The Vote

Primath’s heart was steady and his mind laser focused on the book he held in his paws as the company car rolled along to his destination.

Resting atop his shoulders and flowing down to his legs was a Dhampole, a brown robe associated with Imperial Warrior Monks from a millennia ago. It was still considered acceptable formal wear even if few wore it, save for the fringes of the most fringe of Regulians who were insecure in their masculinity. It was the costume of someone who could not content themselves with asserting their strength in the hierarchy by slapping their slave after a hard day’s work; it was the garb of those who were eternally convinced their second place trophy was evidence of a conspiracy that had knocked them down to the dregs of society.

The book was an excellent complement to the costume. There was a naked Regulian on the cover, snarling, while holding two curved swords. To the ignorant eye, one might assume it was a cheap fantasy paperback, but to those in the know…

“Driver!” Primath poked at the page. “Have you ever read The Traditional Desert Warrior Ethos by Pralath Tagar?”

There was no response behind the one-way glass window.

“Truly inspiring philosophy! They don’t make Regulians like they did back then anymore!”

They were also less racist back then. The need to dominate lesser cultures meant little to them before the traumas of space corrupted them.

Shut the fuck up. Tagar is about to talk about how his martial victory grants him the prestige of forcing his holy seed upon his rival King’s daughter, laying the foundation of the Imperial Concubinage System.

He doesn’t actually describe that though, leading scholars believe it was posturing and bragging in public. She was described as being in heat and yet she never bore a litter and…

Reject revisionism, accept literalism.

But he literally doesn’t touch her in the passage! He just brags about what he’s going to do to his Kathra and then he meditates on the balcony of the palace! He’s just an insecure cub trying to look like a warrior but he doesn’t even know how to be that! This is actually a sign that although he talks a big talk he hasn’t fallen to the darkness his philosophy demands and there’s still hope for him! He just has to stop trying to be what he’s not!

Reading is for slaves and females, throw the book out the window, now!

“Boy!” Primath poked the book again. “I tell you…you want a copy?”

Don’t offer to sign it.

Don’t offer to sign it.

“I could even sign it!”

There was no response.

In fact, the driver dutifully refrained from speaking during the entire trip. Grand Duke t’Osgar would have been proud.

Primath exited the vehicle and immediately was blasted with cameras flashing. Microphones were thrust into his face from reporters from government stations across the Empire.

“Primath, baby, what the hell are you wearing?” a Vulpeculan reporter with a neon blue dress dazzling with sequins demanded.

“I’m bringing back traditional Regulian fashion,” he leaned into the microphone and proudly gave a quick growl to a camera. “This is a new era for the company but we’re also going back to fundamentals.”

“What fundamentals are those?” a Lupiad with thick glasses asked.

Call him a filthy underspecies. That’ll make headlines.

BAD headlines, don’t do it.

“Fundamentals. We’re going to…” Primath paused, suddenly feeling surrounded by predators, “...we’re going to add radio to Jolt!”

With a self-satisfied step, Primath pushed his way past the journalists who were, quite the contrary, not satisfied with his answer and continued to harass him for elaboration

It was like this even as he entered the lobby and up until he managed to reach the executive elevator and, with the help of security, managed to get the doors shut so he could enjoy the silent ride up to the boardroom.

Radio on Jolt? Jolt is an application only used by socially addicted degenerates. You should have announced its complete scuttling and systematic execution of its division managers.

You should have said anything but that. Nothing would have been preferable.

“SHUT UUUUUUUUP!”

Ding.

The doors slid open.

No one was there to hear Primath’s outburst, much to his relief. The floor was secure, no one was allowed here except for the board, no exceptions.

As Primath stepped out of the elevator, his Dhampole opened up without warning, exposing his genitals to the empty hallway. He quickly tied the silk rope of the garb back around its waist and continued down.

