Conference Room A of Substation Kuiper-01 was never meant for galactic diplomacy.
It was built as a municipal break room and contractor safety classroom. The walls were corrugated galvanized steel painted light industrial beige. Twin four-foot fluorescent tubes hummed on the ceiling at sixty hertz. In the corner, an electric drip machine held three inches of burnt coffee sludge. Beside it sat a stack of Styrofoam cups and a box of powdered creamer.
In the center of the room sat an eight-foot plastic folding banquet table, flanked by metal chairs.
On the far side of the table sat the top leaders of the Great Empyrean Void Concordat: Grand Chancellor Qi Ming and three Celestial High Archons of the Seven-Star Inner Sanctum.
Their flowing robes were woven from void-spider silk, embroidered with star maps that shifted in real time. Yet despite their magnificent robes and ancient cultivation, their faces were pale. Their hands shook. They perched on the flimsy metal chairs as if sitting over boiling magma.
Across the table sat Austin.
Austin wore his regular gear: canvas double-knee work pants, steel-toed boots, a neon orange safety vest, and his yellow fiberglass hard hat. Across his back, fourteen hundred pounds of certified lead ballast held his frame in steady balance. Over his shoulders, twin star-jade elbow pipes vented faint threads of sapphire-white exhaust toward the ceiling scrubbers.
Beside Austin, seated on a padded swivel office chair cranked all the way up, was Pug.
Pug wore his miniature orange vest and tiny clear safety glasses. On the table before his front paws lay a red ink pad and a laminated card that read: **OFFICIAL NOTARY PUBLIC - COMMISSION EXPIRES YEAR 10**.
Austin took a slow sip from a chipped ceramic mug labeled *WORLD’S OKAYEST FOREMAN*. He set it down with a soft click and slid a ten-page stapled document across the plastic tabletop.
The document bore the title: **THE SOLAR INTERCONNECT & COMMERCIAL UTILITY ACCORD (FORM UC-400)**.
"All right," Austin said, clicking his No. 2 grease pencil against the table. "Let’s get through this before lunch. We have a lot of line testing to finish on the Pluto extension this afternoon."
Grand Chancellor Qi Ming swallowed hard. His trembling fingers touched the edge of the paper.
"Great Ancient Sovereign," Qi Ming rasped, his voice trembling with terror. "We bring the unconditional surrender of the Seven-Star Palace. We offer fifty thousand rich star systems as your eternal celestial territory. We offer three billion laborers, ten thousand jade mine leases, and the full dismantling of our imperial armies. We beg only that you spare our homeworlds from the crushing maw of your black sun!"
Austin frowned, his eyebrows drawing together under the brim of his hard hat.
"Who said anything about taking fifty thousand star systems?" Austin asked, sounding genuinely annoyed.
Qi Ming blinked. The three High Archons froze in confusion. "You... you do not wish to rule the Perseus Arm?"
"Do you have any idea how much paperwork that is?" Austin replied, shaking his head. "Fifty thousand star systems means fifty thousand sets of municipal building codes. It means three million environmental impact statements, endless zoning appeals, and tax assessments that would take centuries just to audit. What am I going to do with three billion slaves? You can’t put uncertified labor on an energized high-voltage line. That’s a massive OSHA liability. If somebody drops a wrench across a busbar and gets fried, who gets sued? Me."
"Then... what is the nature of this decree?" Qi Ming asked, staring down at the stapled pages with wide eyes.
"It's a standard utility interconnect agreement," Austin explained, pointing the tip of his grease pencil at Section One. "Four basic articles. Clean, simple, and code-compliant."
He tapped the first line.
"Article One: Demilitarization of the Interplanetary Right-of-Way. No warships carrying unpermitted spatial weapons, void-cracking torpedoes, or ungrounded siege cannons are allowed within one hundred astronomical units of the sun without an approved Commercial Transit Permit filed seventy-two hours ahead. If your ships enter the solar system, they display amber navigation strobes, maintain at least twelve miles per second, and stay inside designated freight lanes."
"Agreed," Qi Ming gasped instantly, nodding so hard his silk hat nearly fell off. "The Seven-Star Fleet shall never cross your border with weapons drawn!"
"Article Two: Complete Abolition of Void Tolls," Austin continued. "Any automated cargo barge, raw ore transport, or civilian passenger vessel originating from Earth, Mars, or Ceres has free right-of-way through all Concordat transit corridors. You will not tax them. You will not stop them for customs inspections. And you will not attempt to board them."
"It shall be carved into the eternal law of fifty thousand realms!" the First High Archon promised, pressing a fist to his chest.
Austin tapped Article Three with his pencil.
"Article Three: The Great Void Interconnect. This is the main clause," Austin said, leaning forward. "Starting on the first of next month, the Solar System Grid begins exporting five hundred exawatts of continuous, balanced, three-phase high-voltage power to your border star systems via the Trans-Neptunian star-jade busbar. You will purchase this power at the standard wholesale commercial rate of zero point zero four spirit stones per kilowatt-hour."
