Upon taking the title of Premier-General (yeah, I really regret asking if perhaps there was a better label out there), I immediately caused controversy on my first day of office with a single request.
"Let us dispense then the need for any sort of ceremony or celebration to make my transition from provisional to elected office. It is only just formalizing an existing administration instead of highlighting the rise of a new one."
Well, that'd apparently been the wrong thing to say because now I actually earned push-back from all political blocs in congress. They wanted a reason to throw a holiday to commemorate me becoming their leader. Ugh, but come on, doesn't it look really bad? I've seen our budget, we haven't anything to spare on excess.
I mean, I'm sure it wasn't going to be anything so extreme so as to put us in generational debt like an anecdote I remembered from my old world. But still, that's sort of like the meme of a leader awarding a medal to themselves, which I absolutely did not want to associate with. So I pushed back as well, and eventually a compromise was struck.
Even though our constitution had been signed on a very different day, it was instead bargained that we'd instead mark the official transitioning day as our national founding day. It was a little bit of romantic revisionism, but hardly the worst sort out there in my eyes. Though for my part of the bargain, I also was petitioned to at least lend some sort of presence to the occasion, like a personal attendance.
Eh, well, sure I guess. At least for what congress was terming to be the official flag-raising moment of the newly founded Cavia Committee. Ah, shoot, they were asking me to help design it?
Hm. Veronica, could you call Captain Feng please? I recalled he has quite an eye for flags, which I suppose was part of being a seasoned sailor. Even if said flags were oft digital, but we did want a proper cloth one here. It'd be easy enough to sow together with some help from the locals, but obviously, they'd need a design first.
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I gave a final look at the folded provisional government flag we'd been using, then turned to look at the new banner that my forces and I would be fighting under. It was...interesting. And also slightly worrying in that it now featured the little symbol I used as my new signature at the center.
Um, huh. Right, I really should ask that question now. "Veronica, are you there?" I muttered under my breath while the various members of congress came up to express their eagerness over this new flag. "I've a slightly pressing question."
A portable communicator disguised as a pin lapel had a small light turn on. "What is it, sir?"
"That little icon on your tie and casket, does it mean something? I understand that perhaps a little late for me to ask, but I'm hoping it's nothing negative or controversial."
"Nothing as such sir, unless you were to consider my particular model to be troublesome so."
I blinked, then relaxed slightly. "Oh, so it's a symbol associated with just your lineage, then?"
"As far as my records indicate, yes Commander. And given that my model's service is quite popular among generals, admirals, and other sort of senior personnel within the Half Committee, it has since bled over into multiple other aspects over time."
"I see." Right, I think I remembered something about how Veronica was technically a cloned alien AI? Something like that? Which meant that very likely, she had identical sisters out there who might be gunning for us. Or perhaps willing to work with us. Problems for another day, I suppose.
For now, I eyed the icon on our new government flag and felt a little bit of that wariness fade away. It wasn't something so nasty to be tied to SecComm or something, it was more tied to the mystique of NHPs. I could live with that, I think. So buoyed was my mood that I didn't even mind when the latest speaker threw in a little improvised implication that I'd be giving a few words myself regarding the Cavia Committee's founding day. Something that definitely hadn't been scheduled, but well. I was in a good mood.
So I rose up and stepped to the podium, earning a cheer from the assembled audience. My, it was quite a big one, much larger than the one that had been first calling for my head when I had first addressed the general populace. A lot more amicable as well, but that goes without saying.
I waited for their shouts to fade before clearing my throat, speaking into the microphone. "Good day to all, or should I wish you a pleasant founding day instead?" I tried out, giving a little side look to the rolling news cameras. "No, that doesn't quite roll off the tongue...ah. I know, let us call it our liberation day instead!
"For it is a day to remember when two different peoples have finally, fully thrown off the shackles of what once held them back!"
Those words got the crowd excited, as expected, and I waited for them to calm again. "Today, I stand before you as the newly elected...Premier-General." Ugh. Even if they sounded incredibly overjoyed by the simple mention, it still held a negative connotation in my head. Maybe the setting was more forgiving of such though, so I guess I'll roll with it for the time being. Until I could come up with something perhaps better. "It is a position that even I myself am surprised by the honor of holding, but it is one that I suppose I do have some familiarity with. As said duties are mostly the same as having been the provisional military governor in ensuring Cavia's prosperity.
