Gypsy opened the door as we arrived. He'd changed a lot. His hair had grown out and had been colored jet-black. Either he'd gotten a lot of sun, or had spent a lot on a good skin darkener, for he had the healthy glow of someone who spent leisure time on the beach. In fact, had he been the poster child for the previous agency, I doubt it would have gone out of business. His clothing, I noted, was as nondescript as mine.
"Good to see you again, Sam."
"And you, Gypsy."
"Please, come in." He stepped aside from the door and let me through, then Elle followed and locked the door behind us. Gypsy took up the lead again and I trailed him down a corridor and to a conference room large enough to easily allow meetings of groups of eighteen or more booking expensive junkets to Solaris or some other hot spot.
And Solaris looked about right as a destination that would interest the crew gathered there. Not counting Elle and Gypsy, we were twenty, which was roughly enough people to command a pair of battalions with a couple left over. Men and women, they all looked hard and nasty-all-star survivors from every corner and culture of The Republic. A couple had replacement limbs and one a glowing red eye. I didn't see any Lament tattoos, but there were a scattering of mercenary designs on shoulders or necks, and more than enough scars to make a cosmetic surgeon drool.
Gypsy moved to the front of the room as I drew a chair back against the rear wall. "We're all here now. I apologize for calling this meeting so hastily, but our latest member arrived early and I wanted to get things started. Our situation here is relatively simple. We are here to affect a change in the leadership of this world. Revolution, reformation, conquest, call it what you will; we are the ones tasked with accomplishing it."
He smiled confidently as murmurs ran through the group. "You will be the commanders of our lances, companies and battalions. Major Catford will command our first battalion and Mr. Donelly will command the second."
This promotion surprised everyone save Gypsy and Elle. I was lucky that by being in the back of the room, I had a second to cover my shock before everyone else turned to look at me. I'd been scanned hard when I walked into the Egg, but the looks I was getting would have hard-boiled me by comparison.
The two looking the hardest at me were over on the right side of the room. One was Catford, of whom I'd heard. Back when Stone resigned and Damien Redburn had been appointed Exarch in his place, Catford had resigned his commission in a Republic Guards unit. On his native Epsilon Eridani he'd tried to raise a mercenary unit he called the Eridani Warhorses, recalling the glory days of the fabled Eridani Light Horse regiment. His efforts were frustrated when Prefect Sandoval refused to sign a company charter for him.
Since then I wasn't certain what the small, slender man had been doing. Had he waited two years he might have been able to follow in Tormark's footsteps and have a unit naturally rise around him. Since he was present on Basalt, I had to assume he'd fallen on hard times, or had been working as a consultant with those who anticipated the present times arriving in one form or another.
The other person stood a head taller than him and had her blond hair of a length that covered her shoulders and her neck. She'd probably have tucked it back on the left side to see me better, but I knew her ear had been reduced to a melted nubbin and the twisted mass of scars on her cheek and neck were enough to make even the most battle-hardened vet blanch. A piece of machinery replaced her left eye, and the stainless-steel socket in which it had been set covered her from temple to forehead, along her nose and molded to the top of her cheekbone.
Isabel Siwek didn't know me, but I knew her. She'd commanded a small militia unit on Acamar, in Prefecture V. She took her people out and put down a small protest by farmers, and put it down hard. She then burned four farms and a quarter of a small town, all the while claiming the farmers had done it to frame her. Janella had been sent in to oversee an investigation and Siwek refused to come in. Janella had been forced to bring her in and the resulting battle had left Siwek scarred and in a Republic prison.
How and why she was out, I didn't know. That had all happened four years ago. I'd known of Janella then, but wasn't dating her. When we started seeing each other, I did some background research, which is why I knew of Siwek.
Her reaction to the announcement suggested to me that she'd expected to command the second battalion. Moreover, her being seated near Catford had me thinking the two of them had already been talking together about how to run things. I could applaud their taking initiative, but given his ambition and her flexibility on ethical grounds, I was thinking having them together would not be the way to keep collateral damage to a minimum.
Gypsy waited for a moment until the tension in the room was just shy of boiling over, then clapped his hands. "Mr. Donelly was instrumental to the successful conclusion of a recent operation, and showed great insight into these things. I am very pleased to have him with us, and I know he will be able to handle his responsibilities without question."
About a third of the people were willing to take Gypsy at his word, another third were waiting for me to prove it, and the rest of them wouldn't have deigned to follow me if I was Morgan Kell leading them in a raid on a nursery school. It could have been worse, as far as the numbers went, but was probably as bad as it could get otherwise. Those who resented my intrusion clearly were wondering who I was. Until they knew, and until Catford and Siwek could be put in their place, I was going to have trouble.
But, as every good wolfhound knows, you just start taking the pack apart one wolf at a time.