Turning to the right, Primath passed the reception desk, and stepped towards the twin doors of the boardroom. Carved into the yellow, almost golden, wood was an icon of Primath’s father standing tall and holding cables above his head that stretched from one side of the doorway to the other.

It was time.

Primath put his paw on the door handle and pulled.

Nothing.

The handle would not move. It was locked.

Primath knocked at the door and waited. He heard nothing beyond the door.

“Hey!” Primath shouted and knocked more. “I’m here!”

The boardroom was soundproof, of course, but Primath figured that his knocks should have been audible.

“Fuck…”

Looping back towards the reception desk, Primath began to shuffle through the immaculate stacks of paper for some instructions. Once he had left the desk in a flurry of scattered sheets, he turned to the phone.

There it was, as plain as day, a button that said “Boardroom,” in the line selection. Primath picked up the receiver and pressed the button.

“Hello? Hello?”

“...Who is this?”

A soft voice whispered into Primath’s ear. It did not sound like Valerie, not at all. A human woman yes, but not her.

“I’m here for the Boardroom meeting, this is Primath t’Osgar.”

“Oh…” the voice went silent, “...this is HR.”

“Uh, no…” Primath looked down at the button and confirmed what he saw before, “...I pressed the Boardroom button on the reception phone.”

“This is HR.”

“Look, the number on it is…”

Primath recited the numbers on the LED screen that popped up after hitting the button.

“That is the number for HR.”

“But the label says Boardroom!”

“Maybe they made a mistake?”

“Fuck!” Primath stomped. “Can you give the boardroom a call to let me in?”

“I’m afraid they would get very angry if I did…”

“How am I supposed to get in? I need to vote! My father…” Primath pretended to choke a bit, “...my fathers dying!”

“Did the invitation email give any instructions?”

Primath patted his robe. Naturally, it did not have any pockets. They did not need pockets for Datapads back in the Early Steel Age. If Primath had brought one, he had almost certainly left it in the limo along with his book.

“Hey…” Primath put a little purr in his voice and leaned onto the desk casually, “...what say you do me this one little favor and I’ll buy you dinner.”

“That’s a very generous offer but…”

“Come on, hey, what’s your favorite cuisine? Hashan’s Hope has it all. I’m detecting an Earth accent, aren’t I?”

“Chinese.”

“That your favorite food or your accent?”

A slight giggle on the other end.

You’re nailing it!

“Both.”

“Well, if it tastes anywhere near as good as your voice sounds, I bet it’s something! How about tonight?”

A short laugh, very short. The kind to make an insecure Regulian tie their stomach up in knots over. It could be good or could be bad.

Take a different approach. She does not respect your sexual prowess. Show you’re a warrior.

“You know, after today, I’m going to be very rich and very powerful.”

Silence. She was listening, right?

“Powerful Regulians need concubines,” Primath leaned into the receiver, licking his lips. “And I think I can fast-track your application. Ever-”

Click.

Primath blink and hit the Boardroom button again. It did not even give a dial tone.

“Fuck!”

Primath slammed the receiver down and paced in front of the desk. The visage of his father leered down at him from the door that refused to open.

“OPEN UP!” Primath shouted and banged his fist on the door.

It was then that Primath noticed a small, yellow box on the far side of the wall. One of hundreds littering the spaces of the building and just about every building built to code.

Press in case of fire.

“Well, now that the excitement is all over with…”

Valerie sat at the head of the table, her fingers steepled together. Her eyes cast a glare at Primath, who sat in the corner to the right of her. A glare that screamed that she knew he was the one who pulled the fire alarm.

The joke was on her, Primath figured, he had, after all, gone down to another floor and pulled one in a blindspot where the cameras wouldn’t have seen it.

The boardroom was much more empty than Primath had ever expected. He supposed that was only natural since his two brothers were out of commission.

“First of all, we have received a transmission from the Lord-Controller of our investiture seat. Prince Jaroth will be abiding by traditional neutrality with the office and abstaining from voting.”

Primath dug his claws into the wood underside of the table.

