Now in the crosshairs of Julian’s gaze, the father of Katerose “Karin” von Kreutzer was showing off just how hard a drinker he could be, standing obnoxiously erect in the midst of a crowd of drunks. Raining abuse on Machungo for his whalelike imbibery, Olivier Poplin walked over toward Julian with an empty champagne bottle in one hand. He looked at him in profile with green eyes shining like dancing sunshine, and without even saying a word, tossed him the empty bottle. Julian was surprised, but he managed to catch the bottle in time. Poplin stood next to him and followed Julian’s line of sight. His attack commenced swiftly, and was effective:
“Given the look on your face, you must know, too, Julian.”
“Know what, Commander?”
“That Karin’s dad is a middle-aged delinquent by the name of von Schönkopf.”
Julian couldn’t deny the young ace’s observation, neither with words nor with his expression. Poplin’s eyes were brimming with emerald mirth.
“Once things are peaceful—and boring as all get-out—again, I’m thinking of opening up a life-counseling office to advise fine young men and women. Young people seem to put a lot of faith in me, probably on account of me being so darned virtuous.”
Which probably meant that Karin had come to him for advice. Julian felt unsorted emotions dance in his breast, and for some reason felt slightly alarmed. “So, what do you think about all of this?” Julian said.
“That it finally settles the question of which of us is superior. After all, I might sow the same wild oats as Mr. von Schönkopf, but I’m not so careless as to let any sprout. Surely you agree, don’t you?”
Julian, at a loss to reply, ruffled a hand through his flaxen hair. “It seems we have all sorts of problems here, don’t we?”
“If you ask me, the problem isn’t that Karin’s been unlucky in life—it’s just that she thinks she has.”
“Really?”
“Which is why she avoids meeting him, and still won’t even talk to him. I don’t like the direction this is heading. I keep telling her, ‘Go see the guy—tell him to pay up on your last fifteen years of allowance.’ ”
The young ace pilot exhaled a mist of alcohol. The look on his face was 51 percent serious.
II
Yang had already explained the plan to recapture Iserlohn Fortress to the leaders of the assault unit. No one except for Julian, who was already familiar with its contents, was exactly feeling blown away with emotion. When von Schönkopf declared it “one whale of a cheat,” Poplin had agreed enthusiastically.
It was, however, a cheat their lives were riding on. To begin with, they had only limited military forces, and were going up against an outstanding admiral, superior numbers, and an enormous battle fortress.
Ahead of the actual combat, Captain Bagdash took charge of executing the disinformation campaign; at last he had found an opportunity to put his interests and the skills of his original vocation to work.
“What it comes down to is, he’s just a cheater’s accomplice,” Poplin opined, however.
And so it was that, no sooner had the New Year begun, strange orders began making their way into the comm channels of Iserlohn Fortress, confused though they were by jamming of various kinds.
To be precise, each order was in and of itself utterly ordinary and appropriate, but when placed side by side, their lack of consistency was appalling.
The first order arrived on January 2.
“Relaying orders from Imperial Military Headquarters to Senior Admiral Kornelias Lutz, commander of Iserlohn Fortress and the fleet stationed there. Depart Iserlohn Fortress within the day for Heinessen, and suppress the enemy’s rear guard there.”
Upon receiving this order, Lutz began making preparations for departure, though he couldn’t rule out a hint of suspicion: Could this be one of Yang Wen-li’s tricks?
On the following day the exact opposite order arrived: “Your duty is to defend Iserlohn Fortress at all costs. Mobilizing would make that impossible. Yang Wen-li often employs tricks and deception. Furthermore, individuals sympathetic to the FPA and Phezzan are hiding inside the fortress. In the event of your departure, they may seize the fortress and seal off the corridor. Repeat: this is an order—do not move from your present position.”
Lutz was hardly an incompetent man. Still, he wavered for more than just a moment over which of the two orders to believe. As expected, he couldn’t see that the contradictory orders had both sprung from the brain cells of Yang Wen-li.
Then, before Lutz’s mental scale could tip one way or the other, a third order arrived.
