I'm annoyed that my plan having the later administration to handle the insurgency movement came back to haunt me. Mainly because I was that new government now. Ugh.
They also threw egg on my face with another bomb drone attack. During a congressional session, no less. Bloody hell, no sense of time or decorum huh? Well, fine.
If that's how they wanted to play it, then let's get to work then. Though one quick review of our inherited insurgency doctrines from the Half Committee made me throw the book out the window. Yeah no, let's not 'identify and cull local sympathizers.'
So a frazzled Veronica and I got to work rewriting our approach to pass down to Major Rowles' forces. We did already have a fairly good base thanks to local support for the military, with squad patrols being something actually welcomed instead of detested in the streets of our cities. Something that gave me some hope that this wasn't exactly a popular rebel movement, especially when I checked the comments on the omninet.
While there were of course those who just went 'big boom equals awesome,' many were expressing dismay or concern instead for the facility workers, praying that these little stars had survived. I wasted no time in hinting the matter to Melhof, who promptly seized upon the opportunity to broadcast interviews and testimonies from the victims of the attack. He even went so far as to add a little bit of a cosmetic touch-up to the bandages or casts some wore, to make it look more 'rugged.'
I couldn't say I understood or agreed, but it definitely made the ratings when those aired. And with it came no small amount of support, either in financial donations...or very interesting tip-offs from anonymous individuals who may have once been part of said movement. Which included Chloe from the reformists.
Apparently she was once a sympathizer, back during the reign of House Hessin. Go figure. Now she spilled all the beans about what she had known in her local capacity. This information was invaluable alongside other bits of data provided from other informants, allowing my adjutant and I to piece together a likely structure of this movement. And from what we could tell?
This reeked of a controlled opposition.
For how many claimed sympathizers and former members there were, they should have already long triggered an open popular uprising that should've deposed their former tyrants long ago. Even accounting for the possibility of lacking equipment and training, they still have enough in numbers already. That's not even accounting for the converted labor drones!
Something was up, and the repeated mention of how all the various cells had been waiting for their leader's go-ahead to coordinate their uprising made me extremely suspicious. Maybe they were the type of RTS player that turtled forever and waited for their opponent to make the first move, but even then I wasn't quite so convinced. Because quite conveniently, whenever one of the other cells started getting a little antsy from all waiting, they suddenly had their cover blown and a noble's private army upon them.
Wow. Talk about fortunate timing to nip off a potential outburst before it actually started causing troubles for the regime.
Talk about the misfortune I have then, with how they suddenly began their long-plotted and hinted activities right after I kicked out House Hessin. Also with reserve elements that these former sympathizers swore they had no idea of, no knowledge of such assets like disposable bomb drones that surely would have been used long ago. So great, this possibly was an effort by House Hessin to make life difficult for me.
I didn't think I could detest a noble family even more, but somehow, I could be petty enough to find new ways to curse them. Something that Veronica quietly deleted from her memories out of courtesy for me if nothing else. She also delivered a proposal regarding how the Cavia Committee ought to approach this matter, something I mulled over and tweaked before giving the go-ahead.
First of all, let's not publicly announce that we'll be upping security. Because while it could reassure a good portion of the public, too many also still held understandable fears that overbearing militarization could be the start of a return to those old days. They understandably didn't yet have enough trust in me yet, I think, unlike what the NHP had mistakenly inferred from biased counts.
Come on, she surely must be aware that while I do trust Director Melhof, I could hardly trust popularity polls. They might say they trust me to not go further down that path, but they're only asking people who actively responded to such inquiries. Which meant that they definitely leaned into whoever just publicly gossiped to look good. For all I knew, the average individual was still wary about how their own elected representative in congress had then gone on to pick me- and were already starting up a grassroots campaign to replace said representative to kickstart a vote of no confidence against the current executive leadership.
That'd especially set a terrible example if that was how the first ever Premier was booted out of office. But I also had to be very careful about that perceived slippery slope to totalitarianism. So no public announcement, but we'd be informing critical individuals behind closed doors like leadership of the political blocs. They might not be happy, but they understood there was some need for secrecy about this. Especially because it also tied into our next measure.
As part of this discreet bump in public security, we'd also be starting to develop actual local contacts and sympathizers as a counter-intelligence movement. People who discreetly monitored their local communities to report suspicious activity to the military, single individuals who knew exactly what they were doing. It wasn't going to be a public hotline or anything, out of consideration for either false positives or alerting the insurgency movement to our efforts to find them. We especially didn't want to accidentally start any sort of witch hunt that could go very, very badly.
