Elections were being held to get me out of office, and I couldn't be any happier.
Finally, a light to the end of this tunnel!
With the ratification of what was already being called the Cavia Committee, a congress of representatives was now in progress of forming. Different regions across the populated planet were presently hosting expedited community selections to quickly form the first assembly to start populating the executive branch, so the day wasn't far off. But until then, I was determined to leave the administration in a very good shape and give my successor as best a situation as possible to take control of the new state.
There were some promising avenues on that as well. The Prynth Mining Union was back in full swing with plenty of raw materials, dug up and sold by the very workers themselves for a full payout. With those recovered hardsuits from the broken dockyards, they've had great success in going into the dark waters of Cavia II and helping to relocate the restarted machinery. As envisioned, valuable ores were being excavated from the depths and refined on the way up to become useful common ingots by the time they've surfaced.
Given the trope of bringing things back from the deep, I'm not sure whether to be grateful or disappointed by the lack of an eldritch nature to them. Think I'll settle for the GM just being rather uninspired on the theme there.
Those ingots anyway were now being bought up either by Harrison Armory at their fixed rate, or purchased by us at a higher offering. The irony of domestic purchases being more costly than interstellar wasn't lost on me, but well, it was actually important material for our printers to turn into valuable spare parts. Already, Lieutenant Nasir was reporting with an overjoyed note that we finally were at 'nominal' surplus parts- including a rather chuffed Major Rowles showing off a new Everest arm.
One fully domestically produced as well, adding only more to her growing reputation as a little local celebrity. Something she, at my suggestion, made use of to do a little tour around to see what could be donated for our cause by the various communities. A respectable amount of manna as it turned out, all funneled into the general budget I was forming.
That being said, those donations were a pittance compared to the currently rising income streams from Cavia Broadcasting Services and the ongoing success of Swords to Plows. Hah, to think they'd go with that name I suggested!
The half-competition, half-documentary show centered around the workings of hydroponics was capturing the interest of a devoted audience base. It wasn't like a runaway hit that instantly was a must-watch television across the planet, but the struggles and travails of clone infantry squads trying their hand at farming still made for interesting enough television. I actually tuned in to a few episodes and watched them all the way, learning a few interesting things myself too.
Did you know that under perfect conditions, hydroponics of the far future could make a lettuce grow in as little as a week?
Or maybe that was just something the setting enabled. Whatever it was, it did help explain how this tundra planet could feed its own population without farmland, those hydroponics facilities being excellent and efficient producers for their size. All that was needed to make it work, from the power generators to the chemical additives, was water. Which, considering Cavia II was a literal water world, I don't think we were going to run out of anytime soon.
In any case, the revenue from Melhof's handpicked sponsorships and broadcast revenue was massive shot in the arm for our funds. Combined with regular income as well from private food distributors purchasing crops from us at bulk price to then resell to locals in supermarkets and convenience stores, it was a steady income flow.
More than that though? It'd also kickstarted a developing interest among the clones, especially when they got to also take back to their barracks a portion of their crops. Considering what had been our very barren ration cycle until as of late, the appeal of freshly grown vegetables to finally have meals that didn't come from a packet was very much welcomed. Though something like meat of any kind, synthetic or real, would take some more time.
Hm. Tempting as it was to try and startup an aquaculture industry on Cavia II for that, the presence of heavy machinery in the water made me leery of trying anything like that. We'd have to probably do a more thorough analysis of safe areas or species that wouldn't pass on anything like metal poisoning. Maybe Veronica could help with that.
Speaking of my aid, I lightly cleared my throat in my office. "Veronica, are you there? You mentioned having a report to give?"
Her avatar appeared in the hologram and nodded sharply. "I do sir, are you prepared to receive my report?"
"I am but before you begin, can I ask you something?" I studied her. "Are you fine? Did you take a break like I suggested?"
She blinked and coughed. "Sir, there are a multitude of various matters for me to oversee and handle currently. Rest assured that I...am properly engaged in the necessary rest cycles so outlined for my model." Her form actually rose an arm to forestall my response. "Please, Commander. I am fine. Do not worry; this much workload is quite expected of me."
"...Very well then," I acquiesce with a nod. If she said so, then she knew herself best. Hopefully. "Right, your report please then. I believe it has something to do with our little insurgency movement?"
