Hermes System, Commercial Colony: ‘Transaction Hub.’
Once we docked the Sperm Whale and stepped through the airlock, we were greeted by the overwhelming radiance of true civilization.
"…Now this is impressive," I muttered, squinting instinctively.
A beautiful—albeit artificial—blue sky was projected onto the dome’s ceiling, which was constructed from high-transparency reinforced glass. The streets were pristine, cleaned of every last speck of dust, while holographic advertisements floated in the air, peddling the latest gadgets and fashions. The people walking by were dressed in sharp suits or sleek, sophisticated cyberwear, carrying themselves with an air of comfortable prosperity.
It was the quintessential "city of the future" that everyone imagined.
"Environmental maintenance systems are operating normally. Atmospheric pollution levels: zero. A comfortable stay is guaranteed," Lucia noted, nodding with a look of satisfaction.
If I was going to find what I needed anywhere, it would be here.
"Alright, Lucia, let’s move. First things first: shopping." "Are we looking for ingredients?" "No. First, we secure entertainment."
I balled my fists.
During the trip to Ignis, I had been so bored I’d resorted to counting stains on the ceiling. It was a humiliation I refused to repeat.
We dove into a massive store that looked like a giant electronics retailer and began tossing items into our cart one after another. The latest game consoles, archive chips for hundreds of movies, an entire library of e-books, and even a top-of-the-line VR headset.
With six million credits burning a hole in my pocket, I didn't even bother looking at the price tags.
"…Master, while we have plenty of cargo capacity, it would take you three years of constant, sleepless activity to consume all of this," Lucia observed.
"It’s not about that. It’s about the peace of mind that comes from having it."
With my entertainment secured and my soul at ease, I headed back out to the street to seek out the "taste of civilization."
My eyes landed on a hot dog stand sporting a flashy hologram: Uses Fresh Vegetables! A Crisp, Satisfying Crunch!
A single dog cost eight hundred credits. Ridiculous. For that price, I could buy a hundred kilograms of cultured meat blocks.
And yet, I bought one without a second thought.
As I bit into it, I felt it—a slight, but undeniable, succulent texture. The crisp snap of leafy greens like lettuce, followed by the sharp tang of dressing.
But the magic faded instantly. The sausage, which should have been the star of the show, had that unnatural, rubbery bounce unique to synthetic meat, and the bread was dry and flavorless. Most of all, the "fresh vegetables" they boasted about were nothing more than a token garnish.
Sure, the vegetables were real. I could give them credit for that much. But as a meal? It was inferior to even a basic convenience store sandwich. It felt like they’d just haphazardly shoved "precious vegetables" inside and called it a day.
"…It’s okay, I guess, but eight hundred for this? It’s a total rip-off."
I looked around. Well-dressed businessmen and merchants were snacking on these overpriced treats as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Just what kind of insane economy did this colony have?
"Well, now that my stomach is settled, what’s next?"
I sat on a bench, watching the crowds pass by.
I had a second objective for this trip: finding a crew.
I had the money. I had the ship. Now I just needed the hands to run it.
But…
"…It’s not as easy as it sounds," I sighed.
In a game, it would have been simple. An 'Hirable' icon would be floating over a character's head, and a quick look at their status screen would tell me their stats and skills.
Reality was a different story.
The man walking past me in the suit might be a master hacker, or he might just be a low-level accountant.
"Shall we head to a personnel placement center? They charge a fee, but they can provide a list of candidates with verified backgrounds," Lucia suggested.
"I considered that… but people with specialized skills like starship operations are in high demand everywhere. By the way, what’s the average salary for a crewman?"
I pulled out my handheld terminal and searched for the current market rates. When the numbers popped up, I couldn't help but whistle.
"…Are you kidding me? They get paid this much?"
It turned out that any crew member with a decent resume was already being snatched up by major transport fleets or the regular military, lured by high salaries and benefits I couldn't dream of matching.
At this rate, the only kind of eccentric who would join a freelance mercenary ship like mine would be someone with a lot of baggage, or…
What I wanted was someone skilled but perhaps a little "complicated"—someone who wouldn't sweat the small stuff and, most importantly, someone who would eat my cooking without complaining.
It wasn't like someone that convenient would just come walking up to me…
"…Hm?"
I noticed a commotion at the edge of my vision near the entrance to a back alley. A small figure was being surrounded by several rough-looking men.
A common mugging? Or something else?
"I sense trouble," Lucia said. "Shall we intervene?"
"No, I’m currently enjoying a peaceful shopping trip. Let the Public Security Organization handle it."
I started to walk away, but a specific word caught my ear amidst the shouted insults.
"Hey! You junk scavenger rat! You stole parts from the guild scrapyard again, didn't you?!"
"…I didn't steal them. They were thrown away. They’d still work if you fixed them. It’s a waste to throw them out."
The voice was quiet, but the rebuttal was strangely logical.
Junk? Fixing things?
My "intuition" twitched.
I couldn't see an icon over their head, but… maybe, just maybe, this was the "jackpot."
"…Change of plans. Let’s go see what the fuss is about."
I quickly finished off the rest of the eight-hundred-credit hot dog. It might have been a rip-off, but I wasn't about to let it go to waste.
A little taste of food for the chapter. It's about time he got at least one crew member, right?
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