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You finish your caledonian whiskey. By the time you're done, Aeiea Tasoawalar already has three empty glasses on the table in front of her.

You spent some time chatting with this Aslan self-proclaimed engineer. She's a friendly, talkative, expansive sort. Maybe a bit TOO talkative, but, as far as you can tell, she does know her engines and ship parts, certainly better than you do (no great feat there though).

She has experience serving on board Aslan ships (or at least so she claims, you have no way to confirm that), and has worked in repair shops and workshops here on Garrison, but she's never worked on human ships, and seems pretty sure that this won't be a problem at all. She's nothing if not confident in her skills, and very eager.

As the conversation goes on, and the pub around you gets more and more crowded, the Aslan brings up the issue of compensation.

"What I need ta know is." She slightly starts slipping in her thicker, native Trokh accent as she gets tipsier and tipsier. "Is it a job you're offering ma, or a partnership?" She taps an empty glass on the table. "Yar not a companee, right?"

"No, I'm not... I'm not a company or anything. I'm just a guy with a 20% ship share deed to his name and some cash in his pocket." You point out. "Why? You got an investment to make here?"

"I told ya." She makes a dopey smile, showing off teeth pointier and sharper than you're normally comfortably seeing this up close. "So, listen up. Back in the Hierate, my auntie's married to this big shot, alright? He's a Hrawoao."

You nod, pretending to know what that means.

"Hey, don't give me tha' look. It's in the Tlaukhu and with the Yerlyaruiwo. Plenty of connections." She taps the glass harder. You're worried it might break.

"I'm not one hundred percent sure of what you're talking about, but the Hierate is about two months of travel away, on the other side of the Sector." You point out.

"Ah! But y'see, another one of Mr. Hrawoao's wives has this shipping line, mostly passengers. And they have a line going from Garrison ta Hrike and back here, so they have a front office here in town, and they worka lot with Standard Prodacts"

You take a deep, slow breath. "So what you're telling me... Is that the sister of your mother is married to a man whose other wife owns a shipping line that sometimes passes by here, so she knows someone in that shipping line who does business with the people who I'm going to buy my ship from." You groan.

She nods eagerly.

You throw up your hands.

(cont.)

"Hey." She sounds offended. "It might not be as good as a 20% share but I think I can scrounge up SOME shares. I can borrow some cash from the line, from my uncle, and stuff. Of course, if ya make me yer associate." She raises a hand, and orders her fourth whiskey.

You consider your choices. Generally, an engineer's standard pay goes for 4000 crimps a month, give or take a bit. And it's a work contract, with all that it entails.
On the other hand, if this Aslan can really manage to scrounge up some ship share, even if it's just 1%, it will take down the price of the ship and make your life easier, plus make sure she has a stake in the enterprise itself. Of course, then she'll also want a percentage of the profits.

>I'd rather just have you as an employee, mrs. Tasoawalar. I want to be the sole owner of the ship.
>Well, if you can get some form of ship share, then you're welcome aboard as an associate.
>(Other?)

>>185459
>>Well, if you can get some form of ship share, then you're welcome aboard as an associate.
If it doesn't work out, an airlock accident could always help.

And she's an engineer!
Haggle a bit more - otherwise she will think her offer is too good.

That's one heck of a slow day. I'll wait another bit and then continue regardless I guess.

>>185459
>Well, if you can get some form of ship share, then you're welcome aboard as an associate.
Sounds like a good plan, since we could use the connections.

>>185526
>heck of a slow day
Many people probably gave up after 4chan didn't let anyone post from 11 to 1500...

>>185527
Yes, that engineer seems to know everyone and his dog.

You steeple your fingers. "How much do you think you can scrounge up in additional shares?"

She shrugs. "I don't know, man. Somewhere between one and six? Depends on a lot of stuff. People, money, the stock market and the mood..."

"Listen." You grab her hand and squeeze a bit, holding it steady and stopping her from bouncing that damn glass on the table. "If, and I mean IF, you can find some valid ship shares for General Products..."

"...yes?"

"And if, and I mean IF, you're going to pull your weight as ship engineer..."

"...yes?"

"And if, and I mean IF, you're going to help me with everything else here from recruitment to getting the ship ready and so on..."

"...yeeeeess?"

"Then you're in."

