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 it has 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.