The Jester's loading bay was suffused with the echoing of murmured conversation from the two dozen or so people gathering there. Cameron and Gandu were looking for new crew to make up for some recent personnel losses, and he could tell that the next few minutes were going to be interesting, if nothing else. When there didn't seem to be any more stragglers coming in, the bay had a motley collection of some 27 men and women, ranging from what appeared to be late adolescence to one senior citizen. There was one who had the hardened look of a long-service Able Spacer, and three more who clearly knew the score, and had packed to move on a moment's notice; oddly, the teenage looking male was one of the latter, and he didn't seem inclined to gape like a hayseed dirtsider. That still left more than twenty who obviously had no place onboard a working ship like the Jester, but one never knew, after all, Rollie had come on board as unskilled labor fifteen years ago, and was now his bosun.
The chatter died way as Cameron stepped forward to address the group, and he took the opportunity, as the various conversations stopped, to put his thoughts in order before speaking.
"My name - as most of you may have guessed - is Captain Cameron Marshall. First off, I want to thank you all for coming, and apologize for not being able to meet each of you individually. Normally that would be the case, but my timetable is extremely short, and there just isn't time." He said, and began to pace up and down the ragged line of applicants scrutinizing each one, and continued speaking. "The Jester will be departing in 25 hours, if any of you cannot make that, then I wish you well, and suggest you be on your way. We will be en route to Minotaur, Vulcanfall, and then outward to one other system. Any questions?"
Two hands went up, one belonging to the able spacer, and the other to the gray haired man, who looked like a retiree. He nodded to the hard looking spacer. "Go ahead. Name?"
"Able Spacer, Rebecca N. Hicks, Captain. Can you be more specific about what 'outward' direction the ship will take, and will gear maintenance be covered in our contract, or out of pocket?" She inquired, a bit defensively.
The questions confirmed his opinion that she was a professional, and hoped that she would be willing to come aboard as a member of the crew. Her desire to know where they were headed after Vulcanfall was a natural one for an experienced spacer, since only the terminally foolish, extremely stupid, or wildly suicidal would sign on to a ship without knowing where it was headed. The second of her concerns was equally telling, and he suspected that the large, wheeled case she had brought with her contained her own personal, custom fitted, spacesuit. Like most ships, the Jester had remotely controlled mechs for making repairs to the exterior of the ship, but even the best remotes occasionally ran into something outside of their program's parameters, and when that happened, someone had go for a spacewalk. He stopped pacing to address her directly.
"Our final destination is something I'd like to keep confidential at this time, but I'll guarantee your contact as far as Vulcanfall, without penalty if you decide not to go any further. As far as gear goes, it depends on what I'm going to be expected to maintain." He explained, chucking his chin in the direction of her travel case expectantly.
"My personal rig is a Baccardax PA-2B ultralight exo, with an upgraded flight management suite, designed to link through the suit's internal electronics to my cranial interfaces." She explained.
Her description of her exo was the last thing he needed to prove that she was as professional as they came. Baccardax Machine Technologies was one of the largest manufacturers of high end mechanical products; from small, internal combustion engines to massive, station defense railguns. They also made a line of extremely light, powered, exoskeletal spacesuits. A Baccardax exo wasn't a spur of the moment purchase, and their baseline price made them a serious investment, but factory customization cost a small fortune. She clearly knew her business, and wasn't afraid to show it.
"Okay, Hicks, I'm impressed. You're also in luck; another member of my crew has a PA-2M, so I have a maintenance mech with the programming to keep your rig up and running. Do you want in?" He asked, smiling at the look on her face. She was clearly surprised to find out that another member of the ship's crew had a PA-2, and a military grade 'M' type, at that.
"I'm in, pending a full reading of a contract of employment, of course." She declared, quickly.
"Of course." He echoed. "See my XO, over there, for your billeting information." He gestured with his thumb at Gandu, who had hung back, giving his Captain room to work.
She didn't waste a second, grabbed her travel case's handle and stepped out of the lineup, case rolling along behind. Cameron turned his attention to the old man who apparently also had a question.
"What's your name, mister?" He asked, hoping that the man wasn't particularly long-winded.
"Beavis Gohmert, Cap'n. I's wondrin' if y'alls gonna be flyin' tuh Jefferson soon, on account ah it's where ah lives, like?" He asked, with a thick Jefferson accent.
Cameron had a lot of experience in keeping a poker face, but the man's accent was incredibly thick, and he desperately hoped that he wasn't going to say something rude. The Jefferson Republic was not on his list of favourite places to visit, unless there was a heavy profit margin involved. He decided that the best option was to be honest with the man.