Because if it turned out to be some sort of religious or ethical minority they were persecuted, then you bet Lancers were going to rocket over to wherever I was and blow me up before I get a word in otherwise. So let's not.
I also wanted to be mindful that I didn't accidentally start developing my own secret police, because that again was a very slick incline for my administration to be dumped into a fascist tag. So these local informants were heavily stressed to be just the first point of contact for the trained military to take over the investigation afterwards. They would not handle anything other than sharing concerns regarding unusual and possibly dangerous behavior shown within their local community; they were purely civilians of the private sector, mindful of threats to public safety. They had no authority or power to act unless it posed a direct threat.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
There was surprising push-back on this idea, as when we tried to emphasize that part, these locals insisted that it had always been their way to handle problems behind closed doors themselves. They wanted us to trust them to handle things their way, which I understood was how they had done so under House Hessin. They liked to resolve troubles without a state interfering, which I suppose would be a fair concession if it were just a local danger.
However, I stressed to them that this was not just a small spat- it was an insurgency movement that threatened the planetary government with repeated calls to action. We were bearing it well enough, but we also had an interest to ensure that wherever they might be, they faced justice so demanded by the collective people of the world instead of just a single group. That got them to at least listen, and be more amicable to our set limitations.
Especially when the third part of our plan called for something interesting, born of an intriguing idea Veronica had. With how mech culture was booming in our new homeland, why not have me go on a little public tour with one? The problem being was that I certainly was no mech pilot.
But apparently, my aide claimed 'outstanding variables are suspected to have changed,' which made me a little wary. Had she clocked onto that 'I' wasn't just Moores anymore? Not just a noble twat, but now with the memories and personality of somebody did work for a living as well? When she made no other far-fetched declarations or inferences, I chalked it up to her having just noticed that some of my habits had changed. So maybe my 'parameters' had too by extension, according to her logic.
I still wasn't sure about how NHPs processed stuff. Alien AIs be like that.
Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained. I just hoped that I didn't make myself a complete fool before everybody.
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Because I was the commander, obviously I wasn't allowed to sit in just any regular basic training mech. No, that'd apparently be too inappropriate according to all my subordinates. So instead of climbing into a nice and simple Everest, I was instead climbing into the advanced variant that one of the officers from the last battle had used.
The Chomolungma, an interesting take that converted the Everest into a second-line fighter that focused primarily on support capabilities and electronic warfare. Meaning that it was theoretically ideal for officers who weren't on the frontlines, unlike how Major Rowles fought in her own Everest. She declined the opportunity to swap even after we'd discovered the fabrication chip for this variant in the holds of La Azul.
Amazingly, it seemed to have been spared from Erica's wildfire when she immolated the guts of the frigate.
That actually was a stroke of luck that made me settle into the fresh seat without any sort of discomfort or sense of dread. This definitely wasn't the steed that Lieutenant Aoba had perished in; her remains were respectfully retrieved and given all honors in a vacuum burial, and her broken machine recycled. There might be a few parts that this Chomolungma did inherit, but they were practically remade from scratch otherwise.
I just counted my lucky stars that Lancer wasn't a setting about mechs being inherited through legacies, meaning that people died and then refurbished the exact same war machine. Not to say that couldn't happen, what with the Karrakin Trade Baronies being some odd ducks even by my own bloodline's opinion's, but it seemed the norm around here was to just shrug and make a new mech if you had the printer and the designs for it. Guess it tied into how Lancers could make use of so many different chassis in a freeform way, swapping as situation or whim demanded.
Erica was demonstrating this right now as she actually climbed not into her more preferred Genghis, but a Sherman herself. The way she turned it on and began going through the motions indicated that it was a very familiar ride for her, the shoulder-mounted beam weapon swiveling but always pointed away even if it surely was muzzled. "Been a while since I piloted a good old rustbucket." She sounded affectionate despite the demeaning nickname. "Started my career in one, like most of the Colonial Legion."
I fumbled and found the communication switches. "Well, given how the Sherman is oft compared to the Everest in terms of ubiquity, that makes sense."
"Course it does. Come on now, planning on keeping a girl waiting? We've a series of exercise to run through, all in front of the tapes no less."
"Easier said that done, it's my first time," I muttered, feeling about. There, that button, it should be the reactor start-up. My guess was confirmed when I felt a vibration, a low thrum, start up behind me. "Right, reactor online."
