Legend of the Galactic Heroes, Volume 7

by Yoshiki Tanaka

  Reinhard’s ivory fingers toyed with a lock of the golden hair that hung down over his brow.

  “If you concern yourself with such trifles, Fräulein, your labors will never end, either. Still, it would be best to nip this in the bud. Very well. I’ll send out the proclamation by the end of the day.”

  “Thank you for listening, Your Majesty.”

  If advancement came not by feats of valor against fierce enemies on the battlefield or by solving difficult problems in national government, but rather through the flattery of absolute authority, then the Lohengramm Dynasty was sure to head straight down the road to decadence. Reinhard understood Hilda’s concerns, and had himself always hated the sort that tried to ingratiate themselves to rulers.

  In the past, Hilda reflected, it had been the late Seigfried Kircheis who had counseled him, speaking frank words of advice. Now he had people like the straight-arrow Mittermeier and the honest Müller with him, but none of his admirals were in a position to be completely unreserved with the kaiser. For her own part, it would be an outrage to think of herself as having such standing; even so, there were things that even Reinhard wouldn’t notice unless someone spoke up.

  On the day that he redeclared war on the Free Planets Alliance, Reinhard was explaining a number of his tactical theories to Hilda after returning to his office from the FTL room. He knew how highly Mittermeier had appraised her incisive planning; he said it excelled the firepower of a battle fleet.

  “Do you see some clever move we can make in this coming invasion, Fräulein von Mariendorf?”

  “If Your Highness so wishes it, I can bring the alliance’s head of state here before you in less two weeks, with no further fighting.”

  Reinhard’s ice-blue eyes lit up with interest.

  “And what would you require, Fräulein, to pluck this fruit from the branch?”

  “A single e-gram.”

  With unconscious elegance, Reinhard’s head tilted slightly forward in thought, then after only a moment, he broke out in a smile. “I see—you’ll have them feast on one another. Am I right, Fräulein von Mariendorf?”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “If I may say so, this is the sort of suggestion I’d usually expect of Marshal von Oberstein. Great minds, it seems, sometimes do cross the same bridges.”

  Hilda blinked to hide the surprise in her eyes, and then observed Reinhard closely. Maybe he had spoken to her that way expecting such a reaction, but before she was able to tell, he posed a new question.

  “Well then, what are the advantages of this plan?”

  “We avoid bringing war to the alliance’s capital of Heinessen, and we resolve this without involving noncombatants. We can pin responsibility for the alliance’s collapse on the leaders themselves, and shift the citizens’ ill will away from us.”

  “And its disadvantages?”

  “In the short term, at least, this will strengthen Marshal Yang Wen-li’s faction. With no one but him to turn to, each and every one of Your Highness’s enemies will flock to him. Also…”

  “Also?”

  “Following its success, this plan will likely leave Your Highness with a bitter aftertaste. Since Your Highness’s wish is to crush the Free Planets’ military in a head-on confrontation.”

  Reinhard laughed in a loud, clear tone, and a sound like resonating crystal glasses rebounded through the air of the room.

  “It would seem Fräulein von Mariendorf has a silver mirror, reflecting the hearts of men,” he said. That appraisal was rooted in memories of a fairy tale that his sister Annerose had once told him when he was a child, although naturally the young kaiser didn’t say as much.

  “Even so,” Hilda persisted, “without our resorting to cheap tricks, once they are faced with imminent collapse, the people will grow desperate, and some will surely come to us, peddling the sort of merchandise we couldn’t buy now if we tried.”

  “That is a distinct possibility,” Reinhard admitted.

  Finding himself in reluctant agreement with Hilda’s assessment, Reinhard rang a bell on the table. Young Emil von Selle, his personal attendant, appeared, and Reinhard told him to bring coffee.

  Even now, whenever Emil came before his dear young kaiser, his joints would all go stiff, just like those of an automated doll.

  This served only to deepen the affection Reinhard had toward the lad, who was faithful to a fault. If Emil had grown accustomed to the kaiser’s affection and become haughty, however, he would surely have incurred Reinhard’s displeasure instead.

