Okay, so we possibly already had a rebellion on our hands. Maybe.
Yeah, that was the real questionable part of this. Because after the broadcast that was supposed to probably have been the catalyst for an uprising, nothing happened. Like...absolutely, a hundred percent nothing.
The streets didn't flood with people crying for blood again. There wasn't another attack elsewhere on any of the nationalized properties I now owned. About the only thing that stuck was that damn broadcast on loop screaming at the locals to rise up.
Veronica helpfully muted the speakers by the second hour, but reported it was still playing everywhere else. Probably to the tune of nobody actually listening. "Commander. I would encourage you reach out to the various media outlets and insist on a takedown of this inflammatory message."
"I probably will, I was just sort of...expecting the shoe to drop first," I confessed and shared a look with the equally befuddled Rowles. "Nothing so far?'
"None. All of our positions report seeing nothing on the roads or settlements anywhere. I think one of them even mentioned seeing a local bar just turn off their receiver so that the patrons could drink with some peace in mind."
"How bizarre. I would've thought that this was the prelude to a full rebellion, but this seems to be more or less an isolated incident." A thought struck me and I glanced the way of the blown-up building. "Could it perhaps be that this was an isolated incident? A grassroots movement acting independently without any sort of coordination besides a terror attack and a media broadcast?"
"Maybe? From what the recordings indicate, the suicide drone used was of pretty cheap make, more like an improvised explosive device over anything. That would explain its rather lackluster payload." My army chief considered the matter. "But how about the media channels? Surely that would require sympathetic insiders?"
"That's certainly worth an investigation. Veronica, could you please contact the owners of said local broadcast stations and ask them whatever is going on?"
"Yes sir. I will begin drafting up inquiries immediately."
"Good. In the meantime, let's try to fight the war of public image that they're trying at."
Rowles blinked and frowned. "A war of...public image? What do you mean, sir?'
Ah, I supposed that if she grew up anywhere like 'me,' Half Committee propaganda day-in and day-out was pretty regular. They had censored Union entertainment channels in their part of space, replacing it with their own homegrown media that had a definite human superiority angle. Some fun movies out of that even that probably would've made for premium AMVs back in my old world.
But the thing was that the Half Committee had always pushed the idea that only you could trust their word, the true inheritors of SecComm instead of whatever rubbish ThirdComm said about wanting to live together in peace. So for most soldiers like Rowles who hadn't the luxury of occasional trips beyond Half Committee space to take in what normalcy in the greater media landscape. Which meant she had no idea about what trying to look approachable meant.
"It's about being personable, showing off that we mean to cooperate with the locals."
"So, a show of power? Like a parade? I could organize a parade with our forces."
A military parade to squash the image of a rebellion was absolutely something I didn't want to encourage. "Please no. That's going to send the wrong image."
"A thunder run to the city square maybe?"
"We're not at war," I exasperatedly told with a shake of the head. "Forget it, let me handle it. I'll give you orders to follow when the time comes for that."
That, she received much better. "Yes sir! But, Commander, I wish to raise an issue: everybody's going to be a little antsy just sitting here after the attack. I'm not requesting that we go out and participate in a guerrilla hunt, but you know how soldiers get when they get tense and bored."
Meaning I should try to find something for them to do. "Hm. Go and see if Lieutenant Nasir is available," I suggested, a thought forming. "See especially if the logistics workers who had tended to the hydroponics on the ships could give everybody a crash course in how they work, and how to use them."
The major curtly nodded, then voiced a hypothetical. "Are you making them farmers sir? It's not exactly their chosen or preferred profession, I have to warn you, so they might not like it."
"I understand, but there's a sort of popular appeal about turning swords to plowshares." I saw the blank look on her face and reminded myself that was more a term from my old life, not this galaxy. "Don't worry. I'll go handle and setup what you just need to go along with, even if you don't understand. Dismissed, Major."
"Sir."
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There were a myriad of media companies in Cavia, but the one who either owned outright or had close working relationships with the major outlets was a massive titan known as Araignee Studios. Dabbling in just about everything, they had previously worked with House Hessin for all their propaganda needs and when they had fled with my task force's arrival, they swapped to playing Half Committee propaganda before I even requested them to. Which admittedly 'I' would have maybe done to just follow standing orders and procedures, but well.
