Story code: ST-001323
Part 3: The Physical Transfer
Raymond Cole stepped forward, moving with the quiet, smooth precision of someone who had rehearsed this scene a dozen times. He laid a hand on Toby’s shoulder. It wasn’t a comforting gesture; it was a physical weight, pressing my brother down.
“The clerk is correct, Leo,” Cole said, his voice level and entirely devoid of heat. “Under Section 9 of the station mineral code, a secondary shareholder can initiate a proxy verification if the primary holder fails to maintain active registration. If you do not scan the token, Toby has the legal right to sign the proxy override. But if you force us to use the override, the station levies a thirty-percent filing penalty against the claim’s valuation.”
I looked at Toby. He was staring at the floor, his face pale under the harsh fluorescent lights of the Contract Office. “Toby,” I said, “look at me. He’s squeezing us. If you sign that override, we lose control.”
Toby didn’t look up. He just mumbled the script again, his voice cracking. “Under local station mining regulations, the secondary shareholder is executing a temporary custody migration…” He stopped, swallowing hard, unable to finish the sentence. He knew he had messed up the words before.
Cole didn’t let him waver. “Go ahead, Toby. Initiate the override.”
The clerk tapped his screen. A red countdown timer appeared on the public display above the terminal: fifty-nine seconds. The warning hummed through the metal deck plates under my boots.
“Leo, just give him the token,” Toby whispered, his hands trembling as he reached out toward me. “It’s the only way to clear it. He promised we keep the secondary extraction rights. If we let the timer hit zero, the station takes the whole sector.”
“He’s lying to you, Toby,” I said. My knuckles were white around the scratch-worn titanium casing of the mineral claim token. The amber light pulsed against my palm, warm and steady, a physical reminder of ten years of hard labor in the dark. “He doesn’t want to refinance. He’s taking the claim.”
Cole checked his wrist-link, completely unbothered by my accusation. “Thirty seconds, Mr. Vance. After that, the system logs a refusal to file. The lease will be frozen, and my firm will purchase the default debt directly from the station board. Either way, the claim changes hands today. The only difference is whether you walk away with nothing, or whether Toby’s obligations are cleared.”
“Leo, please,” Toby pleaded. He reached out and placed his fingers over mine, his hand sweating, cold and shaking. He didn’t look at my face; he kept his eyes locked on the amber drive.
I looked at the clerk, whose finger hovered over the compliance violation button. I looked at the red numbers ticking down on the wall: fifteen seconds. If I let the station seize it for non-compliance, we would be blacklisted from leasing any other rock in the Belt.
Slowly, bitterly, I opened my hand.
Toby pulled the drive from my grip. The scratch-worn titanium felt suddenly cold as it left my palm. My brother lined the drive up with the terminal’s physical slot and pushed it in. The terminal let out a high-pitched chime as it read the cryptographic keys.
Cole immediately tapped his datapad, authorization codes flashing across his screen. “Secondary shareholder verification accepted,” the terminal speaker drone announced. “Proxy script execution in progress.”
“We’re done here,” Cole said quietly, retrieving his datapad. He didn’t look at me. He didn’t even look at Toby. He turned and walked toward the exit, his boots clicking softly against the deck plates.
Toby stood frozen before the console, his terminal link still plugged into the port, waiting for the verification cycle to finish. The green light of the screen reflected in his eyes, but the pressure in my chest only grew tighter.