The bolt slid. The world inhaled.
The door opened a hand's width and the clerk edged through like guilt learning to walk. Official jacket, hollow eyes. In the corridor, a Nightshade shape leaned and listened.
"Vale," the clerk said. "We… need a favor."
Hale nudged the door shut with two fingers. "You brought company."
The clerk held out a folder. Paper too clean for this planet. "They want this signed. Requisitions spiked. They'll attach the workshop if repairs lag. And—" He swallowed. "Serum allotments are being reviewed."
Ash took the folder. WORKSHOP OVERSIGHT PERMIT (TEMPORARY) at the top. Clauses stacked like teeth.
Clause 3: Inspection Rights — open access to premises, logs, inventory.Clause 6: Output Allocation — all repairs prioritized to Nightshade; right of immediate seizure.Clause 12-B: Binding Compliance — consent to "temporary attachment" of workshop and skill set; renewable.
"Who drafted it?" Ash asked.
"Nightshade liaison," the clerk said. "Admin must collect signatures by shift change."
"Carrot?" Hale said.
"Protection. Parts. Maybe." The clerk's gaze dipped to Ash's sleeve. "Maybe serum later."
"And the stick," Hale said.
"Closure," the clerk whispered. "Noncompliance tag. Material access ends."
Ash felt the blue panel at the edge of sight.
[SYSTEM PROMPT] External document detected (non-system). Recommendation: Review Clause 12-B. Risk: binding allocation of output.
"I saw it," Ash murmured. He set the folder on the bench like a broken housing. The paper smelled like ink, dust, and trouble that knew its own name.
A knuckle tapped the door. "Paperwork check," a voice called—patient as a debt.
"Open?" Hale asked.
"Not yet," Ash said. He dragged a crate in, spilled rifles onto the mat. "You'll watch," he told the clerk. "And tell them I'm already complying with the part that isn't a leash."
Hale posted at the door. Nono bumped a tray into place, squares for pins, circles for springs. The bot's eyes settled to a steady white.
Gauge. File. Check.
[SYSTEM PROMPT]Maintenance task: mid-tier component serviced (simple). +30 Mechanic XP / +50 Basic Mechanical Repair XP.
Mechanic lv3:350/1000.
He tuned chewed feed lips, corrected presentation, cycled. Better.
[SYSTEM PROMPT] Repair complete: simple. +5 Mechanic XP / +10 Basic Mechanical Repair XP.
355/1000.
Another knock. "Paperwork," the voice repeated, bored and dangerous.
Hale cracked the door. A Nightshade sergeant stepped in—coat over plates, two soldiers ghosting behind. He set a clipboard on the bench like a trap. "Sign. Thumb. Now."
"He's triaging requisitions," the clerk said, aiming for helpful and hitting terrified.
"His output is Nightshade property once he signs," the sergeant said. He tapped Clause 6. "It might as well be now."
Ash kept working. "Clause 12-B says attachment. How long is an emergency?"
"As long as it takes," the sergeant said.
"And if I don't?"
"Noncompliance. Shop closes. Inventory seized. Serum review becomes very simple."
Ash swapped patches, kept his voice even. "Oversight means safety disputes shut us down for review. You want your squads' weapons returned filthy because paperwork hates timing?"
"I want you under command," the sergeant said.
"Command can watch," Ash said, "or it can wait for a backlog and a death letter." He set the rifle aside and reached for a sidearm whose slide limped.
[SYSTEM PROMPT]Maintenance task: mid-tier component serviced (simple). +30 Mechanic XP / +50 Basic Mechanical Repair XP.
Mechanic lv3:385/1000.
"Ten minutes," the sergeant said. "Then you sign." The clipboard slid until its clip kissed Ash's knuckles.
"Timer starts when I finish reading," Ash said. He skimmed again, mapping. Clause 3 meant midnights in his logs; Clause 6 meant every fix walked out under Nightshade; Clause 12-B meant he did.
"Your men are dripping on my threshold," Hale told the hall. "Either come in or dry your boots." It wasn't about boots. The sergeant didn't look back.
Ash tuned the rails on the sidearm's slide, feeling metal learn better manners.
[SYSTEM PROMPT] Repair complete: simple (higher-tier item). +10 Mechanic XP / +15 Basic Mechanical Repair XP.
395/1000.
He reached for another magazine. The lips gaped like a wound. He measured, bent, tested on the feed ramp. Nono steadied the body with a clever little hook, proud of itself.
[SYSTEM PROMPT] Repair complete: simple. +5 Mechanic XP / +10 Basic Mechanical Repair XP.
400/1000.
The clerk's hands twisted until the knuckles whitened. "If you refuse," he said to the room, "they'll audit me for delays." He stared at the permit like it could be swayed. "My sister's on the pending list." He caught himself, too late. "Forget I said that."
