Linsora and Permac inched toward a uniformed man seated at a small table at the back of the room. His yellow-blonde hair stuck up in odd tufts, as though he had run his hand through it too often. The crew intake terminal blinked red, indicating the wrong sequence of his prior entry for a crew member. He looked up at Linsora with clear, steady eyes.
“You’re next.” His voice rumbled in his chest. “I’m Captain Haavens. Before you ask, and you look like you might, yes it’s unusual for the commander of a ship to be processing crew. Yes, I look tired and I’ll probably never live to be as old as I look. And yes, I’ve been at this all morning or whatever the hell time it is here and this chair is eating into my backside as much as this whole situation is eating into my gut. And no, I’m not good at this so it’s taking a while. Just an advisory. You don’t look like the patient type and I’m not in the mood for complaints. Got it?”
Linsora moved forward with a shrug.
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