  As Emil took their orders and briefly exited the room, his actions drew a smile from Hilda.

  “He’s a fine young man, isn’t he?”

  “With him here, I’ve no inconvenience. He’ll make a fine doctor. Even if his skills are less than perfect, patients will gladly trust him with their lives…”

  At times such as this, the ferocity and bitterness associated with one side of Reinhard disappeared beneath his ivory skin, replaced by characteristics of another side. “It’s because I’ve no younger brothers,” he said. With those words, Reinhard had revealed one small corner of his heart. As he himself was forever a woman’s younger brother, he seemed to take undiluted joy in reversing that role.

  While they were waiting for coffee, Hilda suddenly thought of her own status, and unusually for her, her thoughts ground to a screeching halt. She was this great young conqueror’s loyal and capable head secretary. Outside of that, there was no other position she should hope for.

  Imperial Marshal von Oberstein, the minister of military affairs, had been named commander of Phezzan Planetary Defense Headquarters, and as such was to be left behind. During the kaiser’s absence, military matters would be handled by the minister of military affairs, while civilian government would be managed by the minister of industry. While this was only the most obvious of staffing choices, both Mittermeier and von Reuentahl were thinking the same thing inside: With him gone, I feel like I can breathe again.

  Von Oberstein had received his orders with his usual unreadable expression, and now in a room at the building where the Ministry of Military Affairs had been installed, he was getting started on some paperwork. One of his subordinates, Commodore Anton Ferner, however, was experiencing the thrill of poking his “coldhearted, emotionless” superior officer with as blunted a verbal needle as he dared.

  “I had believed you were opposed to a second invasion, Minister.”

  “No, I’ve no issue with it.”

  Von Oberstein did not believe this sudden, repeated invasion would prove a panacea, but since the Free Planets’ government wouldn’t have time to mount an effective defensive strategy anyway, the conditions all balanced out. The important thing was to always keep oneself positioned to create the conditions, and not yield the initiative to the enemy. As high commissioner, Lennenkamp had marked no successes to speak of, yet through his own unfortunate death, he had played a role in driving the Free Planets Alliance onto treacherous ground.

  “Also, the kaiser is most in his element when swift and decisive action is required. When you think about it, sitting still and waiting for things to change doesn’t suit the kaiser at all.”

  “There’s no doubting that.”

  While he did agree with von Oberstein’s thesis, scattered particles of surprise danced in the look that Ferner gave him.

  II

  Having passed through the Phezzan Corridor and into the territory of the Free Planets Alliance, Senior Admiral Wittenfeld was advancing rapidly toward a rendezvous with Senior Admiral Steinmetz’s forces. At one point along the way, however, a tiny formation of about ten FPA navy vessels had been detected approaching in a provocative manner.

  The destructive power of the Schwarz Lanzenreiter could have reduced a weak force like that to so much space dust in the blink of an eye. However, from Senior Admiral Wittenfeld on down, the
officers and soldiers of the “Black Lancers” made it a point of pride to earn their reputations battling large enemy forces. With a generosity born of having ships and firepower to spare, the Schwarz Lanzenreiter tried to ignore the little flotilla, but the enemy instead began to follow them, persistently refusing to peel off. After the passage of about an hour, Wittenfeld, who had never been a patient man, could endure his irritation no longer.

  “The nerve of these guys. They just don’t know when to give up.”

  Upon receiving their fleet commander’s order to “vaporize them with one strike, and take the first blood of this deployment,” about one hundred ships closed in on the small fleet, licking their chops like ferocious animals.

  Unexpectedly, however, that tiny fleet then revealed that it had not come seeking battle, but rather negotiations. Just as their out-of-order comm system had been about to give rise to the worst circumstances imaginable, it regained functionality. On learning that a special envoy from the Free Planets government was asking to negotiate his withdrawal, Wittenfeld’s mouth twisted into a light smirk as he contemplated the matter. At last, he mentally snapped his fingers as an idea struck him.

