“Nothing at all,” said Yang, bewildered.
And he was indeed bewildered. He had no intention whatsoever of persuading or cornering Reinhard. As was his habit, Yang took off his beret and ruffled his long black hair. It was futile to oppose Reinhard’s elegance, but he’d hoped to be at least a little more composed.
“I’m only putting forth the antithesis to your assertion. The way I see it, if one form of righteousness exists, then so must its opposite in equal measure. That’s all I was trying to say.”
“So righteousness is never absolute and cannot exist alone? Is that what you believe?”
Yang hated this talk of belief.
“It’s only what I think. And who knows—maybe somewhere in the universe there is a sole, inimitable truth, and a simultaneous equation that elucidates it. But my hands will never reach that far.”
“In which case my hands are even shorter than yours.” Reinhard smiled somewhat cynically. “Truth has never been necessary. All I need is the power to do however I please by whatever means I please. It’s the power to get on without following the orders of someone I despise. Have you never thought that way? Is there no one you despise?”
“The only ones I despise are those who would glorify war and stress the importance of patriotism even as they shelter themselves in safety, urging others to fight their battles for them while leading comfortable lives back on the home front. Being under the same flag as such people is an unbearable agony.”
Yang was more than cynical; he was bitter. Reinhard observed him closely. Noticing this, Yang cleared his throat. “You’re different. You’ve always stood on the front lines. Forgive me for saying so, but I cannot suppress my admiration.”
“I see. So that’s the only thing about me you deem acceptable. I’m flattered, really.” Reinhard laughed musically, but his expression grew suddenly transparent. “I once had a friend. We made a pact together to hold the universe in our hands, at the same time swearing that we’d always gain our victory by fighting on the front lines …”
Although Reinhard hadn’t given a proper noun, Yang guessed who it was. That friend was Siegfried Kircheis, the man who’d died saving Reinhard from an assassin.
“I would’ve sacrificed myself for that friend under any circumstance,” said Reinhard, brushing back the luxurious golden hair falling over his forehead with his white fingers.
Perhaps he regarded Yang as a piano keyboard and was playing his requiem.
“In reality, he was always the one to be sacrificed. I presumed upon him and took advantage of him, to the point where he finally gave up his life for me …” His ice-blue eyes glistened through his declaration. “If my friend were still alive, you can be certain that right now I’d be facing not your living self but your corpse.”
Yang didn’t answer, because he knew his answers meant nothing to the golden-haired youth.
Reinhard took a small breath and changed the subject. He seemed to have dragged his heart back into reality.
“A while ago, I received a report from my commanders occupying your capital. It seems to have come from your superior, the commander in chief of the Alliance Armed Forces Space Armada. He has asked that all military responsibility be placed on him and that I not charge anyone else with a crime.”
To this, Yang reacted.
“That sounds like something commander in chief Bucock would say. But I would implore Your Excellency to reject such an entreaty. What kind of people would we be to let him shoulder that burden alone?”
“Admiral Yang, I’m not one to hold a grudge. And while I did do just that against the high nobility of the empire, to me you’re all worthy opponents. I had no choice but to imprison the director of Joint Operational Headquarters as the one most responsible. But when the fires of war die down, the futile shedding of blood isn’t something I enjoy.”
In Reinhard’s expression was a noble pride, and Yang naturally bowed to the perfect honesty of his words.
“Incidentally, what will you do if I give you your freedom?”
Yang answered without hesitation.
“Retire.”
For a moment, Reinhard regarded the black-haired admiral nine years his senior with his ice-blue eyes, nodding assent despite himself.
The meeting was over.
Inside the shuttle on his way back to the flagship Hyperion, Yang couldn’t help immersing himself in thought. What Reinhard had pointed out regarding democratic rule was too harsh. A democratic government is a body which, by free will of its citizens, looks down upon its own system and spirit …
On the surface, it was the hardest of carbon crystals—to create a diamond, the pressure of enormous geological features was necessary. Likewise, the most precious thing about the human spirit was its essential resistance to authority and violence in the name of freedom and emancipation. Perhaps the ideal environment for freedom was one that corrupted freedom itself.
Yang wasn’t sure anymore. There were too many things in this world that his wisdom left him ill equipped to decide. Would a clear answer ever come to him?
III
Reinhard stepped onto the soil of the alliance capital of Heinessen, welcomed by admirals von Reuentahl and Mittermeier, as well as his private imperial secretary, Hildegard von Mariendorf. Despite it being early summer, a cold misty rain clung to his luxurious golden hair like droplets of dew.
“Long live Emperor Reinhard!”
On this day, May 12, the soldiers mobilized to be the young dictator’s bodyguards had originally numbered two hundred thousand, but many off-duty soldiers had also come to get a look at the object of their loyalty and devotion, rushing out of their appointed lodgings in droves and tearing the curtain of rain with their maniacal refrain.
“Long live the emperor! Long live the emperor!”
