Slough
The room was small, disorganized and cramped, but had the makings of a decent boardroom if someone was willing to put in the time and effort to make it so. I found my mind considering why someone would go to the trouble of creating such a space without spending the extra effort to make it workable. My thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the alliance leadership in the form of the leadership of BO-LD corporation. The official running of V.O.I.D. was under way.
Asmodean Shepherd had been elected the executor of the alliance and as such would oversee all management. Tall, but understated for a Minmatar, Asmodean took his seat at the head of the makeshift table amidst the ten representatives gathered from the four corporations founding the alliance.
“As you all know, I’ve undertaken the tasks of finding us some new friends and enemies, as well as appointing positions of authority within the alliance. Today I wanted to get everyone in the same room to begin discussing some further details. Namely, our fleet doctrines. Scythian Painspike will be overseeing all conversations around what sort of fleets and engagements we will be undertaking.”
The surprise on the faces around the table was poorly hidden. Considering the owners of the faces, who had collectively seen hundreds of years of battle, the lack of facial control was even more concerning. Scythian Painspike was well known to be one of the least popular capsuleers among our ranks, considered by most to be a bit of a joke, somewhat of an entertaining court jester but of little actual use. Asmodean had made a decision to trust his least capable, and least popular, corporation member with one of the most important and delicate matters a new alliance faces.
“First, you will all shut up and do whatever I say, always. I am amazing.” Scythian began, “We will be fielding the most expensive fleets possible, and we will only appoint military leadership positions to people I like and who will do exactly what I want.” The words were shrill and grating. Scythian was diminutive, owing to the fact that he had spent decades working to make each of his new clones appear progressively more female. The experimental approach to clone gender reassignment eliminated the need to surgically modify clones once awakened, but since technically genetics were what were being cloned modification on gender left certain inherent traits at risk. Scythian desperately wanted to appear female and had sacrificed greatly to achieve this goal. The end result was a grotesque and tiny form, barely able to be considered human. The mental results had been noted by many, as it seemed that Scythian’s ability to communicate intelligently either decreased with time, or with each clone he awoke in. Considering how often he died in battle, it was hard to know whether it was just the natural passing of time or the large number of clones awakened.
“Not to argue your unquestioned authority, but shouldn’t we at least consider fleets that are somewhat affordable to our member base? Or even fleets we can build on-site in our new home for only the cost of the effort involved?” I ventured a comment, hoping to steer the conversation productively. “You’ve been around long enough to not stupidly suck so much, S3VYN.” Scythian squealed, “I would think you of all people would at least be able to buy shinies!” The comment was followed by what seemed to be a sneering laugh, but it sounded more like two pieces of rusty metal rubbing together. “I just think participation is going to be our biggest hurdle to overcome, and I was hoping we could start with some fleets that were affordable and effective in multiple situations. Maybe something not too specialized.”
“You need to shut up and learn to not be a stupid idiot person!” Scythian was getting worked up, and everyone in attendance was growing visibly uncomfortable. In my mind I began weighing options. Should I continue to represent as I was asked to do, for the membership of the alliance, even in the face of a sniveling moron or should I relent and be the first in what would be a string of people choosing to disappear rather than work towards a better alliance with such unqualified leadership? My thoughts were interrupted, “If you can’t afford the things I can afford, you need to go back to being an idiot in Jita!” My options narrowed. “Scythian, you lost 5 billion isk in the last two weeks and you yourself can’t replace it. Everyone here knows you’re funded by rich corp mates who keep you around just so they can laugh at you. Stop acting like you know what the rank and file are…” “You shut up S3VYN, and you get out!” This wasn’t the high-pitched voice of the tiny, genderless Scythian, it was Asmodean and his face relayed that he had no interest in anyone else’s opinions. My path had been chosen for me. “Fair enough, you guys can have it. Hell of a first meeting, have fun wallowing in your own ineptitude.” I stood as calmly as I could muster and exited the room.
“Um… I really don’t think you leaving is going to be the best option for the alliance.” Stig S50B32 had followed me into the hall, laughing could be heard from within the conference room. Stig was one of the wealthiest and most powerful members of our fledgeling alliance. He and his corporation, The Walking Deads, were a primary reason Imperium Technologies had decided to take on the project of teaching young, inexperienced and overall under-qualified alliance “leadership” how an alliance should run. “What if I could get some of the more influential thinkers in Scythian’s group to work with you on how fleets should run?” Stig was obviously looking for an angle to keep me, and IT, involved with leading the alliance. “I like you man, and I had hopes that Asmodean wouldn’t be a pushover until today. But as it stands, I’m really not interested. This thing has at most two months in it before it tears itself apart.” “Well, just keep an open mind. I’ve got to get back in there before these idiots make more stupid decisions. We’ll talk soon.” Stig disappeared back into the conference room.
I reached for my comm link. “Hey joypunk, it’s time to get some factories ready to go planet-side.” “Are you sure?” joypunk obviously had concerns as to what spinning up our production could mean for the alliance. “Yeah, schedule production to begin in two weeks, let’s see what we can scrounge up. This thing has no legs to it, let’s get whatever assets we can and start preparing to get out. I wouldn’t even unpack if I were you.” “Again? Fine.” joypunk would work on getting things in order. Now, it was my job to work on keeping myself from getting assassinated by Scythian Painspike’s tiny, genderless clone.