"However, rest assured that what adjustments have been made are entirely to ensure this executive position will be held accountable to the legislature- one that you, the people, have elected. So if I indeed am found wanting, rest assured that you can always contact your representative to inquire about their position regarding a change in leadership. Allow me to say though, that it is my hope that I will not need trouble you to such measure."
That's right, I realized now what my goal was. If I couldn't retire so easily, then what I'd do is set a good example, rule maybe just a few years, then retire comfortably with the reputation of being a founding patriot behind me. One who was a public servant no less, serving admirably for a term before willingly conceding power the moment a change in leadership was brought up.
Union would really have to struggle to prosecute me if I'd developed that sort of reputation then! Especially if the successor administration were to protest that they had learned from me! Hah!
This was a foolproof plan, I just had to steer the ship for a little longer. Play the part of a guiding shepherd to a lost flock. Then everything would blow over and I'd be home free.
Ah, they were looking at me expectantly for a few last words. Time to offer up some generic platitudes. "I had previously expressed hope that we could get along, and I am glad to see it through. Now, it is the time to see if we can cooperate together- and build a future for us both, one that may in turn rival the Third Committee itself!"
Okay, perhaps a bit of a dramatic exaggeration, but hey. Everybody knew I was just blowing smoke, but were still caught in the moment enough to still celebrate quite loudly. So it was what it was and I stepped back from the podium to stand in front of the flagpole with its new adornment for a few minutes. The cameras take however many pictures and videos they needed before I finally excused myself to return back to my office.
Time to ensure that my next few surely uneventful years went well enough that I could disappear and no Lancers would be sent after me then. That was the dream, right?
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Tch. What a noisy 'liberation day' holiday.
But Erica couldn't say that she wouldn't prefer it compared to the currently pointless yammering of the various holographic suits on the communication suite of First to Draw. Thank fuck that it was still working, else she might have to deliver the report straight to the sector headquarters. Hell, she might even still have to do so if some large big-shot demanded it.
Well, whatever then. First and foremost was dealing with the idiotic clucking of those who scrambled with waning power. Those who had bet on her losing, and had thus lost quite a bit in turn. Very notably, they'd also been the ones who previously struck the deal with the prior regime of House Hessin for their little trade deal.
"Is this not a disaster for our local supply chain? Ownership of those mines is now not in a trusted associate of ours, but the whims of a worker's union that shows no qualms about willing to pick a fight if need be! Look at how they so readily agreed to divert surplus to the local government instead of us, their preferred client!"
Yeah, because surprise surprise, the fuckboy actually was easier to work with than a whole bag of dicks.
"They worked out an arrangement that takes advantage of the fact that you never expected there to have been a competing client," Erica dryly pointed out, making sure to stress the fact it'd been their arrangement. Emphasize that point of failure before the gathered board. "So assured that Harrison Armory would continue to maintain a total monopoly absent of any sort of interference from our rivals. Or at least the illusion of one."
"What do you mean? We are the only notable megacorp in this sector-"
"Were, unless you have some other explanation for why I got shot at by IPS-N ships. And almost lost company assets in the process."
At the mention of the interstellar shipping conglomerate, the various projections of the executives shifted uncomfortably. Bad enough that it looked like there was at least a competing megacorp in the sector, but the fact that it'd almost also cost Harrison Armory a capital ship and the attached asset protection team was something not so easily ignored. Somebody had to take the blame for that.
Eyes shifted and laid upon the now-antsy executive who had tried to claim credit for the original arrangement with the Prynth Mining Conglomerate. Pat tried to hastily deflect. "It was a joint-endeavor, I was just in charge of...handling procurement, yes! For actual security and risk assessment, that was my partner. Who is missing from this meeting-"
"Because they're dead," the Lancer bluntly delivered. "I've got their remains in a can waiting to be shipped wherever."
