CHAPTER 9: THE PROCESSING FEE

  [MORAL STATUS: DECLINING]

  [FACILITY DEBT: 14,000 GOLD (STAGNANT)]

  [PERSONNEL: AMI (RANK 5)]

  The evening was a heavy, stagnant weight. In the Oasis, the sun didn't set so much as it retreated, leaving the sand to radiate the day's heat back at the stars. I was reviewing the mana-yield from the Crypt when the alert flared on my secondary crystal. A "System Variance" in the lower corridors.

  I called for Ami.

  "Ami, report to Sector 4. The sensors tripped a biological signature near the mana-vats. It’s likely a stray bandit from the earlier raid who crawled into the vents."

  "On it," she replied. Her voice was flat. Ever since the "Onboarding," she had been quieter, moving through the halls like a ghost in her own life.

  I switched the feed to follow her. She moved with a scout's grace, her daggers drawn but held low. When she reached the sector, she stopped. Tucked into a corner of the silver-lined basalt was a boy. He couldn't have been older than fourteen. He was wearing the rags of the Sand-Bandit Coalition, his skin caked with dust and dried blood. He was clutching a small, empty waterskin as if it were a holy relic.

  "Gray," she whispered into her comms. "It’s just a kid. He’s dehydrated. He must have followed Mito’s group and got separated. He’s not a fighter."

  "I didn't ask for a threat-assessment, Ami," I said. I watched the boy on the screen. He was shivering, even in the heat. "He is a trespasser. He bypassed the entry-fee gate through an unauthorized ventilation shaft. That is a breach of facility protocol."

  "He's dying, Gray! Look at him!" Ami’s voice cracked. She knelt beside the boy, reaching for her own canteen.

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  "I didn't authorize a water-distribution," I said. My voice was cold, a stark contrast to the desperation on the screen. "If you give him your water, you are subsidizing a thief. That water is Oasis property, calculated into your daily survival allotment."

  "He's a child!" Ami shouted. She ignored me and poured a few drops into the boy's mouth. He sputtered, his eyes fluttering open. They were wide, clouded with the haze of heatstroke.

  "I didn't build this place to be a sanctuary, Ami. I built it to be a business," I said. I leaned into the crystal. "And every business has a processing fee. By entering the facility without a permit, he has incurred a debt. Since he cannot pay in gold, he must pay in labor-equity."

  "You want me to process him?" Ami’s hands were shaking. She looked at the boy, then at the security camera in the ceiling. "Like the others? You want to put him in the mana-cranks?"

  "He is an asset, Ami. Unrefined, but an asset nonetheless. He will be fed, and he will be housed. In exchange, he will provide the kinetic energy required to maintain the cooling systems. It is a fair trade. The desert would have killed him for free. I am offering him a life at a cost."

  "This is wrong," she whispered. "Lilo told me you were just being practical. He told me you were just making sure we didn't starve. But this... this is just cruelty with a ledger."

  I didn't answer immediately. I watched her through the lens. I remembered when we were a party—really a party. Ami used to bring me wildflowers she found on the trail because she knew I liked the scent of something that wasn't leather and blood. She was the heart of the Sun-Walkers. And that heart was currently a liability to my bottom line.

  "I didn't make the world this way, Ami," I said. "I didn't fire the accountant who kept me alive for three years. I didn't leave a man to walk home in a blizzard. The world taught me that everything has a price. I’m just the first person honest enough to write it down."

  "I won't do it," she said.

  "Then I will deduct his entry fee, his water usage, and his potential labor-value from your personal credit," I replied. "At current rates, that will add six months to your contract. Do you accept the debt, Ami?"

  The silence stretched. On the screen, the boy clutched Ami's sleeve. He didn't know he was a line item. He just knew he was scared.

  Ami's head bowed. Her shoulders slumped. The light that had always defined her—that scout’s spark—dimmed.

  "No," she whispered. "I don't accept the debt."

  "Then process him. Call the security golems to transport him to the vats."

  I watched as she stood up. She didn't look at the boy again. She signaled the golems. When the stone constructs arrived and lifted the small, frail body, Ami turned and walked away. She didn't go back to her post. She went to her room and locked the door.

  I didn't feel sense of victory nor feel the weight of her sadness. I just watched the mana-ticker on my desk.

  [MANA-CRANK EFFICIENCY: +0.5%]

  [EMPLOYEE MORALE: -12%]

  I recorded the numbers. Morale was a depreciating asset, but as long as the contracts held, it didn't affect the immediate output. I closed the ledger and stared at the violet dark.

  I didn't hate myself. I didn't have the time. I had a Three-Road Junction to acquire, and I needed my scouts to be ready for the cold reality of the trade.