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Interstellar Epoch
Self - awareness

Self - awareness

The recreation hub's oxygen mix carried traces of synthetic jasmine - corporate aromatics designed to mask Ceres' sulfur stench. Lisa's retinal HUD flickered as she terminated the commlink, catching her reflection in a polished bulkhead: flushed cheeks, pupils dilated 18% beyond baseline.

**Emma:** (approaching from starboard corridor) "Lisa? Did you reach him?"

Her pressure suit's corporate insignia gleamed under UV lights, the tailored cut accentuating curves that turned rookie miners into stumbling idiots. Six pairs of eyes tracked her progress across the lounge.

**Lisa:** (vocal stress +23%) "He's... preoccupied with quota compensation."

**Emma:** (hygiene scanner activating) "Let me guess - 'operational expenditures require attention'?" Her laugh tinkled like broken glass in vacuum. "Typical Karl. Always hiding behind technicalities."

Bio-readouts betrayed Lisa's discomfort:

> Galvanic skin response: 2.8μS increase

> Prefrontal cortex activity: Conflict resolution pattern

**Emma:** (adjusting zero-G manicure) "Frankly, this saves me the trouble. Can you imagine the rumors if we kept... socializing?"

**Lisa:** "But he helped you through probation! Those core sampler tutorials--"

**Emma:** (activating privacy field) "Were mutually beneficial. My completion rates boosted his mentor bonuses." Her neural lace flickered with transaction logs. "Now that I'm transferring to Logistics..."

The unspoken truth hung heavier than Ceres' 0.29g gravity.

Karl's H4 skiff docked at Bay 12, its cargo hold vibrating with 2.7 tons of Lintie. The mineral offload zone thrummed with desperation - rookies clutching 70-credit payouts, veterans nursing plasma burns from overclocked drills.

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**// PAYOUT QUEUE //**

> Conveyor 7: Miner #4411 (Yield: 312cr / Penalty: -100cr)

> Vital signs:

> - Blood alcohol: 0.08%

> - Cortisol levels: Emergency threshold

**Conveyor 9 Operator:** "H4-2781! Deposit sequence initiated."

The black tide of Lintie cascaded onto quantum scales. Veterans leaned in as the display flickered:

**Real-time Valuation:**

14:19:12 - 5,327cr

14:19:34 - 12,844cr

14:20:01 - 27,191cr

**Miner #099:** (from shadows) "Fucking rookies got lucky."

**Miner #246:** "Lucky my ass. That's G46 regolith patterning."

Karl's combat-honed ears caught the whispers. Let them speculate.

**Logistics Officer Li Ying:** (approaching with corporate swagger) "Impressive haul... for a Greenhorn." His ID badge flashed Security Clearance Gamma. "Ever consider mentorship? My team could--"

**Karl:** "Task logs available. 1,000cr per terabyte."

The officer's smile froze. Behind them, the payout display finalized:

**Total Yield:** 27,191cr

**Net Payout:** 8,969cr (33% bonus tier achieved)

West's neural feed replayed Li Ying's subsequent transmission:

**Li Ying:** (encrypted channel) "Tower, pull H4-2781's telemetry. Full spectrum scan. And prep my private shuttle - got a date with some corporate royalty."

The skiff's engines whined as Karl exited the bay. Let the vultures pick at breadcrumbs. His true payload glowed in encrypted drives - 419 hours of illicit mining ops, every stolen gram of Zisite cataloged.

**Karl:** "West. Initiate black market ledger protocol."

[Confirmed. Shadow accounts primed.]

The numbers danced behind his eyes - 8,969cr today, 9.8 million in 25 cycles. Enough to purchase a decommissioned H6 interceptor. Enough to arm twelve loyal soldiers.

As Ceres' pale sunlight glinted off the H4's scarred hull, Karl allowed himself a predator's smile. Let Emma chase her corporate princes. Let Li Ying play information broker.

The stars waited for those who understood their true currency wasn't credits, but calculated violence.