“Regarding your previous orders: some among your subordinates have committed crimes, and are being used by Phezzan to harm Iserlohn Fortress from within. Investigate immediately.”
To be on the safe side, Lutz had no choice but to investigate. And with over a million officers and soldiers present, there was no way he wasn’t going to find some wrongdoers. By the end of it, a squad’s worth of miscreants had been carted off by military police, and two squads’ worth of scandals had been uncovered. Among these cases, there were indeed individuals who had colluded with Phezzanese merchants, attempting to misappropriate military supplies to sell on the black market.
“I see now: His Majesty’s true will is for me to defend the fortress. That’s our kaiser. He guessed our situation rightly. I was on the verge of falling for one of Yang Wen-li’s tricks. I mustn’t move from here.”
Lutz’s mind was set at ease, and he began releasing the fleet from its departure-ready posture. That was when the fourth order came. This one, too, was of course from Yang.
“Admiral Lutz, why haven’t you departed? Leave only a portion of your force behind to defend and maintain the fortress. Make for Heinessen at once with the rest!”
“Hmph—a cheap trick. Does he really think I’m going to fall for that?”
Lutz loyally followed “the kaiser’s true orders” and made no move to depart Iserlohn Fortress. It was January 7 when the fifth order, again demanding that he mobilize, was relayed to him.
This fifth order Lutz also ignored. This, however, was the first order to actually come to him from Kaiser Reinhard.
It was only natural for Reinhard to be furious with Lutz, ensconced at Iserlohn like a bear that had gone into hibernation. Since his plan was to have Lutz’s forces suppress the enemy’s rear guard at Heinessen, he could not implement his strategy fully unless Lutz moved his forces; all Reinhard could do now was press onward, and rely on sheer strength to win the day.
It was during his advance toward Heinessen that Reinhard received the report: “Lutz’s force is not moving.” In a salon for high-ranking officers on board his flagship Brünhild, the young kaiser’s eyes flashed ice-blue lightning.
“Why won’t Lutz mobilize? Does he think so little of my orders?”
His crystal glass shattered on the floor, and each and every shard reflected the young conqueror’s fury, their rainbow-hued gleams seemingly flickering with it. The kaiser’s chief aide, Vice Admiral Arthur von Streit, threw a light glance at the ruby-colored droplets scattered near the tips of his shoes, then stated his opinion.
“Your Majesty, it’s possible this is the result of some cunning plan of Yang Wen-li’s. Is there any reason why he might need to hinder Admiral Lutz?”
“ ‘Some cunning plan’? How could Yang Wen-li possibly benefit if Lutz doesn’t leave Iserlohn?”
Reinhard’s voice was hot with anger. Not even he had achieved absolute transcendence, and as a human being it wasn’t possible for him to guess all the plans and tactics born in the hearts of others. For that reason alone, he couldn’t stop thin clouds of unease from flitting across the fields of his mind, and that realization only made the winds of his anger blow faster.
After a moment of silence, von Streit replied, “I beg your pardon, Your Majesty. That’s a question beyond the scant wisdo
m of this lowly soldier.”
When von Streit fell silent, Fräulein Hildegard von Mariendorf spoke up in his stead.
“Your Highness, Admiral Lutz not leaving Iserlohn certainly does run counter to Marshal Yang Wen-li’s best interests. And if that’s the case, I wonder if it might make sense to leave him there. If the result works to the advantage of our forces, Admiral Lutz’s temporary sin will be hardly worth punishing.”
Not answering right away, Reinhard’s graceful eyebrows formed a graceful frown. While he did acknowledge Hilda’s point, he had no words to describe how disgusting it felt to have an order he had given be ignored.
At this time, not only von Streit, but even Reinhard himself had fallen down a psychological pitfall that Yang had cleverly set for them. Lutz’s unit stationed at Iserlohn was not really an essential fighting force as far as Reinhard was concerned. If he had never mobilized Lutz in the first place, the matter would have ended there, but in order to put a check on Yang Wen-li’s maneuvering, Reinhard had felt it important to use Lutz’s forces as an autonomous unit. In terms of her conclusion, Hilda was correct, but that didn’t mean she had guessed the entirety of Yang’s trap. Reinhard, uncharacteristically hesitant about how to proceed, sent a half-hearted message urging Lutz once more to mobilize and attack. As for Lutz, once more he ignored it.