  “In my position, I’ve no authority to negotiate with you. You’ll need to speak with Imperial Marshal Mittermeier instead, who’s coming along behind me. I’ll guarantee you safe passage.”

  Wittenfeld ordered one destroyer to act as both guide and escort, and then, accompanied by the Schwarz Lanzenreiter, sped even faster into the black space of the FPA’s territory.

  After being ignored by Wittenfeld, the special envoy from the FPA government likely figured that Mittermeier would be easier to deal with anyway. Led along by the imperial destroyer, they traveled for another three days, until they at last approached Mittermeier’s fleet and requested a conference.

  “Wittenfeld, you rat,” murmured Mittermeier. “You’re just pushing a troublesome guest off on me, so you can get farther ahead while I’m dealing with him.”

  Mittermeier had seen right through Wittenfeld’s prank, but as the Imperial Space Armada’s commander in chief, he couldn’t just slam the door in the face of somebody claiming to be a special government envoy. Clucking his tongue, he ruffled a hand through his honey-blond hair, and invited this “special envoy” to board his flagship Beowulf, and see him in the commander’s office.

  Special Envoy William Odets had been a solivision commentator prior to becoming a politician. A young man serving on the Defense Committee, Odets’ ambition was to employ his gift for eloquent speech, and make a name for himself that would be remembered for generations to come. Not even Lebello, who had sent him, was expecting very much out of this mission, but Odets himself was puffed up like a bullfrog with eagerness to “be the solitary tongue that halted the empire’s mighty fleet.” Escorted by staff officers on his right and his left, he exchanged a polite greeting with Mittermeier, then puffed out his chest and began speaking in his resonant voice. “Both the sovereignty and the territorial integrity of the Free Planets Alliance are guaranteed under the terms of the Baalat Treaty. In spite of that, however, the Galactic Empire is attempting to overrun our territory by means of entirely lawless violence, in defiance of the both the letter and the spirit of the treaty. Unless you desire hostility in the present, and criticism in the future, you should withdraw your forces immediately, and press your case through diplomatic channels.”

  As Odets finished speaking, a put-upon-looking Mittermeier made no attempt to reply, but simply touched his honey-blond hair with one hand. The special envoy was just starting to open his mouth again when a powerful reaction hit him not from the front, but from his left.

  “Hold it right there! What did you just say?!”

  Lifting his lanky form from his seat to deliver this tongue-lashing was Admiral Bayerlein. “Who was it that violated the treaty when they sold out our kaiser’s ambassador plenipotentiary, High Commissioner Lennenkamp? That was the Free Planets government, was it not? You’ve never had any intention of observing the treaty, and as our kaiser views you all as incompetent, he has mobilized his forces in person to bring you to heel. Any of you who have consciences should go and prostrate yourselves before him, so that needless bloodshed can he avoided!”

  Though faced with such fervor, Special Envoy Odets did not, on the surface at least, recoil. Instead, he said, “High Commissioner Lennenkamp hanged himself, and it was Yang Wen-li’s group that drove him to it.”

  “Well, in that case, why aren’t you doing anything about them?”

  “Because you imperials aren’t giving our government time enough to deal with them.”

  That answer brought a cold gleam to Bayerlein’s dark-blue eyes, like a meteor flashing across the night sky.

  “Time! Given time, Yang Wen-li’s group will only grow stronger, while your government does nothing but wilt and wither away. Even if you had ten times the force strength of Yang, I don’t think you could beat him.”

  “That may well be true,” Odets said. The special envoy’s polite reply was undercut by the venom dripping from his voice. “But in any case, not even Kaiser Reinhard, who has a hundred times the force strength of Yang, is doing anything about him. So there’s certainly no way an untalented man like myself could oppose him.”

  A silence that was like vaporized lead filled the room. Even bold Bayerlein, for a brief moment, seemed to have been robbed of his respiratory function. Special Envoy Odets had just stingingly mocked the fact of Reinhard’s defeat at Yang’s hands in the combat at Vermillion. The silence rapidly reached critical pressure, and when it burst, a torrent of murderous rage came surging forth.

