Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Four: Public Relations (Patreon)

“They’ve raised a Question in Parliament,” grumbled Gideon. “Head office wants all information related to the production cost of Boar Armor.”

I put set number four thousand three hundred and sixty-one of the Nanofibre Weave Bodyplates in its slot. “Do we need to be concerned?”

“Not really. If the Liberals had their way we’d be fighting the aliens with straw and brooms, so nobody takes their questions seriously. The problem is, we still have to send HO the costing data.”

“And that’s a problem because?”

“Technically we don’t charge for your time. Or for the value added from making the fullersteel. So the, um, profit margin on both nanofibre weave and Boar armor appears quite high.”

“The British government owns a third of the plant, don’t we? And we pay twenty per cent taxes. So they’re actually getting 44% of our profits.”

“That’s not how the press works, unfortunately. We may have to hire a PR consultant. I hate PR folks….”

“Think of it as a business expense.”

“Don’t remind me. Hopefully this’ll all blow over.”

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A week later, the thousand Boar Armours were ready, and fifty-five hundred sets of Nanofibre Weave were packed and set to ship.

Making over six thousand sets of combat armor personally had leveled my Powered Armor Forging skill like nothing else could have, raising it to Level 6 and unlocking blueprints for three new types of armor - the Shadowcat, the Wolf, and the Panther class. For better or worse, the new types couldn’t be made with Fullersteel alone - they required an even stronger material.

I had two candidates for that - Titanweave, the material used as a standard in most of the Hierarchy’s tech, which I still couldn’t figure out; or Tauralloy.

Tauralloy was a mix of fullersteel layered with the ultra-hard, ultra-dense biological material that formed the damage-resistant outer shell of the Carnotaur skin. Carnotaur skin was incredibly tough on its own, but when a particular type of magnetic field was applied to it, the material became significantly harder. That was the basis of the Lesser Carnotaur’s Harden Skin ability.

The Greater Carnotaur’s skin had a magnetic field embedded throughout it, keeping it permanently hardened.

Naturally, I wanted that skin. Badly. Tauralloy would enable me to build powered armor far beyond what the Greyhound could deliver. And in order to get it, I had to ship the suits to the British Army, then ship another hundred to the Stratospheric Guard.

Unfortunately, less than a day ago, we’d been asked to put the shipment on hold.

Because the Parliamentary Question hadn’t gone away. In fact, the public attitude to our calculated profit margins had been… less than friendly.

Which was why Paul and I were on our way to meet a PR consultant in the conference room.

“Belessar, Paul, this is Ms. Moira Sanghwan from DCW Partners,” Gideon introduced a sharply-dressed woman. “Corporate asked her to help us with our PR problem.”

“It’s a pleasure to be here.” Moira Sanghwan smiled at us. “We’ve worked with BAE before, especially on defence-related controversies.”

“BAE hasn’t had any controversies.”

“Thank you.”

Gideon coughed. “Ms. Sanghwan will be guiding all of us on how we can manage the fallout.”

“Is the problem really that bad?” I asked.

Moira picked up her tablet. “Protector turns Profiteer: The Billion-Dollar Business of Belessar. From Saviour to Shylock. BAE and Belessar Bamboozle British Budget. That’s just three of the headlines, all talking about how you should be charging less for the suits.”

“I didn’t pick the rate,” I grumbled. “And it’s not as if it’s my personal money; it all goes to the company.”

“Which the public doesn’t care about. Hashtag Belessarisathief, it appears.”

“There’s a hashtag?”

“Several. I would advise that you take this seriously, gentlemen. BAE is very keen to ensure that the manufacturing and supply of this technology doesn’t face any obstacles.”

“What does that involve?”

“Many things, including a number of press releases and official statements. We’ll be setting up a public information office to handle all public communication. No more extempore speeches, please.” A pointed look at me.

“I only gave the one, and it was immediately after a terror attack.”

“Nonetheless, we would ask that you run any public statements through the information office.”

“You do realize I’m an ultrahuman, right? I’m going to have situations where I need to speak.”

“And we wouldn’t deny you that, Mr. Belessar. However, for the duration of this crisis, we would request that you minimize public appearances.”

“That sounds like hiding from the problem. Wouldn’t that make us look as if we were guilty of something?”

“With this sort of situation, there’s no winning the argument.”

NEW QUEST ALERT: WIN THE ARGUMENT.

APPEAR IN PUBLIC TO SPEAK ABOUT YOUR POSITION ON ARMAMENTS PRODUCTION AND THE GOOD YOU’RE DOING. CONVINCE THE AUDIENCE SUCCESSFULLY OF THE MERITS OF YOUR ARGUMENT.

SUCCESS REWARDS: +2 CHARISMA, +2 INTELLIGENCE, +1 XP PER PERSON WHO VIEWS THE PROGRAM AND AGREES WITH YOUR VIEW.

FAILURE PENALTY: -50 ETHICS, 70% PRICE REDUCTION IN BAE-DRAGONFLY CONTRACT.

ACCEPT? YES/NO.

Ooh, four stat boosts at once… I quietly waved my hand through the ‘Yes’ box. “With the right approach, we might actually be able to spin this our way. I’d like you to set up an event.”

Moira Sanghwan’s eyebrows shot up. “I beg your pardon?”

“I have a fairly good track record with the public. You do recall I spoke at London, and the video of my demonstration with Supremacy was fairly well received.”

“Be that as it may, Mr. Belessar, we don’t think it would be a good idea at this time…”

“I think it’s a great idea. What would the most effective channel for a positive spin be?”

“... An interview, perhaps.” Sanghwan set down her tablet. “There are a number of magazines and forums that would be a safe option.”

“And how widely would they be circulated? Let’s pick something which reaches millions of viewers. We have a good case.”

“Your argument would be that you should gain a nine hundred percent profit?”

“My argument would be that profits earned would be ploughed back into reducing the costs of the next batch of armour production.”

Gideon coughed. “That sounds like something we should discuss with Corporate.”

“Gideon, would you rather sell a thousand suits for five hundred million or a hundred thousand for a billion?”

“..You can make a hundred thousand suits?”

“Not yet, but we need to get past depending on me as the single person who can assemble them, don’t we? I want Boar Armour to become the default kit for human soldiers. Scale up, grow bigger, and have fullersteel plate to cover everything. Keep increasing the production capacity, keep spinning up more nanofibre weave, more fullersteel, make it at a scale where we can field far more units.”

“That’s a tall order. Is it possible?”

“It might be. Also, I need to start working on the next generation battlesuit - something that can actually take on a Carnotaur - and that’s going to need me free from other things. Not to mention I could get called up to Skyguard in a year or so, after which all bets are off.”

Moira Sanghwan’s eyes darted between the two of us. “The reinvestment angle might work. You’d have to commit to doing it legally, of course, and show that you’re not using the money for your own personal benefit…”

“I’m willing to commit to that, as long as we can get the public on our side. Can you arrange a good interview?”

“Let me make some calls, gentlemen, and I’ll get back to you.”

As the PR consultant excused herself, Gideon stared at me. “Never seen you this enthused about public speaking.”

“I see it as an opportunity to learn.”

“For what it’s worth, I agree with you on the reinvestment angle. Now I just need a way to convince Corporate.”

“Need any help?”

“Not unless your skills include Powerpoint 2075. Otherwise just leave me alone with two pots of coffee and I’ll see you in the morning...”