That was when yet another false transmission arrived. Its content was so blisteringly intense that the comm operator who received it went pale.
“If you’re going to ignore my orders and not mobilize, fine. Do as you wish. Once I’ve destroyed every last vestige of the Free Planets’ military, however, I will without fail mount a full inquiry into your crimes.”
Although it didn’t show in his face, this disturbed Lutz somewhat. He understood that the wrath of an absolute monarch was a thing to be feared. Should he mobilize or not? He couldn’t decide which of those contradictory orders was real, and which was false.
Lutz fell under Yang’s spell because he was trying to discern truth from falsehood based on the consistency of his orders. He assumed that the real orders and the false orders formed neat, straight lines pointing in opposite directions. If a real order told him to move out, a false order would forbid him from doing so. If true orders repeatedly forbade him from moving out, then false orders would repeatedly demand he do so. That was what he thought, but that didn’t mean Lutz was simpleminded. If there were anyone able to see through the chaotic tangle of orders that Bagdash, in accordance with Yang’s plan, was firing at him, that person would best be described as eccentric rather than gifted.
It was the confusion itself that Yang aiming for. If all he had wanted to do was get Lutz to mobilize, there would have been no need to resort to these tricks. It was in making Lutz realize that he was resorting to tricks that Yang’s odds of success improved.
Kornelias Lutz was an orthodox strategist, dependable and lacking neither knowledge nor experience. Off the battlefield, conspiracies, information warfare, and the like had never been his strong suit. It was fleet-to-fleet battle that both his temperament and his thought processes longed for.
But at last, he saw through what was happening.
“Yang Wen-li is trying to lure me away from the fortress so he can steal it while it’s emptied out. Come to think of it, he used that trick the first time he took Iserlohn, didn’t he?”
With that realization, a monochromatic light overtook the back of his mind.
No matter how outstanding a plot it might have been, if Yang was using the same method twice, that meant his wellspring of clever stratagems must have just about dried up. Lutz’s blue eyes took on a faint wisteria tint, as they often did at times when he was excited.
When Lutz’s subordinate, Vice Admiral Otto Wöhler, was informed by his senior officer that he intended to mobilize, he did not give an optimistic response.
“But, sir, with our intelligence in such a confused state, it’s uncertain which orders are real and which are false. Even if it means incurring Kaiser Reinhard’s displeasure for a time, it’s my humble opinion that we should defend the fortress, and not go out to fight. If we ensure, at least, that Iserlohn is secure, won’t it be possible to coordinate with His Highness’s forces, and make incursions into Free Planets space any time we like?”
“Your argument is of course correct,” Lutz said with a nod, not showing his anger. “I believe that the order to deploy was a false one sent by Yang Wen-li. ‘Draw the fleet away, and steal the fortress during the opening.’ Isn’t that the sort of trick Yang would play?”
Vice Admiral Wöhler’s eyes opened wide. “Then, even knowing that, Your Excellency still intends to mobilize the fleet, and leave the station empty?”
“I do, Vice Admiral. I’m going out with the entire fleet. I’m going to make Yang Wen-li think I’ve fallen for his plan. We, however, will be the ones who are fooling him.”
In a fervent tone, Lutz explained his plan to his subordinate. When Lutz led the whole fleet out to fight, the Yang Fleet, which was probably holding its breath somewhere inside the corridor, would slip through that opening and approach the fortress. When the time was right, Lutz would then turn the fleet around and catch the Yang Fleet between itself and the wall of fire that was the fortress’s main gun, Thor’s Hammer. Then they would be completely helpless before him.
“The wise are drowned in their own wisdom. Yang Wen-li’s calendar doesn’t have many days left.”
His voice trembled with the desire to avenge Lennenkamp and his other colleagues. The vice admiral saluted, showing his respect for the senior officer.