Our leader smiled. "Our goal is to destabilize the government so as to more easily effect a change. My associate and I have done the basic research on Basalt and have begun to outline a number of operations that will bring us . . . Yes, Major Catford?" Catford rose and pulled the crimson beret from his head. "If you will permit me, Gypsy, I've been checking some things out myself, and I think there's some vulnerabilities here that we can exploit using some proven military strategies. With Captain Siwek and a few other company commanders, I have undertaken the development of operations protocols and plans that, when employed, will destroy the enemy's ability to strike at us. Once we have done that, effecting a regime change will be a simple matter of seeing to it that the current leadership relinquishes control, voluntarily or involuntarily.
"Our research has pointed out the triad keeping the current regime in power. The Public Safety Department is a paramilitary group that will be powerless to stop us. They are underequipped and trained for crowd control more than outright combat. The Basalt Militia has a few 'Mechs, and a fair selection of military vehicles, but all are outdated and underpowered. Moreover, their pilots are green and will be no real threat in combat.
"By far our greatest threat will be the group of mercenaries being gathered by our opposition.
We have ascertained the location of their headquarters and are willing to initiate investigations to further track opposition forces. With a series of lightning strikes, we can eliminate this force. We anticipate that collateral civilian damage will be kept to acceptable levels and restricted to marginal underclass populations, so the potential elite backlash will be minimalized."
People listened intently, with heads nodding in agreement. Even Gypsy seemed to be open to this description, but not yet fully accepting of it. If this was the overture, I didn't want to be hearing the rest of the symphony. Catford was composing a bloody lament for Basalt, and goal one for my mission was to close that concert before it ever opened.
While I had hoped this would come later rather than sooner, circumstances were really directing me to act immediately. I let my chair rock forward and I stood. "If I'm not mistaken, Major, you're suggesting a direct military assault on a place like the Egg, to destroy the enemy's cadre of warriors?" "That eventuality was covered in our ancillary operations to ensure complete neutralization of the enemy opfor."
"Ancillary?" I blinked. "You saw that as an afterthought? And your primary was, what, issuing a challenge
to the enemy to go toe-to-toe in the northern flood plain?" The sarcasm in my voice never even registered on him. "If you knew anything about 'Mech warfare, Mr. Donelly, or of Basalt, you'd know that the flood plain is hardly the optimal venue for combat."
"What I know about, Major Catford, is a lot more than just 'Mech warfare." I nodded toward Gypsy. "We're not here to kill 'Mechs and machines. We're here to kill a government, and I've had time and reason to think on that of late."
Gypsy smiled. "Would you care to share your insights with us, Sam?" I thought for a moment, then nodded. "Sure. It's the only way to incite a reasonably stable and satisfied populace into wanting their government replaced. It will work. I call it Low-Intensity Terrorism. We do it right, and we might never need a 'Mech leaving a hangar."
23
I am as true as truth's simplicity,
And simpler than the infancy of truth.
- Shakespeare
Manville, Capital District
Basalt
Prefecture IV, Republic of the Sphere
29 January 3133
I'll give you the primer on Low-Intensity Terrorism pretty much as I gave it to them, and as you study the events on Basalt, you'll see the natural evolution of things. The one favor I'll do you is to leave their comments until the end. Most of the comments offered while I was talking were, funny or not, born of ignorance. The more I talked, the more people thought. It wasn't until the end that those who had made up their minds before I started, started in on me.
Traveling between planets takes a long time. Since I wasn't palling around with other people on the ship, I had a long time to think. What got me started was the effect of the grid's collapse on folks.
It made them uncomfortable, skittish and nervous. Before that happened they'd have described themselves as happy. Twenty-four hours later-or whatever constituted a day on their world-they were antsy.
Several other things went into the mix. It's tough to peg when the first act of terrorism occurred. A case could be made for the plagues on Egypt. If we start it there, that's the only instance where the killing of people has actually succeeded in winning a social cause. Then again, killing one person in every family is a far greater impact than any other terrorist group has ever managed.
Killing people never does the job, especially in a modern society. All it succeeds in doing is drawing the opposition together. It makes the enemy appear to be homicidally insane. People know inherently that insane killers can't be trusted and that terrorism is extortion. There is nothing but the terrorists' good word to bind them to ceasing their activity once their goals are met. Like any blackmailers, they can keep modifying demands indefinitely.
And, face it, everyone knows there are those terrorists who just enjoy killing and wouldn't stop for anything.
A second aspect of modern society is something that Stone's reformation built upon: power comes from the people. A lot of people forget that because of the neo-feudal political system used to govern star-spanning empires. Stone did not, and his Republic thrived. Through service to The Republic people could earn citizenship. Their investment in The Republic was paid back, and they gave more of themselves to it.
The outright overthrow of a government assumed that the masses didn't exist. While many of them might not care who was sitting on a throne, their lack of connection with the government created an inherently unstable situation. Once someone with a bigger club came along, the old government was history and new faces appeared on the coins.
So, to overthrow a modern government and make it stick, you have to avoid killing too many people and you have to get the citizenry behind you. If the people are stable and relatively happy, as they are on Basalt, you have to manufacture dissatisfaction with the current government. You have to attack society at its weakest point, show the current rulers are out of touch, and point out that they are impotent and untrustworthy.
Hence my plan.
