Chapter Text
The eight of them reach a consensus, as reluctant and bitter as it is, but as first-among-equals it ultimately falls to Dr. Ayda Mensah to place her mark on the damn SecUnit rental contract.
A notarized copy of the document appears in her feed the moment she withdraws her thumb, as if the system doesn’t want to give her any chance to reconsider. The corporate representative smiles politely and dips her head once in an acknowledging nod.
“So glad we could reach an understanding. It really is for the best.”
Mensah lets her anger rule her features for a full three seconds before forcing her expression back into the measured surety more befitting of a Preservation Alliance planetary admin. Next to her, Gurathin tenses, face-half turned towards her and mouth thinned.
Volescu’s eyes dart nervously back towards the wall where the line of SecUnit models had been displayed. The panels are closed now, the wall innocuously blank, but Mensah can tell he is imagining them open once more. Remembering the line of inhumanly rigid figures in white armor staring out at them with flat, black non-faces. “What happens now? With the SecUnit, I mean. Will we, ah, will it accompany us back to our lodgings?”
Mothergods, Mensah hopes not. She’d like a little time to wrestle with the morals of what they’re doing in private before facing the consequences of their decision head-on.
The representative shakes her head, almost indulgently. “Not unless you request it, though there would of course be an additional fee to extend the security coverage period. And I know that you are concerned about… costs.”
Here, her smile briefly loses its polish, twisting into something coy and condescending. Mensah keeps her gaze steady and her folded hands still upon the negotiation table. She says nothing, letting her silence speak for her.
The second representative’s gaze flits between back and forth between Mensah and the company spokesperson. He coughs, clearly uncomfortable, but the company solicitor seated at the spokesperson’s other hand appears completely unperturbed by the tension and the half hour of raised voices that preceded it.
“For your convenience, the unit and all accessory equipment will be delivered direct to the transport dock and made available for your inspection no later than two hours prior to departure. Additionally, since you have decided to contract one of our refurbished models, this inspection will allow you to ensure that the unit meets your expectations and needs. If it doesn’t, a representative will be available to negotiate a replacement.”
Ratthi snorts. “Try and up-sell us, you mean.” There’s a soft smack underneath the table as Pin-Lee swats his thigh in warning.
“I’m sure the unit will more than meet your advertised standards,” they say. “But I’m not seeing the unit’s operation manual and refurbish records in the spec packet you gave us. When will those be available?”
“Per your contract, you will have access to all needed system and equipment operation manuals once you have accepted delivery of the unit.”
Pin-Lee cocks their head. “But not the refurbish records?”
“No,” te says flatly. “You will not receive those.”
“Bullshit we won’t,” Pin-Lee scoffs. “We’re entitled to at minimum a summary of repaired components and reason for replacement under clause four of Consumer Protection Rule 12.89b.”
Gurathin is stock-still in his seat, but Mensah catches his arms flexing in the way she knows means he’s clasping and unclasping his hands between his knees. She’s not surprised when a message pops up on their secure internal feed chat.
What the hell are you doing?
My job, Pin-Lee responds. Quit distracting me.
“Our apologies,” says the spokesperson unapologetically. “But those records by their nature include details from prior security contracts. It would be a violation of those clients’ privacy to release them to you.”
“And a violation of the Hagert Ruling,” ads the solicitor.
“Hagert Ruling my ass. We both know that’s superseded by ChengPol v. CastGuard.”
They go back and forth like this for a while, Pin-Lee’s arguments getting increasingly technical and profane. Mensah lets them work, satisfied to see that while the company’s stance remains firm, the solicitor temself has started to occasionally stumble in tes responses. But as Pin-Lee digs deeper into the minutia of broader Corporate Rim law and local jurisdictional precedence, Mensah can sense discomfort growing amidst the rest of the Preservation Auxiliary, especially once Pin-Lee starts to pull examples from cases involving projectile weapon safety recalls and the rental of ground transport vehicles.
“Enough,” Mensah finally says, interrupting the company solicitor mid-counter citation. “We have already signed, and it is clear that a modification will not be made today.”
She turns to face the company spokesperson. “We don’t concede the issue as resolved, but we have other appointments to make this cycle. Also, given the… volatility of the discussion, I believe it would be more productive for us to re-approach this issue more formally before a legislative arbiter, don’t you agree?”
She keeps her tone pointedly mild. There is no need to be threatening when the possibility of a fully public injunction request is a threat in itself.
The company spokesperson smiles brightly, teeth white and perfect. Mensah thinks, again, of the row of SecUnits still as death less than ten feet away.
“Of course. We look forward to concluding this matter, and hope that you will not regret doing business with us.”