"Well, Mr Gohmert, I have no intention of going to Jefferson anytime soon, but there's always ships coming and going, and one of them is sure to be going your way." He told him, in a compassionate tone. "Perhaps you'll have better luck elsewhere."
He was more than slightly relieved when Gohmert took his duffle in hand and wandered off towards the airlock to the station, allowing Cameron to get back to the task at hand. He made a quick decision to accelerate the selection process, and the best way to do so was to weed out the least desirable candidates.
"Anyone else have a question? No? Alright then. If any of you have an Able Spacer's certificate then please take a step back." The line was reduced by three.
"Okay, anyone with experience as a sick bay attendant, engineering specialist, or a comms tech, take a step back." Two more gaps opened up.
The last spot he needed to find someone for was the hardest, and there was little hope that any of the people here would have the skills he needed. He was going to roll the dice anyway.
"Anyone with up to date cyber security training?" He asked, not really expecting a response.
Which made the one who put his hand up all the more surprising. The kid who had walked in wasn't much to look at, but he'd seen worse, and he had his hand in the air. He didn't quite know what to make of the young man in front of him; his limp hair and fair skin were covering a very thin frame. Cameron figured that he'd give him a chance to prove himself before dismissing him out of hand, and asked: "What's your name, son?"
"Otto Dix, sir." He answered, simply.
"Well, Dix, you're going to get a chance to impress me soon enough." Cameron told him, then turned to address the remaining members of the group. "Everyone still out front: I appreciate you coming on such short notice, and if you will see my executive officer on your way out, he will provide you with compensation for your time."
He waited until the small crowd had been dealt with, before he turned back to the applicants who had passed the first cut. Hicks had been given a copy of a standard employment contract, with a few spot modifications by his XO to allow for her gear's maintenance, and given access to the crew lounge to read it in more comfortable surroundings than the loading bay. She had taken her suitcase with her, and he hoped it was because she was planning on staying; if he had to make concessions, he had some room to negotiate, but his people got better than average pay and bonuses, so he felt that it probably wouldn't be necessary. The last unwanted applicant having been paid off, Cameron turned back to the remaining six, regarding them rather more sternly than before.
"Those of you with Able Spacer certification should see the XO, you'll be given a standard contract to review; if you don't like it, then the most I'll say is 'sorry, and good day', and that'll be the end of it." He paused to give them time to grab their gear and see Gandu, before turning to the final two. "So, both of you indicated that you're specialists, what're your names?"
"I am Shashwat Bhavsar, Captain. An engineering technician by training, I am cross trained in life support systems maintenance as well." Said the first, in a voice with only the faintest trace of an East Indian accent.
"I'm Carla Ustinov, Captain. Certified sick bay attendant. I, uh, can also cook - for whatever it's worth." She said, less assertively than Cameron had expected, given her hawkish appearance.
He turned both of them over to Gandu to deal with, and turned his full attention to the young man fidgeting quietly while he waited. The man - boy, really - was of average height, and looked like he'd missed more than a few meals growing up. He certainly looked the part of a console cowboy, but Cameron needed proof that he was what he needed, and there was only one way to know for sure.
"Okay, Dix, here's your chance; I want you to challenge my ship's security systems. If you can even get close to infiltrating my ship's network, then you're hired. He told him, and leaned back against a lift truck to watch him work.
The Jester's internal network was, for all intents and purposes, a closed system; access from the outside was routed through a secondary system that was only capable of interfacing with the primary system through a very heavy firewall. The intrusion countermeasures weren't lethal, but if a person was using a hardline and a cranial interface, then they were in for a bit of a jolt. Some people used RF interfaces to try to get around anti intrusion software, but doing so risked electronic counter measures or RF jamming. It was a trade off. Being hardwired in made a person immobile, but an RF interface was easier to detect and disrupt. Dix had decided that the former was the best option, and was connecting a two millimeter I/O cable from a flat black, featureless box, that was about the size of an antique hardcover book, to the interface port behind his left ear. His face took on the slightly glazed look characteristic of someone who was seeing things that no one else could see, but were there nonetheless. He stood there for about a minute and a half before speaking.
"I'm in. What should I do now, Captain?" He asked, in a flat voice.
Cameron was standing there looking at the young man, his face a mask of incredulity. No one had ever actually managed to make it through the ship's cybernetic defenses before, and he activated the comlink implanted behind his ear and accessed the command network. He found to his considerable surprise that Otto had, indeed, been able to access the ship's primary systems. The command network was an overwatch and backup for the primary systems, with full override authority accessible only by the Captain. The command network's security protocols were based on the unique neural imprint which served as a personal key called a 'daemon', which was theoretically impossible to replicate. He shook himself before answering.
