by Kali Altsoba
“I was there, too, admiral,” an older general adds. “It was terrible what she asked of us, what we agreed to do, and did to sate her rage. Pyotr is not the only ruler of this empire to bathe us in larger crimes.”
“The Brethren deserved every bit of it.” It’s the short, fat bird admiral.
“Maybe so. But tell me, admiral, are you a better man for having served the Red Dowager as she demanded, only to sate her lust for blood vengeance? It’s time to take back our honor from all these Oetkerts who so abuse it, and us.”
The last of the four stars finally speaks. Shockingly, he sides with younger one stars and colonels and the lesser ship captains. “That’s precisely why Pyotr must die. We can’t risk another mass bloodletting.” The other older men stare in disbelief. He just decided the issue, and against what they agreed before coming to meet these younger men in a hurry to end Pyotr and the regime.
A blond lieutenant colonel jumps in. He’s so young he hardly looks bearded, but he has been in twenty ground fights. Including a real nasty one with the ACU ‘Enthusiastics’ during the Second Shaka Offensive on Amasia, where bad orders from an inept Oetkert cousin in command cost him half his brigade. “I’m glad to hear you say it. If we fail to kill him this time, he’ll come at the whole officer corps. He’ll look to ruin us, like his cruel mother ruined the Brethren.”
One of the captains: “The chūsa is right. If we miss, there’ll be red days for a year or more across the Imperium. Then he’ll write us out of history as traitors, alongside the dead cowls his mother slew in their tens of millions. Why do you think he’s building up his so called ‘Shaka Army?’ He means to replace us!”
The first seagull protests: “That’s not Kaigun’s issue. And we’re not at all the same as cowls! It’s not the same thing! The Brethren wanted to…” Kee-oh!
“It’s exactly the same! Don’t fool yourselves!”
“What does it matter if it’s true? If we fail, he’ll say it’s the same, that we’re just like assassin cowls who tried to kill him as a boy. That will make it so, for billions of our gullible people, who want to believe in their Tennō.” The squat battleship captain is emerging at the head of a fast forming battle squadron. Full steam on, line astern, with the other ships following his turns.
A cruiser captain is alongside Captain Namid, running flank speed with the flagship. “Stop arguing! We must agree to do this thing, and be clear what it is that we do and why.” But they can’t and won’t stop arguing. They’re leaderless.
“They’ll call us regicides,” the thin gull laments. “Murderers of a king.”
“I prefer ‘tyrannicide’ to murderer,” pit bull Captain Namid counters.
“So do I,” says his close cruiser escort. “We’re liberators of our people from a tyrant, not cold stone killers.” The big guns are coming to a level aim.
“Phaah! What’s in the name of a crime?”
“Everything. This is self defense. This is patriotism, not foul murder.”
“It is foul murder, and ‘murder, though it have no tongue, will speak!’”
It’s the fatter gull’s turn. For once, he actually makes a point. “Our system supported good tyrants and bad for over 1,500 years. Absolutism is the natural form of government. We need only to survive Pyotr, not end him.”
“I agree, in principle,” Captain Namid replies. “Yet I say tyrannicide is just and legitimate, yes even for oath bound officers, if it brings the change we need. Remember, we have changed emperors more often with a flash of a black degen or silk cords in the dark than by waiting on slow natural causes.”
The cruiser captain fires a warning shot. “Stop! We’re not here to choose between good and evil, right and wrong. We’re not children or philosophers. We’re men of action, with responsibility for the lives of billions, on real worlds. We must choose between what’s wrong and what’s more wrong.”
“And then?”
“Then we do the first.”
“Indeed. That’s why we must ensure Pyotr does not survive this time. Or none of us will. If we take aim, we must be sure to kill him. A wounded beast thrashing in pain is a terrible thing to face. A wounded monarch is far worse.”
