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Grass Eaters 2 | 35 | Funny Business III
🕑 Added 2024-08-05 16:47:00 +0000 UTCMy Snout Is Sealed, Datsot (18,000 Ls)
POV: Eupprio, Malgeir (Executive)
“I have decided,” Eupprio declared, looking out the fake windows — screens showing the external camera sensors — of her newly leased SC-22 at the liberated and rebuilding planet. The whole process of buying the Terran-built shuttle was initially an ordeal… until she figured out how to navigate the alien bureaucracy.
Things were run differently in the Republic. When the government legal intelligence that handled civilian ship registration balked at the name she insisted on giving her ship, she couldn’t just pay it a million credits to go away. No, she had to pay a similar amount to a formidable local contracting firm for their legal intelligence to generate the hundreds of thousands of pages’ worth of valid legal forms and permits to satisfy the former. Totally different.
“What have you decided?” Fleguipu asked patiently.
“This is it,” she said mysteriously.
“Out with it.”
“This… will be the site of… our new shipyard.”
Fleguipu’s jaw dropped. “A new shipyard? You want to build a new shipyard? By the galaxy! Do you know how much those things cost?”
“Nope, but I’m sure we can borrow enough to afford it,” she said confidently. “I do remember there being a financial empire in my portfolio somewhere…”
“There’s a reason no one has built one of those shipyards in the entire Federation in… at least ten generations!” Fleguipu exclaimed.
“Well, the Terrans seem to have no problem building them. They have what? Four? Five? Five new yards coming online at Ceres in the next year. And we have access to more resources and people than they do.”
“But— but that’s the Terrans! They’re a bunch of— they’re a young species. Why would we need a new shipyard? We already have several! Some of them are under occupation, but we’ll get them back.”
“Don’t you see? That’s the problem with us, Fleguipu,” Eupprio said. “The Terrans… they’re constantly hungry, constantly expanding. We’ve stagnated. We’re content. As a whole civilization. That’s the problem I started Eupprio Tech to fix.”
“Yeah, to build software for financial transaction processing. Not… to build multi-billion credit ships.”
“Why not both?” Eupprio asked confidently.
Fleguipu still looked shocked. “For one, nobody alive in the entire Federation has ever built a shipyard! And imagine the bribes we’ll need to pay just to get access to the ship designs. None of the existing shipbuilders are going to sell to us, obviously.”
“True. We’ll have to design new ships too,” Eupprio said matter-of-factly.
“That’s— that’s even more— nobody alive in the entire Federation has designed a new ship either!” Fleguipu countered hotly.
“I guess we’ll just have to pay some Terrans to teach our people then,” Eupprio continued nonchalantly, as if she just suggested the most normal thing in the galaxy. “We got their credits now, and money goes further in Sol than in the Federation.” She pointed at their new Terran pilot engrossed with some maintenance work in the cockpit. “We hired Abe. Credits work there too.”
Fleguipu desperately tried to think of a way to convince her out of it but came up with nothing on the spot. “What— what type of ship will we build?”
“Military at first, obviously,” Eupprio answered. “The Defense Ministry will buy pretty much anything we build. And then we can expand to others.”
“What about the Terrans’ strict arms control regulations?”
Eupprio grinned. “We’ll hire their lawyers and lobbyists too. Maybe they can teach you a trick or two.”
Fleguipu looked out the window. She knew her friend well. Her analytical brain kicked in once her disbelief dissipated. “You’ve thought this through, haven’t you? That’s why you want it here in Datsot. Close in proximity to the Terrans. Lots of our own resources flowing in for the rebuilding. Lots of our own people coming back who will need jobs to do.”
Eupprio grinned. “I knew you’d come around to it.” She put her paw on her friend’s shoulder and pointed out the “window”. “And of course, we’ll put it closer to the blink exit leading towards the Terran systems.”
Her friend nodded. “Naturally. Safer. Cheaper bribes for orbital permits since nobody builds there. Yet.”
For a brief moment, the amusing Terran concepts of market abuse and insider dealing flashed across her thoughts. She immediately dismissed them. More Grass Eater craziness.
“Naturally.”
++++++++++++++++++++++++
Ceres Ship Manufacturing Corporation HQ, Ceres
POV: Hailey Kang, Terran (Logistics Engineer)
Hailey sat up from a slouch in her chair as a man she didn’t know entered the snug office. His nametag said “Chris”. She shook his hand.
He had a soft voice to match his soft handshake. “Hi, Hailey. I’m Chris. Do you know why we’re here today?”
She nodded. “My exit interview.”
“Correct. Your exit interview. Do you mind if I record this?” Chris said, tapping his temple to activate his implant.
She nodded again. “No problem.”
“Alright, we can keep this casual, Hailey. I want this to just be a conversation between the two of us. None of these answers will be used against you in any way or impact a decision to rehire you in the future if you change your mind.”
She knew better. That was why he was recording. She nodded anyway.