She nearly leaps off her chair, dancing around the locale, waving her arms screaming and singing. Several patrons give her - and you - odd looks. "YES YES YES! FINALLY GOT MYSELF A REAL SPACE SHIP!"

"Excellent, now-" You freeze. "Wait, what do you mean real?"

You get her to calm down and explain. "Oh, you see, well, like... I've always wanted to be a chief engineer on a real space ship."

"I get that." You nod. "Explain."

"You know Eastwen Simulation Park?"

You shake your head, but don't like the sound of it.

"It's a place where you can rent out a space flight sim. You get to be, like, pilot, but also commander, engineer, gunner..."

You tap your foot. "So... how much of your experience is real spaceship experience and how much is just videogames?"

"They're not videogames!" She protests. "They're SIMULATORS! Anyway, I've been a REAL engineer on real spaceships. Just... Aslan ones. And I wasn't a CHIEF engineer, just a junior engineer.

You sigh, hoping that you're not making a big mistake. "Anyway. ...yeah, here's my comm contact number." You pull out your comm and give her your number. "Let me know once you've heard from your aunt's place."

"My aunt's husband's wife's place."

"Whatever."

>There's another thing I'd like to ask you before you leave. (what?)
>Good luck. As for me, time to go back to hunting for people here.
>Good luck. I'll call it a day.
>Good luck, as for me, I'll change my approach in recruiting people, and try somewhere else.
>(other?)

>>185550
>Good luck. As for me, time to go back to hunting for people here.

>>185550
>Good luck. As for me, time to go back to hunting for people here.
If she can get shares, then she's in - nothing more to discuss.

Just get a contract written so that we can get her shares if she's unfit for the duty as chief engineer. Is that possible?

>making a big mistake
What could possibly go wrong?

>>185578
If we could get more people with money/connections: big win!

>>185583
That'd be pretty good.

As Aeiea Tasoawalar leaves (stumbling a bit) the pub, you go over your data once more.

You gathered some information, spent some time, and narrowed down the people you might have some interest in interviewing here to three. One of them was Aeiea.

The other two are:


Rob McNevin, a tough-looking, square-jawed man fresh out of the army. Word is he got his papers about six months ago, but he can't figure out what to do next in life. He probably isn't very familiar with shipboard life, but he's been in the ground army, and seen action. Besides, you've seen him, and he looks like the sort of fellow who could knock you out with one punch. Also, according to the barman, he's never drunk himself silly, or been too rowdy. He's been described as "disciplined".

Elena Zaibach. She doesn't talk much. Not many friends. Keeps to herself. Her jacket and unit patches say "Imperial Navy starfighter pilot", ans a particularly elite unit even among those. Word is that she was removed from active duty because of her reaction times and reflexes getting worse with age, until she didn't make the cut to a test and had to drop out. That sounds preposterous, given that she looks barely in her mid twenties, but you also know that the requirements for elite starfighter pilots are preposterous.

Both of them are currently in the pub. Rob is at a table with a few other obvious ex-army types. They're drinking, and there's an arm wrestling competition going on. Elena is at a corner table on her own. She looks gloomy.

>Head to Rob McNevin's table.
>Head to Elena Zaibach's table.
>Get them both to come to your table so you can talk to both of them together.
>Look for other people.
>(Other?)

>>185604
>Head over to Rob McNevin
Sounds like a solid guy.

>>185604

Elena first, seems like Rob's boys are in for a long night.

We should seriously consider NOT having any more crewmates buy into the ship shares. I don't want to jeopardize our ownership of the ship. God forbid that our crewmates shares add up to more than our own share.

We should hold the crew to less than 4 shares apiece even if they have more, just to be safe

>>185615

Agreed on both counts; we're the owner/captain and want to keep it that way.

>>185604
This anon's line of thought is correct
>>185611
Switching.

>>185619
I'm an idiot. Meant to switch to >>185615

>>185604
>Elena Zaibach

Holy shit, I thought this quest was dead. Good to see it running again.

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You make your way across the crowded pub to Elena's table.

She's young and pale, with a sharp face giving you a vaguely androgynous feeling... maybe because of her blonde hair being cut fairly short, in the no-nonsense, low-maintenance cut of someone who doesn't care at all about such things.

