Legend of the Galactic Heroes, Volume 5

by Yoshiki Tanaka

  When he closed his mouth, the calm after the storm gripped everyone on the bridge of Hyperion. People followed the sound of each other’s breathing, trembling from the elevation of their own pulses. Von Schönkopf had said something he shouldn’t have said. As a child, he’d fled the empire with his grandparents to become a man of high stature, climbing up on his own abilities and merits to the rank of vice admiral in the Alliance Armed Forces by the age of thirty-five. With all eyes on him, he’d plucked a forbidden fruit from its branch.

  But how sweet that forbidden fruit was, filled with the nectar and aroma of conquest, hegemony, and glory. Not only Yang, but also those around him could almost taste it.

  Yang was uncomfortably silent. Not the calm after a storm after all, but what Frederica Greenhill likened to sunlight during Indian summer. Yang didn’t break open the cage of that silence so much as gently push it open with his words, by which he deepened Frederica’s convictions.

  “There’s that course, yes. But those clothes aren’t my size. Tell all fleets to retreat, Lieutenant Commander Greenhill.”

  Wolfgang Mittermeier had gained total control over the alliance supplies and communications base in the Eleuthera Stellar Region and was just about to head back when he welcomed an unusual guest on May 2. An unidentified vessel was picked up by the ship’s enemy-surveillance network, but when it was ordered to stop, what came back was totally unexpected.

  “We’re friendly forces seeking an audience with the commander.”

  The Countess Hildegard von Mariendorf stepped out onto the floor of the battleship Beowulf, greeting a wide-eyed Gale Wolf with a smile that was a mixture of physical fatigue and mental vitality. The combination of her cropped blond hair and men’s uniform gave the strong impression of a beautiful boy.

  “Fräulein von Mariendorf, what a pleasant surprise.”

  Prior to this, Hilda had secretly left the Gandharva star system and reached the outer rim of the Vermillion Stellar Region. Half by persuading high-ranking officers to defend her absence and half by coercive ex post facto approval, she had borrowed a speed cruiser. Then, just after the battle began, and after watching Yang’s first major assault from a distance, she had reached the Eleuthera Stellar Region as fast as humanly possible. Having not a single soldier to save Reinhard, she felt compelled to enlist the aid of an ally she could trust. She didn’t want to risk an FTL missive at such great distance, because this place was squarely in enemy territory and the danger of being intercepted was too great.

  “Hmm, so you’re saying it’s too late to head for the Vermillion Stellar Region?”

  “Yes, I doubt even the fast legs of the Gale Wolf would make it in time to save Duke von Lohengramm.”

  Mittermeier offered a brief, bitter smile, and asked the obvious question.

  “Then what do you propose? I’m guessing you have a backup plan in mind, fräulein.”

  Hilda nodded.

  Today was May 2, she explained. Even leaving for the Vermillion Stellar Region right away would put their arrival at four days later, on May 6. And they couldn’t travel in just one ship but would need to pull a grand fleet of them. After observing the situation from a distance, she could guess what would happen next. Yang Wen-li’s attack was unusual, and strong signs pointed toward Reinhard’s eventual defeat. And by the time they reached the battlespace on May 6, it would be useless to attack an enemy already on the verge of winning. Even so, the distance between here and the alliance capital of Heinessen in the Bharat star system was shorter than that to Vermillion and could be traversed conservatively in forty-eight hours. Consequently, by making a sudden change and attacking a likely defenseless Heinessen, bringing about the surrender of the alliance government and forcing them to command Yang to cease fire, they would save Reinhard from certain defeat.

  Hilda was unaware that Neidhart Müller had reached the battlespace at Vermillion three days ahead of schedule.

  “In fact, I proposed this once already to Duke von Lohengramm, but he refused it outright, saying that fighting and winning were all that mattered. While I do think his values are sound, if we lose, then everything goes back to zero.”

  Mittermeier tested the waters of an insensitive question:

  “Do you think Duke von Lohengramm will be defeated?”