“Let’s dive into it. You’ve worked at the company for… four years. What do you think of your time here at CSMC?”
She shrugged. “It was fine. I enjoyed most of the work.”
“Hm… most of it. Can you elaborate? Did you feel like you were making an impact… or?”
“Sure,” she replied. “I was handling interplanetary routes worth billions of credits. I was definitely making an impact and… the work was satisfying. I learned a lot.”
“Ok, good. That’s good,” Chris said. “And did you feel like you were growing here, career-wise?”
“Uh. Sure. Yes, yes I did. I was promoted often enough. I don’t really have a problem with the way I was treated here. I liked my co-workers and manager. I really enjoyed working here, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Chris did a little yes-no shake of his head and made a noncommittal hum. “Sort of. That’s good information. So… would you say you would recommend working here to people seeking employment?”
“Sure. Yeah. If someone was looking.”
He smiled a little smile. “Yes, it sure is a hot market out there, isn’t it? Lots of demand for engineers like yourself, especially with your background in the current… environment. Is that why you’re leaving?”
“Woah, that’s a lot of extrapolation,” Hailey said.
He made another one of his hums but gestured for her to answer the question.
She admitted, “But yes, good guess. Someone did poach me.”
Chris nodded sympathetically. “That’s totally understandable. Do you mind if I ask which company it was? I’m just curious.”
He was obviously not “just curious”, but Hailey answered anyway.
“Eupprio Tech,” she said.
“Hm… Eupprio Tech. No offense to your future employers, but I don’t think I’ve heard of them,” he said, making a little frown. “Is that one of the new intelligence development startups in Mimas?”
“They’re a pretty big company, I think. They’re alien. Malgeir.”
Chris made a little “ohhh” with his lips. “I see. Well, that’s fascinating. That position is extrasolar, then?”
“Yup,” Hailey said happily. “It’s close enough to home that I can visit often, and they helped me get an extrasolar travel permit.”
“And… not to pry, and really, I normally hate to ask this, but may I know how much they’re offering you in terms of compensation?”
“Eight hundred thousand credits base pay. Republic credits.”
“Wow, that’s almost double what you’re making right now. I can understand they made that choice easy for you.”
Hailey nodded.
“Well, you seem like a very bright young worker, and we wish you luck with your future endeavors. Though of course, we would be happy if you consider us for future employment.” Chris took out a data disk and handed it to her. “Here you go, this is for you.”
She accepted it. “What’s this?”
“That’s your exit package,” Chris said. “First, you have a number of accrued vacation days. Those are converted into compensation. They will arrive with your last two weeks’ salary. And that money… you will get that regardless of what happens. We will also provide you transportation off Ceres to any destination you want — any destination in Sol, I mean, free of charge.”
“Okay.” She knew they were legally required to give her those.
He continued, “Your benefits run out the midnight your employment terminates. However, your retirement account — to which you have contributed a considerable amount — will stay. You may choose to leave it here with us, cash it out, or roll it into your new company’s retirement account when you set that up.” At this point, Chris frowned. “I’m not sure how your new employers do it. But presumably they will have a subsidiary in the Republic to handle this.”
“Presumably.”
“And here comes the fun part,” Chris smiled. “Due to your years of service to CSMC, you qualify for a severance package! You will receive the equivalent of six months of salary, as well as the option to immediately exercise your considerable amount of unvested stock options.”
“What’s the catch?” Hailey asked.
“I wouldn’t call it a catch as much as a small chore,” he replied. “Just some housekeeping to do before you leave, that’s all. There’s a severance agreement with a few things. First, when you joined the company, you signed a standard non-disclosure agreement. The severance agreement basically has a clause reminding you that you shouldn’t break that. Two, there is a limited non-compete in there that prevents you from working for a competitor for five years, but it only applies for other companies on Ceres. Three, you agree to return company property. The most significant of these is the data in your tablet and personal implant—”
“Wait,” Hailey said in surprise. “I thought you’d wipe my implant, but you’re going to look through it? Is that legal?”
“Don’t worry,” Chris assured her. “We would only be able to access data that is relevant to your work here, not your personal life. There is a certified independent intelligence program we use that goes through and wipes that.”
“Alright,” she sighed. “I guess that’s fine.”
“Four,” Chris continued. “There is a non-disparagement clause that says you can’t badmouth our company in public. Five, liability release, which says you won’t sue the company for wrongful termination, discrimination… things of that nature, unless they are part of a class action. Under local law, you may not waive liability for certain long-term health effects of working on Ceres in a severance agreement, so you would still be able to retain your right to litigate that if it comes up. And finally, you would no longer be eligible for unemployment benefits, though I can’t imagine that being a problem for you given your new employment… That’s about it.”
“Can I get some time to read it over and think about it?” Hailey asked.
“Sure!” Chris said brightly. “And feel free to use an independent legal service or your new employer’s legal assistance when evaluating the package. We feel that this is a fair reward for all the work you’ve done for us at CSMC. When you agree to it, just have it signed and sent over, and we’ll start sending you the credits.”