The rest of her body, however, is clad in a tight, hi-tech flight suit and an open jacket, telltale signs of an elite starfighter pilot- even if one off duty.

She's alone, sharing the table only with a half-empty bottle of clear vodka. She barely notices you as you sit in front of her.

"...The hell you want?" She growls, half-slurring her words. She's using a very low tone of voice, but despite the background noise, you heard her perfectly. Might have something to do with the death-glare she's giving you.

You don't quite feel welcome at this table.

>Offer her a drink (25 Cr)
>Make small talk
>Ask her what happened
>Tell her you're looking for a spaceship pilot.
>(Other?)

>>185668
It might be slow but it will keep running. Follow the Twitter to stay updated!

>>185678
>Ask her what happened

>>185678

>Offer her a drink
>Ask her what happened

>>185678
>Offer her a drink (25 Cr)
>Ask her what happened
Order a sealed bottle and a pair of shot glasses.

>>185697
>>185707
She has half a fucking bottle of vodka infant of her...
Offer her more and It'll be rape

>>185678
>>Tell her you're looking for a spaceship pilot.
"You look like shit. I'm looking for a sober pilot. Seen any around?"

Offer a drunk more to drink? Damn waste.
What happened? She got sacked, end of sob story.

>>185741
You don't want to hire a pilot by being an asshole

>>185741
Let's not immediately be a dickhead to the first prospective pilot we've found.

>>185615
>NOT having any more crewmates buy into the ship shares
Worst that could happen: They buy us out?
We can always use the old airlock trick to dismiss crew...

>>185744
>>185756
>first prospective pilot
True. Changing to softy approach.

"You look terrible." You smile.

She straightens. "Who the fuck are you?"

You shrug. "Hunter. Cyrus Hunter."

"Buddy." She leans closer. She reeks of booze something fierce. Closer. Closer, invading your personal space. She stares into your eyeballs. "I don't give a shit who you are."

You get her to sit back down. "What happened? That's a lot of vodka."

She grabs the bottle by the neck. "FUCK. OFF." She's clearly conflicted. She wants to throw the bottle at your face, but she also wants to finish it first.

"Hey. Hey Elena." You raise both hands, trying to keep her under control. "It's okay. I'm just trying to-"

Having made up her mind, she starts chugging the bottle. You realize you have a few seconds at best to make your case before she empties it, and then uses it against you.

>Get her to calm down. Let's have a peaceful conversation. (Diplomat roll)
>Tell her you're here to offer her a job. (Persuade roll)
>Tell her that she was kicked out unfairly and you think she deserves a second chance. (Persuade roll)
>Focus on not getting hit, right now.
>Oh, if she wants a bar brawl, she got one. (Melee roll)
>(other?)

It would be stupid to not be the majority share holder.

>>185770
>>185467

You seem to be very fond of airlocks. I'm not sure why you think that murdering your own crew will help you set up a successful business.

>>185790
Tell her we have a ship and need someone to helm it, hand her our contact information and a description of the ship then get up and leave.

>>185802
Hey you don't know how space bizniz works

>>185790
Leadership roll. Bring back some memories of military discipline and tell her to stop acting like a prick and more like a emperor-damned elite pilot.

>>185818
This

>>185790
>>185823
>Leadership roll
Yes, Marines can shout!

>>185802
>successful business
Yes, true. We still need some crew for the ship to function. But mutinies still justify the airlock treatment, right? I just imagine being in space leaves some wild west freedoms.

>>185818

Agreed.

Rolled 3, 5 + 1 = 9 (2d6 + 1)

Persuade roll.

if we are going to negotiate her salary we should offer 12% of the gross of the ship then work our way up from there, never offer more than 16% gross to any of our employees.

>>185859
10% nigguh

Keep in mind that having our crew be part owners of our ship makes them invested in the success of venture and makes them more loyal. They're not about to ditch a ship they own in part.

>>185889
giving them a percentage of the profit the ship makes is also a good motivator, plus keeps the plebeians from actually having any real control of the ship.

"I have a ship." You start.

She finishes the bottle, slams it on the table, and flips it around holding it upside down. "WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU SAY TO ME YOU MISERABLE LITTLE FAGGOT?!"

The scream was so loud that it drowned out all music and conversation in the pub for a couple of seconds. Silence falls, and quickly a group of bystanders forms all around you, wondering when the inevitable pub brawl will break out.

