Dawn

by Yoshiki Tanaka

  “Well done. But don’t slack off until you’ve reached more than half.”

  “Certainly. Meanwhile, in the empire, our equity participation has been approved for the agricultural development project in the Seventh Frontier Stellar Region. That’s the one we spoke of earlier—they say they’re going to transport two hundred quadrillion tons of water from Eisenherz II to eight arid worlds and increase production of foodstuffs enough to support five billion people.”

  “What’s the breakdown of equity participation?”

  “Our government’s three dummy companies together hold 84 percent, so we have de facto sole ownership. Now, on to the subject of Ingolstadt’s metallic radium factory …”

  After Rubinsky had listened to the rest of the report, he sent the aide away for a time and gazed up at the scenery beyond the wall, which showed off the beauty of a bleak and desolate landscape.

  At present, all was smooth sailing. In the empire and the alliance alike, the leadership seemed to believe warfare was just battleships firing subluminal-velocity missiles at one another in space. That meant that while obstinate dogmatists were caught up in murdering one another, the foundations of both countries’ socioeconomic systems would fall into Phezzan’s hands. Even now, nearly half of the war bonds being issued by both countries were purchased directly or indirectly by Phezzan.

  In every corner of the universe where humanity’s foot trod, Phezzan ruled economically. One day, the governments of both the empire and the alliance would do nothing but generate economic gain for Phezzan and execute policies on its behalf. It would still take a little more time to reach that point, but when it happened, only a half step would yet remain before the final stage of their goal …

  However, the political and military situation was not, of course, something that could be taken lightly. In short, should the empire and the alliance achieve political unification of their vast hegemonies, Phezzan’s special position would lose all meaning. In ancient times, trading cities on both land and sea had yielded before the military and political power of newly arisen, unified dynasties, and that history could probably repeat itself.

  If that happened, the road that led to the attainment of Phezzan’s goal would be shut off permanently. The birth of something like a new Galactic Empire had to be prevented by any means necessary.

  A new Galactic Empire …

  The thought gave Rubinsky a fresh feeling of tension. The present Goldenbaum-dynasty Galactic Empire was already creaking with the degeneration of age, and to reinvigorate it was nearly impossible. Even if it split apart and turned into a cluster of little kingdoms, and even if a new order were to be born out of that, how many centuries would it take for it to happen?

  The Free Planets Alliance, on the other hand, had lost the ideals of its founding and was drifting along on inertia. The stagnation in its economy and the lack of development in its society had given rise to discontent among the masses, and there was no end of hostility over economic inequalities among the various planets that made up the alliance. Unless one incredibly charismatic leader were to appear and reconstruct a system of centralized power, things would continue as they were with no exit in sight.

  Five centuries earlier, a young Rudolf von Goldenbaum, his hulking body brimming with a lust for power, had taken over the political organization of the USG to become the sacred and inviolable emperor. Through legal means, a dictator had arisen. Would the day of his return ever come? If he were to take over the already-existing power structure, change was possible in a short period of time. Even if it wasn’t legal …

  A coup d’état. For those who were near to the crux of political and military power, there was this classical yet effective method. For that reason alone, the idea had its attraction.

  Rubinsky pressed a button on his console and called up his aide.

  “The odds of a coup d’état happening in both countries?”

  The landesherr’s question had surprised him.

  “If that is your order, I’ll see to the research immediately, but … have you received some sort of urgent communiqué suggesting such a thing?”

  “Nothing like that. The thought only occurred to me just now. Still, there’s nothing wrong with examining all kinds of possibilities.”

  It’s offensive that those whose minds and spirits are so utterly corrupt can do as they please with power they don’t even deserve, thought the ruler of Phezzan. Still, there was a need for the political systems of the empire and alliance to continue in their present forms for now. At least until the day that the true aims of Phezzan, which neither the empire nor the alliance could fathom, were achieved.