“Enough of this banter!” The room falls silent on command. The quiet four star is suddenly loud and forceful. He holds the floor. He sums it up. “The situation is more dire than losing our lives or even our families. If we try and fail, we will lose control of the war to SAC, both in its conduct and final aims. Nothing will ever be right again inside the Imperium, should that happen.”
“Because of Purity, the new fanaticism that displaced the old one, the Black Faith? Because it’s so deluded in its genome project and so in love with war?”
“Yes, Captain Namid. Because of that. Pyotr must die for any good to come from our oath breaking.” All the one stars, the colonels and ship’s captains, nod in vigorous agreement. Only the white gulls still stand their ground, at least for a little while longer. Yet even they can see that they stand on sand and a heavy tide is coming in. They must fly or drown. The fat one speaks for both.
“I’ll support this, if I must, as will my colleague here. Yet my gods, the price we shall have to pay for failure! May I still say that we risk too much!”
“We risk all. Have no doubt. Softness toward rebels is not Pyotr’s style or the ancient Oetkert-Shaka way. Knowing that, it’s time to decide. Do you agree on his assassination? Do you agree that it must be done?”
“Yes. The alternatives are even worse.”
“Call the roll.” The roll is called. A voice vote circles around the table, like a noose. The vote’s unanimous: zero to let Pyotr live, fifteen to kill him.
“At last! We agree then, in the end?”
“We do.” The conspiracy is no longer an academic parlor game. Now it will be played urgently, for life-and-death stakes. Their lives or Pyotr’s. His death or theirs, and their families. They have reached strategic agreement. Only the tactics are in doubt. Oh yes, I nearly forgot. And their leader. Will it be one of the four stars, or is their time past? Surely not a seagull! Maybe Captain Namid?
***
“Onur’s mistake was to plan Pyotr’s death as a secondary matter, almost a regrettable adjunct to his coup. Then when he hardened to killing, he put the original plans into motion in spite of their inadequacy and inflexibility. That exposed the Resistance nearly everywhere. Onur missed our last best chance, and set back the cause by years. We must do better than the Little General.”
“He did his best. He lived and died with honor.”
“He did. But it’s more important that he died a failure. We must start with assassination as the first order of business, with our troops and ships deployed into action only once Pyotr’s dead.”
“No, that’s wrong! That’s exactly what Onur tried. We need to behead the regime in the same moment that we replace its leader with a new government.”
“We must be sure that he’s dead first. No more clones! No more intelligence errors! We must be certain! We must make his death and our coup one and the same act, and do both here in the capital.
“And remember, this is a hydra we strike. It’s not enough to kill Pyotr. We must swiftly behead the many vipers coiled around him, especially the terrible gray snakes inside SAC HQ.”
“We failed last time. Onur tried to overcome royal defenses in this city. And we had the field marshal to lead and guide us then. What makes you think we’ll succeed this time, without him?”
A voice rises out of the dark. Not one of the fifteen. A sixteenth voice is in the room. It says: “Because last time you tried, gentlemen, you didn’t have me working with you and against Pyotr from inside the Jade Court. Every mistake Onur made, I anticipated and took advantage. This time, I can and will avoid or fix them all.” A lean, fit shadow exuding dark lethality steps from behind a shōji screen at the back of the room. Its lattice wood framing and black ink landscape etching is barely keeping out a rising, midsummer glare from a three-mete
r tall window facing out to a brilliant morning. They’re astonished that he wasn’t noticed until this moment, when he chose to announce his looming presence.
‘He must have extraordinary zen breathing discipline! He can’t have moved an eyelash, or he would have been detected by the security bots.’ The thought races around the heavy oak table. They know a few men in SOF who could pull off the trick. But then they realize there’s one other possibility. Whoever he is, he has the top secret GGS codes needed to disarm all the detector bots and slip into the room before they did. That would be much worse, that would mean he knew the place and hour they would meet before they did. Worst of all, there’s only one man on Kestino, or in the Imperium, who could pull that off.
