Memory Transcription Subject: Chief Executive Officer Sifal, Seaglass Mineral Concern

  Date [standardized human time]: January 26, 2137

  I wasn't stupid. I'd been commended on multiple occasions for my ingenuity and cunning. I was highly-educated as well, near the top of my class at the engineering academy. I'd studied the pure fields of mathematics, physics, and chemistry, as well as their practical applications to the maintenance and design of everything from electronics and starships. In short: I knew my shit.

  But in the more recent chapters of my life, I'd found myself far afield of my studies, in uncharted realms wholly unknown to science. To a species of emotionally-repressed loners like the Arxur, the things humans knew about psychology were practically psionics. And to a people who’d gone from a military-first command economy to the wartime desperation of a rebellion, economics may as well have been alchemy. I could wrap my head around it, I could learn it, but it was probably never going to stop feeling like I was working with a series of equations that magically transmuted rocks into wealth.

  “Alright, just…” I started. “Take it from the top. We dig up ore. Sometimes we smelt it. And then what happens to it?”

  Debbin rubbed his temples like he had a headache. “We have a handful of existing contracts with shipping conglomerates, or sometimes starship manufacturers directly, and they come and pick up our minerals at an agreed-upon price.”

  “Trade,” I said. “Got it. Nobody’s seizing our goods on behalf of the military, and then just issuing whatever ‘reward’ they deem fit.”

  Debbin’s forehead hit the desk. “That’s called a monopsony, where there’s only one buyer, and we don’t have those. The military’s usually got extra funds to throw around, but they’re just another bidder for our production output.”

  “Bidders. Right.” I was struggling to envision this. “Multiple groups want our ores, and they fight over who gets it?”

  “Not literally, but yes,” said Debbin. “They compete. If one firm can afford to pay more, the ore is theirs, and their competitors get nothing from us.”

  “Um, sir?” asked Benwen, timidly. “How do we figure out what the price of ore is?”

  I blinked. “Yeah, wait, hang on,” I said. “What if the core worlds are selling ore for twice as much, and everyone who shows up here is making low offers? How do we know what our goods are actually worth? We’d need some kind of… price-scouting force, at minimum, and we’d frankly be better served by some kind of network of FTL comms to learn about prices in real time…”

  “You’re describing an interstellar commodities market,” Debbin groaned into the tabletop, “and we don’t have those in the Federation. You predatory assholes keep blowing them up whenever we build them.”

  I blinked. “Wait, that’s what you were using your FTL comm satellites for? I thought they were mostly for military coordination.”

  Debbin stared at me, incredulous. “They’re comms, Sifal. We use them for lots of things.”

  I leaned back in my chair to think, and wobbled a bit catching my balance--persnickety thing wasn’t really designed for a biped as big as me. There were no bipeds as big as me and my fellow Arxur. “I think I’ve heard that the U.N. is setting up an FTL comm network for their allies,” I said. “If so, those are probably protected by humanity’s non-aggression pact with both sides of the Arxur civil war.”

  Debbin rubbed his face and sighed. “That’s one of the questions that I’ve been mulling over. Where is Seaglass going to politically stand going forward?”

  My eyes narrowed. “Remind me again, exactly, how you managed to stay loyal to the Federation when the Nevok Imperium, at large, sided with humanity?”

  Debbin shook his head exhaustedly. “I’m part of the aristocracy,” the little white-furred man said. “The Nevok Imperium habitually grants a great deal of independence to local rulers. In the pre-contact days, it was a long and hard journey over freezing tundra from one noble’s hold to another. Nowadays, in the Federation, travel between worlds is perilous and fraught with danger from Arxur raids. Under circumstances like that, regional autonomy just makes sense. Whose realm, their law. Seaglass is my colony, so we walk whichever path I choose.” He lifted a cup of tea towards me, in cheeky recognition. “Until someone with a bigger fleet tells me otherwise.” He took a long swig.

  I nodded, thinking. “Well, now that you’re secretly working alongside the Arxur, do we want to consider switching the colony’s allegiance back in line with your species as a whole? I can’t imagine that harboring us is going to win you any favors with the Federation.”

  “Not to contradict you, Commander,” Laza began, “but on the other claw, wouldn’t a group of Arxur rebels working openly with humanity’s allies imperil their nonaggression pact with the Arxur Dominion?”

  I grumbled, but my lieutenant had a point. “I suppose our presence here is going to have to stay secret in any event,” I said. “The real question is, do the benefits of realigning with the Nevok Imperium and the United Nations outweigh the costs and risks?”

  “Benwen, how’s your handwriting?” asked Debbin. “Confident enough to scrawl a few bullet points up on the whiteboard for us?”

  The younger Nevok looked nervous, but nodded. “I, um. I don’t think the Arxur will be able to read it, though.”

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Right, the translator chips only covered spoken word, not written. Laza could transcribe our discussion in our own language, but putting an officer on the same level as Debbin’s ward seemed like a faux pas. “Zillis, could you come in here?” I said, loudly. The younger Arxur ducked her head in the door, and looked at me for further instructions. “Would you mind writing some notes for us on the board?”

  “Not at all, Commander!” Zillis said with an uncharacteristic amount of enthusiasm. Normally, she was more guarded, like she was afraid of getting caught being happy, but she seemed more energetic than usual. She was practically bouncing. “What would you like me to write?” she said to me, but she was looking at Benwen when she said it.

  “We’re doing pros and cons of having Seaglass publicly side with the Federation versus the U.N.,” said Benwen, excitedly. Were they friends now? Getting Arxur to coexist with prey was always the plan, but I’d always figured it would have taken longer.

