"On average, you'll find that 70-80% of all people approaching a ground zero invasion will survive the first 24 hours. If there are clear escape routes and medical assistance, as well as timely intervention by the military and local warriors, this The numbers will remain roughly the same over the next 24 to 72 hours.* This simply emphasizes the rapid intervention plan.
Troops and medical professionals who can act quickly, and the facilities to move all those people to safer locations.
Of course, all this and more is what we offer. "
*All statistics verified by the North American federal government!
--AdamsCo
p Conduct sales pitches to every major metropolitan area in North America.
***
I left the worm alone.
If I'd been given a few minutes, I might have been able to think of some way to throw it out the window or crash it to death, but Mialis was right, I didn't have time. Maybe, just maybe soon, I'll be one of the Destroyer Samurai, but that's not the case right now, so I'll just suck it up and deal with it.
Returning to the corridor I had just passed, I slipped through the door and walked down another drab gray passage. Several doors open along its sides to reveal a lounge and cleaning room, where a sweeping robot hangs for charging.
No aliens, except for a few things that had been thrown to the floor and left there, I stepped over an abandoned wallet and resisted the urge to look through it.
Then I found the door to the stairwell, with its red light glowing on it.
Through the safety glass, I saw nothing.
"So," I asked into the empty air. "Well, that samurai, the one we saw deep in the city. They were flying."
This looks like a Level III antigravity system coupled with a Level II ion thruster system. I'm afraid both of these things are far beyond your current ability to bear. ha.
"But I can get it, right?" I asked.
certainly. I should explain how the level system works at some point though.
“There’s no better time than now,” I said, pushing open the door and looking around.
as you wish. Most early category (i.e., Category I) catalogs offer simple items. Most of them are well within the capabilities of the humanities, given enough incentive and time. Class II materials and equipment are beyond human production capabilities and will remain that way for some time. Level III and above require significant investment in time and research to achieve, and will be nearly impossible for humans to achieve within thousands of years.
"But you have them," I pointed out.
When humans were still banging rocks together to start the first fires, the Protectors nominally controlled two percent of the galaxy's star systems. We have made contact with dozens of species and formed an interplanetary pact that continues to this day.
That's...a lot? perhaps? I've never been good with numbers like that. “Keep bragging, why not,” I said.
I can, my current mission is to educate you on how I can provide you with equipment. Level IV and above will be very difficult for you to obtain for a long time and I think it is necessary to ignore these for now. Most second level courses are simply evolutions of the primary courses. Your Class I practice can become a Class II practice with a one-time payment of 500 points.
"Five hundred?" I whispered.
Level III requires the purchase of certain previous levels to unlock. For example, if you wish to obtain a Tier III electromagnetic anti-ship weapon, then you will need to unlock at least three Tier II in the relevant subject.
"You're starting to sound like some kind of gacha," I said. "What are you going to tell me next about finance and special currencies?"
No. Progress is not linear. Level 3 anti-ship weapons may destroy the earth's ecology. Based on the extent of its unimaginable damage, a high price tag would be wise.
"Can Level 4 blow up the moon?" I said sharply.
Yes.
I walked down one step and stopped. "What?"
The creak of a door opening below made me move forward, trench machine guns rising towards the sound, although I couldn't see the door clearly from where I stood.
"If you are not an alien, just call twice." Someone said below.
I snorted involuntarily. "Woof woof." I said expressionlessly.
"Oh, thank fuck. Come on. We're going to seal this door," the voice said.
I let go of the pistol and stomped down the stairs until I reached the bottom of the stairwell and saw a guy in his twenties holding the door open.
"Are you one of the kids upstairs?" he asked.
"Yes" I said. I looked past him and saw another drab corridor, this one seemed much shorter. "Are there any of your people left?"
He grinned. "It's just me," he said. "I'm Brand. Yeah, a bunch of us are hiding in the parking lot. Come on, we're going to seal this corridor before the aliens arrive."
"Do you have a leader?" I asked.
As soon as I passed he shrugged and closed the door behind me. "What do you think we are, some weird parking lot kingdom? No, we have people on almost every floor. The vaults are full of all kinds of corpses, so we're all here."
I nodded too. I don’t have to carry so much responsibility.
Brand leads me down a hallway into a two-story parking lot, where hover cars park in berths above and below us, and the far wall is covered with heavy steel shutters. Several hover bikes were thrown together, forming a barricade across the room, with a few wide-eyed mall cops and old men standing behind them.
There were two more armed groups deeper in the area, and many people gathered around them.
Brand pointed to the end of the room, where a group of children were. "You might want to go down there. Ah, give your gun to a security officer. They're collecting any weapons they can get their hands on right now.
"So, is anyone responsible?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Kind of, but not really. Things aren't that organized yet."
I frowned, sincerely hoping that the burden would not fall on my shoulders as much as possible. "great."