"Oh, uh, nothing. Job well done, Dix, I've rarely seen better. If you're interested in working for me, just go over and see the XO, and he'll show you an employment contract." He told Otto, while silently resolving to keep an eye on the kid.
The onerous task of hiring new crew out of the way, he decided to make a circuit of the ship's various departments, and do a little informal inspection before the end of the watch. And once that was done, he'd be headed Topside for a few hours at one of the local casinos.
He figured that he had earned it.
The chatter died way as Cameron stepped forward to address the group, and he took the opportunity, as the various conversations stopped, to put his thoughts in order before speaking.
"My name - as most of you may have guessed - is Captain Cameron Marshall. First off, I want to thank you all for coming, and apologize for not being able to meet each of you individually. Normally that would be the case, but my timetable is extremely short, and there just isn't time." He said, and began to pace up and down the ragged line of applicants scrutinizing each one, and continued speaking. "The Jester will be departing in 25 hours, if any of you cannot make that, then I wish you well, and suggest you be on your way. We will be en route to Minotaur, Vulcanfall, and then outward to one other system. Any questions?"
Two hands went up, one belonging to the able spacer, and the other to the gray haired man, who looked like a retiree. He nodded to the hard looking spacer. "Go ahead. Name?"
"Able Spacer, Rebecca N. Hicks, Captain. Can you be more specific about what 'outward' direction the ship will take, and will gear maintenance be covered in our contract, or out of pocket?" She inquired, a bit defensively.
The questions confirmed his opinion that she was a professional, and hoped that she would be willing to come aboard as a member of the crew. Her desire to know where they were headed after Vulcanfall was a natural one for an experienced spacer, since only the terminally foolish, extremely stupid, or wildly suicidal would sign on to a ship without knowing where it was headed. The second of her concerns was equally telling, and he suspected that the large, wheeled case she had brought with her contained her own personal, custom fitted, spacesuit. Like most ships, the Jester had remotely controlled mechs for making repairs to the exterior of the ship, but even the best remotes occasionally ran into something outside of their program's parameters, and when that happened, someone had go for a spacewalk. He stopped pacing to address her directly.
"Our final destination is something I'd like to keep confidential at this time, but I'll guarantee your contact as far as Vulcanfall, without penalty if you decide not to go any further. As far as gear goes, it depends on what I'm going to be expected to maintain." He explained, chucking his chin in the direction of her travel case expectantly.
"My personal rig is a Baccardax PA-2B ultralight exo, with an upgraded flight management suite, designed to link through the suit's internal electronics to my cranial interfaces." She explained.
Her description of her exo was the last thing he needed to prove that she was as professional as they came. Baccardax Machine Technologies was one of the largest manufacturers of high end mechanical products; from small, internal combustion engines to massive, station defense railguns. They also made a line of extremely light, powered, exoskeletal spacesuits. A Baccardax exo wasn't a spur of the moment purchase, and their baseline price made them a serious investment, but factory customization cost a small fortune. She clearly knew her business, and wasn't afraid to show it.
"Okay, Hicks, I'm impressed. You're also in luck; another member of my crew has a PA-2M, so I have a maintenance mech with the programming to keep your rig up and running. Do you want in?" He asked, smiling at the look on her face. She was clearly surprised to find out that another member of the ship's crew had a PA-2, and a military grade 'M' type, at that.
"I'm in, pending a full reading of a contract of employment, of course." She declared, quickly.
"Of course." He echoed. "See my XO, over there, for your billeting information." He gestured with his thumb at Gandu, who had hung back, giving his Captain room to work.
She didn't waste a second, grabbed her travel case's handle and stepped out of the lineup, case rolling along behind. Cameron turned his attention to the old man who apparently also had a question.
"What's your name, mister?" He asked, hoping that the man wasn't particularly long-winded.
"Beavis Gohmert, Cap'n. I's wondrin' if y'alls gonna be flyin' tuh Jefferson soon, on account ah it's where ah lives, like?" He asked, with a thick Jefferson accent.
Cameron had a lot of experience in keeping a poker face, but the man's accent was incredibly thick, and he desperately hoped that he wasn't going to say something rude. The Jefferson Republic was not on his list of favourite places to visit, unless there was a heavy profit margin involved. He decided that the best option was to be honest with the man.
"Well, Mr Gohmert, I have no intention of going to Jefferson anytime soon, but there's always ships coming and going, and one of them is sure to be going your way." He told him, in a compassionate tone. "Perhaps you'll have better luck elsewhere."
He was more than slightly relieved when Gohmert took his duffle in hand and wandered off towards the airlock to the station, allowing Cameron to get back to the task at hand. He made a quick decision to accelerate the selection process, and the best way to do so was to weed out the least desirable candidates.
