‘Gaffer tape. I swear’.
‘Bear In mind that I’ve boarded a goddamn-fucking-interstellar star cruiser, that basically rips a hole in the fabric of space time, to get here’.
‘I notice it straight outta the drop. All of em got a roll hanging of their webbing. Even the Captain. “What’s that for I?” ask the Sarge. “Your suit,” he says.
‘That’s not even the best bit. It was some inventory error. Ten thousand rolls of the shit got sent out here. Bear in mind the cost per kilo to move junk through space and that this is the frontier right here.’
‘So we’re grunts, we’re marines, we’re in the arse end of space – we improvise, Brass gets wind and they say don’t bother making a new order until its gone.’
‘So that is why when my three-quarters of a mil, state of the art, combat enhanced space suit gets a hole in it I plug it with gaffer tape.’