Part 2

Perkins smiled at Mattie.  At that moment he decided he liked her.  He liked that no-nonsense frontiersman attitude, and could appreciate the way she set her boundaries and managed her time.

“Then I won’t waste any of these five minutes, and I’ll get straight to the point,” he said as he put his elbows on the table and steepled his fingertips together. 

“I represent the interests of WayTech.  We oversee the acquisition of land and water rights for our sister companies.  I’m here to negotiate those rights, and I was told before I even touched this forsaken rock that you were the person I should speak with about said rights,” Perkins spoke in a casual monotone that only corporate lifers could master.  Any emotion was ground out of him on his way up the corporate ladder.

Mattie twisted her face as he spoke, “Land and water rights? What business is that of mine?  The people here…  They own their patch of this forsaken rock,” her eyes narrowed as the anger slowly bubbled up inside of her.

Perkins breathed in deeply and let out a slow calming sigh, “Yes. They do.  But many look to you as a leader.  And if I can convince you that you want to be independently wealthy, and maybe even that you’d like a management position once my company takes over, well, it is my understanding that the rest of the people here should see that as a sign, and simply follow suit.”

She scoffed at him, “You think I want to give up my cantina, my life, for some slick suit and dirty money?  Mister.  It may not look like much to you, but this is my livelihood, and I wouldn’t… No.  I couldn’t! Betray the community here like that!”

Perkins smiled.  This was the response he expected.  They always resist at first.  Always some grand statement about livelihoods, loyalty and respect, but 63% of the time once they see the amount of c-bills being offered they fold.  36% of the time simply flashing the military hardware that was brought with convinces them to give in, usually at a lower rate, since they refused the initial deal.  That left the last one percent.  It never happened, at least not to Perkins, but it was possible for the community to still refuse.  A small mining community on a periphery shithole like this? Well.  That would be catastrophic.

“Miss…  What did you say your name was?” Perkins asked.

“I didn’t.  Miss is just fine.”

“Miss.  I don’t think you understand the kind of money we are talking about.” He pulled a notepad from his pocket.  He found that writing it out with a relic pen on real paper added a certain gravitas to the negotiation, and he figured that accounted for at least a 3-5 percent jump on his conversion rate.  He scribbled a long number with multiple digits on the paper, turned it face down and slid it across the table to her.

Mattie stared at the paper, swallowing down her rage.  She struggled with whether or not she should even look at it.  

“Ask him what happens.” A voice spoke from behind her.  It was the cowboy.  Brynner.

“What?”

“Ask him.  Where do you all go once you’ve gotten your payday.  Fringe planet. No dropships.  Corporate buyout.” Brynner spoke with an exhausted knowingness.

Mattie turned towards the cowboy mercenary, “What do you mean,” she turned back to Perkins, “what is he talking about?”

The slick-cool facade cracked briefly.  His face quickly flashed a scowl before he regained his composure.  

“I’m sure I don’t know what he is talking about,” Perkins said coolly.

“So what happens if I take this offer?” Mattie asked, her eyes flashed towards the face-down paper on the table.

“You get rich.”

“And my home?” She asked.

Perkins was starting to get agitated.  This is not how this usually goes.  So many questions.  This mercenary was an unanticipated variable and he was skewing the math on his calculations. 

“Miss.  You will have no home.  Once the contracts are signed you and all other sellers will have 30 standard days…  Not local…  To vacate the premises.  In your case, if you choose to take the management position you will be immediately moved into a housing pod.”

“30 standard days?” Mattie’s voice trailed as she repeated the words.  That wasn’t much time. Where would they go in 30 standard days?  Most of the planet was inhospitable, and if the owners sold they would have nowhere to go.

“Supply ships run through every six standard months.  It could be a terran year before we could even get off-world.  Would you house everyone that long?” Mattie asked.

Brynner laughed at the question, “Come on, miss.  Don’t be naive.”

Perkins scowled again, “No.  Once contracts are signed you will have 30 standard days.  That is all my company is willing to offer you.”

“Miss.  You take that offer and you are hanging yourself and everyone here.” Brynner continued.  

“I’m sorry.  I don’t recall inviting you to the negotiation table.  Why are you even here?” Perkins was growing frustrated with this man’s presence.

Brynner smiled at Perkins, “she ain’t kicked me out yet.  And as of right now it’s still her place.”

“Alexi.  I may need you to go fetch me Spyder.  It may be time to escort this scum from the premises.” Perkins’ hands clenched into fists.

