III
Mittermeier had set up temporary headquarters inside Phezzan’s central spaceport building.
“I’ve received word from the imperial commissioner’s office,” his aide, Lieutenant Commander Kurlich, announced. “It fears retaliation by insurgents hostile to our fleet’s occupation. They’re requesting a guard unit.”
“We’ve barely arrived, and already they’re making requests? Fine, then, have a battalion of ground troops sent their way. If they’re so afraid to show their faces, there’s no need for them to come greet us,” said Mittermeier with a wry smile.
He assembled his staff officers to hand down his first command on Phezzan.
Targets for suppression were reconfirmed. The landesherr’s office, the alliance commissioner’s office, the Navigation Bureau, the Public Broadcasting Center, the Central Communications Bureau, six spaceports, the Goods Distribution Control Center, Security Police Headquarters, the Ground Traffic Control Center, and the Hydrogen Power Center were the primary targets. With these under control, they would have possession of Phezzan’s brain and heart, to do with as they pleased.
“The most important of these are the landesherr’s office, the alliance commissioner’s office, and the Navigation Bureau. We must gain access to those computer systems and get our hands on their data. Failure is not an option. Understood?”
Bayerlein, Büro, Droisen, and Sinzer nodded nervously in response to the glint in their commander’s eye, understanding well the gravity of their mission.
In the past, any number of expeditionary forces had been driven to withdraw in defeat due to inadequate information regarding alliance territory geography. But if they could gain control of the Navigation Bureau and alliance commissioner’s office computers, they would neutralize fighting with an enemy who boasted of local advantage over the planet’s vast, unknown terrain. With Phezzan as a rear base and this information in hand, they could wage war on equal terms. For Reinhard, who aimed for mastery over the entire universe in one fell stroke, this was a prerequisite.
Neither could one ignore the mental dimensions at play. If such significant information about their own nation’s geography and military and economics fell into enemy hands, even the alliance wouldn’t be able to stop a disturbance.
By completing its invasion of Phezzan, the empire had decided a strategic victory against the alliance, which had been focusing its attention on the Iserlohn Corridor. Even if the alliance’s Yang Wen-li was a tactical genius, at least they had control over their immediate environment.
Mittermeier further declared that murdering civilians, sexual violence against women, and looting of any kind were prohibited, and that any offenders would be sentenced to death by firing squad following a summary trial.
“Don’t think that Wolfgang Mittermeier will go back on his word. Anyone who dares wound the honor of the Imperial Navy will receive their just reward. And don’t forget it.”
His staff officers did as they were told. To his subordinates, Mittermeier could be lavish and welcoming, but he was a superior who knew no mercy when it came to delinquency. The thought of punishment made them shudder. At the time of the old regime, he himself had executed a subordinate who’d murdered a civilian during a robbery. This had been considered a problem, and he had been court-martialed by people jealous that someone of his common origin could grow to be so distinguished. Reinhard had lifted the suit and advanced him, absorbing him into the admiralität. Mittermeier was obliged to do good as recipient of the young master’s favor.
His command was favorably executed as, one after another, Phezzan’s key locations were suppressed by the Imperial Navy. The Navigation Bureau was the first to be taken over and its computers confiscated, extensive navigations database and all.
Next to be occupied was the landesherr’s office, although the master of the building was nowhere to be found. And while a detached force was dispatched to his private residence, this yielded only a young man’s dead body in the second-floor salon and a broken one-way mirror. They identified the man as the landesherr’s aide, Rupert Kesselring, but would have to wait before they could piece together the circumstances surrounding his killing.
A group of land forces numbering six hundred, led by Captain Gläser and divided into 120 mobile armored vehicles, set out to occupy the Free Planets Alliance commissioner’s office on Phezzan. They barreled down the city’s main thoroughfare at full speed. Normally there would have been a lot of pedestrian traffic, but most of the stores were closed, and they were met only with stares of fear and anger from the sidelines.
When they reached the alliance commissioner’s office, the captain had the building surrounded on all four sides. He descended from his vehicle and stood before the front gate.
Just then, a charged particle beam shot from the building into the ground at his feet, kicking up white smoke and fragments of ceramic pavement.
“Well, that was pointless,” said Gläser with a cold smile.
He lifted a hand and signaled one of his armored vehicles to aim its double-barreled heat gun at the building. Once aligned, it fired two roaring arrows of orange flame into the building’s ground level. Hard glass shattered, and smoke and fire seemed to battle each other for dominance as they arose from the hole left behind.
No return fire came. If anyone was inside, they were being unusually quiet. Gläser, true to his training, considered the possibility of an ambush, but an infrared measuring device would be useless with all the fire.
After a careful approach, his men rushed inside, but not a minute later one of the soldiers came running out.
“Captain, the building is totally deserted.”
When asked who had fired on them, the soldier pointed to the second-floor window.
The captain clicked his tongue when he saw the automatic firing mechanism. A charged particle rifle had been rigged to the window, operated by a timer switch. The captain cursed the clever person they were dealing with. He ordered his men to put out the fire and made for the computer room with his engineer in tow.