"There, see! So I cannot be wholly blamed for this loss-"
"But at the same time, if you were in charge of procurement, then you were the one who sent me an under-equipped carrier without sufficient navy pilots." Erica had the slimy manager on a burning cross and she held a hammer in hand with the nails to go along with. "You placed Harrison Armory forces at severe risk of loss or even worse, capture. You really want to hand over company secrets over to Interstellar?"
Well, that was a definite exaggeration. IPS-N was far more veteran at shipbuilding than Harrison Armory and they'd probably already captured Colonial Legion vessels before. There was probably nothing that they could learn from capturing First to Draw, but Erica wasn't going to say that aloud. And if Pat had, then well, he was bringing along a shovel to his own grave.
You never wanted to be somebody who implied that the company was lesser.
So he had no counter to that. He knew it, just standing and staring at Erica with a furious glare, hands flexing and clenching like he wanted to wrap those soft hands around the mech pilot's neck, regardless of the distance between. But before the manager could muster up either offense or defense, the most senior executive present chimed, "It appears this new development in the sector requires some delicate handling. Particularly in the region where Miss Erica's team is currently deployed in. In which case, everybody; leave us. I wish to talk to her alone."
The smoker's lips pressed into a thin line as the various holographic individuals agreed and cut their connections, Pat throwing one last angry look her way before vanishing. So the boss who answered to the big boss of Harrison III himself was going to have a private chat with her? This could go either way, though given her knowledge that the man was a Colonial Legion veteran like herself, Erica did have an inkling of where it'd go.
Sure enough, once it was just him and her, he purposefully made a show of taking out a cigar. Erica took that as permission to light a cigarette up herself, a shared habit that most who survived deployment under Harrison Armory's logo tend to develop. They smoked in commiserated quiet for a moment before he spoke. "How bad is it?"
"Could be better. Could be worst."
"Give me a reference."
She puffed quietly, then dredged up a name of a rock from her memories. "Zee's Silence."
"Hm, heard of that one. Against the NGC, wasn't it? They're an IPS-N resource too."
"We got hired by HA clients. IPS-N clients hired NGC. Fought over a resource-rich world but lost our naval support early on." Erica exhaled a brief cloud of smoke. "Still took the victory, but lots of letters sent home. Not all the casualties were from combat."
"I see. Is it verging on that bad?" He puffed one last time, then stubbed the cigar on an ashtray not picked up by the holographic projector. "But at the same time, you're also saying it could be salvageable."
"Zee's Silence was a lifeless rock. Here, we've got locals. I even have a contact with their leader."
"So local procurement is an option." She noted how he didn't say 'requisition' as was more common among other suits of the company. "Give it to me straight. Can we buyout?"
Given how he didn't even bite at the chance to sleep with her, one answer. "No."
"Can we initiate a takeover?"
"I would advise against it. We're already on the shit list of other players."
"Hm. Point." He mulled it over, then came to a decision. "Sponsorship then, because you're the last asset I can fully trust to not screw this up in the region. Though the others would probably whine and contest this."
"Fuck 'em." Erica bluntly declared and that cracked a brief grin from the man's mask.
"Hmph. Succinctly put, and might even be what needs to be done. I'll need to arrange for a few things here, replace a few heads and transfer friendlier ones over. Then you'll get your requested support, maybe."
"Charmed. What's the catch?"
"Unknown yet. Might be just making sure that those lost printers become denied to the other megacorps. Can't have Harrison Armory property falling into IPS-N hands."
It'd definitely look very bad as a trophy piece no less. Though she did want to check on something. "If it falls into our associate's hands instead, would that be acceptable?"
"Yes."
Good, so her desperate promise to Moores wasn't going to be broken. Excellent. "No further questions. I'll be on standby for those reinforcements. Please make sure to send more pilots my way at least."
He gave a light scoff and glanced at a monitor she couldn't see. "Do you really need them with your performance? But sure, I'll see to it you get bodies and hands that know how to move at least. Alongside more ships for sure, turn you into a battlegroup."
Oh, that was going to not do wonders for the Premier-General's heart. But well, given he'd left her hanging on the couch, she couldn't find it in herself to be so overly sympathetic. "Understood, Lord Director."
"Dismissed."