  “You dare insult His Majesty, alliance scum!”

  Angry shouts from Büro and Droisen had rung out almost in unison, and Bayerlein, too, fiercely charged toward Odets, lithely jumping across a desk as he closed in on him. Already, a blaster was gleaming in one hand.

  That was when Mittermeier, who had kept his arms crossed and remained silent up till then, barked out a sharp command.

  “Hold it right there! You’re warriors, all of you, are you not? So just who do you plan on bragging to if you kill a man who walked into the midst of his enemies alone and, moreover, unarmed?”

  Bayerlein’s fierce outburst came screeching to a halt. The valiant young admiral suddenly went red in the face, saluted his commander, and returned to his seat. To the special envoy, who was trying not to look relieved, Mittermeier casually said: “There’s one thing I’d like to ask you. Let’s suppose one of the admirals here traveled to the Free Planets’ capital as a messenger, and then insulted your head of state. Are there any leaders in your military who would want to make him pay for that indignity with his life?”

  Special Envoy William Odets had no reply.

  The eloquent messenger had found himself dumbfounded for the first time. Something in Mittermeier’s expression was telling him that a slick, vacuous answer was not going to suffice.

  “There’s no one like that…unfortunately.”

  “Well then, how about Yang Wen-li’s people? They risked their lives to rescue their commander.”

  Again, Odets found himself at a loss to answer.

  “The Free Planets’ mighty government holds no terror for our kaiser, but Yang Wen-li’s rabble he does fear. And you’ve made the reason for that crystal clear yourself now, haven’t you?”

  Mittermeier rose to his feet. His unexpectedly small build took Odets by surprise. He had assumed that one of the imperial military’s Twin Ramparts would be a giant of a man, with a stature befitting his renowned valor.

  “Thank you for your hard work today, but it seems we’ve run out of things to talk about. If you’ve anything further you want addressed, you’ll need to ask the kaiser directly.”

  “That will be fine, Your Excellency. Although I would appreciate it, Marshal Mittermeier, if you could refrain from further military activ
ity until I can ask the kaiser to withdraw.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible. Whether or not you go to see the kaiser is up to you, but our fleet operations won’t be hindered by that in any way. If an edict comes down from His Highness telling me to withdraw the forces, we will of course obey, but whether or not that happens depends on how eloquent a speaker you are—it has nothing to do with us. Until a new edict comes down, we will follow the old one. In other words, we will continue our advance into Free Planets space, eliminating any resistance we may encounter. If you simply must halt our invasion, then don’t waste a moment—go before our kaiser. Making full use of your oratory here, I’m afraid, is an exercise in futility.”

  For Mittermeier, it was an unusually long reply, as if he were making up for the silence he’d maintained thus far. Each and every word became an invisible bullet fired into the heart of Special Envoy Odets. Eloquent speech backed by technique alone was not enough to sway the empire’s highest, most powerful admirals.

  The special envoy hung his head. It seemed he had burned through all of his courage and ambition. His mission had failed. If he was unable to convince Mittermeier here, there was no way he could talk his master, Kaiser Reinhard, down.

  When he had departed the Free Planets’ capital of Heinessen, there had been a gaseous mixture of passion, courage, and confidence filling him from the inside; by this point, however, its pressure had dropped to near-vacuum conditions. Even so, he put up a bluff and departed the flagship Beowulf with his chest puffed out. When he returned to his own ship, however, he hung his head dismally. The next several hours he spent shut up in his cabin, and when he finally showed himself outside its door, it was to announce in a despairing tone that he was going to go and plead his case directly before Kaiser Reinhard.

  A few days passed, and Mittermeier asked Büro, “Whatever happened to that blatherer? He started out so strong, and then just fizzled out.” On being told that the Free Planets’ special envoy had headed off toward Phezzan to make his case to the kaiser in person, Mittermeier nodded once, and mentally filed the matter under “Things I Can Forget About.”