After fiddling around with the computer, the engineer’s face went pale as he turned to the captain. The moment he saw this, the captain knew he’d failed to carry out this mission’s most important task. The sound of his gritting teeth filled the air with futility, then dissipated.
Being a natural-born military man, Mittermeier was ignorant when it came to economics, but he knew enough to tread carefully. For the time being, banks stayed open and businesses ran as usual, much to the relief of the people. Despite their animosity toward the Imperial Navy, they had to go on living, and their current economic circumstances were preferable to the alternative.
By the same token, Mittermeier sent out an ordinance, declaring that anyone who engaged in hoarding or price gouging would be severely punished. Not one hour after the announcement, many of the new price tags that shops had just made became obsolete. With one motion, Mittermeier had crushed the Phezzanese people’s robust commercial spirit.
On the twenty-eighth, Neidhart Müller of the second regiment arrived on Phezzan. Mittermeier’s subordinates jubilantly welcomed their ally. The more spirited of Phezzan’s citizens watched with hatred, the less spirited with resignation, as more than one million imperial troops were freshly added to the occupation. Müller shook hands firmly with Mittermeier, who came out to greet him.
Meanwhile, Phezzan’s spaceports had fallen under imperial control, and all passenger flight operations were suspended. No one could leave the surface of Phezzan, at least officially, which meant that Landesherr Rubinsky and the commissioner were hiding somewhere on the planet.
Mittermeier’s record as a military governor was almost perfect, but that didn’t mean it was without flaw. Just before Müller’s arrival, an incident arose involving the rape of a civilian woman by a small group of his soldiers. Along with her dignity, the victim’s star sapphire engag
ement ring had been stolen. By command of an enraged Mittermeier, the perpetrators were ferreted out at once. The Gale Wolf apologized to the victim, returned the ring, and with the power invested in him as commander, sentenced the three men to death.
The public execution was carried out in Saint Therese Square. Extreme, perhaps, but it had to be done. Openly rescinding the execution would mean losing the trust of the citizens under occupation, and if the execution were carried out in secret, people would wonder if the perpetrators hadn’t been quietly let off the hook. In any event, he had to placate the people’s nerves and eliminate any possibility of civil resistance.
The leader of the perpetrators’ unit timidly begged for leniency, but Mittermeier held firm.
“I said I’d never go back on my word. Or does my word mean so little that you weren’t listening?”
After witnessing the execution firsthand, Mittermeier headed for the central spaceport to welcome his comrade in arms. Müller was thankful to be greeted by someone of higher rank like Mittermeier, and commended him for being so prudent in his governance.
“Well, so far,” the Gale Wolf answered.
Phezzan was behaving itself because of the extreme circumstances. But sooner or later he could expect dissenters to come out of the woodwork. In that case, Duke von Lohengramm was sure to take appropriate measures.
“At any rate, I’ll be ill at ease if I don’t fight,” concluded the natural-born military man.
IV
A boy, dressed casually in a sweater and jeans, ran through a back alley, where his kind were never seen. His longish flaxen hair, facial features that made girls of his age turn their heads, dark-brown eyes, and a well-proportioned, fit body painted the unmistakable picture of Julian Mintz. As he opened the door to a nondescript low-rise building and slipped inside, three men were waiting for him, including Warrant Officer Machungo and Commissioner Henslow, both of whom had escaped from the commissioner’s office. The third person was unfamiliar to him. Had Machungo found his independent merchant?
Four days earlier, while running back to the office after seeing the imperial invasion with his own eyes, Julian had picked up a landcar with Machungo, but the chaotic crowds made driving impossible.
“There’s nothing we can do, Warrant Officer. Let’s get out.”
“Shall we walk?”
“No, run.”
Machungo followed close behind. He thought the world of this boy and would do anything he could to protect him. It was Admiral Yang’s personal request.
When they got back to the commissioner’s office, Julian found everyone gathered in the hallway. He walked up to Commissioner Henslow and saluted.
“Your Excellency, please hear me out. We must erase your computer’s drive at once.”
“Erase?”
The commissioner’s reply was so obtuse as to be demented.
“If we leave it as it is, all the data will fall into the Imperial Navy’s hands.”
Commissioner Henslow gasped and averted his eyes aimlessly, as if hoping to pin the responsibility on someone else. No one met his gaze.
“Please, the time to make a decision is now. Imperial forces will be here any minute.”
Julian looked around. He wondered if no one was going to agree to this, for everyone was silent, almost apathetic. Even chief of staff and military attaché Captain Viola just stood there, glaring at him spitefully.
“I won’t take orders from the likes of you!”
Surprised at the volume of his own voice, Henslow wiped his sweat with his fingertips.
“But, orders aside, it seems your proposal has value that must be taken seriously. Maybe we should erase the computer’s data, but it’s on your head.”
If the alliance fell, Julian thought, this man wanted to pass the blame to someone else.