  It was a question that, had it been posed to Müller by Reinhard himself, would’ve shut him up completely. Without hesitation, Hilda looked the Galactic Imperial Navy’s most renowned general in the eye.

  “Yes, if things continue as they have been, Duke von Lohengramm will experience the first, and final, defeat of his life.”

  At least Mittermeier couldn’t help but acknowledge the bravery and dynamism of this twenty-two-year-old woman. All the same, he jokingly compared her to the goddess Athena.

  “I understand you on that point. There’s just one problem, fräulein.”

  Mittermeier only sniffed the aroma of his coffee, returning the cup to its saucer.

  “That is, whether Yang Wen-li will follow a cease-fire order from his government. From where he stands, the fruit of victory is ripening before his very eyes, so why would he feel compelled to throw it away for a cease-fire? Doesn’t he have much more to gain by ignoring the order and taking that fruit for his own?”

  The soundness of what Mittermeier had pointed out wasn’t lost on Hilda. Who in their right mind would give up on a fight that was 99 percent won for a cease-fire? If he ignored the order and kept on fighting, he’d seize not only a military victory. Indeed, if the government crumbled within that time, he could easily seize its authority for himself as a hero devoted to the salvation of his nation. Surely no one would relinquish such an opportunity. Then again …

  “The possibility has crossed my mind. But I’ve concluded that an order to cease fire will be effective against Yang Wen-li. He’s had more than enough opportunities to seize power based on his might and military acumen alone. But he passed up every one of those opportunities and has contented himself with being a soldier, defending borders.”

  Mittermeier was silent.

  “It’s possible Yang Wen-li is someone who feels with every fiber of his being that there is something more valuable than power. And while I do think it’s a commendable trait, we must use it against him, underhanded as that seems.”

  “Either that, or he might suddenly develop a taste for power and ignore the government’s order altogether. This opportunity is much bigger and more tempting than any he’s been faced with before.”

  “Yes, it’s quite possible. Are you saying, then, that my proposal isn’t worth implementing?”

  “No,” said Mittermeier, shaking his head. “Very well, Fräulein von Mariendorf. Let’s give it a shot. It’s not like we have any other choice.”

  The rapidity of his decision, thought Hilda, was also commendable for the deftness with which he’d assessed the situation.

  “Thank you very much. Your approval means a lot to me.”

  “But I’m not doing this alone. I’d like to request a comrade to accompany me. Surely someone as intelligent as you can understand why, fräulein.”

  Hilda nodded. She understood Mittermeier’s fastidiousness as a military man. If Mittermeier didn’t betake himself to save his master Reinhard in the battlespace and captured Heinessen by himself, people would say he let, or seemed to let, his master die for his own military and political ambitions. Such a burden would be unbearable for Mittermeier. It was precisely because she thought the Gale Wolf was such a man that Hilda had chosen him as the target of her persuasion. Her judgment on that front was favorably rewarded.

  If she understood Mittermeier’s meaning, Hilda had something to ask him, despite knowing there was no need to ask it.

  “So, who will accompany you to share in your achievement?”

  “He’s in a nearby star system and easy enough to reach, a man whose abilities can b
e trusted. Oskar von Reuentahl. Do you object, fräulein?”

  “No, I think he’s an obvious choice.”

  Hilda wasn’t lying, but neither was she giving voice to everything that was on her mind. She herself wasn’t quite clear on why she’d chosen Mittermeier and not von Reuentahl. She’d never been one to put too much stock in intuition. If a police officer’s intuition was always correct, then no one would ever be falsely accused. Likewise, if a military man’s intuition was always correct, no one would ever lose. But her choice was founded on intuition, and as such had nothing to back it up.

  II

  Mittermeier changed course for the alliance capital of Heinessen. His men were perplexed to learn they’d be linking up with the von Reuentahl fleet. Karl Eduard Bayerlein, who served under Mittermeier, lowered his voice.

