…I suppose it’s redundant to explain what they are at this point, but just in case there’s some poor, isolated sap drifting out there with their comms fried, muttering to themselves, “Guild crews? Like squadron fleets…?” Allow me to clarify. There *are* some subtle differences, after all.

Crews are the backbone of the Guild system—small (or not so small) teams formed by multiple guild members, bound together by shared goals, skills, and sometimes just a mutual tolerance for each other’s quirks. Any group of two or more can register as a crew. They’ll gain access to exclusive mission postings, and they can even post their own contracts under the crew’s designation.

Think of it like the old starship teams of ancient Earth’s stories—a captain, a pilot, an engineer, a medic, and so on. Easy enough to understand if you imagine something like that. Of course, here in the uncharted sectors, it’s rarely so perfectly balanced. Crews in this part of the galaxy tend to be…homogeneous.

Combat specialists group with other combat specialists. Gunners stick with other gunners. It’s just simpler that way, especially for elimination missions where cohesion means survival. Tech experts and medics, on the other hand, rarely form crews on their own. Without close-range support, their chances out there are slim. Not that I’m saying such crews *don’t* exist—I’ve just never seen one last long.

Oh, and those specialization roles? Don’t think they’re some formal system dictated by the Guild. No, it’s all self-proclaimed. Your combat style is whatever you declare it to be—usually based on your weapons and temperament. Of course, there’s no “pirate” combat style; can you imagine? Criminals openly announcing themselves? Terrifying.

Anyway, let me tell you about a few notable crews currently active here on Station Baldr.

**Stellar Shield**

This is the juggernaut of Baldr’s crews—heavily armed and centered around combat specialists. Last I heard, they had about 20 members, but who knows? They might’ve added more by now. Their arsenal leans heavily on the classics: plasma lances, energy blades, shield generators, and power armor. They’re a serious combat force, focusing on missions to eliminate pirates and other threats around the station.

Their greatest strength? A fleet of interceptor-class ships that gets them from mission acceptance to target site faster than you can finish your synth-coffee. It’s why they’re so reliable and why work always flows their way. The downside? Maintenance costs. Keeping all that equipment and those ships operational isn’t cheap, and I don’t envy them for it.

Most of their recruits are ex-military types, like Julio from the Lunatran Fleet. They’ve got the whole space marine vibe going on. Me? I’ll pass. I prefer breathing without power armor squeezing my ribs.

**Blade of the Void**

The crew second to Stellar Shield is "Blade of the Void." If Stellar Shield feels too hardcore for you, this is the crew most spacers turn to. They’re larger—over 30 members by now, I think—but they’re less of a unified force and more of a loosely organized mutual assistance network. Members rarely work as one big group; it’s more about smaller sub-teams helping each other out. Burger’s part of this one.

Their weaponry and roles are diverse—energy blades, plasma lances, tech specialists, gunners—you name it. No uniformity in equipment, but they show unity with crew insignia patches on their suits. Though, with so many members, tight-knit sub-groups often splinter off. It reminds me of those massive, pointless guilds in old VR games. Not my style.

**Diana**

Now, this one’s a bit more unique. Diana is a flashy, all-female crew of about 12 members, mostly gunners and tech specialists with just a couple of close-range fighters. Their composition is wildly unbalanced, but they make it work. They’re well-known for their precision eliminations from a distance and for taking on high-profile contracts from the nobles in the upper habitat rings.

Their glamorous star-idol vibe is deceptive, though—some of them are freakishly strong. Mess with them, and you’ll find yourself spaced faster than you can blink. Oh, and there’s supposedly a male member in their ranks, but I’ve never seen him. I once mistook a female member for him, and ever since, they’ve been giving me death stares. Joining them? Not a chance.

**Baldr Security Force**

This is the largest crew on the station, focused on security rather than eliminations. They guard habitats, people, and transports, rarely taking on combat-heavy missions. Their numbers are massive, but most members aren’t exactly combat specialists. You’ll find middle-aged spacers, retirees, and folks just looking for steady work.

It’s an easygoing crew, and Doctor Healer’s a member as a medic. But as much as I respect them, a crew focused on guarding freighters isn’t for me. I’d rather spend my days hunting xeno beast and eating fresh meat while I still have youth on my side.

Those are the notable ones. Beyond these, there are countless smaller crews—tight-knit groups of friends with names so over-the-top they sound like something out of a holodrama. “Void Reaper’s Lance.” “Black Hole’s Edge.” Just hearing them makes me chuckle. They dream big, those Outer Rim kids.

And speaking of the Outer Rim…

With the hydroponic harvest cycle drawing to a close, the season has come when young dreamers from the farthest reaches of the Outer Rim descend upon us, seeking glory as new recruits in the guild's ranks...

"What are you staring at?"

"Huh? You’re the one staring..."

From the docking bays, they pour in—a tide of eager souls. The seeds of future spacefarers, cast out of their asteroid colonies once the harvest was complete. Told they’d outgrown their use, they’re sent to earn their keep in the wider galaxy. Dozens at a time, they arrive, starry-eyed and brimming with ambition.

The recycled air of the guild hangar felt heavy with anticipation and impatience. The guild is drowning in new registration requests. Amidst the pileup of contracts already stretching us thin, scuffles break out daily in the crowded hangars. I glance at Mirai, who’s gritting her teeth as she battles through the Havoc, her hands flying across the holo-interface. Meanwhile, I savor the creamy perfection of my synthetic milk... Mmm. Exquisite. Simply exquisite.

"The hell are you looking at!?"

"You wanna start something!?"

"HEY! Any fighting in guild territory and you’ll be ejected into the void—no second chances!"

No decorum. No patience. But their fire? Admirable. Young spacers from the same backwater colonies are often cut from the same cloth, but this season is always a test of the guild’s endurance. Turning them all away isn’t an option. The guild needs fresh blood, no matter how much of a headache they are. So, we deal with it.

"Look at that old spacer."

"White glow."

"You think he’s from Solflare?"

Ah. It seems I’ve caught someone’s attention. A trio of rookies approaches, their chatter cutting through the din. I don’t mind the company, but... skipping the queue? Really? Others have been waiting their turn, and these kids just waltz right up.

"What do you want, rookies?"

"Ohhh, just a Bronze-class, huh?"

"We might be rookies, old man, but we’ll blow past that pathetic Bronze-class rank in no time!"

"I welcome the attempt. The climb’s harsh, but hang in there. And for the record, I’m from the Lunatran Sector."

"Bet you’ve got Solflare blood, though..."

"Well, you’re not wrong. …By the way, the registration line’s closed for the day."

"Ah!"

"Hey, we were standing there first!"

"Huh!?"

Idiots. All of them. Spacers fresh from the colonies are so predictable. Life in the Outer Rim is laid-back, after all. They’ve never had to queue for anything, never faced the overwhelming pace of guild life. It’s no surprise they’re struggling to adjust.

They’re just kids, so I try to cut them some slack. At first. Still, dealing with their antics day in and day out wears thin. If they push their luck too far, I *will* have them spaced. But for now? I find myself admiring their fresh, hopeful energy.

"Alright! Today’s the first step on our journey to becoming legends of the stars!"

"Hehehe, yeah!"

"Let’s do this!"

I won’t lie—I get a kick out of the ridiculous crew names they come up with. All those overly dramatic, shameless monikers, dripping with imagined grandeur. It’s my little hobby. I quietly remember their names so I can tease them about it in a few cycles.