In a strange twist of fate, those same self-professed patriots who once assaulted pacifists on street corners and filled the air with cries of “Down with the emperor!” now extolled the virtues of their conqueror. Seeing the blond-haired youth waving from the window of his landcar, their cheers grew even louder, tinged with ardor, and enough were moved to tears to form a navy division of their own. Many had died for the sake of this youth to whom they were devoted, and many more would have to die still, but for now such things were beyond the scope of his heart.
Reinhard had arrived at the High Council building a few days later than planned to receive the soldiers’ welcome.
Reinhard gathered not only military men, but also administrative experts to hear their opinions on what form the results of this campaign might take. Simply put, it was impossible to rule just after winning and maintaining hegemony, and so they had to come up with a more efficient method.
“We cannot allow ourselves to be stretched so thinly indefinitely. Our navy has already reached the breaking point of its actions. Let’s concentrate our efforts on getting territories as far as Phezzan in our grasp before perfecting our rule over the alliance.”
“At this point, we can invade alliance territory from the Phezzan and Iserlohn corridors at any time. If we can guarantee this military supremacy, we won’t have to be so particular about sovereignty.”
“Besides, our soldiers want to return to their homeland now that they’ve won. A drawn-out occupation will only intensify their homesickness, if not also arouse dissatisfaction with Duke von Lohengramm.”
“Trying to rule twelve billion people brimming with enmity toward the imperial government by statecraft alone is inefficient. Moreover, the alliance’s financial affairs and economy are on the verge of bankruptcy, and the prospect of taking all of that upon ourselves, forcing new burdens on the empire’s own finances, which have been restored over two long years of reform, is far from ideal.”
Von Oberstein reported as much to Reinhard.
“I’m inclined to agree with the prevailing opinion that brin
ging about the total dissolution of the alliance, even officially, and placing it under direct rule would be premature.” To this, the artificial-eyed chief of staff added his own opinion. “That said, I think we should set aside measures to further corrupt the alliance’s finances. In any case, once we’ve reduced military spending, the economy will be restored, so there’s no need to treat them like a second Phezzan.”
“Of course.”
Reinhard tossed the report onto his desk. That desk, used by successive generations of alliance High Council chairmen, had been witness to many clandestine political and military schemes against the empire.
On May 25, the Bharat Treaty went into effect. Reinhard postponed a total merger with the Free Planets Alliance, and before the people could take up armed resistance, they would return to their imperial mainland, where they would be well provisioned. Looking over the terms of the treaty, even someone as particular about total conquest as Reinhard could only be satisfied:
1. The Galactic Empire guarantees that the Free Planets Alliance will retain its name and sovereignty.
2. The FPA will cede the Gandharva star system and the two star systems at either end of both corridors to the empire.
3. The FPA will sanction the free passage of all imperial ships and civilian craft throughout its territories.
4. The FPA will pay a yearly security tax to the empire in the amount of one trillion five hundred billion imperial reichsmark.
5. The FPA will retain its armaments as a symbol of its sovereignty, but all warships and mother ships will relinquish their independent rights. Furthermore, the FPA will consult the imperial government before establishing and improving any of its military institutions.
6. The FPA will establish a national law and put an end to any activities that hinder friendship and conciliation with the empire.
7. The empire will install itself in the high commissioner’s office on the alliance capital of Heinessen and have authority to station a military garrison to defend it. The high commissioner, as representative of the imperial sovereign (herein: the emperor), will negotiate and cooperate with the alliance government and be allowed to attend various meetings …
From the eighth condition onward, the reality that the alliance had become an imperial territory was clear to both sides. The alliance’s head of state, Job Trünicht, shielded by a thick wall of imperial troops, signed and sealed the treaty. Immediately afterward, he announced that he was taking full responsibility for the defeat and would resign forthwith. Trünicht resigned, while the Defense Committee chairman, Walter Islands, having exhausted both mind and body, was confined to his bed. A gathering of cabinet ministers nominated Trünicht’s political opponent, former chair of the finance committee João Lebello, as de facto ruler.
Even as Lebello was worried about the gravity of the situation, he accepted the nomination, but once these stipulations were made public, his friend Huang Rui read them with a critical eye.
“A noose has been tied around your neck, and only your toenails are touching the ground. A tough spot to be in, Lebello.”
And if he didn’t wake up soon, the other high officials, whose frank expressions were of anything but triumph, would be shedding tears of resentment on his behalf. Why had Ahle Heinessen taken that ten thousand light-year journey so filled with hardship two and a half centuries ago, only to set in motion the events leading to today’s disgrace? And by the hands of a representative of its own people, to boot!
As Trünicht had imagined, the people’s fury and hatred turned its spearheads away from Reinhard and toward Trünicht for accepting this humiliating treaty.
On May 26, the day after the treaty was signed, Reinhard heard from his private secretary Hilda that Trünicht was seeking an audience with him. Hearing the name of the former chairman, known to all as a walking disgrace, flames of hatred licked Reinhard’s white face.
“I refuse to meet him!”
“So you say, but it’s not that easy.”
Reinhard turned his eyes, gleaming like a stubborn child, toward Hilda.
“After achieving the highest authority on this planet, why must I meet a man I have no desire to meet?”
