A prompt was released in the world-building community, which asked us to write some info or a short story about common jobs in our setting. I chose to go with the latter.
Here's A Link To The Prompt If You'd Like To Check It Out.
315 B.C.I (Before Confederation Invasion
Aleks Cursor sat in the cabin quarters of the bulk cruiser, staring out the viewport to the bleak blackness of the galaxy. Nothing interesting ever happened beyond the window. Still, he stared, waiting to see something other than the void of nothing.
Occasionally something would float on by. A deposit rock, an asteroid, debris from a ship that died long ago. Sometimes, when the pilot steered to one side the sun would come into view; a momentary blast of light would illuminate the dark cabin quarters, until the viewport would catch up, adjusting to block out the radiation.
The door to the quarters opened, and Aleks could hear the uncertain footing of one of his crewmates. Drunk, no doubt about that.
A few slurred undecipherable words were uttered. Soon, fabric on steel made itself apparent. Then a body hit a thin mattress. Moments later the snoring started, and Aleks decided it was time to go for a walk.
The walkways were cramped, for such a large vessel, and the only thing that made navigating the tight space worse was the dust and grime that had built up over the years. The walkway opened out to a more spacious area.
"The meetings," as some of the crew took to calling it. It was a large oval-shaped area, with numerous doors.
"Aleks," he heard a familiar voice calling his name. "Fitting in okay?" He knew it was the captain of his division, Rork Bantar. A Human of The Belt, tall and skinny.
"I'm fitting in fine," or at least he wanted to believe that. Realistically, he felt that he wasn't cut out for the job of Belt Mining.
People had told him that the ship did most of the work, but that wasn't the case for the vessel he found himself on. Maybe the newer models had the capability of mining asteroids with little to no help. But, these older cruisers needed a lot of manpower to operate, and the pay-to-risk ratio wasn't worth it.
"Your shift starts in an hour, have you slept yet? You look tired, and I don't take asteroid hoppers out if they've not slept." Rork said as he approached. He poked at Aleks's face and pulled down his bottom eyelid on the left-hand side.
Aleks swathed his hand away and stepped back. "I'm not tired, I've slept just fine." Aleks lied.
"Calm yourself, we have rules for a reason," Rork said, as he shun a look that told Aleks that he had first-hand experience in the matter. "Be honest."
He could have lied again and kept lying until Rork believed him, but with a sigh, he felt his resolve wain. "Okay, I haven't slept since my last shift. I'm not finding it easy."
Rork turned to stare at a wall over Aleks's shoulder, and he let out a sigh of his own. "Since your last shift?" He asked.
Aleks opened his mouth to answer; to apologise. To say anything. Before one word could fall from his mouth he was punched in the face, and the blinding flash of white took all of his focus. The speed of Rork's reaction was too fast to notice, let alone block, and the result was a clean jab to the jaw. He stayed on his feet, long enough for the throbbing to start.
"I've lost too many men out there, and I have to carry each of them with me. I don't tolerate lies, and I won't tolerate anyone bending, or breaking my rules; they're my safety net to ensure that I don't lose anyone else."
The hallway started spinning, as the tirade came from Rork, and Aleks started to feel light on his feet. Either the ship was moving, or he was. The last thing he could remember was Rork breaking from his rant to grab him under the arms.