III
On January 12, leading the entire fleet that was under his command, Lutz departed from Iserlohn Fortress. The fleet was composed of more than 15,000 vessels, and the embarkation of this stately swarm of light flecks was picked up by the Yang Fleet right away—though since this was being done for show, that was only natural.
“Admiral Lutz has left Iserlohn.”
On January 13, that report from Bagdash was greeted with cheers and whistles among the crew of the Yang Fleet. Another of “Yang Wen-li’s miracles” was on the verge of coming to pass, and it was how well they fought that would determine whether or not it came true. Voices rose up calling for an advance celebration, and in no time bottles of whiskey were passing from hand to hand, each soldier drinking in turn.
In the midst of such a cheerful, fearless crew, not even calm, imperturbable Merkatz—whom some even called “the Yang Fleet’s only gentleman”—could maintain the dignified aloofness of his imperial days. Although he just touched his lips to the drink for appearances’ sake, when he awkwardly raised aloft a small flask of whiskey, the applause and the cheers grew even louder, and that was when he opened his mouth with something important to say.
“We have Lutz acting in accordance with our plan, but Lutz must also think that he has us acting according to his plan. He is an outstanding tactician, and the fleet he commands is ten times the size of ours. Unless we can gain control of the fortress before he turns around and overwhelms us, our chance for victory will be lost forever. The battle to capture the fortress will commence immediately. Vice Admiral von Schönkopf, I’d like to ask you to command the front line.”
“You can rest assured, Admiral. Just leave it to me.”
Von Schönkopf saluted, showing not a hint of apprehension. In that year of SE 800, he would turn thirty-six, a graceful gentleman in his prime. Watching him, Julian was remembering Yang’s explanation of the plan to capture the fortress.
“…Lutz is a fine admiral. He understands just how important Iserlohn is, so even if the kaiser orders him to mobilize, it’s possible that he’ll stay put and beg him to reconsider. And even if he departs Iserlohn per the kaiser’s command, there’s no telling when he might catch on to our plan and turn back. That’s why we’re letting him know up front what our plan is. If he sits there and doesn’t mob
ilize, there’s nothing we can do, but depending on how we leak the intel, we can probably make him think that he’s catching us in a trap. And to catch us in that trap, it will be necessary for him to be a certain distance away from the fortress. The farther away he moves, the easier it gets for our plan to succeed. You may think I’m relying too much on cheap tricks, but cheap tricks are what we need…so that Lutz can see through them…”
Lutz fell splendidly into Yang’s trap. At that time, the orthodox tactician—who under normal circumstances would have led a large force and an impregnable fortress to crush Yang’s group head-on without resorting to stopgap tricks—was 800,000 kilometers from port, watching on the screen of his flagship as the Yang fleet bore down on the fortress.
“They’ve fallen for it, those wandering bandits.”
Kornelias Lutz was hardly what might he called a frivolous man, but just this once, he couldn’t contain the joy that was bubbling up inside him. At long last, Yang Wen-li, that living treasure trove of trickery and ingenious plans, was about to become ensnared in his own trap, and the knee of the Imperial Navy would soon weigh heavily against his neck.
His joy, however, was not to be long-lived. Though he waited and waited, the white column of Thor’s Hammer—the fortress’s main cannon, capable at any moment of erasing those impertinent enemies from the sky at point-blank range—never roared forth. The commanding officer’s eyes were locked on the screen, while behind him, his staff officers were exchanging uneasy and suspicious glances.
“Why isn’t Thor’s Hammer firing?” Lutz shouted. A nervous, agitated sweat dampened the brow of the Imperial Navy’s intrepid admiral. His carefully timed, intricately constructed plan was beginning to collapse like a wall of sand.
On the other side of an 800,000-kilometer void, the tension inside Iserlohn Fortress had rapidly grown into worry, followed by panic. Operators flooded the comm channels with a mixture of screams and curses, and their fingers raced vainly across their keyboards as though they were amateur pianists.
Legend of the Galactic Heroes, Volume 7 Page 14