Various screens turned on to provide me with additional displays, like radar systems and heat gauges. There was even an apparent layer tailored entirely to the monitoring of data streams, which made sense given the Chomolungma's specialties. "Sensors...online."
There were a pair of control sticks on the armrest that I hesitantly took hold of, then began to gently pull about. The arms of the machine twitched, then began to move about in an...acceptable imitation of what I had intended. Soon, I got the hang of it and I experimentally flexed my hand, seeing the input from the tactile gloves translate into how the mech's own fingers flexed too. Neat.
The hand then casually reached behind and drew out an unloaded assault rifle from its magnetic back holster, hefting it about. "Weapons engaged, I suppose," I declared with a slight chuckle. "All systems nominal."
"Not bad, though you're a little stiff. You could do with a hardsuit," commented Erica as she made a show of drawing a regular laser rifle herself. Unlike me, hers was done in a single smooth and uninterrupted motion, done without any sort of hesitation or awkwardness like me. "Even just a basic neural translator goes a long way in making things a heck lot easier."
"Maybe one day." Though if I were to do it, I'd shell out for the real nice version Erica had, where it was apparently a passive sensor tied to her cockpit systems that picked up on the signals from her own pilot attire. I wasn't going to do what some like Rowles swore by, having a direct cord to plug into the machine to meld flesh and metal.
Eugh. I get that the science of the future was very advanced, but I'd like to keep cybernetics to a minimum for myself personally. At least biomods were a thing.
I shook off those thoughts for the moment and experimentally tapped the floor pedals. Slowly, my Chomolungma ambled forwards, each step a purposeful advance to where all the waiting cameras were. In the middle of my little march, my communication systems informed me of an incoming connection with a loud ping.
A quick glance confirmed it to be from a source I very well could trust, and I accepted the connection. Moments later, Veronica's digital visage filled one of the side panels and the NHP delivered a crisp salute."Commander. I have observed considerable data regarding the reevaluation of your capabilities, and find it very promising."
I couldn't help but express my surprise. "That quickly? Really?"
"Considering that in your prior exam, you never made it past two steps without falling over, this showing is already a significant improvement." I did have memories of that. "In addition, your dexterity regarding weapon handling is also telling of an improved reaction time."
"It's gotten better? Go figure." I leaned back in my chair slightly and eased off the pedals to come to a halt. "Was I maybe just too young or underdeveloped beforehand?"
"Statically speaking, it would be an anomaly. But logically, it would be the most likely case, and far from being a lone outlier. Many a recorded notable sometimes blossom and discover their capabilities in their senior years."
I mentally translated that to how sometimes, Lancers could be like grumpy old grandmas or grandpas. It was an actually striking thing that I did recall from the old core rulebook, about how a lot of the artwork sometimes featured those sort of elderly individuals having the best life in a mech. It wasn't all just angst teens or young adults, despite what the genre traditionally leaned into through various forms of media.
A curious thing, but one that did help really mark the setting out as being very freeform and very different from the mainstream. So if players wanted to play as a pirate hag, hey. You do you.
"I will continue observation duty," Veronica promised before dropping her tone to a low voice. "But should you feel uncomfortable or ill at ease, please do not hesitate to surrender control to me. Your current systems do feature the option for NHP assistance, so I can guide you through all the necessary drills for the cameras."
"A tempting idea, but only if I really feel like I'd just make a fool of myself." If it probably weren't for the cameras as well, I'd honestly be fine with making those mistakes as well to learn from. Because really, it wasn't everyday you got to live out the fantasy of stomping around in a big robot. But as I was trying to put on a strong public image, public perception unfortunately took precedence over having fun at the moment.
I had to show basic competence in this little publicity stunt I was doing. I didn't want to be like a fumbling politician that tried to appeal to the people, and only looked more like an out-of-touch fool in the process. It'd be like going to something like a casual restaurant diner and ordering a lobster dinner that wasn't even on the menu.
Hm. I could probably compare it to a more fitting adjustment with a military exercise perhaps. Ah, but I shouldn't hold up the cameras for too long.
Because I didn't have a hardsuit or interface plug, I could freely toggle open the cockpit and step out carefully from the opening chest cavity. I had to watch my balance while doing so, as falling out of a mech probably would become an 'epic fail' meme on the omninet, and flashed a smile to the cameras. "Hello everybody! I'm sure that all of you are wondering what it's like to be a mech pilot and truthfully speaking, I am as well. I'm not a mech pilot ordinarily, but when the good Major Rowles offered me a chance to give it a try, I couldn't resist..."