Wasn’t that one of Quroth’s votes?

“Now then, as the Host of the vote. We’ll do a check-in,” Valerie looked over to a scrawny orange Vulpeculan slave in the corner taking notes. “Oranya, are you ready?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Primath t’Osgar?”

“Here!” Primath raised his paw.

“Larga of-”

“Here!”

The brown-furred Sirian raised her paw before Valerie could complete her sentence. She seemed unusually tense and her eyes constantly looked over at Primath when he wasn’t looking.

As the only guaranteed vote he had, this caused worry to wrack Primath’s stomach.

“Tialo?”

The gray Vulpeculan raised a single, middle finger. An obscene human gesture.

“Let the record show that Tialo has silently responded that he’s here. Shiva?”

“Hmm,” the Regulian raised a golden claw, imitating his co-worker.

“Franclath?”

An ancient Regulian in a black suit that made him look like a corpulent ball of dark matter shakily raised his paw and exclaimed, “Here and ready!”

Franclath was some kind of executive with a vaguely defined position who tended to serve as Primath’s father’s biggest and best sycophant. There was no question that he wouldn’t keep things in the family.

“Remoting in from Tri-Hope Hospital, Daglow?”

A screen that made up the entire west wall flickered on and Primath’s adopted brother showed up, his desert-dry nose practically pressed up against the camera. Primath was a little shocked, having lost track of him since he arrived on Regulus Prime but considering the many medical mistakes he professed as wisdom while on Haven, Primath was not truly that greatly surprised.

“Here!”

“Please step back a little.”

“I can’t…”

“Can you get a nurse to move the camera?”

The camera was pulled back and revealed that a golden circlet was wrapped around Daglow’s brow. He would have no doubt been standing like royalty were it not for the IV tubes sticking out of his wrists.

“Daglow, are…” Primath leaned forward, clutching the bottom of the table, “...are you wearing dad’s Grand Duke regalia?”

“Oh, this?” Daglow closed his eyes and grinned. “Well, I’m getting the title in case of father’s passing, so…”

Daglow looked over to the right and winked straight at Franclath.

“Is the Sirian coming onto me?” Franclath’s droopy jowls quivered, with disturbance or arousal, no one could tell.

“Oh, sorry!” Daglow looked over to the left. “Sorry, I’m not getting video. Valerie, are you on the left?”

“Daglow is here,” Valerie said simply and cut off Daglow’s audio feed.

Valerie paused for a second before continuing.

“With Uloth t’Osgar’s tragic passing, I would like to propose a minute of silence in his honor.”

There was no objection even if Primath really wanted to do so. It would be bad form. The table remained in silence for exactly a minute, no more and no less.

“Quroth t’Osgar’s vote is going to be treated as null. He has been confirmed as lacking mental faculties to attend.”

“Uh…well…” Primath looked over at Daglow’s screen, “...if he can remote in, can’t we try to remote Quroth in?”

Valerie sighed and flicked a stray strand of blonde hair across her brow, “Quroth is in no condition to vote. His doctor’s, the best in the Empire, have confirmed it. He is convinced that extra-dimensional mustelids are trying to destroy our reality. You were there at his house, don’t try to tell us he’s sane.”

“Does Daglow look like he’s the picture of health right now?”

“Daglow has overdosed on caffeine and refused to take a filter pill. It is an idiotic choice but one that is not a sign of insanity.”

Primath grit his teeth together but said no more.

“Without further ado, I think we all have better things to do today. If there are no objections, let’s proceed to the only article today,” Valerie pulled out a sheet of paper from a stack. “A vote on the Interim CEO of System to System until Grand Duke Aloth t’Osgar Jr awakens from his coma or he passes. If the former happens, the Interim CEO will resign immediately in favor of the Grand Duke; if the latter occurs a new vote will be held as soon as possible.”

“What about Uloth’s vote?” Primath asked.

Electricity crackled in the room as everyone looked at the sole, remaining t’Osgar.

