Lolita sat at the head of the boardroom table, her committee officials lined along either side.
"Lolita, you're officially barred from transferring Intermarium prisoners to the Cascadia reform camp," Tyler said, leaning forward.
"The hell I am!" Lolita snapped, her eyes blazing as she leaned across the table. "Who gave that order?"
"Osa," Tyler replied without flinching. "He said Intermarium's convicts aren't his problem. Cascadia's camps are already maxed out, and he's not taking another single soul off your hands."
"Osa's reform camps are massive—he had to lock up half his own country just for speaking Aka-pak," Lolita said coldly. "He has plenty of room."
"Lolita, you're forgetting that Renee implemented tariffs on gasoline!" Artemis lifted his gaze from his glass of water, locking eyes with Lolita. "Gas is up forty percent. Fiscal reality says we should be releasing non-violent offenders, not running lavish cross-border transports."
"I haven't forgotten the numbers, Artemis," Lolita said coldly. "Sending them west was the only viable alternative to lining them up against a wall and shooting them."
"Or," Sterling ventured softly, "you could loosen enforcement, so fewer people end up incarcerated in the first place."
"Shut up, Sterling." Lolita's voice sliced through the room. "Are you begging to lose your seat like Maxwell?"
"No," Sterling muttered, his face flushing.
"Regardless, Osa demands the immediate removal of all Intermarium prisoners currently in his camps," Tyler pressed.
"Out of the question." Lolita shook her head. "Our domestic facilities don't have the structural capacity to absorb them."
She leaned back in her chair, fingers steepled. "I'll arrange a meeting with Osa. We'll settle this directly."