“Your Excellency …”
“If I could, I’d toss that piece of human trash into the den of the very extremists whose hearts burn with a desire for vengeance.”
“I understand how you feel, but you swore on your good name to overlook the crimes of the highest responsible parties. I know it doesn’t please you, but if you go back on your word, you will incur distrust in your ability to keep your promises and adhere to the terms of the treaty.”
As Reinhard clicked his tongue furiously, he slammed the desk with his palm. Although he left choppy waves on his emotional waterline, he turned his gaze to Hilda.
“So what does that bastard want from me anyway?”
“Assurance that his life and assets, as well as his right to reside in the imperial mainland, are maintained. He says that if he could get some sort of post, then he will gladly work for Your Excellency.”
An unpleasant smile adorned the corners of the dictator’s mouth.
“Seems like he can’t handle living alongside the very people he betrayed. And what makes him think he’d receive my protection by living in imperial territory? Very well, I hereby grant his request. And now that I have, there’s no need to meet with him. Send him away.”
Knowing it was impossible to compromise further, Hilda made to leave. As she did so, Reinhard called her to a halt, hesitated for a moment, and then shook it off.
“Fräulein von Mariendorf, I’m aware that I’m a narrow-minded man. And while I know I owe you my life, I cannot bring myself to thank you right now. Just give me a little more time.”
Hilda had no objections. In fact, she couldn’t help but be touched by the blond-haired youth’s awkward expression of gratitude. Beneath that coolheaded, indifferent strategist’s mask of his was the face of a boy raised on his elder sister Annerose’s gentle affections.
“It’s my fault for exceeding my brief. No matter what scolding I receive, it’s only natural, but to hear you speak like that makes me embarrassed. If I may be so bold, I do have a request—that you please reward Mittermeier and von Reuentahl sufficiently for their meritorious service.”
“Ah, consider it done.”
Reinhard raised a hand slightly, and so Hilda took a bow and her leave. When she exited the room, her head of cropped blond hair turned as she cast a glance over her shoulders at the figure of Reinhard reflected in her quickly narrowing field of vision, resting his chin in his hands and giving himself up to contemplation.
When it came to naming a high commissioner to dispatch to the alliance capital of Heinessen, Reinhard considered von Reuentahl as a candidate. The high commissioner would be more than just a diplomatic figurehead and would need to oversee the alliance’s national government and champion the empire’s interests to the utmost. The commissioner would also be responsible for dealing with resistance and opposition in all forms and suppressing any armed insurrections. While Reinhard’s abilities were seemingly sufficient to deal with such things, his chief of staff von Oberstein disagreed. His subordinate Captain Ferner was the only one privy to the real reasons behind his disagreement.
“Von Reuentahl is a bird of prey. It would be extremely dangerous to let him roam free. A man like him should be chained to a place where one can keep an eye on him at all times.”
Indeed, future literary works would say the same. In any event, Reinhard struck off von Reuentahl from candidacy and appointed Lennenkamp instead. Because the von Lohengramm dictatorship had essentially institutionalized the political rule of a military man, bringing a civil official into this important office was unthinkable. Naturally, however, the many civil officials among Lennenkamp’s followers—including experts in diplomacy, financial affairs, and administration—were ass
igned to him.
Incidentally, von Oberstein was also opposed to the personal selection of Lennenkamp. The reason was, of course, different from that for von Reuentahl. Lennenkamp was too much the military type, and as such his thinking was far too rigid. And because he’d suffered an infamous defeat against Yang Wen-li, his attitude toward the alliance was inflexible. Hearing this, Reinhard smiled.
“If Lennenkamp fails, I’ll cast him off. And if the alliance is responsible, I’ll charge them with that crime as well. That’s all. There’s nothing more to consider.”
Von Oberstein bowed and deferred to his master’s wisdom. As with the occupation of Phezzan, von Oberstein paid due respect to his young master’s genius and magnanimity.
Reinhard further appointed Steinmetz as base commander of the Gandharva star system, now under direct imperial control. It was better for the high commissioner and commander in residence to hold concurrent posts, but that was a matter for a later day, when the alliance was under total subjugation.
The legitimate imperial galactic government, remnants of the old nobles under another name, was naturally looked upon by the Imperial Navy as hostile. Secretary of Defense Merkatz was already purported to have been killed in action at Vermillion, and his death straightened the collars of the Imperial Navy’s high-ranking officers.
The legitimate imperial galactic government’s prime minister, Count Jochen von Remscheid, poisoned himself to death. This was just after von Reuentahl’s soldiers had surrounded his private residence. The heterochromatic admiral paid his respects to Count von Remscheid and gave him enough time to do the deed. And with that, the exile government disappeared as fleetingly as it had formed.
Nevertheless, the child emperor under its care was nowhere to be found. The results of the investigation revealed that Count Alfred von Lansberg, the criminal who’d absconded with the emperor to the imperial capital of Odin and the next in command after the legitimate government’s defense secretary, had disappeared along with the eight-year-old boy.
Legend of the Galactic Heroes, Volume 5 Page 25