Chapter 72: Chapter 16: Job Interview

Dash opened his eyes to find a painfully bright light waiting for him. He turned away and swatted at it blindly.

“Please, Captain, let me examine you,” said Wesley.

“Leave me alone. How’d you get in my quarters anyway?” Dash said.

“We’re not in your quarters.”

Dash lifted his head and found himself inside a semitranslucent orange cube. Air holes perforated the horizontal walls. A drain sat in the center of the floor. Identical cubes were attached on either side of theirs, the amorphous forms of other sentients visible inside. 

“The drunk tank. Haven’t been here in a long time,” Dash said. He remembered the pub. He could picture both of the stone-faced bouncers, but couldn’t recall which one had zapped him. “I can’t believe those meatheads called security on us. What happened to just tossing someone out the door?”

“You have that effect on people,” Henrik said. He sat with Gaius on a bench across from Dash and Wesley. Draug occupied its own bench, while a heavily intoxicated Brock lay on his side on another, head resting in Rosalie’s lap.

“Unless my memory is shot, I recall leaving my comfortable booth to go stop a fight you were in. So how about you drop the attitude,” Dash said as he pulled himself upright. His back ached, the hard bench having done him no favors.

“I have every right to have a bad attitude, seeing as it was your scuffle that got us arrested,” Henrik snapped.

Dash felt a sudden urge to leap across the cube and strangle his chief engineer unconscious. “You realize my tussle with that runt never would’ve happened if you weren’t wrestling in the middle of the pub like a drunken newbie?”

“That wasn’t my fault,” Henrik said, and nodded with disgust toward the back of the cell. “She started that.”

“That’s a lie and you know it,” the woman said. She sat alone on the bench with her arms crossed and face scrunched in a serious scowl.

Henrik snorted. “You hit me first!”

“You stumbled into me, then accused me of tripping you. I told you I didn’t, and you stuck your greasy finger into my chest and cursed me out. That’s when I hit you.”

“Great, you admit to hitting me,” Henrik said. “I rest my case. It wasn’t my fault.”

She shook her head. “Good Lords, you’re a self-absorbed ass.”

Dash bit down a smile. “Lady, I don’t disagree with you, but it’s been a rough day all around, so how about you back off.”

Her laser-like glare refocused on Dash. He hadn’t noticed her features until then. She had a complexion and hair color similar to his own. A hauler, judging by her outfit and demeanor. Despite the glaze of intoxication, there was an underlying shrewdness in her eyes. She was not to be taken lightly. “How about you get a handle on your amateur-hour crew so I don’t have to do it for you, Captain,” she said, verifying his perception.

“It’s Dash, and I don’t need unsolicited advice from some deckie.”

Her expression turned indignant. “I’m a licensed flight officer with a class one rating, so I know what I’m talking about.”

Dash thought she looked too young for that. “Oh really? Then you should’ve known to let a bouncer handle the situation instead of choking out Henrik.”

“She didn’t choke me out,” Henrik said, though his waffling tone betrayed him.

“Three more seconds, and I would’ve,” the woman said with certainty. “I didn’t need the bouncers. I’ve dealt with unruly subordinates and obnoxious drunks twice your mass. You were lucky your crew broke it up.”

Henrik, red-faced, stumbled on his next words. “At least my crew was there. Where was yours?” he blurted out. The woman’s eyes narrowed, and then she looked away. Henrik sat up, basking in his unexpected victory. “Oh, I hit a nerve there, didn’t I?” Henrik said. “What happened? Were you caught stimming on the clock?”

“None of your business,” she said. 

“Let it go, Henrik,” Dash said. He noticed Gaius slide away from Henrik a bit.

The chief engineer didn’t listen. “Did you get docked for sucker-punching a loader? Fined for failing to properly store some cargo? Or maybe you were thrown off your ship for fighting with the cook?”

The woman stood, fists clenched, cheeks flushed. “Shut your mouth, or I’ll do it for you. Again,” she growled. Gaius slipped off his bench, and bounced back into his seat just as fast.

Wesley stood and placed himself in the center of the cell. “Please, what’s done is done.”

The woman remained standing. Her jaw muscles flexed, and her gaze shifted to Wesley. His nervous solemnity seemed to calm her. Her posture deflated, and she sat down on her bench. Silence filled the tank, but didn’t last.

“So you were fired then. I’m sure that temper had nothing to do with it,” Henrik said.

“Enough already,” Dash said to Henrik, while watching the woman to make sure she didn’t pounce on the chief engineer again. Her shoulders tensed, but she remained seated.

“Your first mate must be a pushover to put up with his mouth,” she said to Dash.

He shook his head. “Don’t have one.”

“That explains a lot.”

“Cease fire, okay?” Dash said. “Despite the attitude, Henrik is fairly good at what he does.” Henrik objected the categorization, and Dash reminded him of the faulty thruster calculations.

