Every captain starts out alone with six terminals and no crew. This is the story of how you get a ship that sails itself, and a crew that can't mutiny.
Claude in one window, Codex in another, Gemini somewhere behind them. Two are fighting over the same file. One has been waiting on you since lunch, and you only find out when you go looking.
Bring the agents you already pay for. Each one gets a face, a bunk and a lane, and they all answer to the same captain.
Other crews walk about for show. Ours is the status board. At the workbench means writing code. At the cannons means running tests. In the cabin means waiting on you. In the brig means the kraken caught them.
Stations come from agents that report their actions, like Claude Code through its hooks. An agent that only prints text still gets its live terminal, and stands where its last command puts it.
The captain reads the map room, hands out jobs and signs on a cabin kid when the crew is stretched. Your todos and the crew's are the same board, and nothing is buried as done until it carries proof.
Some crews let agents write straight into each other's queues, or start new agents from a file anyone can edit. Ours can't. Every message goes through one lighthouse, and it says no to anything it doesn't know. When a pirate needs more, it rings your bell.
Every rule, decision and mistake goes in the ship's log, and each pirate reads its island's page before work. The whole crew runs on your machine, and your code never leaves port unless you send it.
Your agents' own bills stay yours, same as today. The treasury shows them per pirate, with a hard stop you set.
The chests are on the beach, each one with its proof. One bell rang in the night and you answered it from bed. Time to row ashore.