There’s stunned silence as the lean shadow steps into the morning’s orange-white light and it’s confirmed that Takeshi Watanabe, right hand of the emperor and killer extraordinaire, has been in the washitsu the whole time, listening to them plot an assassination. Then a second, odder thought crashes the first, more frightening than the idea that he might arrest them: he’s going to help them do it.
***
Takeshi doesn’t even try to explain his presence or persuade them that he’s not, as they should all expect, playing at double agent like a cat with trapped mice. He just steps naturally into the leadership role. Just as astonishing, there’s no protest from the plotters when he does it. Their need to be led is too great.
He knows it.
They know it.
Destiny knows it.
So no one moves.
They know that even Pyotr suspects this man’s roofless ambition. They know that he’s willful, deceitful, immensely vain and more talented. They know that they must accept him as their leader or else they must kill him right now, in this sundrenched room that overlooks the Waldstätte Palast where a brooding Pyotr sits tensely on the Jade Throne. They know in an instant that they’ll accept his offer, and that if they don’t it will be they who never leave this washitsu alive.
He knows from everything he has heard that these are men he can delude and mislead to his own ambitions and purposes. They suspect this of him, know that he’s false to his core. But their pride is too great to admit that he can trick them. His charisma and intelligence so overpowering they follow him willingly, in spite of the great warning clarions banging! loudly in their brains. Yet, a giri ritual of debt and obligation must be completed. It must be clear who is kobun and who will be oyabun, who are the children and who will play the father role in a Yakuza pact they will make in this room, in this hour. Gestures of duty and hierarchy must be exchanged. Query and answer must be made. Above all, he must say it. He must say that the most trusted man in Pyotr’s inner circle will betray his master; stand before them and declare himself traitor and assassin.
“You heard?”
“Everything.”
“And…?”
“And I agree with the consensus you reached. Pyotr Shaka must die.”
“You would stand against Pyotr? You would kill him, after all these years beside him, after all the rising above your birth and natural station he allowed?”
“I would have done so far earlier, but the time was never ripe. Yes, I would and I do stand opposed to him. You’re right: he must be stopped. This war must be stopped, before we lose.”
“Gracious of you to say it, when you helped him start and wage it. More than any man in this room, you are the architect of his war.” It’s the thin gull, stretching his wings in threat. It seems for a moment he imagines himself as an eagle, and not as eagle food. Kee-oh!
“As you helped him also, and you, and you.” Takeshi looks around the oak table as he says it. “Are we gathered to confess our sins? I think not. We would run out of time, and there are other matters to decide.”
They already agreed on their own individual and collective war guilt, before they knew he was listening. No point debating that again. “How did you know we would meet here? Have you placed one of your spies among us?” It’s the pit bull, strongest man in the group and until a moment ago its emerging leader.
“Many more than one, Captain Namid.”
“Harrumph! How long did you watch us in our own HQs? How long did you wait for us to meet here today?”
“Too long. All of you were under close surveillance for two years, from a year before the Onur coup. I’ll help you with security protocols as we proceed, since you’re woefully bad at it. I won’t pay the blood price for failure that Pyotr will exact from us, not for your correctible carelessness.”
“Leave all that aside! Why reveal yourself to us now?”
“I grew tired of waiting on you, while things fall apart. It’s why I arranged this meeting.” Fifteen stunned looks flash at Takeshi. They thought they were very clever in covering their tracks ever since the Onur business, although not really surprised to learn that they were discovered. It’s the fact that he set up the meeting that shakes them. They all thought it was one of the four stars.
“Did you just want to bring us all inside your net, before you close it? Is that why you’re here with us? Is there a full regiment of Royal Canaries or maybe your mercs waiting outside that door? Tell us, damn you!”
“All? You are not a fraction of a fraction of the officers who want to move against Pyotr, even knowing what he did to Onur’s men. You are the 15 whom I chose, for a variety of reasons. Mostly, for how you all fit together. What’s the saying? Oh yes, ‘the strength of the wolf is in the pack.’” He elides over his key role in roundups, Honor Court trials, and all those military executions. He’s right. There’s no time to confess or confront their past sins, not even those. “No, I have not waited like an old man on the sea for gold braid fish to swim into my net. I waited only for you to come to your senses and to the right conclusion.”