“I mean, do I get to vote on his behalf?”

“No. His seat is vacant.

“So, uh…” Primath continued, “...if like, half the board died, what then?”

Valerie let her mask slip for just a moment. Her cheek twitched violently, the stress of the past month finally cracking the facade.

“Quorum would not be able to be achieved and we’d have to fill the seats from stockholders,” Valerie paused, attempting to move past the question, but found herself unable to inject a barb. “Let the board recognize Primath’s knowledge of how board votes work in their consideration.”

Primath looked around. A mixture of worry, contempt, and worst of all, pity.

No…no…

“Let us begin. Primath?”

Now is the time. Show your might.

Primath stood up and slammed his fist on the table.

“In my father’s name, I vote for myself!”

The room was in silent awe. The kind of awe one has for a speech for the ages or for a trainwreck, who could truly say?

“Larga?” Valerie continued, ignoring the moment.

“Primath,” Larga said without hesitation, despite the obvious signs in her eyes.

“Two votes Primath.”

Wait, am I going to actually do this?

“Tialo?”

“I vote for the blonde cunt,” Tialo snorted and pointed at Primath. “And not the blonde-maned cunt, the blonde human cunt.”

“I will presume that counts as a vote for me, if there are no objections.”

“Wait, uh…” Primath cleared his throat, “...we can’t really say what he really means. Uh…he needs to clarify and maybe think things through?”

“Valerie,” Tialo spat onto the table, “there, I said her name. Can we move on?”

“Shiva?” Valerie continued on.

“Valerie,” Shiva grumbled. “Can’t vote for Quroth so…”

“Two votes Valerie and two votes Primath. Franclath?”

“Oh…” the Regulian stood up and patted his round belly, “...may I say a few words?”

“Of course.”

“I have always, always been committed to keeping this company in the t’Osgar family. They have been very good to me, you know? But not just to me, but for the company as a whole. I don’t think anyone but a t’Osgar can lead this company through such times, for though peace is assured in the Empire for the moment, who can really say when the fires of war reach us once again?”

The entire room nodded along.

“I would like to say something Aloth told me in confidence. That of all his wives and concubines, even the sole one who bore him a litter, there was only one of who he considered to be truly his mate. The true Empress of the t’Osgar dynasty.”

“As such, I cast my vote for Valerie.”

“WHAT!?” Primath stood up and shouted, pointing a claw at Franclath. “You lie! Father did nothing but complain about her day in and day out!”

“Perhaps but…he loved her despite that. What can I say?”

“You can tell the truth! THE TRUTH!”

“ORDER!” Valerie slammed her fist on the table. “You will be silent! The votes are not over with!”

But they were, weren’t they? Even if Daglow voted in favor of Primath, that was it?

No…Daglow will vote for me…he’ll vote for me and that’ll change someone’s mind. Franclath will change his mind. Come on, Daglow, Father just adopted you to get PR points, he fucking hated you even more than me.

“Daglow?”

“Valerie.”

Daglow finally winked in the right direction this time. The bribe was transparent but no one cared. It was a personal matter.

There was only one vote left and…

“As final vote, I cast in favor of myself. Let it be noted as four votes for Valerie, two votes for Primath, one abstained, and two null. As such I will continue my work as CEO for the foreseeable future.”

The table applauded, even Larga out of good sportsmanship. All except for Primath who was slumped in his chair, hearing nothing except for a dull ringing in his ear that grew louder by the moment.

“SHE CAN’T BE CEO!”

Primath screamed, slobber spewing from his jowls.

“SHE’S A SLAVE! A SLAVE!” Primath tore the shoulder of his robe aside, showing off what he viewed as adequate pectoral muscles. “I’M A REGULIAN! THE ONLY REGULIAN CANDIDATE!”

Primath huffed and snarled, frantically looking around the boardroom while growling at anyone who caught his eyes.

“I AM THE ONLY REGULIAN!”