  “I wonder what Admiral von Reuentahl will think of this. Mightn’t it turn the imperial forces against each other?”

  “You’ve got quite the literary imagination there,” teased Mittermeier, but because the silent pause that preceded those words was short yet pregnant, it fell flat.

  He may not have had that much information, but this young man named Bayerlein sometimes demonstrated an exceptional ability to predict the future. While he was valuable for not being a simple grunt worker, he was slightly bothersome to Mittermeier for his inability to balance emotions and reason.

  “Von Reuentahl is a friend, but I’m not so mild mannered a person that I would keep a half-wit as a friend for ten years. You’re free to think what you like, but don’t say or do anything to cause useless misunderstandings.”

  “Yes, my apologies. I was out of line.”

  Bayerlein bowed his head deeply, but inside the shuttle on his way back to his flagship, he called one of his men and gave the order to prepare for war. When the flustered subordinate asked why, Bayerlein said irritatingly:

  “Isn’t it natural for a soldier to always be ready for a surprise attack? We’re in enemy territory here, not the playground behind your primary school back home. There’s no taking a nap beyond the watchful eye of the teacher.”

  Seeming to let slip something of his own childhood, he terminated the communication.

  Even he thought he’d gone too far. He knew full well that his superior Mittermeier, whom he respected, was close friends with the renowned commander von Reuentahl. Whatever had made him think they might turn on each other? He was gripped by this embarrassing thought. To think that he’d said such a thing out loud and not gotten lambasted for it! Maybe he should weigh down the wings of his imagination. But even as he considered this, for some reason Bayerlein didn’t think to rescind the order he’d given.

  When Hilda’s proposal went out over the FTL hotline through Mittermeier, Oskar von Reuentahl took some time to think it over. Even an intelligent man equipped with ironclad nerves such as his was hard-pressed to reply at once.

  He’d thought to himself, “What if I don’t come back?” when leaving for Gandharva, but if he didn’t come back, the other admirals would steal his thunder, and the value placed on him by his master would only plummet. None of this felt real. But the situation suddenly progressed as if it were beckoning him.

  Chief of staff Bergengrün had already come to report that Vice Admiral Bayerlein’s division, within the neighboring Mittermeier fleet, had taken strict defensive measures that were unnecessary under the present circumstances.

  Von Reuentahl fell silent, a sharp light reflected in his mismatched eyes. He knew that, among those under Mittermeier’s immediate authority, Bayerlein was the youngest and most determined commander. Wondering why he would act as if an enemy were nearby, he considered interrogating Mittermeier. But von Reuentahl thought he had the answer. If von Reuentahl not only refused Hilda’s proposition but defended himself against it, did that mean he would have to fight Mittermeier? Having observed Mittermeier’s behavior, von Reuentahl didn’t believe his friend had made an indication to that effect. If it was up to Mittermeier, his temperament wouldn’t allow him to remain silent. Did this mean that novice Bayerlein had done this of his own volition … ?

  Von Reuentahl’s mismatched eyes appeared placid on the comm screen, but Hilda saw the storm raging in their bottomless abyss. At least this time she knew her instincts had been on target, and she felt her uneasiness deepen accordingly. Had she, rather, brought about the unintended result of making men possessed of uncommon ambition and talent realize what an ideal opportunity this was? If they were made aware that there wasn’t enough time to save their master in the battlespace, perhaps a daring ambition might sprout in men who’d had no such ambition before. Feeling as if she’d done something foolish, Hilda was getting restless.

  But von Reuentahl, as if seeing through her apprehension and discomfort, smiled without a word and nodded deeply.

  “Understood. I will do as you say and go along with Fräulein von Mariendorf’s proposal. I will order all fleets to attack Heinessen but will go there to discuss the finer details. Once we’ve merged fleets, of course.”

  If I were to summon Mittermeier here, he thought, Bayerlein might overreact and think I was taking him hostage. Von Reuentahl pondered that point.