"Anyone else have a question? No? Alright then. If any of you have an Able Spacer's certificate then please take a step back." The line was reduced by three.
"Okay, anyone with experience as a sick bay attendant, engineering specialist, or a comms tech, take a step back." Two more gaps opened up.
The last spot he needed to find someone for was the hardest, and there was little hope that any of the people here would have the skills he needed. He was going to roll the dice anyway.
"Anyone with up to date cyber security training?" He asked, not really expecting a response.
Which made the one who put his hand up all the more surprising. The kid who had walked in wasn't much to look at, but he'd seen worse, and he had his hand in the air. He didn't quite know what to make of the young man in front of him; his limp hair and fair skin were covering a very thin frame. Cameron figured that he'd give him a chance to prove himself before dismissing him out of hand, and asked: "What's your name, son?"
"Otto Dix, sir." He answered, simply.
"Well, Dix, you're going to get a chance to impress me soon enough." Cameron told him, then turned to address the remaining members of the group. "Everyone still out front: I appreciate you coming on such short notice, and if you will see my executive officer on your way out, he will provide you with compensation for your time."
He waited until the small crowd had been dealt with, before he turned back to the applicants who had passed the first cut. Hicks had been given a copy of a standard employment contract, with a few spot modifications by his XO to allow for her gear's maintenance, and given access to the crew lounge to read it in more comfortable surroundings than the loading bay. She had taken her suitcase with her, and he hoped it was because she was planning on staying; if he had to make concessions, he had some room to negotiate, but his people got better than average pay and bonuses, so he felt that it probably wouldn't be necessary. The last unwanted applicant having been paid off, Cameron turned back to the remaining six, regarding them rather more sternly than before.
"Those of you with Able Spacer certification should see the XO, you'll be given a standard contract to review; if you don't like it, then the most I'll say is 'sorry, and good day', and that'll be the end of it." He paused to give them time to grab their gear and see Gandu, before turning to the final two. "So, both of you indicated that you're specialists, what're your names?"
"I am Shashwat Bhavsar, Captain. An engineering technician by training, I am cross trained in life support systems maintenance as well." Said the first, in a voice with only the faintest trace of an East Indian accent.
"I'm Carla Ustinov, Captain. Certified sick bay attendant. I, uh, can also cook - for whatever it's worth." She said, less assertively than Cameron had expected, given her hawkish appearance.
He turned both of them over to Gandu to deal with, and turned his full attention to the young man fidgeting quietly while he waited. The man - boy, really - was of average height, and looked like he'd missed more than a few meals growing up. He certainly looked the part of a console cowboy, but Cameron needed proof that he was what he needed, and there was only one way to know for sure.
"Okay, Dix, here's your chance; I want you to challenge my ship's security systems. If you can even get close to infiltrating my ship's network, then you're hired. He told him, and leaned back against a lift truck to watch him work.
The Jester's internal network was, for all intents and purposes, a closed system; access from the outside was routed through a secondary system that was only capable of interfacing with the primary system through a very heavy firewall. The intrusion countermeasures weren't lethal, but if a person was using a hardline and a cranial interface, then they were in for a bit of a jolt. Some people used RF interfaces to try to get around anti intrusion software, but doing so risked electronic counter measures or RF jamming. It was a trade off. Being hardwired in made a person immobile, but an RF interface was easier to detect and disrupt. Dix had decided that the former was the best option, and was connecting a two millimeter I/O cable from a flat black, featureless box, that was about the size of an antique hardcover book, to the interface port behind his left ear. His face took on the slightly glazed look characteristic of someone who was seeing things that no one else could see, but were there nonetheless. He stood there for about a minute and a half before speaking.
"I'm in. What should I do now, Captain?" He asked, in a flat voice.
Cameron was standing there looking at the young man, his face a mask of incredulity. No one had ever actually managed to make it through the ship's cybernetic defenses before, and he activated the comlink implanted behind his ear and accessed the command network. He found to his considerable surprise that Otto had, indeed, been able to access the ship's primary systems. The command network was an overwatch and backup for the primary systems, with full override authority accessible only by the Captain. The command network's security protocols were based on the unique neural imprint which served as a personal key called a 'daemon', which was theoretically impossible to replicate. He shook himself before answering.
"Oh, uh, nothing. Job well done, Dix, I've rarely seen better. If you're interested in working for me, just go over and see the XO, and he'll show you an employment contract." He told Otto, while silently resolving to keep an eye on the kid.
The onerous task of hiring new crew out of the way, he decided to make a circuit of the ship's various departments, and do a little informal inspection before the end of the watch. And once that was done, he'd be headed Topside for a few hours at one of the local casinos.
He figured that he had earned it.
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