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Dmitri Antonov Omicron 7, the station Jaxon grew up on, is in a
small asteroid belt circling Menorb, a system of the Regina subsector. Being something of a frontier system, the
stationers police themselves. The
colonists handle matters internally, but depend on the station for
off-world supplies and services. The
station does a brisk business (legal and otherwise) as a trade port and
supply station for passing craft. Jaxon’s mother, a colonist, died when he was very
young. His father still
works as a shuttle pilot ferrying miners and colonists to their
assignments, leaving Jaxon plenty of time to run around the station.
With better-than-average looks and an engaging personality, Jaxon
put his skills to use making a few credits as a trader, brokering deals
for the planet-siders and getting a small percentage of the sales.
He earned even more on certain “gray-market” shipments that
never made it into the station’s books. Once he had enough creds to support himself for a
while, MacLachlan decided to travel a bit, see other stations and
planets. He hooked up with
a few enterprising merchants here and there, working himself from port
to port. Jaxon still did a
little trading now and again, but he was always careful to keep it low
profile and independent, avoiding unwanted entanglements and
associations. All that changed on Tarsus.
A deal went bad and the crew fought a running gun battle just to
get back to their ship. Jaxon
got cut off from the others and never made it to the ship before it
pulled out. With Tarsan
pirates stalking him in the station’s corridors and security looking
for anyone suspicious, Jaxon quickly ducked into a conference room. A stunning redhead sat at a large desk in the
center of the room, punching data into a hand-comp.
A large upholstered chair sat opposite the desk.
“You must be Mr. Antonov,” she said without looking up.
“You’re 10 minutes late.
Starchaser Industries has plenty of applicants for these few
positions, Mr. Antonov, applicants who want the job enough to be on
time. Thank you for coming.
That will be all.” “I’m afraid my lateness was unavoidable.
Have you not heard? There
was trouble on deck 7 and security’s got the area sealed off tighter
than a drum. I had to be
quite . . . uh . . . resourceful to get past them at all.
Surely Starchaser appreciates initiative and creativity in its
employees.” He punctuated
the last line with his most winning smile, moving in quickly to seat
himself before she could object. ‘Please don’t let
them have a vid of Antonov,’ Jaxon thought to himself. She looked up then, drumming her fingers as if
making a decision, before speaking in a measured tone.
“I hope your resourcefulness
didn’t include anything that’ll get station security in here.” “Not at all,” he lied.
“I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.” “Of course,” she said, returning his smile.
“Well then, Mr. Antonov, tell me what skills you would bring to
the job, besides an obvious gift for bullshit . . .” |