"Indeed. Once the conference was over and sufficient time was allocated to analyzing the machine remains, I have identified the exact make of these combat drones. Or at least what they had once been before undergoing modification into a weapons platform." Veronica held out a hand that projected the rotating silhouette of a robot that bore some resemblance to what had rudely shot at me the other day. "It is a labor model noted for being popular during the era of SecComm, specifically a subaltern variant that is most often employed in mining colonies for a variety of purposes from automated farmers to resource extraction."
"That lines about with the history of Cavia. I guess this explains where all that supposed robotic labor went." I frowned and brought the edge of my finger to my lips in thought. "So this insurgency movement got their hands on them?"
"Presumably so, but I see that you have realized the same matter as I did upon compilation of this data: How did they do so?"
"Especially because when initial inventory reports suggested that they might be among the seized assets for when we nationalized things like the hydroponics facilities. Yet when Lieutenant Nasir took stock, they found nothing."
"It is indeed a very strange discrepancy, though one that could be explained perhaps by outdated inventory reports," my adjutant offered with a nod. "In which case, a simple explanation would be that they procured them between the last audit and the present day."
"Possibly. But they've also been extensively modified, each one likely by hand," I wondered aloud, focusing on that specific detail. "It's one thing to throw together a shoddy explosive drone. It's another to have a workshop or garage that could modify these civilian models into combat drones, however shoddily it was done.
"In fact, please update me Veronica." I grimaced and braced myself. "What's the, er, state of homegrown arms manufacturing?"
You see, because of printers as a commonplace method of manufacturing in Lancer, there's a rather terrifying implication. Anybody can make anything at home, which is probably great for making repairing things yourself or even making exciting things like tabletop miniatures. Less great was the fact that it also enabled people to make guns and other sorts of dangerous bits at home.
I mean, I suppose that was great if players were roleplaying as some isolated unit that just had whatever rocks they had nearby to smash together to make a robot. But now that I was on the opposite side of that argument, it made things quite tricky. Because once somebody acquired a printer either through legal or illicit means then, so long as they had the manufacturing chip with the right pattern embedded in it or some other form of modeling program to feed into the fabricator, they could make anything they wanted. Or at least close enough to it to rig up the rest with good old-fashioned tinkering.
My office did have a list of licensed corporations with known printer capabilities, but that was just what was on paper. Off the papers, in the black markets, a printer was only so rare as the seller was willing to see to a few boxes 'disappear' off the official logs. Because of course the setting wanted to ensure that these things proliferate so players never were in want of one.
What was the tagline again?
'A Curious Alchemy, a Mundane Miracle?'
Bleh. More like a pocket factory that anybody could use. So long as they had both the resources, data, and size.
The first, no way could I control with substitutes for anything being in everything if you looked hard enough at material compositions. However, the second and third was something that we thankfully should have a much more firmer grip on, as Veronica helpfully briefed. "Currently, there are no private arms manufacturing chips recorded as having been licensed or distributed as House Hessin had previously used in-house manufacturing."
"Which we've since seized." Those manufacturers, if detected on the planet, were usually high priority target for ground forces to stop the chance of arms distribution to civilian militias. We'd carried it out without a hitch and accounted for practically all the printers there. "So if anybody is making guns at home, they're doing so with likely open-source or unlicensed models."
"Likely so, sir, which is supported by the lacking quality of these products."
While I was aware that a certain organization who may or may not be a hacker's wet dream had things like illegal paracasual technologies, fact of the matter was that they got the lion's share of attention because what they made was Lancer-tier equipment. But like how the Everest had been mentioned as the starting baseline for any half-decent mech, fact of the matter was that there was a whole galaxy of other content that just never was mentioned. Why?
Because it simply wasn't good enough for a Lancer to use reliably.
So what I was talking about belonged to that category, in the open-source range that was somebody throwing something together in a less than professional setting to make things work. Then making printer data chips using that and selling that as a little flea market business. Because these things were usually done in a relatively rudimentary program with questionable skills, usually be just one person instead of a team of professional modelers that would refine both product and process to a tee, Union had just sort of waved it aside as a concern. Which led to a somewhat flourishing, if a little seedy market for these constructs.
Again, they weren't good. Take for example, say, a rifle. The ones that the Seventh Expeditionary printers made for our infantry were quite sleek and sharp, reliable and rugged. Little chance of field malfunction and if one broke, you could repair it easily or just replace it entirely if the damage was bad enough. Something quite similar to to what professional military forces used in my old life, not even any advanced sci-fi aspects like laser or missile guns because ballistics had just been what our supporting logistics corps had focused on.
