[i]”Gods,[/i] we need a crew.” Vasilia sighed, poking listlessly at the last roll on her plate. “A full, loyal crew, not just...whoever we happen to pick up on the next planet. It’s a miracle we’ve gotten this far with, what, fourteen? And a half? And nobody’s dropped dead at their post or tried to knife someone for being inexcusably chipper.”

Dolce returned to his seat. Coincidentally, the contents of their spread for this working lunch had shifted again, and a new selection of food and drinks lay closest to Iskarot. He’d not gone for anything yet, and there were only so many dishes prepared, but Dolce was nothing if not persistent. And patient. “Are there planets with that many people looking for work?” He wrinkled his nose thoughtfully, one eye on the Hermetician. Always. “I can’t remember the last time we had to outfit an entire ship from scratch.”

“Never in my tenure, at least. And even if we found such a place, it’s back to the same problem; how would we pay them? We certainly didn’t have any treasure to bring. So unless a previous owner misplaced theirs somewhere on this ship...recently half-submerged...belonging to Lord Hades...”

A speculative silence fell over the three.

“...we should ask Alexa when she gets back.”

“Good idea, dear.”