That had been before the whole 'attacking Union' thing.
It'd also been before Veronica discovered some rather disturbing things that had me instantly abuse martial law to nationalize the company, despite protests from the former owners. Tough luck. I'm not working with them in the slightest, not when they so happened to participate in some rather disgusting activities. Not necessarily atrocities, but definitely the sort that was quite offensive to the soul.
And really tainted the media they made, to the point where one couldn't look at it the same way anymore.
But that had let me with quite a dilemma on my hands, and an opening which was likely how the rebels had managed to slip in their little tape recording. Without their prior master holding them at the leash, the various media companies were in a bit of a tizzy and lacking direction. All it took was the misconception that one of them had approved this rebel broadcast for everybody else to go along with it.
That had to change. I needed to put somebody in charge of the former leash and steer them back to actual sense. But I also had to be very careful about this all, because holy crap this was the path to state-owned media, which would absolutely end me on a Lancer's shit list. Eugh.
So instead of doing something absurd like appointing a military officer to be a chief of propaganda, I wanted somebody local. Somebody who actually would have a passion for the independent press and free speech. It would still be a government position, but I wanted whoever was running it to have the spine to tell me the story they were going to run, and plain ask what my official response would be.
My NHP and I had to do a real deep investigation to find the ideal candidate for this role. And I think we found a few, but one in particular really caught my eye. Especially when I mustered up enough grit to watch through the tainted films and saw in them what I had wanted.
Veronica promptly sent out the invitation and he'd hesitantly agreed, perhaps feeling a little coerced to it. But that was the farthest thing from what I had intended and now, seated in my new temporary office- the former Prynth Mining Conglomerate headquarters that the Union so graciously lent to me- he seemed much more at ease. Hopefully because the surroundings wasn't so gaudy, and not because he'd made his peace.
"Good day to you, Mister Melhof. How are you doing?"
"A-ah, I'm doing fine enough," the man replied, slightly twitchy. "Are you doing well, er, Commander? Is that the right form of address?"
"It is, I appreciate you checking."
"Well, I can't say it's everyday I get to converse with somebody of your stature or rank."
"Really? I had thought you were in previous contact with the head of House Hessin?" Melhof, who had just begun relaxing a little, suddenly stiffened at the mention and I hastily waved my hand. "Don't worry, I'm not here to arrest you off that.
"If anything, I'd actually like to offer you a position."
"Hah." There was a glint of exasperated cynicism in his eyes when he studied me. "I guess you want me to continue my...work?"
I felt my face contort in visible disgust that had him taken aback. It was an uncontrolled reaction, a genuine sense of distaste for what Veronica and I had uncovered after some digging. "Not quite. It is true I want to see you continue your work as a media producer, but under far less...oppressive conditions."
"Oh? So you are familiar then with what House Hessin had done and what they had oft 'provided' me to utilize."
My fist clenched. "I am. And let me be very clear that I will not be permitting those same practices."
Because they had an abundance of various artists and other sorts of liberal expression people in those detainment camps, House Hessin saw no point in wasting all their talents in hard labor. A select few were graciously 'offered' the chance to leave the camps if they were to participate in the production of propaganda of the regime, helping to create more artificial media that few actually truly believed in. But it appealed to the egos of the ones commissioning it, so they continued to fund the effort.
And of course, if any actor's performance was suspected to be sabotage or subpar, then back into the camps one went. Sometimes with their family included this time.
Melhof had been a very familiar name among directors of those domestic creations, being seemingly House Hessin's favored media creator. Ordinarily, this would have put him on the suspect list of perhaps being far too connected to the regime, except that Veronica and I had watched his movies. Not only did those forced actors actually looked to be a little happier, if one could call their situation that, but there was a buried sort of rebellion in the art itself.
Quiet, wide panning camera shots that captured not the gilded grandeur of House Hessin, but of the beauty that Cavia was. Small moments, pauses in the script that helped indicate doubt or introspection in characters. Heroism with flaws, minor ones that was probably all he could have sneaked through the writing room without getting himself in trouble. But things that actually helped create more rounded and grounded characters compared to the puffed up advertising that these things oft were under House Hessin.