Qi Ming’s jaw dropped. The three High Archons stared at Austin as if he had just offered to sell the breath of heaven for pocket change.
"You... you are offering to sell us the divine energy of your celestial furnace?" Qi Ming whispered in awe. "Clean, stable, infinite stellar current... for four hundredths of a spirit stone?"
"During off-peak hours," Austin clarified firmly. "Between six in the morning and six in the evening, local solar time, the rate increases to zero point zero six spirit stones per kilowatt-hour. And there is a strict power factor penalty."
Austin tapped the paper with a sharp rap.
"Clause Three-Point-Two: Power factor must stay above point nine five at all times. If your regional substations draw excessive reactive load because your cultivators run uncompensated resonance arrays, you will be billed an automatic two-hundred-percent surcharge on your monthly invoice. I am not letting sloppy, lagging phase angles drag down the voltage on my main generator."
"We shall install synchronous condensers on every world!" Qi Ming vowed, tears of overwhelming relief streaming down his aged cheeks. "We shall balance the phase angles across three thousand constellations!"
"Good," Austin nodded. "And Article Four: Safety Standards. All electrical setups, transformer banks, and distribution lines connected to the Solar Interconnect must adhere to the National Electrical Code and Section Nineteen-Ten of the Occupational Safety and Health Act. That means proper grounding rods driven eight feet into solid ground, lockout/tagout procedures for all maintenance work, and personal protective equipment for every lineman."
Austin slid the yellow clipboard and a gold-nibbed pen across the table.
"Sign at the bottom of page ten," Austin said. "On the line marked *Authorized Customer Representative*."
Qi Ming took the pen with hands that shook so hard the gold nib scratched against the paper. With deep reverence, the Grand Chancellor of the Great Empyrean Void Concordat signed his full imperial name, sealing the document with a droplet of his own golden essence blood.
Austin pulled the clipboard back.
He turned to the swivel chair beside him.
"Notary Public Pug," Austin said calmly. "Authenticate the signatures."
*"BARK!"*
Pug trotted his front right paw across the red ink pad, lifting it cleanly to ensure even coverage.
With solemn dignity, Pug slammed his inked paw down directly beside Grand Chancellor Qi Ming’s golden blood seal: *STAMP.*
A crisp, perfect, five-toed red canine paw print appeared on the contract directly above the words: **SEAL OF THE MUNICIPAL QUALITY ASSURANCE NOTARY**.
Pug looked at his red-stained paw, gave a disgusted snort, and held it up toward Austin.
Austin pulled a red shop rag from his hip pocket, grabbed Pug's little paw, and wiped the red municipal ink clean.
"Good job, Inspector," Austin said, tossing him a piece of dried liver. "Clean stamp. No smudges. That’s how you keep city hall off your back."
Pug caught the liver mid-air with an audible snap, gulped it down, and gave a contented grunt.
Austin nodded, taking his grease pencil and signing his own name in heavy letters across the inspector line: *AUSTIN (FOREMAN, PUBLIC WORKS LOCAL 404)*.
A translucent system notification flashed across Austin’s retinal display:
Austin stood up and tore the carbon-copy duplicates from the packet, handing the yellow copy to Qi Ming.
"Keep your copy in a fireproof cabinet," Austin instructed. "First billing cycle begins thirty days from today. If you have questions about your bill, call the customer service desk on Ceres between eight and four."
Qi Ming held the yellow carbon sheet to his chest as if it were an ancient tablet of cosmic destiny.
"We thank you, Sovereign Austin," Qi Ming murmured, bowing until his forehead touched the plastic tabletop. "The Seven-Star Palace shall forever venerate the Order of the Yellow Hard Hat and the Holy Seal of the Celestial Hound."
"Just pay your bills on time and don't park in the busbar easement," Austin said, picking up his five-foot pipe wrench and resting it on his shoulder.
He stepped out of the conference room into the main corridor of Substation Kuiper-01, where Tie Kuang, Xuan Ming, and Chonker were waiting.
Tie Kuang leaned down, his copper scales glinting under the corridor lamps. "How did it go, Boss? Did they try to bribe you with ancient spirit pills or heavenly artifacts?"
"Worse," Austin grunted, tucking his clipboard under his arm. "They tried to dump fifty thousand star systems on my desk. Can you imagine the property tax disputes alone? I told them where to shove it and handed them our standard commercial rate sheet."
Xuan Ming shook his head in absolute reverence. "Truly, the wisdom of the Master is beyond mortal comprehension. He conquers three thousand realms without drawing a blade, merely billing them at thirty-day net terms."
Austin took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders beneath the steady weight of his fourteen hundred pounds of lead ballast. The twin plasma exhaust diverters over his shoulders hummed in quiet, perfect balance.
"All right, boys," Austin said, adjusting his hard hat. "The paperwork is signed, the fleet is cleared out of our transit lane, and our power is sold. Now let’s get back to work. We’ve got forty astronomical units of final cable to balance before we commission the master core."