Franclath shushed Primath and whispered, “Come on, lad, there will be another cha-”

“NO!” Primath roared. “THIS IS THE ONLY CHANCE! I AM THE ONLY REGULIAN!”

“I’m changing my vote to Valerie,” Larga suddenly said.

“Oh fuck you!” Primath slammed his fists on the table. “Daughter of a traitor, just like her father! Well FUCK YOU TOO!”

Storming off to the corner, Primath swept his arms and the Vulpeculan slave taking the minutes was only able to dodge at the last second and avoid bone-shattering Regulian strength.

“Here’s my final argument!”

Primath pulled away the bottom of his robe and leaned forward, gripping his sheath.

“Lad,” Franclath said, “there’s no need-”

“SHUT UP!”

A hot trail of piss shot out of Primath’s penis, marking up the corner with the rank scent of his urine.

“There!” Primath swept his arms to the side and addressed the board. “I WIN!”

No one said another word as Primath stomped out of the boardroom and into the empty office. He had finally shown those pricks what he was really made of. He wasn’t going to be pushed around anymore, not by the board, not by the media, not by anyone.

He pressed the elevator button and the doors immediately swung open. He stepped inside.

They were going to respect him now. They would change their votes. They all would, even Valerie. They would beg for him to return, they would kiss his feet, they would offer him sexual favors.

The doors slammed shut with a loud thud.

Primath sat in the corner.

His thoughts were dead. He felt nothing.

Even the voices in his head guiding him were gone.

He was alone.

He lost it all.

There would occasionally be a flash of something he could have done otherwise that would appear in his mind. Banding together with his brothers to vote any one of them in to break the vote…

He could have called some of the board members before the vote. Just fucking called them, he had their numbers.

But those thoughts would fade in favor of the void.

Primath didn’t even realize his paws were bleeding from all the punching he did until the elevator stopped and the doors opened.

There was a crowd of reporters but they were silent too. Not even the vultures wanted a piece of Primath right now, not after he came through so broken. The stories and the pictures would speak for itself.

Finally, one brave reporter, a Vulpeculan so small that he could have been picked up with one hand asked.

“What happened in the meeting?”

Primath picked up the reporter’s microphone and spoke.

“I’m going to kill myself.”

Primath dropped it with a crash of feedback and stepped out. The air was dry and a cloud of dust rolling in from the plains made it hard to breathe. None of this mattered though, Primath intended to vanish into the sand never to be seen again.

A strong paw suddenly grabbed Primath by the shoulder. Thick, long claws wrapped around his skin.

“A ride for Primath t’Osgar.” a white Ursine, the same one holding him, pointed towards a black car. One that was definitely not company-owned.

“I’m good. I’m going to kill myself.”

“No, you’re not,” a hulking black Equuileian grabbed his other shoulder. “You don’t have that luxury.”

They sent two of the strongest species in the Empire, the few that had a body mass that rivaled average Regulian strength. Primath was far from a stellar example of Regulian athleticism but it was clear they wanted to take no chances.

Primath went limp. There was no point in running or trying to resist. He soon found himself in the back seat of a car, flanked by the two thugs, while the driver kicked the car into gear.

“You didn’t think you’d get away with that, did you?” the driver spoke. He was a white Vulpeculan, the same one as before…

The Claw.

It didn’t even register as a surprise. Primath had forgotten about them but he also knew deep down that they wouldn’t have let him get away with this.

Maybe if he had become CEO they’d let him be for a bit before painlessly shoving him off a building.

“Get it over with,” Primath said flatly.

A needle jabbed Primath in the arm. He didn’t even look over at it.

“You know what? We’re going to be kind and give you a gift. The best gift you could ever receive.”

Primath’s eyelids were heavy. His time was almost up.

“We’re going to give you a new home, a new job, and…here’s the best part, the greatest gift you could ever get.”

“We’re going to take the name Primath t’Osgar away from you.”