Now, for the homegrown variant of it, go out and have a stroll in your garden shed. Then try to make a rifle from what objects you see alone, nothing else. Yeah, it was that much of a difference. While my clones had automatic rifles, it was likely whatever farmer out there had just a simple pipe rifle or maybe even just a hunting shotgun. Don't get it wrong, any of the latter could still be very lethal in the right circumstance.
But there was a reason why Union and the megacorps had taken one look at that fledgling market, sniffed dismissively, then went back to making Lancer-grade equipment.
Somehow at least, it worked out in the setting, or so at least from what 'I' knew about. It did at least make it rather convenient to differentiate between a very improvised rebel group, and a very well-supported independence movement. For now, things were kept to the former than the latter for our current opposition, so small pluses. Unless they were hiding something like a schedule 4 printer on us.
Because, I mean, a frigate made of junk was still a capital ship in the scale of things. And frankly speaking, my forces would be screwed if the insurgency suddenly sprung up with several of those.
But therein also laid another reassurance that we were in current possession of the only schedule 4 printers in the system. Even if they didn't work, though I did want to make sure. "Veronica, have you gotten the chance to check those shipyards and confirm the logs?"
"I have indeed, Commander, and can confirm they have been rendered mostly inert ever since the collapse of SecComm. They have also not been given enough maintenance or refurbishment over the years, with all previous inhabitants onboard having immigrated planet-side since." She paused, a flash of something seeming to pass over her eyes. "A pity, sir."
"Oh?"
"My projections indicate that these schedule 4 printers would be sufficient for us to start producing new capital ships, which would be a significant force multiplier. It would render us fully independent of maintaining a strong naval force to project power across the stars."
Eeeeh. I made a non-committal noise to that, torn along the idea of having more ships to place between me and a team of angry Lancers or looking like a wannabe space conqueror. But luckily, there was a way to quickly resolve that dispute, or at least kick it way down the road. "Well, no point in making wishes that we can't fulfill. It's not like we can fix it ourselves, can we?"
"A more thorough analysis conducted by Captain Feng suggests otherwise."
I blinked, then straightened in my chair. "That's...huh. Didn't he even say that they were a total write-off before?"
"He did, and to a degree, his assessment is still mostly correct. However." Veronica's finger came up and twirled around the end of her digital ponytail in a little habit I've noticed she likes to do. "While it is true that we cannot manufacture all necessary parts ourselves, we can reproduce at least a good half of them. Enough to possibly restore orbital habitats to these facilities, even providing a degree of artificial gravity to them via centrifugal force.."
Space stations then? That sounded quite intriguing, if only to give my very small fleet a berth to rest its reactors in. "I see. But what about the manufacturing capabilities?"
"Unfortunately sir, Captain Feng's report in that regard remains quite accurate. My analysis suggests that we'd have to cannibalize an equivalent functional facility to restore the schedule 4 printer to an operational status."
My shoulders relaxed and I leaned back in my seat, both slightly disappointed and relieved. "Ah, well, that can't be helped then. Especially because schedule 4s are just far too valuable for anybody with access to them to willingly dispose of."
"Quite right, sir. A shame."
A little bit, but I was also quite thankful that it meant that nobody in Union would be screaming about how a war criminal has an access to a schedule 4 printer. And neither should the insurgency I was dealing with, given that they'd clearly be both quite visible and using it right now to just overwhelm me regardless of whatever terrible quality chip they have. So no private hidden fleet that wasn't going to overwhelm me so quickly.
More and more, the threat of this insurgency seemed quite to be quite far-off. While I'd of course still task Major Rowles to see what she could scrounge up regarding this threat, it wasn't so bad that I had to immediately start kicking in doors to hunt down rebels before the new administration came in. If they could only maintain this very poor tempo of attacks with little punch or cohesion to them, then they were a super non-issue. And who knows?
Maybe they'd even just fade away come the new administration with a new face in charge!
Really, the only thing that might change my worry was if they somehow acquired a megacorp backer-
"Commander Moores, sir, an urgent alert has just pushed through."Veronica's voice snapped me out of my fancies and I glanced back at my NHP. She wore a very grave expression on her face. "Sir, a fleet has been picked up on approach to the Cavia system. They're broadcasting Harrison Armory codes. Quite notably, Half-Measure is detecting a capital ship signature among them."
What the hell Erica, did I piss you off that much with that deal!