Nessa shook her head and tapped a request for data into the keyboard. The holoprojector flashed up a cube that just bled numbers. “Exhaustive studies have been done concerning industrial capacity, demand for parts, munitions consumption rates, regimental muster sheets, everything. For centuries ’Mechs have been scrapped, salvaged, purchased new, stolen, shipped covertly to rebels, you name it. The gap between those we know are in service and being produced, and those that were decommissioned, destroyed and otherwise neutralized could be anywhere from a few hundred to thousands, even tens of thousands. And that’s just for the Inner Sphere records we can get our hands on. Clan figures are sketchy at best and if someone were to find some ancient Star League cache of equipment, all bets would be off.”
Consuela spread her hands. “So, not only do we have internal disputes here that could tear The Republic apart, but those who had been laying low for fear The Republic would land on them could be rearming themselves. For all we know, there could be dozens of skirmishes taking place right now.”
I shook my head. “It’s insane, though. If everyone just remained calm and at peace, no one would get hurt.”
Janella shot me a sidelong glance. “We’re talking about human beings, Mason, not angels.”
I winced. “True.”
Kitsune held a hand up. “But we are not talking about devils, either. Many people are just preparing to defend themselves, if it comes to that. It would be a pity were there devils among them who would exploit this drive for self-preservation. It is upon them we must focus.”
“So the trick is to identify them and then deal with them.” I sighed. “And we just have to hope that they won’t have sufficient momentum in their movement that nothing can stop them. If things go too far, the blazes that get touched off will just sweep through the Inner Sphere.”
Nessa sat back, her shoulders slumping. “Two to three potential devils per world, thousands of worlds, well, if that’s the task, we have lots of job security.”
“Yeah, until one of those devils shows up here on Terra and tells us our services are no longer required.” I stood and stretched. “I expect, if that happens, the severance package we’ll be given will include severing our heads from our bodies.”
Janella looked up. “Ever the optimist.”
“It could be worse.”
The Countess raised an eyebrow. “Yes? How?”
My mouth gaped, but no words emerged. The problem wasn’t that I couldn’t answer her question, but that I had too many answers that would suffice.
18
The first casualty when war comes is the truth.
Knights’ Hall, Santa Fe
North America, Terra
Prefecture X, Republic of the Sphere
7 January 3133
Over the next month things settled into a pattern, though not quite a routine—with a break for the holidays that made the workload bearable. We sifted through reports, which were digests of news reports coming in from everywhere. When an item seemed interesting or important, we’d call up the actual story and all relevant facts surrounding it. We’d pore over that material and prepare our own digests of it all.
Now, with the grid down, the assumption would be that the amount of data we had to go through would be limited. This was true on one level, since it was a fraction of what would have been available to us were the grid working. The problem was that when the grid was working, we would get reports from Republic personnel on the ground, who would already be able to sort fact from fiction, and provide background and nuance to what news there was.
Those reports were not getting through in a timely or reliable basis—for all intents and purposes they did not exist. Instead, what we got was a wealth of material that was similar to the tailings from a mine: there might be some valuable trace elements in there, but getting them out was tough, expensive and time-consuming.
JumpShips were moving information between worlds on a spotty and indirect basis. While they sat at a recharge point, they’d also pull wideband scans of all communications media from the system—they sucked in Tri-Vid channels the way some folks gorge on spaghetti. They pulled in everything, duplicated it, traded it with other ships and distributed it. In a week-long recharging stay they’d pick up an average of 20,000 channel hours per world, so by the time ships got to Terra, they’d be dumping off hundreds of man-years of things to be reviewed. While computers could scan the data and screen for keywords, developing the lexicon took time, and when something significant showed up in one report, new keywords would be added, so more scanning would have to be done.
In some ways a hunt like that was exhilarating. It felt to me as if I was out on some savanna somewhere, crouched down, staring at the tracks of jackals, seeking beneath their steps for the spoor of lions. There were times I was certain I’d seen it, too, and would follow that trail until I had to admit I had nothing. Then I’d go back over the jackal tracks and prepare a report on what was happening there.
All too often those reports amounted to a big fat zero as well.
The core problem was, of course, that we had no way of verifying the information we were looking at. In the most simple terms, how could we evaluate Tri-Vid news reports coming out of Helen that were based on media releases by Commander Reis? Even if the facts were accurate, even if we eliminated all the guesses, the spin put on the facts would lead us to one conclusion or another.
And trying to evaluate the things that weren’t said made it just that much tougher. Were we not getting tales of abuses of citizens’ rights from Helen because Reis had repressed those reports, were there simply no abuses or were we not getting reports because no one had been scanning that week? Were polling numbers that we were seeing accurate, or had they been manufactured to cloak a multitude of sins?
Victor’s sister Katrina had used the manipulation of such data to steal the Federated Suns away from him while he was off fighting the Clans. Victor had left his realm in the hands of his youngest sister, Yvonne. Katrina started changing polling numbers and reports such that, by the time reports arrived on New Avalon, Yvonne believed the people thought she was the incarnation of Satan. She asked Katrina for help, then abdicated in her favor, leaving Victor homeless when he returned in glory from quelling the greatest threat mankind had ever known.
Though we found no lions, jackals did abound in a variety of guises. There were some, like Bannson and Tormark, who were clearly making strong moves, but they were equally subtle. They skirted the edge of treason. We could project countless cases where efforts may have strayed over that line, but we also assumed that the big jackals were smart enough to insulate themselves from true trouble. Mr. Handy had been a layer of protection for whoever was directing the GGF efforts, and someone like Bannson had to have multiple such cutouts.
Other jackals were bolder and more direct. Some were from noble families whose patriarchs had ceded power to The Republic, and the children resented their reduction in status. To be kind to some, they saw the ebbing of The Republic’s influence as a call to again shoulder the responsibility their families had long borne. Others saw The Republic as an aberration that extorted their rightful power from them, and they meant to take it back. They brought local militia troops under their direct control and declared martial law. By hinting at enemies without and within, they were able to rally majorities behind them.
This spawned countermovements, of course, of self-described Republicans, or others harkening back to ethnic and nationalistic ties. Someone of Kurita descent on a majority Davion-populated world could easily gather Combine families to them. By defining themselves as Combine loyalists they could also appeal to Tormark for support, or even go to forces inside the Draconis Combine itself. That wasn’t happening with Combine loyalists alone. All of the nations had their claimants.