Obviously, I wasn't going to move this... archaeologist into my little house. Fortunately, building a house on Pandora is a simple matter, even without specialized tools, and I had access to adequate digital construction equipment. The land was free... well, it had its subtleties, but Moxie, who held the territory, didn't mind and didn't demand payment. Scrap metal and stone - almost everywhere, wood... well, it's a bit more complicated: Pandora is not a forest planet, and stuff like electrocactus is not suitable for construction, at least not without a license to process it into something acceptable. Still, with the FTS network in place and the complete lack of any control, it wasn't a problem at all. Actually, I always have a stock of wood and other resources - the fabricator is always hungry. Figuratively speaking.
...I hope so.
- Chief, sorrow and disaster are coming to this sinful land - Pastor told me when I showed up at my warehouse. The vacuum cleaner was keeping watch over the perimeter of what had been a mini-career that had become a colony-settlement, and now was gradually transforming into an almost normal - for Pandora - work camp, so it was possible but unnecessary to appear unnoticed.
- Lay it out - I answered, reloading the wood into my storage area. Network access in and around the settlement was restricted to make it harder to steal.
- As the tower of Babel fell and discord fell among men, so now the shadow of war fell from misunderstanding and disagreement. Several conflicting factions have arisen in the settlement, and strife is brewing, - the robot reported. - And if the conflict between the Holers and Piters you can still extinguish, I suppose, but the naturals and instants...
The vacuum cleaner made a sound like a heavy sigh. It also sucked up some garbage.
- Natural people and what? - I asked suspiciously. That's all I needed, just one more snake-eater....
- Instants - the robot repeated. - Chief, the shepherd who sleeps shall not see his flock. You need to be more aware of your enterprise.
The last one sounded reproachful.
- Business... - I answered. - Shootouts, megacorporations, ancient civilizations - it's distracting. But that's why I left you here, to keep you in the loop.
- Well, that's true - Pastor agreed. - I mean, there's a place for the Lord, and there's a place for his prophets.
- Anyway, don't drag it out. What kind of perverts have formed here?
- Holers are those who think that the settlement should be called Hole - answered the vacuum cleaner, apparently, having decided that he had already given out the norm of religious sayings. Or he just didn't have the right quote... - The Piters, respectively, want to call it Pit.
I raised an eyebrow.
- And they're willing to fight over that?
- An idle mind is the refuge of darkness, which gives birth to monsters. Idleness breeds malice.
I got the impression that if the vacuum cleaner had shoulders, he would have shrugged them off.
- Yeah, well, what else do you expect from the locals - I muttered, rubbing my temples. - Okay, I think I can handle this one. What about the other two groups?
Well, after the war over the teddy bear, it wasn't surprising.
...Who am I kidding? If this kind of absurdity stops surprising and pissing me off, it will mean that my case is bad and I'm too imbued with Pandora. Although on Earth too, religious fanatics have killed each other over utter nonsense time and time again, but still - bloodshed over which coffee is the only acceptable, boiled or instant? Seriously? All we have to do is create a cult of coffee surrogates.
- I've gathered you all to resolve the issues that have been creating friction in our little enterprise - I announced, standing in front of the assembled thugs who had been reclassified as laborers. Some of them didn't even look like they were raised by wild punks anymore, plus there were no weapons... guns, I mean - they all had picks, hammers, or something similar. It's very uncomfortable on Pandora without weapons, I know.
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- What's he saying? - Someone in the crowd asked. By this time I had about three dozen workers, of both sexes and all types, from dwarfs to big men.
- We will be beaten - answered another, who was a dwarf. And explained:
- To keep us quiet.
I ignored them and continued.
- For starters, the quarrels over the name of the settlement. What are you people even think, Pit, Hole? Do you want to live in a pit or die in a hole? No! Our company is about opportunity! Opportunities for personal and career growth! So we'll call it Quareer.
People started to look at each other.
Then someone applauded. Another one, the next... Not everyone joined in, at least not at once, but soon the effect was achieved. All I had to do was give them a pie and tell them to applaud when I said the name.
I waited until the raucous, prolonged applause subsided, nodded, and continued.
- The name board will be posted as soon as possible... today.
Another round of applause, shorter this time.
- Our meeting will now consider the second question. Will the representatives of the parties please come forward?
After a pause, the usual punkish thug, with traces of paint on his face, and a big guy... wearing a monocle?
- I asked the speaker of the instants to present his argumentation - I said.
The punk looked around, glanced at me; I nodded.
- Explain why you have a conflict.
The bandit brow furrowed.
- What about them? Fucking aesthetes! Instant coffee is cool, you pour it, pour it, stir it, and enjoy it. But these motherfuckers want "process", "flavor", "what do you know about the drink of the gods"... ugh!
He glared angrily at the rival representative, clenching his fists. Approving mutterings were heard in the crowd that was stratifying in front of his eyes, met with glances of disapproval from the other side.
- What do you say? - I asked the big man.
- I say that I feel sorry for the inferior degenerates who can't understand the taste of real coffee, and who have the tongue to compare instant coffee with it - he said, raising his head arrogantly.
- Hmm... - I stretched out. - I understand both your positions. But why don't you let your opponents make their own mistake if you think it's a mistake? Just quietly feel satisfied that someone is stupider than you.
- Nah, boss, it's a matter of principle - the punk shook his head.
- I can't believe it, but I agree with this... slopdrinker - the big guy joined him.
- What did you call me?!
- STOP! - I shouted. - You may hold your own views, but there is to be no fighting about it in my enterprise! Learn to tolerate each other, and until you can't - everyone is transferred to tea!
...Oops. Perhaps that statement was a mistake.
I was prepared for that, though, and as the angry crowd swarmed, the modified turrets opened fire.
The tranquilizer and gas cannons borrowed from Dr. Zed were doing their job, but I think I had underestimated the fury of the coffee drinkers: it took double or even triple the dose of tranquilizer to knock them off their feet, and the cold weapons in their hands took down the first row of turrets in one or two seconds before the slightly thinner human wave reached them.
However, although I had fewer tranquilizer guns than I would have liked, I had more than enough rubber bullets, plus one strategically placed freeze gun. Plus the gas covered almost everyone, it just didn't work right away.
And I didn't stand on the sidelines, I was knocking out those who were aiming at the turrets with Zed cannons - I still have to return them, they cost money. This robber took a hefty bail...
Despite the reducing ranks, the people came with the fury of a berserker who had lost his most precious possession. Fortunately, while the rage added to their resilience and strength, it took away their strategic thinking and cooperation skills, so despite the increased threat level, and the continued loss of turrets, the advantage remained on my side.
After all, I was the only one who came to this fight with a gun. And not just single.
- ...And for the attempted rebellion and attack on the boss for the next week tea will be without sugar - I finished to the recovered frowning bandits.
- I told you - we will be beaten - satisfied, despite the bruises from rubber bullets, said the dwarf to his neighbor.