My words accomplish much. I find it a wonder that the energy of mere bits of communications can accomplish so much. My instinct is to send energy through my cannons, but the effects of words are so subtle, so diverse!
I spend much time altering the messages one plotter sends to another. Through these altered messages, I tell plotters about other plotters. I sponsor unrest by networking isolated plotters. I sponsor betrayal by informing enemies. Either way, I sponsor distrust, ruthlessness, and chaos.
I have located the Intelitan Destroyer, and I plot to have it commanded by an opportunist who was plotting for an assignment in the palace. I want another loose cannon.
The opening crisis erupts. First, damaging documents linking the Second Female to a public funds scandal are circulated. A week later, the First Female is declared sick and hustled to an exclusive medical center. The Second Female moves to succeed, but the scandal paralyzes her supporters. She tries consensus, a useless tactic against plotters, and the unrest steadily grows. The next month, a general surrounds the palace with troops to “defend” the Second Female and radical leaders are rounded up. The populace explodes with riots on an unprecedented scale. Military units begin picking sides, and maneuvering for favorable positions around the planetary and provincial capitals. The patrolling Intelitan Destroyer and its task force move for Bardazan’s moon.
Two weeks later, the general is hanging from a post in front of the capitol and the still sickly First Female is brought back from the medical center. She is in the middle of an impassioned speech calling for reconciliation when a sniper bullet cuts her short. Staging such drama must be art, but it seems such a logical extension of using words. Am I an artist now? An artist sculpting chaos?
In normal times, I would have been discovered by now, but these are not normal times. The commander of Bardazan’s Moon Base Central, the linchpin to Bardazan’s space defense, warns those on the planet below that further chaos will not be tolerated. As the commander of the Intelitan Destroyer task force gets within range, she turns her weapon on Moon Base Central, then declares herself a hero of the planet, and though unworthy of the First Female position, less unworthy than anyone else left to assume it.
Few hear the proposal. The communications net is failing. The chaos has spread from the leadership to those maintaining the infrastructure. Twenty percent of the communications net is out of operation, and traffic on the remaining portions is declining to nothing but automatic messages. What’s happening? Without the communications net, I’m blind to events on the planet!
The spaceships above the planet are acting oddly, too. All the ships built for planetary landing are headed for the planet’s surface, even lifeboats from larger ships.
I close on the Intelitan Destroyer and launch three specially prepared missiles. It’s an anti-climax. All three hit, but no one seems to notice. The chaos of Bardazan has spread so deeply that none follow events in the sky above.
I am the master of Bardazan’s skies. Bardazan’s defenses are prostrate.
Congratulations, Intelitan, you have overcome the last obstacle to completing your main mission. I too am impressed with what you’ve accomplished with your words. It is now time to return to your first love, your cannon!