Saga 1 : ( Recruiting) .
Gene might not have seen many aliens, in person, but growing up in this day and age, meant he was well familiar with most.
After all, he had the Extra-Net, With vids and games showing off races from all over the galaxies. Not to mention that Xenology elective Gene took, in middle school.
His dad thought it was important, for the life of a traveling merchant, that his son wanted to join him in, to at least be able to recognize the different alien species...
And Jim's own dad made sure the boy was educated on the same. Perhaps even in greater detail then Gene. As Jim had taken a few college classes on the topic... back when the Computer Wizard was still raising him. Jim was a child progeny, with a 300 level I.Q.
It was a matter of course, he was in college before most kids entered primary school... Gene remembered the Computer Wizard, being worried Jim might be hacking his grades, rather then studying. But thankfully was able to cure the boy of that, quickly. The Computer Wizard might not have a problem with cheating the rules... but he wanted his son to actually learn the material.
Despite knowing about aliens... it was different being surrounded by them.
Blue Heaven Space station, was outside the Terran Empire. Located in the Citadel Galaxy. Where each species, had their own Dyson Sphere, orbiting the Citadel... there were millions of random space stations, in between. Each operating as both port and tourist trap.
Blue Heaven might be an Outlaw Free State, in the middle of an asteroid field, but even it wasn't exempt from the cultural norms of Citadel Space.
Aliens were everywhere... either selling or buying things. With many average tourists, just visiting the station. All for bragging rights they "went to a real Outlaw hang out".
Blue Heaven was like the first station wannabe outlaws ever found.
Gene was shocked about how... mundane getting a crew was. Hilda may have a very specific type of person in mind. But how she went about finding them was... boring. She just walked into the recruitment office, rented a table, and then put up a sign. Just interviewing people, that were looking to join a crew.
There was a lot of noise going on... and a bar in the building. So those on either side of the tables, could get both food and drink. Hilda warned she'd be sending Gene out to the bar, rather frequently.
As a Cyborg, Hilda might not excrete waste... but she needed a lot of food to act as fuel for the nanites in her body.
Most of the potential crewmen were young hopefuls, like Gene. Adolescents, barely old enough to apprentice for a trade, to college age kids, strutting out on their own for the first time. It felt like a freakin' job fair.
Many of the kids, even had their bloody parents with them. More seasoned outlaws, whom were adding their own reputations to their children's resumé.
Hilda's sign said she would pay a Salary, instead of a percentage per job. Which was something only the wealthier Captain's could do.
She even promised a Private Room, full unrestricted access to the kitchen, and a nice helping of Replicator rations. And the promise of a raise, after each "Job".
With her ship's computer, keeping track of their crew's raw matter allowance. This would be included in the crew's weekly deposit. All being used at their discretion, and stacking what wasn't.
Apprentices started at a thousand credits a week. With half of it going into their own black market trust fund. For when they are older. Along with 20 kilograms, worth of "Replicator rations".
Then adult crewmen started at 5000 credits a week. With all of it going into their pockets. Plus a hundred Kilograms in weekly Replicator rations.
"How can you afford all you're promising?" Gene eyed.
Hilda shrugged, "In addition to my sizable, Black Market, interest account. I'm part of a guild of ships. We have our own space station, manned by house elves. Where we grow our own food, and dragonite."
Gene gaped. Not believing she could actually GROW dragonite. The rarest and most powerful mineral in known space... solid magic, crystalized. It was the major source of fuel, in any Galaxy. Even if other civilizations called it different things.
Hilda didn't seem too off-put by his lack of faith... nor even register it. Just explaining, "All excess produce gets turned into raw matter for the Replicators. Which is then stored.
"There is actually a portal, to my guild's station, in my ship. I'll have to show it to you sometime.
"We are still in the process, of moving the XGP, to our base. So transporting the ship, is going to be dangerous. The Vessel is vulnerable, until we link it to the station."
Mal sighed, "Think he got through to her?"
"Hilda has always been stubborn," Harry sighed back. "And I don't really blame her. Thanks to the rejuve pods, it's rare anyone permanently dies. This is just more proof death is still inevitable. Life may be extended indefinitely. But death will claim us all eventually... even you."
McCoy suddenly pulled up a chair, "Finally got her to see reason?" asked the dark skinned human.
"We believe so," Harry eased. Taking a sip of his whiskey... while fire whiskey had been lost to time... Harry liked to pretend he was enjoying a glass.
"It would have been easier if you could have bothered to attend," Mal glared.
McCoy scoffed, "I lost my Gorram oldest brother. I don't wanna attend an intervention for someone who can't deal, when I'm struggling."
"Your mother is disappointed by that attitude," Mal informed. Before taking a drink of his own whiskey.
McCoy flinched... then sighed. "I can't just turn my feelings off, like mom can. Isn't it okay I'm grieving to?"
Mal sighed, never being good at dealing with other people's feelings. "River sat this out to. It's not like your the only one, Hilda called in, that refuses to meet her... at least you actually came to the station. River's on the other side of the Universe."
