sit in the command throne and tell the ship to do something is a wonder. I could pilot that ship by myself now and better than most cargo crews you'll come across.