You smile, and, keeping perfectly calm, you go on: "I am looking for the best pilot for my ship. I've heard you're pretty good."

The bottle misses you by a mile and explodes on the wall behind you.

"You want me to pilot some fucking junker shit? Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?" She stands up, and grabs her chair, stopping just short of lifting it up.

"I'm aware that flying a cargo is not the same as being an elite navy pilot." You continue.

"No shit sherlock it ain't the same." She spits. "I'm a T-7 Thunderlight pilot! Do you KNOW what Thunderlights DO?"

You sigh. "When I was still in the Corps, back in the Fifth Frontier War, I and my boys ended up stranded on a planet God knows where the fuck. We had our shuttle hidden inside a cave, and managed to get all in cover, but the Zhods had space and air superiority there."

She lets go of the chair.

"We were running low on... ammo, battery, fuel, food. Everything. And there was this destroyer just parked in the troposphere exactly above us. They knew roughly where we were. Not well enough to bomb us accurately, but well enough to just stand there and block us off, and bomb at random. Sooner or later they were going to get lucky and we'd be dust."

She sits back down.

"It was the first and last time I ever saw a Thunderlight. They were brand new back then. I've never seen anything fly that smooth, or that fast. Out of fucking nowhere, we just saw a flash of light, and then half of the Zhod ship get filled with holes and fire. Only after that we managed to spot the fighters. Sleek, black. Looked like flying knives Turned on a dime. Had the weaponry of a ship a hundred times their size."

She slams her head on the table. "Bartender. Get me another bottle." She calls out.

"Belay that." You point a finger at the bartender, then turn to Elena. "I won't pretend I understand what you lost. I have no idea what it must feel, to fly a Thunderlight. It must feel like being God. I'm sure it would give me an erection going all the way to low orbit."

You walk up to the counter, grab a pen from the cashier, and head back to the table.

"This is my number." You write down. "I can't give you a fighter, Elena. I can't make you a god again. But sober the fuck up, get a shower, think about it, and then maybe call me. I can get your ass back into space. That's all I can offer you."

She groans, keeping her face on the table.

"Do you copy?"

Nothing.

"Do you copy?"

"I copy." She waves, lifting a hand. "Now shut the fuck up."

She collapses again.

(cont.)

>>185899
Why would we do that when we could just give them a monthly salary then?
Maybe they could earn a percentage of gross capped at a certain flat amount so they're still invested in success but if we score big we get the big bucks.

Flat percentage of gross without ownership is probably the best idea though.

>Whatever, she can handle herself. Let's go and meet Rob McNevin.
>Try and get her to at least stand up and walk out of the locale
>I can't leave it here like this. I'll carry her back home.
>(Other?)

>>185925
Let's get some rod

>>185925
>(Other?)

ask the bartender to call a cab for her, clear our tab then head out.

>>185925
>Whatever, she can handle herself. Let's go and meet Rob McNevin.
After we have talked to Rob, we can check up on her - and kick her out of the bar (Rob can help), she probably won't remember much anyway.

>>185950
>head out
Why? There's still Rob. We need some muscle men for the occasional odd job too!

>>185956
I would like to start with a barebones crew then work our way up, we don't want to split our profit margins to much before we even have cargo to haul.

>>185960
How many crew mates do we need anyway? Pilot, engineer - cook, navigator, negotiator?

>>185925
Call up SpaceUber.

>>185964
>>185960
The whole reason we got a ship with a manoeuvre drive capable of 2g and went for such powerful weapons is because we wanted to do high risk high reward dangerous freighting. So someone like rob is practically essential.

>>185925
> Ask bartender to make sure she stays here until we come back from talking with rob.
> Talk with Rob

>>185980

Yep, we'll need another heavy if we want to do anything dangerous (profitable).

>>185988

Let's slip the bartender a few creds to make it worth his while.

>>185964
The ship model you earmarked carries a maximum of 6 crewmembers in three double rooms. Generally, however, it's standard practice to have five in these cases: four crewmembers sharing rooms, and the captain having his own single room.

The bare minimum skeleton crew for a spaceship of that size is 2: Pilot and engineer.

But, if we want to talk about ALL the roles:

Captain. The guy that decides where the ship goes and what the ship does.

