Frontier Blues (Lego)

[Lieutenant Sarcasm]

"Remember, if anyone offers you a Paradiso Rum, shoot 'em dead on the spot, it's poisoned. And don't let nobody trick you into accepting Karakosov Rubles, the Karakosov Central Bank went under six standard months ago, they're worthless."

Funny thing, how making faster than light travel so inexpensive that just about anyone can pack their hopes and belonging into a ship and head out lookin' for a claim makes for some fairly wild interstellar territory. You don't know what the feds expected with such a liberal approach to claim-staking laws, but here we are. By the time they pulled in the reigns, the inner colonies were all they could properly exercise their authority over. The Frontier proper ain't got no laws but the ones you make yourself, usually at the grip-end of a gun.

You figure that sounds just fine, compared to what you got. You were getting sick of this cabbage patch your folks called a claim, and the dust storms are a bitch on the sinuses. But now, you've got yourself a ship.

-

You fill out the form they gave you at the desk near the entrance.

Name:
Age:
Gender:

Height:
Weight:
Eye Color:
Hair Color:

You follow the instructions on the little device stuck to the corner of the paper, and it prints off a picture of you into the rectangle it was covering up.

Appearance:

There's a bloc of questions, employment, criminal record, next of kin, things of that nature.

Biography:

You sign and date near the bottom, clicking the pen.

[Deleted]

You fill out the form they gave you at the desk near the entrance.

Name: Qiang Gao
Age: 28
Gender: Male

Height: 5'6
Weight: 164
Eye Color: Grey
Hair Color: Black

You follow the instructions on the little device stuck to the corner of the paper, and it prints off a picture of you into the rectangle it was covering up.

Appearance: Qiang is short and thin, with only a moderate amount in the way of muscle, but he can sure run with the best of 'em, namely when anyone draws a gun. He dresses himself in the finest baggy brown button up he could get his hands on, and wears a pair of old tan slacks. Being so thin, and wearing primarily whatever he could fish out of his closet before leaving, most of the cloths he does wear are somewhat saggy, and are only held up (and down) by his fathers prized belt, the one father "lost" a few days before Qiang left. His hair is slick, sleek, short and as well-kept as the situation will allow. His face is very standard of an Asian, with no noticeable blemishes or deformities, and a very light, chicken scratch mustache. His eyes are a green color.

There's a bloc of questions, employment, criminal record, next of kin, things of that nature.

Biography:
Employment: Used to deliver packages, now I’m doing this.
Criminal record: Few times for petty theft, couple for breaking and entering, one for aggravated assault. Won’t happen on the job, I swear
Next of kin: Mother, father, sister. If I die, send all my shit to my sister, Juan.
Educational history: Dad taught me how to fire a gun and repair a ship. Mom taught me how to do everything else.
Full record of past employment: Delivered packages, fixed some things, did odd jobs.
Have you ever committed a felony? If yes, please describe below.
Shit man, this asshole was calling my sister a whore and I didn’t much appreciate it. So, I walked up to the fucker and told him to piss off. He just pushed me down, so I grabbed one of his beer bottles and smashed it in his bastard face when he bent down to laugh at me. Then I grabbed the knife he had on his belt and started stabbing him with it. Some other assholes came along and wheeled me off before I could kill him. He lived, but he sure didn’t fuck with me ever again.

[Lieutenant Sarcasm]

After a short wait, you're called up to one of the booths, where a clerical synthetic takes your papers, its single 'eye' brightening for a moment as it inspects the forms, before dulling again.

God, even the robots look bored around here.

A new sheet of paper slides out of a boxy device off to the side, which the synthetic hands to you.

It contains some statistical information about the ship you're inheriting.

FTLV-SN-1279536 "The-"... something vulgar, lets leave it at that. There's a blank space for you to change the ship's registered name.

Ship name:

[Deleted]

"Well ain't that a classy name..."

Qiang rubs the beard that he doesn't have as he attempts to think of a name. After a bit, an idea seems to come to him, and he writes something down on the dotted line.

Ship name: Zhenyuan

[Lieutenant Sarcasm]

The synthetic retrieves the forms and begins feeding them into a slat in part of the machinery around him. At the bottom of the booth, there's a buzz as a small slip of paper snakes out of an opening. It's dated at the top, with "HANGAR 114" printed prominently in the center, above a barcode. An arrow pointed to your left begins blinking, ushering you towards the exit.

[Deleted]

Qiang follows obediently, muttering something about whoever named the ship originally being a bastard of some sort as he goes along