My candidate was a man who prided himself in media as an art, and he wasn't afraid to let his art speak a message at times.
The perfect sort of director I wanted for establishing a new company from the ashes of Araignee Studios.
Returning to moment, I noticed Melhof tensing slightly before visibly relaxing. "So you know the ugly truth of what went behind the scenes for so many of these things." One of his hands reached up to press against his forehead, a bitter chuckle escaping from his lips. "Did you know that for one of them, a member of House Hessin inquired if they could perhaps just skip the funding for special effects? And to instead just have the scene be quite literal?"
I paused. "Which one?"
"The Bombing of Crosses."
My mind stuttered, then rebooted. "...I'm taking it that they weren't talking about the scenes with characters just standing around chatting."
"No, it had been for one of the terror attacks. They wanted to just have it replicated in real life, bodies included. Use the criminal population for it."
"Well, I am very glad to inform you that anybody attempting as much will be instantly arrested and charged with every single military code I can throw at them. And maybe civil if we can sort out a legal system come time."
He exhaled. "That's very reassuring. Thank you."
"More than that, I also dug a little further. Or rather Veronica had," I credited, nodding to my present NHP. "And we found your personal omninet social accounts, the ones you had hidden before."
He panicked for a brief moment before blinking and remember that this wasn't House Hessin. There was no law against trying to connect and reach out to the wider Union now. "Ah, you have? It's pretty amateur work, sorry."
"I think otherwise. You did a fantastic job trying to capture our invasion and landing as is, getting as close as possible to the battle without sacrificing your safety. All to capture shots of what war is like and put it out there, to an audience who might not even care."
Because unfortunately, the omninet was so big that it was oft times hard to find specific content. I guess that was only to be expected of an internet relay service that spanned a literal galaxy. I wouldn't be surprised if there was a Lancer out there who streamed their mercenary operations, with a live chat for their NHP to moderate as they blew up criminals or something.
Assuming they didn't cascade, leaving the streamer to ask 'chat am I cooked' as their AI goes haywire.
Anyways though, there actually was an issue of access too that also limited reach alongside the bulk of options, ironically enough. Content usually was limited to specific relay nodes like domain gates, meaning that usually only local content loaded quite quickly, with things from further afar taking so much more time to squeeze through. It helped explain why the Metropolitans didn't really hear much from the Disasporans, given they were likely drowning in stuff made by the like-minded affluent.
What with the surrounding sector being engulfed in chaos, Melhof didn't have much of a reach in comparison. But he still did it anyway, because he wanted to. That was what struck me especially, as he seemed to realize that I saw his work as something more. A spark seemed to take to his gaze, one that he leaned forward to animatedly discuss.
"That's right. Even if I realize nobody would care or see, I still believe firmly in the stories I tell. That there's more to capturing the moment than just simply dressing it up, or even the appeal of it."
This was now transitioning a bit into an interview which I happily welcomed. "I see. And you seem to be passionate about freedom of the press, to speak your mind on whatever and provide your opinions, while also welcoming civilized discussion from the other side."
"You've got it!" he eagerly mentioned, gesturing wildly. "The camera is like a paintbrush, and the lens is the canvas. I really think that everybody has the right to say what they want to out there, or even depict whatever they wish on that canvas."
I agreed, though I did have some caveats I wanted to check. "So long as it isn't explicitly defamatory or overly incendiary."
He paused and considered my point before nodding. "I suppose so. One canvas cannot be so horrific that it sours the entire exhibition. But the point of an artistic exhibition is also to raise questions, I think. And to perhaps reflect upon one's self. It sounds like a very situational consideration, I must say."
"It'll be something that you'll work out in time, and help establish guidelines for if you wish to accept my offer."
Melhof blinked and remembered what sort of meeting this was then, eyebrows rising up. "What exactly are you suggesting?"
I nodded to Veronica, who dutifully demonstrated a scrolling list of assets that had once belonged to Araignee Studios. "I'm asking if you'd like to become the first director-producer for a public service broadcasting company!"