Executive Officer. The guy that decides how the capitan's orders are to be carried out, and who makes sure that they are. His job is also knowing the ship inside and out.

Engineer. Making sure everything in the ship works smoothly.

Three pilots (one per 8-hour shift). Ideally ships will have one "main" pilot for takeoff, landing, combat and whenever trouble is expected, and either two backup pilots, or one backup pilot and an on-board AI to serve as advanced autopilot.

Two gunners (one per turret), or only one gunner and an on-board AI to auto-aim the second turret.

Astronavigator. Does the Jump calculations and plots courses both in Jumpspace and Realspace.

Broker/Administrator. Someone who handles the ship's stores, the buying and selling of goods, and generally the economic side of the ship.

Marine. In case something goes wrong. This is a crewmember specialized in combat. Of course, if everyone in the crew can fight, this is less needed.

Medic. Someone to patch up wounds from accidents or firefights. Your ship is too small to have a proper sickbay, so he needs to be good at improvising solutions.

Cook. Not indispensable, but does help with morale.

Of course, several of these roles can be fulfilled by the same person. No rule stops someone from being Engineer AND XO, or Gunner, Marine and Medic, or Captain, Broker and Cook, or whatever.


I'd say that what is absolutely essential to have is: Captain (yourself), Engineer, Pilot, Gunner.
Add a fifth member to fill another missing role, or multiple roles in a secondary capacity. Possibly a sixth to further round out your crew.

>>186028
another pilot/gunner to split 12hour shifts would probably be best use for our next crewmember slot.

Lets see if rob is interested, then meet up with our prospective crew members to see what holes we have in our skill set.

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You leave Elena to her suffering and move over to Rob's table. The arm wrestling match is long over, and he's now chatting and laughing and horsing around with another two similarly ex-mil-looking guys.

You don't spot any unit patches or other distinguishing marks on them, but your gut instincts tells you "Army". They're certainly not Navy or Police, don't look Scout, and don't FEEL like they're Marines.

"Hi, guys." You introduce yourself. "Mind if I sit?"

One of them casts a really nasty glare at you and at the seat you're about to sit into. "That seat's taken."

The other, Rob included, get dead silent.

Then, they start breaking up and giggling.

"Nah, I'm fucking with ya. Sit down all you want. You not from here?"

"Regina." You explain.

"Hot damn, that far." He continues. Rob stays silent. "You fought in the Border War?"

"Second biggest mistake of my life." You joke.

>Make small talk, try an get Rob to open up and talk.
>Learn as much as possible about them.
>Tell Rob about your proposal.
>Ask them about Elena's scene from earlier.
>Ask what's going on in this part of the galaxy.
>(Other?)

>>186075
>>Make small talk, try an get Rob to open up and talk.

>>186075
>Ask what's going on in this part of the galaxy.
>Make small talk, try an get Rob to open up and talk.

>>186075
>Make small talk, try an get Rob to open up and talk.

>>186075
Small talk seems appropriate, lets swap some war stories.

>>186075

>Make small talk, try an get Rob to open up and talk.
>Ask what's going on in this part of the galaxy.

"Where'd you serve?" Another one asks.

"Imperial Marines, 213th fleet. Duke Norris' Own."

The table falls silent again.

Good old inter-service rivalry kicking in. Fortunately, both you and these people are no longer serving, otherwise... this might've gone differently.

"We were in the 713th Garrison Force." They go on. "Army."

"Garrison as in defense, or Garrison as in this planet's name?"

They giggle. Apparently it's a common question, or you tripped into some inside joke. "Both."

"Not a lot of action here, is there?" You ask.

"Aslan land is far away, and most of them are pretty friendly anyway, but the Deep's full of independent systems and nations and a few of them are nasty or actually warring. On top of that, there's a lot of terrorism all around the place, AND the Confederation deep rimward of here."

"No big war, but lots of small trouble here and there." Finally, Rob speaks. "Not that it has anything do to with us anymore, I guess."

"Did you still see action?"

"Yeah. Counterterrorism on Gerim, training locals in Duncinae, handling the nutjobs all over the Drexilthar subsector, and more recently, trying to keep the Carrillan Assembly from imploding." He takes a sip from his beer. "Now that that's over, I'm still in the process of figuring out what to do with myself. What about you? Why are you this far from home."

