The scene when the first cameras began to stream footage back to the Alliance government was flawless, just as Felicity had planned. Hundreds of dry docks were built, and the first ships were beginning to be assembled, just the bare frames to show the Alliance viewers that work was already underway.
That was all that they really needed, and the ships would be completed in the next two days so that a new batch could be started. Max had considered ordering more dry docks to be made, but the logistics of operating and quality controlling that many build projects at once was simply impossible. Even as they were, they were stretching their numbers of qualified professionals very thin, and there were likely to be a number of minor flaws in all the ships that an overworked staffer simply overlooked.
But they would be fully armed and fully functional. For the next few weeks, the small things could be overlooked. After that, they would either become quirks of the vessel or they would get fixed by the new crews.
That assumed that they survived the engagement, and that was far from a given. Even the most optimistic of estimates were expecting thirty percent or higher casualties on their side before the enemy could be eliminated or driven back, and that assumed that nearly everything went right for them.
No plan survived first contact with the enemy, and Max was cautiously optimistic that they could keep losses to a lower number than their replacement rate, which would give them the long-term win, no matter how many of the Cathedral Ships came his way.
But with the new weapons equipped on the Mecha for him and Nico, as well as adapted for use on the main guns of the Destroyers, which had the power to take down the enemy's Void Shields to make them effective, there was some hope that the optimists might be close.
Max knew the moment that the agreement came in, positive confirmation that the Readers had won the military contract for as much as they could provide, with smaller contracts going to other military equipment suppliers.
There was no shortage of demand at the moment, and with the Reavers making identical equipment for everyone, the footage of the construction zone could be reused everywhere that they were expected to be fighting.
Propaganda films were very close to being the specialty of Felicity, who was originally programmed as an AI to control and modify the behaviour of sentient beings. It would be difficult to find anyone with more experience than she had, and as far as capabilities, they were unquestionably astonishing.
Most of the viewers were far outside the range of Max's System Skills, but he got the readings from the minds of the news crew that first broadcast it, and that was enough to tell him that the sight was going to make a lasting impression on everyone whose feed it came up in.
[I need a representative from every Reaver Company that is in the area for an afternoon. They need a photo shoot for the signing ceremony that will give us the distribution rights to supply all of their military needs that we can handle. It's a big thing to the Alliance, so send someone who either looks good and knows when to shut up, or who can actually talk well.] Max informed the other Reaver leaders in this star system.
Some of them were annoyed, but Max knew that they would all send him someone decent if the leader couldn't come him or herself. Nobody wanted to look bad on a billion viewer's screens, so they would do their very best to use this brief moment in the spotlight to make themselves look as good as possible.
Especially the smaller Companies, who had the biggest dreams of expansion.
"Are we going to be able to set up something for the audience?" The Giant Envoy asked as Max was finalizing the transport details with the other Commanders.
"We will. I've got a bunch on their way over here now to look impressive and give the audience a sense of grandeur while we put the official signatures on the deal. Is there anything else that you can think of that would be good to have done right away?"
"Maybe set up a fancy room. The public understands at some level that all of these deals are actually done in a boring and nondescript office somewhere, but when they see them in action, they want it to look like a festival could break out at any moment. A lively atmosphere, with all the grandeur that they would expect from people of our standing." The Valkia suggested.
"People of our standing?" Max joked, as if the Envoy had actually called people peasants or something just as demeaning.
"In case you've forgotten, everyone in this room is insanely wealthy and powerful. The general citizens of the Alliance view this level of elite existence as something untouchable, to be looked up to. Showing them a plain bunker of a room where we can talk in private isn't going to impress them." The Valkia replied with a shrug.
"Are you saying that we're not snobbish enough to live up to everyone's expectations?" Max laughed.
"That's exactly it. Reality doesn't live up to the images in their minds. We need to ham it up a bit more than usual so that hey know that we're not fakes. Also, try to wear something recognizable, but in an outfit nobody has seen before. That way they know it's not a body double, and they don't start some inane thread about how the production is so cheap that they used hand me down clothing." The Giant added with a sigh.
Clearly he had done this before, and he wasn't particularly fond of it.
"Alright, they will be here in five minutes, and I will have Nico adjust their outfits to make sure they're up to the standard. She's got a theatrical side to her that many people overlook." Max informed them in an earnest voice.
It wasn't technically a lie. Nico did get a bit dramatic. But actual theatrics? That was a rare sight, unless she got bored.