Hale's eyes flicked to the clerk and back. "There it is."
"There what is?" the sergeant asked, bored.
"The real stick," Hale said. "They don't need your signature. They need your fear."
The sergeant's face didn't change. Denial is a luxury. "Five minutes," he said.
Ash slid the permit closer. "I'll sign oversight," he said. "Walk-throughs, view-only logs with Admin present, priority queue. No seizure. No attachment."
"You don't negotiate with Nightshade," the sergeant repeated. "You comply."
"Admin has to countersign for jurisdiction," Hale said. "Or the paper doesn't live here."
"Admin is our partner."
"Partners sign," Hale said.
The sergeant shifted the clipboard a centimeter. "Sign."
Ash took a breath he didn't want and racked the sidearm—clean, forgiven—and tagged it. The case for not signing was obvious. The case for signing was a clock and a disease.
Nono almost dropped a spring. Hale's hand moved without looking and caught it. The room's tension rewrote itself as silence.
[SYSTEM PROMPT]Maintenance task: mid-tier component serviced (simple). +30 Mechanic XP / +50 Basic Mechanical Repair XP.
Mechanic lv3:430/1000.
"At least initial receipt," the clerk whispered. "So Admin knows I did my job."
Ash took the cheap pen and scratched his name in the received box. It felt like signing for a package full of teeth.
"Now the signature," the sergeant said. He placed blotting paper like a hand on a throat.
Ash didn't move. The corridor's noise shifted; somewhere a lift thunked. He set the pen down. Picked it up. Set it down. Numbers, he told himself. Not bravery. Not surrender. Numbers.
He looked at the clause again. Renewable. That was the word with a tail.
"You want Admin?" Ash asked. "Call them. We'll do this by the book we still pretend exists."
"We're the book," the sergeant said. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.
[SYSTEM PROMPT] Decision point detected. Signing Clause 12-B risks binding allocation of output. Alternatives: request Admin countersignature; amend clauses; refuse and accept noncompliance.
"Thumbprint?" Ash asked, stalling without blinking.
The sergeant tapped the little box beside the line. "Thumb. Ink there."
Ash looked at the inkpad. "Biometric registry?"
"Identification," the sergeant said.
"Binding," Hale said.
The clerk flinched. "It— it links to a ledger," he admitted. "Attachment updates faster that way." He shut his eyes as if he could squeeze the words back in.
Ash set the pen down again and reached for another rifle from the crate. Hale's eyebrow rose—really?—but he didn't argue. Ash popped the extractor, found the claw rounded to useless, and fished a spare from his bin. The spring had memory; he coaxed it into the right mood and seated the claw with a click that meant future extractions would not be a prayer.
[SYSTEM PROMPT] Component replacement: extractor claw. Difficulty: simple. +5 Mechanic XP / +10 Basic Mechanical Repair XP.
405/1000.
He snapped the bolt back in, ran a dry cycle through the bench jig. The action ran honest; the dummy snap caps ejected like they'd been asked correctly all their lives.
[SYSTEM PROMPT] Functional cycle (bench): success. Difficulty: mid. +50 Mechanic XP / +100 Basic Mechanical Repair XP.
455/1000.
"Enough," the sergeant said. "Sign."
"Ink dries slow in this humidity," Ash said, not looking up. He reached past the rifles, grabbed the Chain E-Saw, and checked the chain tension with two fingers. It had stretched under load; the guide bar wore a shine that meant drift would eat meat if anyone were foolish enough to use it as-is. He loosened, flipped the bar, reset tension, and trued the depth gauges with a file.
[SYSTEM PROMPT] Maintenance: Chain E-Saw service. Difficulty: simple. +30 Mechanic XP / +50 Basic Mechanical Repair XP.
485/1000.
"Why are you servicing that?" the sergeant asked.
"It's Admin property on my docket," Ash said. "And a stretched chain makes lawyers out of corpses. Oversight, remember?" He handed the saw to Nono. The bot clamped it in the rack with prim efficiency.
Hale's voice stayed soft. "Call Admin," he told the sergeant. "You want partnership? Put a signature next to his."
"We don't need to call anyone," the sergeant said.
"Then you're a thief with paper," Hale said. "Pick one: partner or thief."
A beat. The sergeant's jaw moved once. He didn't touch his radio. He didn't have to; the corridor held more ears than boots.
Ash put the saw down and finally looked straight at the man. "You'll get what's safe and fast," he said. "You won't get my hands on a leash."
"Thumb," the sergeant said, and the softness was gone.
Time moved like a blade. The clerk's breathing got quiet enough to count. In the corridor, one of the soldiers shifted footing; the floor ticked.
Ash looked at Hale. Hale's chin tilted a fraction: I can break them. I can't unbreak what comes next.
Ash put the pen on the line.