Jonathan Baptiste, Overseer of Zenith United, sat in his private office upon the surface of Diyu, still known to some as Darkstar Charlie. The first process of transferring the prisoners from the flotillas to the newly constructed prison complex, built on the volcanic world’s surface, had been successful and mainly without incident. Oh, there had been a few attempted uprisings, as had been expected, but they had ended exactly as predicted. With complete and utter annihilation of the dissidents. Now, here he sat, the transfer process complete, and contact established with the small mining colony that had existed on Diyu, previously unknown to all.
While he flicked across reports of the productivity of the different prisoner cell blocks, on his holo-computer, an alert flashed on his screen. With a sigh, he pressed accept to the incoming audio-message, and snapped irritably, “What is it Miss Carmada? I have a full schedule today!”
The quiet and composed voice of his prim and proper secretary came back over the line, “My apologies, Overseer Baptiste, but your 2 O’clock appointment is here. Mr Jenkins, of the New Chicago Commune is here.”
“Ah yes.” Baptiste stroked his goatee thoughtfully, “My apologies for my harsh words, Miss Carmada. Please, send him in.”
“At once, Overseer.”
Baptiste lent back in his chair and stared at the ceiling, deep in thought. The New Chicago Commune was something he had not, nor any on the Advisory Board, expected. An independent self-sufficient community, no matter how small, could serve as a source for future strife. In the unlikely event of any convicts escaped their prison, they would definitely use the Commune as a base of operations. It had to be brought into the fold.
The door hissed as it opened, revealing the rather unkempt figure of Mr Jenkins. Wearing a rather plain set of clothing, and boots that were obviously used for work but had been polished in an attempt to show keenness, he nervously walked in and smiled awkwardly at Baptiste. “Err, it is an honour to meet you, Mr Baptiste.”
So now we have to play diplomacy, Baptiste thought tiredly as he brought a warm smile to his face, I hope this doesn’t take too long. I hate dealing with yokels. “Mr Jenkins, please call me Jon! And the honour is all mine to meet the Mayor of such a successful nation!”
The hick relaxed slightly, and gave Baptiste a yellowing smile, causing the Overseer to wince inwardly. The Mayor sat down heavily in a chair, and scratched his thick hair, “Call me Leeroy then, Jon! So, what can the New Chicago Commune do for you?”
“I would rather say, what can Zenith United do for you, Leeroy! You know about our nature as a corrections operation, no?”
“Umm, what?” The puzzled gaze of the Mayor irritated Baptiste to no end, but he hid it with a hearty laugh.
“I mean you know that we are a company that holds prisoners, yes?”
“Oh! Right, right, yeah I know that. What does that have to do with me, or the Commune?”
“Well Leeroy, tell me, is your community full of troublemakers?”
“What are you trying to say?!” The tanned face of the Mayor reddened slightly. Baptiste held up his hands disarmingly,
“I’m not trying to say anything bad about your Commune, Leeroy, I am just asking whether you have problems with criminals, like most places. It is a sad fact of life that where men gather, crime will rear its ugly head.”
The Mayor looked down at his hands and mumbled quietly, “Okay, yeah, we have a few bad apples. More than a few, in fact. Why do you care?”
“Ah, because I wish to help you, Leeroy! We have the men and buildings to teach those trouble-makers how to behave! Just point them out to us, and we will whisk them away, out of New Chicago, and into our care! What do you say?”
Leeroy looks up with a hopeful expression, “You would help me like that? Yeah, I would like that a lot!”
“I’m glad to hear it Leeroy! I’d need your signature on this piece of paper, though, before I can?” Baptiste slides across a thick wad of paper, along with a pen. The Mayor stared at the words with confusion, before looking back up to the Overseer.
“What’s all this?”
“Since Zenith United is a company, Leeroy, we have to do things by the books. Red tape and all that, you know how it is. All this document does is say what we can and can’t do, and goes into the archives to show that yes, you and I reached an agreement.”
“Oh… Okay.” The man looked at the documents with confusion again, before shrugging slightly and scribbling his signature at the bottom of the page. Baptiste took the documents back and stowed them away into his desk. Rising up, he leant across the table to shake the Mayor’s hand.
“It has been a pleasure Leeroy, really! But I’ve got a lot of work to do! You know how it is! Come visit me again soon, you hear?”
“Oh, yeah, right! Seeya Jon! Have a good on’!” Waving goodbye, the Mayor walked out the door with a slightly bemuddled expression. As soon as the door hissed shut behind the man, Baptiste sank back into his seat and sighed, rubbing his temples. He absolutely loathed having to deal with yokels. He glanced at the documents on his desk and smirked slightly. At least they were easy to trick. The fool had just signed away all rights of the New Chicago Commune. Of this minute, the New Chicago Commune was now a protectorate of Zenith United. Before the year was out, the protectorate phase would have been completed, and the population there transferred to the prison complex.
“I suppose there are some benefits to dealing with backwater states.” Baptiste mused to himself as he turned his attention back to the reports on his holo-computer.
***
Extranet Report
Zenith United has purportedly signed a treaty with the Mayor of the New Chicago Commune, the head of the independent mining state on Darkstar Charlie, that surrenders most rights of the Commune to the Corrections company. It is reported that said treaty will revoke the sovereignty of the Commune by the end of the year.