  There was no need to make things difficult. Von Reuentahl labored to rein in his heart, which was prone to escaping from the hands of good reason. Fräulein von Mariendorf was wise and abundant in stratagems. But not everything progressed in accordance with this daughter of the empire’s thinking.

  III

  Mittermeier and von Reuentahl, Twin Ramparts of the Galactic Imperial Navy, led a fleet of thirty thousand ships, breaking into the Bharat star system on May 4. By the next day, they’d reached Heinessen’s planetary orbit, throwing its citizens into panic by their obstruction of the twinkling stars. For the first time in its history, the people of Heinessen saw the Imperial Navy with their own eyes.

  Amid the confusion, Mittermeier’s announcement hijacked the planet’s communication network.

  “This is Senior Admiral Wolfgang Mittermeier of the Galactic Imperial Navy speaking. The airspace above Heinessen is under our control. I come demanding a peace treaty with the Free Planets Alliance government. I therefore ask that you suspend all military activities and rescind all arms. Failure to do so will result in an indiscriminate attack on Heinessen. You have three hours to give your answer. In the meantime, enjoy this little demonstration.”

  Mittermeier’s threat weighed heavily on the ears of its recipients. Moments later, one of the imperial ships fired on a single point six thousand kilometers below on the planet’s surface.

  A flash and thunderous roar filled the atmosphere. Its light blanched the fields of vision of soldiers and civilians alike, fading just as quickly amid a reverberation that beat their eardrums mercilessly. An orange ball of light tore at the black silhouette of Joint Operational Headquarters and sent pieces of it soaring high into the air. As half of these fragments were sent floating in a roaring shock wave, one of the soldiers taking cover on the ground spoke in a trembling voice.

  “How dare they! A low-frequency missile!”

  The direct hit of that missile was enough to decimate the aboveground portions of the Joint Operational Headquarters building. The Gale Wolf spoke to Hilda, who was watching it all unfold on-screen.

  “That should do it. Those in power don’t bat an eyelash when civilian houses are destroyed, but destroy a government building and the blood drains from their faces.”

  “Then you’re trying to avoid bringing harm to civilians.”

  “Well, I was born as one, so …”

  Hilda looked favorably upon Mittermeier’s bitter smile.

  “Admiral, could you please send one more message? Tell them if they surrender, we swear on the name of the galactic prime minister Duke von Lohengramm that not even the highest ranking among them will be prosecuted. I think that should be enough to lead them to a decision.”<
br />
  “Normally that would be a bad idea, but in this case it just might work. I’ll convey the message.”

  Mittermeier had complete faith in Hilda’s counsel.

  The landscape below was reflected on the giant screen. Deep underground, in a safe place far removed from ordinary citizens, a meeting of the National Defense Committee was already under way. High officers of the government and military were lined up, their faces pale as if hewn from tundra. At this very moment, “Marshal” Dawson, director of Joint Operational Headquarters, was staring at the screen with vacant eyes.

  Awakening from an unseasonal hibernation, chairman of the High Council Job Trünicht, who’d convened the meeting, broke through the mire of silence.

  “Here’s my conclusion …”

  Trünicht’s voice was, of course, by no means jovial, but it was also strangely lacking in any grimness befitting the circumstances. Like his expression, his voice seemed to be that of a mechanized doll wearing a mask.

  “We will accept the Imperial Navy’s demands. Seeing as they’ve declared an indiscriminate attack against the entire population, we have no choice.”

  As Chairman Islands of the Defense Committee made to protest, Trünicht needled him with his glance.

  “Have I been officially recalled? Certainly not. That means all responsibility and qualifications to hand down the decision to end this conflict lie with me. All I’m trying to do is carry out that responsibility to the best of my ability.”

  “Please stop this.”

  The Defense Committee chairman’s voice was trembling more from shame than anger.

  “It’s not within your rights to abuse the institution of democratic government to bring down its spirit and stain its history. Do you alone mean to let two and a half centuries of democratic history since our founding father Ahle Heinessen go to rot?”