"Very long story."

>Offer him a job.
>Ask him what his skills are.
>Keep him talking.
>Tell him your story.
>(other?)

>>186146
>Tell him your story.
>Keep him talking.

>>186146
>Keep him talking.
>Tell him your story.

>>186146
>>Keep him talking.
>>Tell him your story.

>>186146

>Keep him talking.
>Tell him your story.

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"I've got time." He replies. The others pull up their chairs to listen to your riveting tale.

...Alright, it's not terribly riveting, because you're obviously forced to skip on several details. But still, the story of you single-handedly, heroically saving the Eutropia from an insane terrorist makes for some good drama, and you even have the fresh scar to show for it.

A beer is offered to you, and you and Rob and his boys spend the rest of the night telling story of crazy things that happened while you were serving. Everyone has a few of those, and it seems that every single armed force unit in the galaxy has had "the guy who put ammo in the magazine lengthwise at boot camp" and similar quasi-mythical beings.

Over the night, you get a better idea of who Corporal McNevin is.

He's a calm guy. He keeps a cool head. He's not ambitious, and doesn't take risks. Socially, he's a bit on the shy side. You wouldn't call him awkward, he's just not the talkative sort.

You can see a lot of reasons, there, that he couldn't climb the ranks in the Army. He wouldn't know whose ass to kiss, or how to kiss it. And, even though he's big and strong and tough and clearly trained, you feel like he doesn't have the... your boot camp sergeant loved calling it the killer instinct. A good soldier knows when to shoot and to kill, he said, but a GREAT soldier LIKES to shoot and to kill. He LOVES it.

You have no idea if he was right or not, but you can tell that Rob's not the sort of soldier who'd go out of his way to shoot at people. He seems to be gregarious, with little initiative. He only speaks when he feels like it's alright to, and after a bit of prodding, and is content to stand back and listen.

Whatever, you're not a headshrink and you're just downing a few beers, but that's your idea.

>Offer him the job. He's the kind of person I'm looking for.
>I'm not looking for someone like this. He doesn't make the cut.
>I'll think about it and maybe come back to him some other day.
>Ask him something (what?)
>(Other?)

>>186247
>person I'm looking for
But is he really? Character sounds like cannon fodder to me...

>>186227
>I'll think about it and maybe come back to him some other day.
Exchange contact infos.

>>186227
>Ask him something (what?)
how familiar is he with the type of weaponry our ship has?

>>186227
And check on our pilot.
We still need a gunner...

>>186274
>gunner
Or can we do that? We have the Gunnery skill.

>>186272
>familiar
If he is then: Jackpot, gunner found!
And he seems to be able to follow orders.

I'm thinking we would be fine with just us, our engineer and a helmsman, we can use our ships targeting AI to act as our missing gunner and we can fill the other roles for now.

>>186227
>Offer him the job. He's the kind of person I'm looking for.
He's probably going to need some on-site training with vacc-suits and general space stuff, but he'd be good for a ship's gunner/security roll, as well as cargo handling.

>>186275
We do, but there's two hard points. The computer could take over one, but that'll draw power away from another section, like jump calculations.

It's almost dawn when you finally get down to talking about business with Rob.

"I'm looking for crew. For a ship."

He thinks about it for a second.

"...I don't know anything about spaceships." He explains, after a pause. "I've been on them, sure, but- I don't know how to fly one, or anything like that."

"This spaceship could end up getting into trouble." You explain. "Having a soldier on board, someone who can use a gun and follow orders and who knows correct procedure... would be very useful. Do you know how to operate a turret? Do you know anything about space gunnery?"

"Uhhh." He groans. "The very basics, back from boot camp. I've never done it after that, not even in a simulator. I'm just a dumb private."

>I'm sure you'll learn. Welcome aboard.
>Well, don't worry about that. I need a soldier more than a gunner.
>Oh, I'm sorry then. I was looking for someone with a different skillset.
>(Other?)

>>186300
>Oh, I'm sorry then. I was looking for someone with a different skillset.

still go ahead and give him our contact info, ask if he knows anyone who is a experienced gunner looking for work.

>>186300
>Well, don't worry about that. I need a soldier more than a gunner.
>I'm sure you'll learn. Welcome aboard.
Best swords are forged in fire.