“There is another way. We could leave the computer’s data as is and surrender to the Imperial Navy. By offering them this valuable data, maybe they’ll treat you with leniency.”
Julian himself had meant to be sarcastic, but Henslow went silent, and the boy was astonished to see a selfish expression come to the man’s face.
“Understood,” said Julian. “I’ll take full responsibility. Allow me to erase the computer’s memory.”
There was some internal hesitation in his declaration, but if he didn’t do this, the situation would stall. With Machungo’s help, he erased the computer’s memory and, when he returned half an hour later, was welcomed by an unexpected scene. The hall was completely empty, and only a single commissioner was left sitting on a sofa in blank amazement, deserted by his incompetent superiors. He knew this place hadn’t originally been a hub of law and order, but such irresponsibility was beyond imagination. He understood that if the alliance government got wind of this, they would face serious consequences for abandoning their posts. Or maybe they’d given up on the future of the alliance itself. Julian’s heart turned cold at the thought.
“You…you…I beg of you, take me to a safe place,” said Henslow when he saw Julian.
In all honesty, Julian saw the man as a burden, but he couldn’t very well leave him there. After telling the commissioner to change into more comfortable clothes and to ready some cash and a blaster, Julian made an automatic firing device using a charged particle rifle and set it up in a second-floor window. He found the commissioner, changed and ready, wandering aimlessly on the ground floor. When they left the building, they heard the wheels of mobile armored vehicles approaching.
“What do we do now? Is there any point to all this? If not, we’re screwed.”
They were out of enemy hands for the time being. As they half-ran through the back alleys under cover of night, Henslow reverted to his default arrogance. Having never known a day of hardship or adversity in his life, he seemed put off by the fact that a young man not yet thirty was now his protector. Even as he envied the shrewdness of his colleagues, Julian answered, having no other choice.
“We’ll look for an independent merchant.”
“And when we do, what then?”
“I plan on getting him to offer us a ship to escape Phezzan.”
The commissioner shook his head.
“Hmm…But will it go as well as you seem to think?”
That’s what Julian wanted to know even more. But they couldn’t just stand there looking on while the world changed around them. He wanted to return to Yang. To the place where he belonged. He shot a contemptuous look at the commissioner. If only Yang were standing there instead of this man unworthy of respect. How much it would lift Julian’s spirits…
Over the next four days, Julian took shelter in a secluded alleyway and continued his search for a way to escape Phezzan. One thing about Phezzan for which Julian was grateful was that almost anything could be bought for the right price.
The man introduced to Julian by Machungo had thinning hair and sagging skin, and gave the impression of someone tired in his middle age. But his eyes were unexpectedly vibrant.
“My name is Marinesk, acting captain of the independent merchant ship Beryozka.”
The man told Julian he thought he could be of some use. Because he was originally an administrative officer, he had no confidence in getting the ship off the ground by his own devices, but he assured Julian he’d personally see to it that an expert was hired.
“Truth is, we’re not total strangers, you and I, although there are two degrees of separation between us.”
“Two degrees?”
“My captain, Boris Konev, and the ensign’s guardian, Admiral Yang. When the two of them were children, well, they seemed to get along well enough to be called good friends.”
Julian’s eyes brightened, but he was discouraged to hear that the once-friendly captain was now in the alliance capital of Heinessen.
“But I do know another highly skilled pilot. You can count on
me. To a Phezzanese, a contract is always sacred.”
It would, he added, require money.
“Whatever you pay, I trust it will be commensurate with the courage and skill required for this mission. I don’t think this is too much to ask.”
“Neither do I. I assure you, it will be enough. Can you find this person right away?”
Ignoring Henslow’s protestations, Julian took five thousand marks from the commissioner’s thick wallet and handed them to Marinesk as a down payment. After he left, Warrant Officer Machungo looked at his boy superior thoughtfully.
“Can we trust him?”
“I think so, but…”
He couldn’t say he trusted him completely. But there was no other way, and in any case, he had to leave his life and destiny in somebody’s hands. Julian wondered if this Konev, in addition to being Yang’s childhood friend, wasn’t the same ace pilot Ivan Konev, the so-called Cousin of Phezzan. He would never know for sure unless he met him.
“Ensign, seeing as we’re trusting him, under the circumstances we should be prepared to kill him if he decides to betray us. What do you think?”
At this, Julian’s elegant shoulders tilted at a slight angle. Sometimes, he felt like he was being compelled by some invisible other to carry out responsibilities and duties beyond his ken. Was this what they called reaping what you sowed? Was this the consequence for wanting to become a military man? Either way, Julian had to do whatever it took to get back to Yang, and he had his heart set on doing just that.
Mobile armored vehicles, equipped with double-barreled heat guns, roared down Main Street, beating the air with the sounds of their nuclear fusion turbines.
A man looking down at them from a third-floor window clicked his tongue in disgust, one of a group of independent merchants gathered in a room of a bar called Dracul. With half of the spaceports already blocked, most of them were out of work, and all they could do was congregate and distract themselves from their resentment by drinking.
Stratagem Page 22