A Kusari Story

[Cat]

Chapter 7: A New Beginning

- "So, mister..." - a young ginger-haired woman took an infocard and put it into the terminal.
- "McFarlane," - a dark-haired man in his mid-thirties replied hastily. - "Aiden McFarlane."
- "Mister McFarlane..." - the woman mumbled, as the terminal read the provisional ID, of the kind that was usually handed out to refugees, and displayed the necessary data. - "You're from Leeds..." - she mumbled.

A lot of people have been coming from Leeds lately. Deprived of home by the Gallic invaders, those people were all over Bretonia, looking for work, food, and a place to stay at. They usually found themselves living in very small apartment blocks built hastily for those lucky enough to escape the conquered system. The desks and hard drives at various Bretonian companies were filled with their resumes. This McFarlane was just another refugee, the woman thought. Just like her...

- "I'm... sorry to hear that." - the woman mumbled, in an almost believable manner. She wished she could help everyone who came to her looking for a job, but she knew it was impossible. Not many refugees were suited for the jobs she could offer, and she couldn't offer many jobs either. Perhaps McFarlane could get a job at the farms... It wouldn't be as lucrative, but at least he wouldn't starve. As the woman was about to give the man another standard "We'll be in touch" refusal, a note in the infocard caught her attention.

- "It says you're a pilot. Is that so?" - she wondered, intrigued this time. - "Do you have a ship? A pilot's license, maybe? I mean, I don't have the reasons not to trust you, but... you could've just told all that at the refugee registration for a higher chance to get a job."

The man shrugged. "I wouldn't have been in this position if I had a ship. And I lost my license on Leeds, along with the ship." - he mumbled in an upset manner. "Had to pay one of those blockade runners a fortune to get myself and a couple of friends off world. And now I'm..." - he looks around and sighs. - "... here. You have no reasons to believe me, but you'll see the proof once I get to the controls anyway, right?"

A faint smile appeared on the woman's face. Sure, she couldn't help everyone, but she could help this guy today. "As it happens, we are looking for an escort pilot, mister McFarlane. And we can get you a ship that you may one day call your own. I won't lie to you, the job is demanding and risky, as you'll be facing pirates and even the frog-eaters. But if your infocard is true, you'll be able to handle that."

The man's face clearly showed that he didn't expect a bargain like this. A new job and an own ship! That sounded too good to be true. The ginger-haired woman expected that kind of reaction: "We're all in the same boat, mister McFarlane. Our partnership is built on trust and similar goals, just as much as on the contract that you'll have to sign," - she handed the papers over to him. - "And we do look out for our people."

The man glanced through the contract with an eye of an experienced scoundrel, before signing it. The woman smiled: "Mister McFarlane... I welcome you to Ajax Combine."