>>186316
we would be so much better off getting a navigator or another pilot then giving a crew slot to *Just* a soldier.

>>186300
>>I'm sure you'll learn. Welcome aboard.

On-site training's par for the course. As well as moments of sheer unbridled terror, but we won't mention that to him yet.

>>186320
>navigator
Kind of prefer to get a navigator too.

>>186300
>Oh, I'm sorry then. I was looking for someone with a different skillset.
Maybe he knows a gunner. Exchange contact info - in case we don't find anyone...

What's up with our pilot? Long gone or still sitting there? Check up on here before she had too much of a chance to think of excuses to dismiss the offer.

>>186300
We should ask if he can do anything another than just soldiering, can he cook a meal? does he know how to use a broom? Can he lift heavy shit?

>>186300
Oh, I'm sorry then. I was looking for someone with a different skillset.

We may end up needing someone with his particular skill set down the road but right now we need someone more along the lines of an ex navy dude or ex Marine like us.

Still exchange Contact info and ask where we might find some other promising ex military types

>>186329
>What's up with our pilot? Long gone or still sitting there?
Probably dozed off in a puddle of vodka and shattered pride.

>>186337
Can we make her scribble her signature under our contract then? Or transport her to the ship immediately?

>>186330
He's an okay cook, nothing special. Survival level stuff. He can do menial tasks- he's been in the army, of course he can!

>>186344
You don't HAVE a ship yet, you delayed buying it until you had a crew ready.

>>186329
Still there.

>>186347
I rate we get the ship with the engineer and the pilot then fly to one of the worlds where our old comrades in arms are. Using the veterans network.

They space marines so they'll have gunner exp and everything

>>186320
Beggars can't be choosers, and at least Rob can beat a motherfucker if they try to get on the ship.

>>186360
>beat
Protagonist can do that too.

I'm inclined to just hire him and be done with the crew selection. And get to do an adventure. We can still fire him later.

>>186347
>Still there.
Get her answer to the offer. At least our ship can do 2G - should be better than other civilian transports.

File: garrison to regina.png (342 KB, 654x586)

342 KB PNG

>>186359
>one of the worlds where our old comrades in arms are.

Moving at Jump-2 with your ship, it would take you 134 weeks to get there.

>>186360
Put like this I'll have to agree.
What would Scruffy do, beat a bunch of motherfuckers with his navigator?

>>186359
This we just need a skeleton crew to get us close to our old military friends then see about adding members to our crew.

>>186379
we can run some cargo while we are at it, build a bit of a name if we happen across someone exceptional then we can add to the crew.

You smile amicably to Rob. "I was... really looking for a gunner, mostly."

"I'm not sure I can be of big help there." He explains, quite honestly. "I know how to operate a fire director and most spaceship weapons, but I've never, well, actually DONE that in combat. There must be better gunners out there."

"Yes, but you're also a soldier. You're someone who can shoot straight, and stay cool under fire." You give him your contact, and stand up. "This is my number, so we'll keep in touch. You think about it. If you want this jig. If you'll feel comfortable with it. I'll do the same, I still got people to hear from, and I want to ask around another bit. Let's get back in touch in a few days."

"Alright." He accepts your contact and stores it on his comm, a cheap, sturdy old-school model. "I'm not too sure about starship turrets, but if you want a good soldier to keep your ship safe, I'm your man."

>Ask him if he knows anyone who would make for a good gunner (or other role)
>Thank him and leave.
>Keep talking with him (about what?)
>(Other?)

>>186359
>>186379
Yeah, I'm fine with taking the trip, but if it's a two year journey, it'd be more for speculative trading and adventures, not because we're hiring our mates.

>>186415
>Thank him and leave.

>>186415
>>Thank him and leave.
And then check on our pilot.

>>186425
True, would be quite an expensive crew mate.
>>186411
True. Depends on the jobs, really.

>>186415
>Thank him and leave.
Good, firm handshake.

If Elena is too far gone in her vodka-fueled pity party, see about getting her wherever she puts up her feet when not drinking. No way she's been mulling over our offer if she kept going like she was.

Not in any coherent way, at least.

>>186415

>Thank him and leave.
Then check on our prospective pilot. Get her home/somewhere safe. We can talk more about the job after she's sobered up.