“Cool. Thanks. Anything else?”
“Actually, that was going to be my question,” Chris chuckled. “If you ever have any questions or need a reference for a future position, my contact information is on that data disk.”
Then, he stood up, shook her hand, and she walked out.
At the front of the building, Hailey took one last look at where she lived and worked for the last few years.
A shuttle pilot was waiting there. “Hailey? That’s you, right? I’m supposed to take you where you want to go.”
She nodded.
He picked up her light luggage for her, loading it onto a ground transporter marked for his shuttle. “So… where are we heading? Terra? Mars? Not to presume anything, but you look like a native Terran.”
She nodded and smiled at him. “Anywhere in Sol, right?”
He chuckled. “Sure, they pay me by the kilometer, so if you want a tour of the rings of Saturn, that can be arranged. A little risky out there these days, but I know my way around—”
“Can you do Charon?”
“Ah, sure! You’re going to work for one of those Malgeir companies, huh?” he asked.
She took a double take at the shuttle pilot. “Wait, how did you know?”
“Flown a few there this month already,” he beamed at her as she strapped herself in. “Don’t worry, I don’t judge. Hell, I’m thinking about it myself. I hear their pay is nice. What are they having you do?”
“I’m going to help them build a new, massive shipyard,” she said. “Bigger than anything we’ve ever built in the Republic.”
“Nice. I hope it works out… with their war and everything. Those poor guys deserve a break. You know what I’m saying?”
Hailey nodded. She knew exactly what he was saying.
The extra credits they were paying her helped, but… it felt good working for more than that. Even if she’d almost given mom an aneurysm when she broke the news to her family about leaving Sol for a war zone. Dad… well, dad always said he was proud of her whatever she ended up doing, but this time… she knew from his face that he meant it without a trace of doubt.
++++++++++++++++++++++++
Raytech — Olympus Campus, Mars
POV: Martina Wright, Terran (Executive)
That’s 48 of our employees who have been poached by one of our Malgeir contractors this week. What are we going to do about this?
Martina smiled at the implant’s suggestion. “It’s times like these that I’m reminded why you washing machines haven’t taken over the entire Republic yet. And why Raytech is still run by the children of Adam and Eve, not Ada and Emacs.”
Okay, bio-supremacist. First of all, the new Catholic Pope says that we, too, are children of God eligible for salvation under Mark 16:16. And second, if you have a genius plan to stop the Malgeir poaching that you think I haven’t considered, what is it?
“Genius plan to stop the poaching? Naw. The opposite. I plan on sending some of our best technical teams to Eupprio Tech for their new shipyard project, for collaboration and assistance on getting it built as soon as possible. Offer up the top talent we have for them like prime steak choices at a dinner buffet. Our employees will probably all get a dozen offers before they even step off the shuttle—”
Have you gone nuts?! The fees we’ll get from such technical assistance are dwarfed in expected future loss from talent turnover! We have to lobby Atlas to limit extrasolar permits to these Federation subsidiaries!
“Hah, as if we’ll beat them at that game long-term without looking like a bunch of jerks, ye silly microwave.”
Your suggestion is to just give up and let them drain our talent dry?!
“Let them? I’m going to help them do it.”
You’re serious?! You can’t be.
“When our engineers are designing a new ship, whose software do they use?”
Ours, of course. I wrote some of it myself. But what does that—
“And whose intelligence chips and servers does that software run on?”
Ours.
“When they make a new ship, whose missiles will they fire? Whose fuel will they burn? Whose proprietary fast-docking port specifications will they use?”
Ours.
“Who services the ships? Who replaces the parts? Whose light bulbs are in those sockets? Whose fireproof carpeting—”
I get the point, meatbag.
“And when their Malgeir coworkers and competitors see them using these things and wildly succeeding, whose products are they going to go after like a mob of drug addicts?”
I told you I got the point. Being good at pattern recognition is our thing, remember?
“And I’m sure some of our new customers won’t bother to properly license it all. But frankly it doesn’t matter that much if they do. Because this is the big pond we’re playing in now. As long as we break in, even into a sliver of the new Federation market…”
What about our technological edge? And the health of our talent pipeline?
“Sure, I’ll miss our people’s bright smiles in our labs too, but talent and technology are developed, not finite resources we mine from an asteroid. This is the largest market expansion opportunity in the history of humankind. Our business is going from interplanetary to interstellar. In a gold rush, you don’t go down to the river and pan for gold; you sell pans, you sell shovels, and you sell dynamite. When this gold rush is over, we will be making two things. One, we will be making the ultimate platform — what everyone uses to make copies and imitations of our product. From materials, to parts, to accessories, to software, to services. The more designs they copy from us, the more of all of these we’ll make.”
You said two things. What’s the other thing we’ll make?
“Money. We’ll make money. Lots and lots of money.”
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