Where modern society is weakest, of course, is its insulation from reality. Basalt was fortunate in that the agro-industry and light consumer electronics, apparel, notions and appliances industries could supply the people of Basalt with everything they needed. Granted, it wasn't a grand life, but it was satisfying. Even so, Manville, like most large urban centers, was a week to ten days from starvation once trucks stopped bringing in supplies.
In short, if you asked the average Manvillian where food comes from, his reply would be "the market." Individuals like this are dependent on things like food preservation units, mass transportation and power. Everything that keeps them from grubbing in the dirt serves as a safety net that elevates them above being nibbler vittles.
Low-Intensity Terrorism, or LIT, attacks that safety net. Attacks in one area lead to attacks in others. Events begin to snowball because we provoke a particular reaction by the government. Having anticipated that reaction, we trump. People lose faith in the government and within months of a concerted effort, the tattered local regime will collapse.
The first LIT targets are nuisance strikes. In what little touring around Manville I'd done, I'd seen countless power substations, communications switching boxes, wireless communication towers, bridges and tunnels. As I explained the plan, I used power stations as an example, but each of these others works just as well. The first attack against a power substation denies power to a sector of the city.
It is important that this incident appears to be a property crime, and that no one gets hurt when the station is taken down. It's also important that just a single sector of the city loses power. LIT depends on citizens being aware of their neighbors' difficulties. In every strike we want people to be thinking, "I'm glad that's not happening to me."
Quickly enough, as attacks expand, they'll be thinking ithas happened to them, and then they'll be wondering why the government didn't do anything to stop it from happening to them.
With that first attack no one takes credit. People will assume that it was an accident or act of mindless vandalism. The power company will be looking at repairs, however, that will cost a fair amount. They will not be pleased. What's more, most people will feel the pain through a rise in rates- to cover the repairs or insurance premiums.
The second attack comes in two stages. The first is to hit another power station. Once repair crews have responded to that site and begin their work, a second attack hits the large repair-truck garage facility. These garages are all over the place, with utilities grouping their trucks for ease of fueling and repair.
Or, for our purposes, destruction.
Once this secondary strike goes off, people will be aware of a pattern forming. Moreover, they'll get the message that what have been temporary problems before are likely to be epidemic.
There is no cure in sight since whoever is doing this has nailed the repair vehicles. In many ways we become the agents of entropy, just accelerating the normal decay of infrastructure.
How does the government react? They immediately posture about investigations and say they will make things more secure. The Constabulary is placed on high alert, which wears people out and drains the government's coffers. Its people are stretched thin. There is no way they can cover every conceivable target. When strikes continue, their promises are shown to be hollow and the government's credibility erodes.
As things progress from there, every move the government makes just digs them a deeper hole.
We hit economic targets, slowing the economy and making powerful folks put pressure on government agencies to act. They enact more stringent security measures and perhaps even invoke martial law.
Citizens are expecting them to be out looking for bad guys, but instead the security forces are keeping law-abiding folks off the streets with curfews or annoying them at checkpoints.
Resentment grows rather easily. A couple of strikes at government targets that should have been ultrasecure makes it apparent that no place is safe. It also paints the government as liars (now there is a tough job), so people are ready for a change.
/> At the end game, the government brings out its troops to go after the terrorists, and the terrorists fight back defensively. Before things get totally out of hand, however, a leader will step in to negotiate. If this person were seen as being competent, and had already exhibited charity and compassion during the crisis, he would be a natural choice to replace the government. It's suggested that he head up an interim government until things can be stabilized and, once he does that and the terrorists retreat, he's in for life.
As I made my presentation, the commentary dwindled. Those who didn't have the intellectual capacity to understand it all remained quiet. Those who did ended up smiling and nodding a lot.
Several people made notes, and I could tell the lists of targets and methods of attack had just expanded.
Gypsy's eyes had glazed over and Elle was looking as if she'd pretty much forgiven me for breaking her jaw.
Catford, while he had the smarts to understand what I said, didn't have the intellectual honesty to accept its veracity. "That is the most stupid plan I've ever heard in my whole entire life. It's based on things that are demonstrably untrue. Everyone knows power comes from the barrel of a gun. It has nothing to do with the masses."
The irony of his quoting millennia-old Communist truisms while denying revolution had anything to do with the masses struck only a few in the room. I frowned at him. "You hate this idea because you don't get to shoot anyone. You're a 'Mech commander, and this plan doesn't have a big role for 'Mechs."
"That's right, in part." He nodded solemnly, playing to the rest of the pilots in the room. "We were brought here to do a job, and that job is eliminate the talent the other side has hired. You want us to skulk and blow up things. That's not honorable. That's not the way of the warrior. You want me to commit . . .unnatural acts !" He was making me wish he actually listened to himself, but I pretty much realized that even if he did, he'd hear nothing wrong. When your whole conception of yourself is that you're a hammer, that you've spent your life becoming the best hammer you can be, anything that isn't a nail is a very direct threat to you. But, you're a hammer, so all you can do to these threats is pound them.
BattleTech : Mechwarrior - Dark Age 01 - Ghost War (2002) Page 18