>>186415
>Ask him if he knows anyone who would make for a good gunner (or other role)
A former Scout would be a nice addition, they tend to have good astrogation and pilot skills. Some of them are skilled with medical stuff or zenobiology, too.

"Alright."

You shake his hand. it's a strong, firm shake.

You're about to leave, when the bartender, who is about to close shop, stops you and points at Elena, passed out on the table.

"She with you?"

He's clearly no stranger to passed-out patrons. You can see one of his waiters dragging someone else outside. You imagine they're left on the curb until they wake up on their own.

Good thing there's very little crime in Garrison.

>She's with me, yeah. I'll carry her home.
>Nope. Want a hand carrying her out?
>Nope, sorry. Well, see you.
>(other?)

>>186489
>She's with me, yeah. I'll carry her home.

>>186489
>>She's with me, yeah. I'll carry her home.
Pay her tab too. We subtract that from her first paycheck.

>>186489
>She's with me, yeah. I'll carry her home.

>>186489

>She's with me, yeah. I'll carry her home.

>>186489
Do we know where her home is?

>>186489
>>She's with me, yeah. I'll carry her home.
Wherever her home is, anyway...

>>186535
Nope, we can probably go through her pockets and find her personal ID, we can use that to find out where she lives and drop her ass off or pay a spacetaxi to do it for us.

Also, I'm sure there's no way this can go wrong and I'm sure we won't have to reassure Elena that we wouldn't molest our new pilot.

>>186553
>molest
We don't molest our (future) employees... would make things awkward living and working on a small spaceship.

>>186541
>ID
Get her to her door, have quick look at her living quarters - cheap or expensive interior tells us how much we have to pay her for being our pilot.

>>186567
I know, but she doesn't. That's what got me concerned.

"...Yeah, she's with me. I'll get her home." You nod, and pick her up.

She's a lot lighter than you expected.

You bring her outside, and the owner closes the doors behind you. Fortunately, this part of the city doesn't have curfew.

Good, because it's 4:30 AM.

Elena is out cold. You're not sure you could wake her up. In her pockets she doesn't seem to have any info on her address. Some money, an ID card, keys, her comm.

What should you do?

>Hospital
>Homeless shelter
>Your hotel room
>Middle of the street
>(Other?)

>>186575
>Your hotel room
What could POSSIBLY go wrong?

>>186575
>>Your hotel
It's safer to just rent another room for her, then bill her. Failing that, dump her in the lobby?

>>186575
>Your hotel room
It'll be fiiine.

>>186593
this, just pay for another room we can use her owing us as extra leverage.

>>186575
>Your hotel room

>>186591
>>186599
Just like my Chinese comic books.

>>186575
does her com have any of her info on it?

>>186575
Just pay for an extra room and dump her ass on the bed with a note on her comm telling her how much she owes us.

>>186620
She has just a handful of contacts. Doesn't seem like she has many friends. None is marked anything familiar like, say, "home" or "mom" or similar.

>>186575
>>Your hotel room
Book another room.
Straighten her out the next day: She'll get used to some sort of discipline again.

>>186631
>Doesn't [have] many friends
Few attachments - yay for our offer.

>>186627

I'll back this. Hopefully it'll minimize or eliminate any suspicions of impropriety.

>>186656
>suspicions of impropriety.
But that's the funniest bit.

You carry Elena Zaibach all the way back to your hotel. Fortunately, she's really light and easy to carry.

Once there, you slap a ten credit coin (straight out of HER pockets, of course) on the information desk's counter, just to make it clear to everyone that no, you are not taking advantage of anyone, and receive a new room's key, just next to your own.

You head up, drop her on her bed, and head back to your own bed. You've had your fair share of drinks yourself.

You return to you room - a bed, a closet, a bathroom and little more, just like the other - and barely have time to change before falling asleep.

[SESSION END]

Sorry for the short session, but it started later than expected, and i might not be able to run tomorrow.

+1 XP.

As always, follow the twitter for updates! Thank you for playing.

>>186689
Thanks for running, friend. I got in a little late, but glad to have caught the quest.

>>186689
>>186699
Thank you for the quest!
I enjoy your writing style and look forward to further space pirate trading adventures :).
Your archived threads are entertaining to read too!

>>186689
Thanks for running!

>>186689
Looking forward to next time.