Intelligence determined who held the advantage on the battlefield.
Whether your intelligence sources were accurate and reliable enough would affect your assessment of the entire battlefield. Every decision you made there was crucial. This was no game, no war simulator. Before making a decision, you had to understand what consequences it would bring. Soldiers were not cold, lifeless data. Could you really send them to their deaths without telling them a thing?
You certainly could.
To the Federation, soldiers were mere expendables, far less useful than Fourth-Generation Tactical Mecha. Soldiers who had not undergone full-body cybernetic conversion could only serve as cannon fodder or as a smokescreen to mislead the enemy. The soldiers knew this perfectly well. If the Federation had not paid enough, they would never have risked their lives for it. Combined with the earlier supply shortages and lack of reinforcements, this only deepened their resentment. Nobody wanted to put in any effort. They coasted through one day after another and retreated immediately whenever they encountered troops they could not withstand.
District 25 understood this even better than they did.
Not because it could empathize with them, but because District 25 and the Federation had plenty in common.
"We're both old hands at this. Who do you think you're fooling...?"
Watching the flood of news propaganda, Jonas sat on the sofa, toying with the cold fountain pen in his hand as he muttered to himself.
Credit where it was due: after Noel and Dorothy divided their responsibilities and worked together, the situation on the battlefield had stabilized considerably. At least the Federation no longer suffered from supply shortages. At most, some people were still hoarding their resources, hoping to pull off one big deal and make a fortune off the Federation.
"Eiffel, are those propaganda pieces comparing soldier