  A rankless runt and a mental patient, I mused. I suppose the people closest to the bottom of the current system have the least attachment to it.

  “Mm, got it,” said Zillis, examining a marker to puzzle out how it worked. The wedge tip made it remarkably suited to the claw scratch shapes that made up our script.

  Debbin was bug-eyed, but nodded slowly. “Alright. Federation. Pros: we retain our existing markets and connections with no updates.”

  “Are those hard to update?” I asked.

  Debbin shrugged. “It’s work,” he said.

  I nodded. “Alright. Anything else in the ‘pro’ column?”

  Debbin rubbed his eyes. “No. This is probably going to be a decision based on how manageable the ‘cons’ are. In the Federation’s case, I’d start with, Con: we’re technically at war with both sides of the Arxur civil war, plus Humanity.”

  “Yeah,” said Laza dryly. “The Arxur could show up here at any time, and just take over the place.”

  Debbin groaned. “Yes. I noticed. Thank you. Further cons: no access to FTL comms, and the whole planet is likely to get glassed if anyone realizes we’re working with Arxur. Am I missing anything else?”

  I raised a claw. “Even setting aside what they’ll do to you if they find us, the Kolshians are unlikely to defend you when your species at large has betrayed them, even if you, personally, remain loyal.”

  Debbin rubbed his face. “Noted. Anything else?” There was a brief pause as everyone came up empty. “Now, pros of joining up with Humanity: we’re protected by their nonaggression pact with the Arxur. We theoretically get access to FTL comms--”

  “Point of order?” I interjected. “If we’re trying to hide the Arxur presence on this planet, is giving each of our workers--many of whom are skittish prey--the ability to text other planets in real-time a good idea?”

  “We would need to establish some kind of censorship firewall, yes,” said Debbin, tiredly. “Your presence here is a massive security issue no matter who we side with. We can’t let that information get out. FTL comms make it easier for information to leak, so we’d need tighter control of the media to hide you.”

  “Wait, what?” asked Zillis, looking astonished. “I thought humans and human-aligned species were all about speaking freely.”

  Debbin shrugged. “The Federation is not about that, and that’s where I was raised. You want a media blackout, I can make that happen. Most of our security detail is already familiar with those protocols.”

  Zillis looked oddly disappointed.

  Debbin sighed. “Look, it’s a bit of an upfront cost, but I’ll tell you right now: it looks like we get more out of aligning with Humanity going forward. FTL comms let us join the interstellar commodities market, we’d get some official neutrality with the Arxur, and frankly the U.N. is desperate for minerals right now anyway, so even without addressing pricing inefficiencies, we’d still be making more money working for them. The only way we lose out is if they lose the war, but…” He shook his head. “If they lose, we’re all fucking dead anyway because we let Arxur peacefully cohabitate on this planet, and the Kolshians aren’t about that.”

  “Again, won’t harboring Arxur still make things awkward for Humanity, if they’re trying to remain neutral?” Benwen asked, tentatively.

  Debbin gestured with a paw. “Again, we just have to make sure Humanity never finds out what we’re doing.”

  I snorted. “Their SigInt is too strong,” I said. “They’re going to find out eventually. But… I think they’ll keep that information to themselves.”

  Debbin cocked an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

  I shrugged. “Secrets are power. Broadcasting them makes them stop being secrets. There’s no upside for Humanity to just tell everyone what we’re doing.”

  Debbin grinned. “And plenty of downsides. Clever. Alright. I’ll make the arrangements to realign with the Nevok Imperium and the U.N., then.”

  “Hang on,” said Laza. “How do we know you won’t just sell us out the moment you have U.N. protection?”

  Debbin shook his head, and put on a saucy smirk. “Laza, darling, I don’t think I’ve been subtle about this: I want the lot of you here. As long as you’re actually working with us, and this isn’t some elaborate long con that ends in our death or enslavement? I’d sooner have a few predators on my side in negotiations.”

  “Negotiations?” I stared at him like he was daft. “Again, what part of ‘we are not legally allowed to be here’ makes you think we should go have a word with your buyers?”

  Debbin waved my concerns away. “Your cunning strategic mind should work well enough, then,” he said. “Just help me pursue profit the way you’d pursue prey, and we’ll both be rich by the end of this.”

  I tapped the table, contemplatively. “If we’re connecting to an interstellar commodities market to determine prices, how much strategy is there really going to be?” I asked.

  Debbin shrugged. “Look, we’ll get into the topic of market forces and arbitrage later, but sure, overall, ore is ore. It’s fairly fungible. Seaglass Iridium isn’t any different than Colian Iridium. Commodities don’t really have regional branding.” He shook his head, and took a long swig of his tea. “Look, frankly, it’s only a few percentage points of our gross revenue so far, but we’ve been making some headway with our advertising campaigns for Seaglass Kelp.”

  I bit my tongue out of politeness, but Laza had no such restraint. She leaned forward in astonishment. “...you want obligate carnivores to help you sell kelp?!”

  Debbin’s mouth opened, then closed itself without saying anything. To be fair, this was, barring an allergy, likely the first time he’d ever been in a boardroom meeting with someone who couldn’t eat kelp. It was flattering in its own way, really, that he’d briefly forgotten we were the monsters feared across the Federation.

  I rubbed my eyes. “Let’s just… let’s just take a look at the kelp harvesting operation. Maybe some inefficiency will jump out at me.” I was going to need another tea at this rate. Today was going to be exhausting.