“That’s sloppy,” the woman said. “The extra wear and tear adds up. It’s like dumping cred down the refresher.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dash said, and nodded toward Henrik. “It’s his top priority.” 

“It is? Since when?” Henrik said.

“Since I told you.”

“Under control, I see,” the woman said.

“If I may interject,” Wesley said, silencing the cell. “I’d like to ask our new acquaintance a few questions.” Everyone in the tank looked at the medtech.

The woman nodded toward Henrik. “Anything to shut him up.”

“You’re cleared for commercial contracting, correct?” She nodded again. “Do you have any violations on your record beyond a misdemeanor?”

“I might after tonight.”

“You finding her a date?” Rosalie said.

“She could probably use one,” Brock muttered.

Rosalie frowned, and tapped a slim finger in the middle of the big technician’s forehead. “Don’t be rude.”

Dash looked at Wesley. “You’re not doing what I think you’re doing, are you?”

“Bear with me, Captain,” Wesley said, eyes shifting while he waited for query results to appear on his PD.

Dash checked the time. They were due to be let out soon, as long as they paid a fine. That, or spend the night. “Let’s talk about this later,” he said to Wesley.

“Let your boy genius share his idea,” Brock said.

Wesley looked to Dash. “Shall I proceed, Captain?” Dash waved a hand, sitting back to watch the show. Wesley cleared his throat, an eager smile on his face. “I’m happy to report that I have found another candidate for our open position.”

“Really?” Draug asked. “Who?”

“You’re joking,” Henrik said. “You can’t possibly be serious.”

“I’m quite serious,” Wesley said.

“You mean her?” Henrik said, pointing to the woman. He stood, inhaling sharply like he was about to blow fire.

Dash rubbed his forehead as Henrik’s venomous rant came forth and muttered to himself, “This is going to be fun.”

---

“I can’t believe I agreed to this,” the woman said, nursing her recovery drink. Her elbows were planted on the diner tabletop like a detainee dug in for a long interrogation. A plate of bland, stomach-settling food sat in the middle of the table. Gaius stuffed his face while Wesley nibbled at a starch with the proper manners of a guest at a fancy dinner party. Dash ignored the food and took in the new candidate for the first mate position. Despite the late night, her eyes remained sharp. It gave her a couple of bonus points in Dash’s mind, despite his annoyance with her smart mouth and hostile attitude.

“There’s no harm in talking,” Wesley said. “Miss?”

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“There is if it’s a waste of my time.” She softened a bit, and added, “You can call me Milia.”

“If this is a waste of time, why are you sitting here?” Dash said.

Wesley held his hands up. “It’s been an eventful evening. I think we can all agree that despite the unfortunate manner in which we met, there is some sense of fate in how we came together. We shouldn’t let it go to waste squabbling.”

Gaius groaned with a mouth full of food. “I don’t want to hear about how this is divine intervention or some other nonsense.”

Wesley held his hands out in a pleading posture. “Can we please start fresh and forget about what was said?”

Milia stared at the medtech as she reminded him that Henrik had gone on a ten-minute rant about why it would be a bad idea to hire her, even threatening to cancel his contract. He wouldn’t stop talking until a guard came in and told him to shut up.

Dash bit back a smile. It was always nice when an outside party confirmed his chief engineer was a pain. “He’s all talk. Normally the target is me.”

Milia crossed her arms and shot Dash an ice-cold stare. “Sounds like he never got the behavioral correction he needed.”

“He gets it, he’s just a stubborn—”

Wesley slapped a hand on the table. “How about I frame it this way, so it appeals to your spacefarer’s inclinations? Do we want to work together to make solid profit in a suddenly unstable galaxy? Or do we want to be petty and pouty gasbags whose egos are too big for their cargo holds?”

Dash held Milia’s gaze. Wesley’s words had soothed the tension inside him, and he saw the cold haze in her eyes dissolve away.

“Now you’re talking our language,” Gaius said, wiggling in his seat. Dash grunted an approval. After a moment, Milia did too.

“Good, we’re all in agreement,” Wesley said. “Shall we proceed as if this were a normal interview then?”

“I got it from here,” Dash said. He usually started with drinks, but in this case, recoveries would do. He paused, stealing a look at Gaius. “Before we start, you’ve never encountered our ship, or my pilot before, have you?”

Her eyes shifted to Gaius, and back. “No. Why?”

“No reason,” Dash said. In his periphery, he caught Gaius’s indignant glare as he introduced himself and the flight crew, then asked Milia about her background. It was a fairly common origin—grew up in a family hauling business. She’d gone off on her own after a while to escape her home system. No major infractions on her license—one didn’t hold a license of that seniority when they were a perpetual screwup. She’d worked several light to medium freighters, hauling all sorts of goods—consumables, raw materials, various equipment, military gear, sentient relief packages.

“Even a load of those Shmims,” she said.

Dash huffed, recalling the unforgettable scent. “They’re the worst.”