“You mock us?”
“Not at all. I compliment you.”
“Why should we trust you?”
“You shouldn’t. Just as I don’t trust you, and you don’t trust each other.”
“How can we possibly pro…”
“Enough of this! I can be away from the Jade Court for only a short period. Pyotr pouts if I’m not there, and he is most dangerous as well as clever when he sulks. It’s time to move ahead with a plan of action. Are you ready to act?”
***
When one meets in secret with other dark thinking men, to plot murder and rebellion, silence means consent. So when no man objects, Takeshi doesn’t hesitate to take the post position. “First of all, those of you who still have doubts about killing Pyotr need not worry. None of you need to stain your family honor with a sovereign’s blood. You need only stand aside to let it happen.”
“How can that be? Will you kill him?”
“No, but I’ll arrange it. I’ll come to the act presently. For now, the key is to agree that when the moment comes you will jump your forces into action. His words hang in the air, filling the washitsu like a thick cloud of poison gas. No one moves, but each man struggles to breathe in the thick air of conspiracy. This is their true, mortal enemy. They know this. Can he also be their leader?
It’s one of the younger generals who breaks the gassy silence. “What about your gray friends in the Special Action Commando? What about the reaction of Purity? Will they, too, stand aside while we move against the man who declared himself their emperor and champion, who launched their unholy gene war?” In a question, in a single word, in a quick and casual “we,” Takeshi is accepted as leader of the coup plot. Its chance of success just increased exponentially.
“I’ll take care of SAC. They, too, grow mortally impatient with Pyotr. They think he lacks sufficient zeal for Purity. It has been ten years since he agreed to serve them, and yet he gives them nothing. We are bogged down on Amasia, the missing jewel in their DNA crown.” That’s a revelation. It was widely suspected, but no one besides Takeshi knew before this casual reveal that Pyotr cut a deal with SAC, with Sakura-kai and Purity, a full five years before the Krevan W
ar. Or that it’s the reason for the war. “They now understand that he’s not one of them, that he can’t deliver Amasia as he promised Purity. They want him gone, replaced by someone they control, or by themselves directly. They can be played.”
“Yes, they’re not so many,” a battleship captain chimes in. “We’ll have no trouble with liaison officers onboard our ships, if they try to intervene to save their claim and Pyotr. More trouble in the wider fleets, to be sure. But yes, SAC can be contained. Even eliminated.”
“But not yet. Use deadly force only if you must. The General Curia will accept losing a few men blamed for excess zealotry, but not a fleet wide purge.”
“There are many more of them on the ground than in the fleets.” It’s the blond taisa, speaking from experience on Amasia. They have an army. They’re veterans, they’re committed, and they know how to fight. It won’t be that easy.”
“I concur,” says Captain Namid. “It was an error by Onur to take on SAC too soon, while it was at full strength and he was not. It must be whittled a while before we strike a killing blow.”
“Exactly. On the surface of worlds where we move first to take control, kill SAC’s people only when you must, and only the officers and politicos. Find an excuse to do it, indiscipline or chain of command, but keep the death rate down. No one will miss a few politruks, but don’t touch higher ups. Not yet. Agreed?”
It’s truly astonishing that already they defer to his ideas and his leadership, inside the first few minutes. Maybe that’s why they’re military men by choice? Natural followers despite their brass and braid and big swagger sticks, denoting high rank and top commands. It’s even more notable that no one thinks to query his use of the plural pronoun, of “we.” Like he was one of them all along. His supreme confidence doesn’t just underlie Takeshi’s drive. It’s part of his unique charisma. It’s why he slips so easily and naturally into the leadership of their conspiracy, as if he invented it and even them from whole cloth. It’s what makes him potent and attractive to men and women alike. It’s what makes him far and away the most dangerous man ‘to peace and the right’ in all Orion.