A loud thud echoed through the cantina as Mattie slammed the barrels of her blazer against the table, “It is still my place.  And I say he stays.”  Her other hand reached for the paper, crumpled it up and threw it directly at Perkins.  The wadded up paper smacked him between the eyes with indignity, and Alexi chuckled under his breath at this defiance.

Perkins closed his eyes and counted to five slowly while taking in a deep breath.  He exhaled in a slow, controlled manner, and spoke even more methodically.

“Okay. Have you heard of the Uninhabited Technicality?”

Mattie stared at him, fire in her eyes.

“A shithole like this doesn’t produce taxes.  It doesn’t produce much of anything.  You mine.  Every 6 standard months a dropship comes and you exchange goods.  Exports, imports, normal business.  But there is no affiliation.  No conglomerate to protect you, no clan to swoop to your aid.  There isn’t even another inhabitable planet within comms range.  As far as intergalactic law is concerned. You. Don’t. Exist.” The last words came out with a horrific finality.

Mattie was starting to see where this was going, but before she could respond he continued.

“You refuse my offer, and I will have Alexi execute what is known as a Standard Asset Clearance protocol.  We will scrub you and your miserable lives from the planet and every known database in the galaxy.  It will be as if none of you had ever existed at all.”  He leaned back in his chair, petty smugness plastered to his face.  

Mattie looked around the room.  The cowboy sat in the chair, elbows on knees, head down looking at the floor.  The mountain of a man had the same blank expression on his face he had had since he came in.  She considered her options. Thought about what would happen if she took the money, and the cowboy was right, it would be a death sentence for everyone, but if she refused… Well…  It would be the same death sentence for everyone.  

Damn these corps and suits! She thought while she processed everything.

The door opened, interrupting her thoughts.  The twitchy woman slowly walked back into  the cantina, her body quivering as if her whole nervous system was on overload.

“Ah.  Spyder,” The suit said, “It seems these folks need a demonstration of what happens when WayTech lays claim to a planet utilizing the Uninhabited Technicality clause.”  He turned to her as he spoke, a sly half-grin crept across his face.

Her eyes lit up, “Finally,” she looked at the two men, and then to Mattie.

“Oh, no, not her.  Not yet.  She’s the one that needs to see that we are serious.”

Spyder’s eyes bounced back to the two men.  She debated which would create the larger statement and decided it was the massive giant.  She slowly stomped towards him and pulled a small inhaler device from her inner pocket.  Two sharp puffs sent her pupils wide and they became black voids that swallowed the surrounding light.  Her heart raced and veins in her neck pulsed visibly as she sucked in a deep breath.  She exhaled sharply, sending a well-timed jab and the muscle-bound man.  

She misjudged his speed and reaction time, however, and he was up and out of the chair before the jab could connect.  The shock of his speed froze her in time, and she watched in slow motion as the chair he was sitting on now came raining down from above.  It crashed into her head, shattering and sending splinters of synth-wood flying in all directions.

The force of the blow sent her reeling.  The battle-amp coursing through her veins allowed her to shake it off, and she immediately countered with a lightning fast front kick aimed squarely  at the man’s knee.  Her foot caught air, and once again she was too slow for him.  She couldn’t work the physics of this out.  Her amphetamine-fueled brain couldn’t process how such a ponderously slow man could evade her strikes.  She struggled to focus, but suddenly the world went dark.

Her thoughts raced as fast as her heart pounded.

What the hell? She couldn’t understand what was happening.  Her hands shot up to her face and she realized the man’s massive hand was palming her head.  She began swinging wildly.  Her arms thrashed and her feet kicked in desperation as she tried to hurt this man holding her face in his hand.  As she thrashed she felt a pressure around her temples.

Oh god! She thought as she realized what was happening.

Brynner scooted his chair back in the shuffle and kept staring to the floor.  He knew how this would end, and he had no desire to watch.

Everyone else stared in disgusted terror as the slow crunch of Spyder’s skull muffled through his palms.  Blood and grey matter oozed from her ears and her body went limp and lifeless.  He dropped her to the floor, wiped his hands on her shirt, then turned to the table.

Mattie swallowed her fear and disgust, then turned back to Perkins and Alexi also.

“Well.  This complicates things.” Perkins said matter-of-factly.

“The answer is still no.” Mattie’s words were firm.

Perkins let out another sigh and he stood from the table.  “I’ll have to do a cost-risk assessment, but I think you are going to find that this isn’t going to end the way you want it to.”  Alexi and Perkens slowly walked from the cantina.  Perkins threw a small wad of c-bills down on his way out, “This is for the clean-up,” he said without even looking back.