“I know, right? Ship stunk for a cycle after we unloaded.”

Dash crossed his arms and bore into her. Time to prod a bit. “If you’re as competent as you appear, why’d you leave your previous ship?”

Wesley scowled at Dash. “Relax. It’s a legit question,” Milia said. “Let’s just say my previous captain had issues keeping work lined up and shares distributed.”

Dash cleared his throat. “A lot of captains are having difficulty with that now.”

“I was being political. My former captain is a complete jackass who gets altered all the time and takes horrible contracts.” She paused, then added, “I left after a heated confrontation.” She caught the concern on Dash’s face. “Nothing bad happened. Let’s just say I’ll never be welcome aboard unless someone else is in charge.” She paused again for a sip of her drink. “That was a half-cycle ago. Been here since, decompressing, figuring out my next move. But I want to be on a ship again. Sitting on a station makes me antsy.”

Dash nodded in sympathy. It was not an uncommon for a crewmember to depart on less than friendly terms.

“That explains why my search of the contractor boards didn’t yield you as a candidate,” Wesley said.

“Right. Hadn’t gotten around to submitting myself yet,” she said, though Dash thought he detected a hint of nerves in her voice. “My turn to ask?”

“Fire away,” Dash said.

“I told you mine. Tell me yours.”

“I’ve been a hauler for a good chunk of my life. Served many years as a first mate before getting my own ship. Going on ten years as captain now.”

“Most ships can’t afford to hire right now. Why can you?”

Dash tried to hide a smirk. It was her turn to prod. “You know what it’s like out there. Complete chaos.” He nodded at Wesley. “But our newly acquired medtech has opened new opportunities for us.”

Milia’s eyes narrowed. “Like corporate-sponsored license contracts on Praxa Prime?”

“Please understand, that is only a factor in the filtering of the pool of candidates we are looking at,” Wesley said. “We’re not hiring strictly based on that, but the candidate’s ability to perform as well.”

“You don’t have to get defensive. It is what it is. I know how the business works,” Milia said. “I have a CSL, but I still think they’re garbage.”

Dash perked up. “You and I are in agreement there.”

“I mean, what does some corporate executive know about life aboard a freighter?”

“If you dislike them so much, why did you get one then?” Wesley asked. Dash realized it was a good question.

“Because I like creds too much, and I got my old captain to pay for it,” she said. An even better answer, Dash thought. Her former captain must be upset at the loss of a crew member with sought-after credentials. “So how much of a problem is this Henrik guy and the ops crew?”

“They stick together, but they’re mostly harmless. This was their first scuffle in six cycles, and the last one was definitely not their fault.” Milia shot Dash a skeptical look. “If I have someone to keep them in line, I can focus on lining up more work, making everyone happy.”

Milia shrugged. “Henrik doesn’t seem that bad. I’ve dealt with worse.”

“How’d you handle it?”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Same way I handled Henrik.”

“And that solved the problem?” Wesley asked.

“Listen Doc, sentients may be super evolved, flying around in starships and all that. But the base animal nature is still ingrained in our genes,” Dash said. “Sometimes you just have to put someone in a headlock and show them who’s boss.”

“But what about conflict resolution strategies?” Wesley asked.

“He’s new,” Gaius said, nodding to Wesley. Milia’s lips teased a smirk. 

“Could you give us a minute to talk?” Milia nodded and left for the bar. When she was out of earshot, Dash said, “What do you think?”

“Seems like she knows what she’s doing, and proved she can deal with the ops crew,” Gaius said.

“I have limited experience in these matters, but my gut says she will be a fine addition to the crew,” Wesley said. He noticed the doubt lingering on Dash’s face. “I see you’re hesitant.”

“I am. But that’s my job,” Dash said.

“You’re only offering her a short-term contract. If it doesn’t work out, don’t renew it,” Gaius said.

“Then that’s a yes from both of you,” Dash said. Gaius and Wesley nodded. “I’ll talk to her alone. Why don’t you go to the kiosk and get another round of recoveries.”

Gaius and Wesley left the table. Dash waved Milia over. She sat in the booth and looked to him, betraying no emotion in either direction, which Dash supposed was a good thing. He said, “You readily admit you had a problem with your last captain. How do I know you won’t have one with me?”

“You do your job right, and don’t screw over the crew, we won’t have a problem,” she answered.

Dash sat back in the booth, sipping his recovery. The image of her chokehold on Henrik strained his self-control as a smile fought to break through. He glanced over her credentials again, fearing he’d missed a warning flag. He found none. “Here’s the deal. We’re offering you a short-term contract at standard rates. Assuming it goes well, we’ll keep you aboard and work out shares.”

Milia’s brow raised in the slightest. Dash couldn’t tell if it was a hint of surprise or joy. “How much of it has to do with the fact that I choked out your chief engineer?”

“It helps,” Dash said, grinning. “What do you say?”

For the first time, he saw a smile, if ever so slight, spread across her face.

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