  VI

  The High Council of the Free Planets Alliance was made up of eleven councillors. The members included the council chair, the vice council chair who doubled as chair for the Domestic Affairs Committee, the clerk, the Defense Committee chair, the Finance Committee chair, the chair of the Committee for Law and Order, the Natural Resources Committee chair, the Human Resources Committee chair, the Economic Development Committee chair, the chair of the Committee for the Development of Regional Societies, and the Intelligence Traffic Committee chair. They were all gathered together in a meeting room within a magnificent building whose outer walls were the color of pearl.

  The Decision Room had no windows and was surrounded on all four sides by thick walls and other rooms. These included the Anti Room, for communicating with people outside the alliance; the Chart Room, where reports and other materials were compiled; the Intelligence Room, for data processing; and the Operations Room, from which the mechanism of the alliance was controlled. In addition, these were surrounded on the outside by the security guards’ antechamber, which formed a doughnut shape around all of them.

  Is this what you call the seat of open government? thought João Lebello, chairman of the Finance Committee, as he took his seat at a round table seven meters in diameter. This was not something he’d only just started thinking; every time he passed through all the infrared rays in the corridor to enter the Decision Room, that question preoccupied his thoughts.

  That day, during the meeting of August 6, SE 796, one of the topics being taken up was the question of whether or not to approve or deny a troop-dispatch proposal that had been submitted by the military. This plan, to use occupied Iserlohn Fortress as a bridgehead for invading the empire, had been handed to the council in person by a group of young, high-ranking officers. To Lebello, this reeked of extremism.

  The meeting began, and Lebello staked out a strong position against expansion of the war.

  “It’s a strange way to put it, but up to this very day, the Galactic Empire and our alliance have continued the war just barely within the range that our finances will tolerate. However …”

  Survivor annuities for the families of soldiers killed in the Battle of Astarte alone were going to require a yearly outlay of ten billion dinars. If the flames of war were to spread further, neither the nation’s finances nor the economy supporting them would be able to avoid fiscal collapse. Never mind that they were engaging in deficit spending even now.

  Ironically, even Yang had contributed to the financial woes. At Iserlohn, he had taken five million prisoners of war, and just keeping them fed was turning out to be a considerable undertaking.

  “To shore up our finances, we have the same two choices we’ve always had: increase the issue of bonds or raise taxes. There’s no other way.”

  “What about increasing the amount of paper money?” asked the vice chairman.

  “Without the finances to back it? Several years down the line, we’d be trading it by weight instead of the amounts written on the bills. Personally, I have no desire to be remembered as the infamous financier who didn’t have a plan and ushered in an age of hyperinflation.”

  “But unless we win the war, we can never be sure we have tomorrow, let alone years down the line.”

>   “Then in that case, we should put an end to the war itself.”

  Lebello spoke those words in a powerful voice, and the room fell dead silent.

  “Thanks to the strategy of one Admiral Yang, we now have Iserlohn. The empire has lost its forward base for invading the alliance. Don’t you think this is an excellent opportunity to conclude a peace treaty with them on favorable terms?”

  “But this is a just war against absolute monarchy. We mustn’t inherit the stars together with the likes of them. Do you seriously think we can just stop just because it isn’t economical?”

  Several people launched back with arguments of their own.

  A just war? João Lebello, chairman of the Finance Committee for the government of the Free Planets Alliance, crossed his arms, dissatisfied.

  Oceans of bloodshed, national bankruptcy, impoverished masses. If sacrifices such as these were essential to realizing justice, then Justice looked like a greedy god indeed, tirelessly demanding one sacrificial victim after another.

  “Let’s recess for a little while …” he heard the Chairman say in a voice devoid of all luster.

  VII

  After lunch, the meeting reconvened.

  This time, it was Huang Rui—who as Human Resources Committee chair had administrative responsibilities involving education, employment, labor issues, and social security—who was taking a hard line. He was also in the antideployment camp.

  “As Human Resources Committee chair, I must say—”

  Huang was a small man, but he had a loud voice. With his ruddy complexion and his short but nimble-looking arms and legs, he gave the impression of a man who had energy to spare.

  “To begin with, I can’t help feeling uneasy about the present situation: there are too many talented people who end up being used by the military when they should be used to help grow the economy and improve our society. It’s also troubling that the investments we make toward education and job training keep getting reduced. As evidence of laborers’ declining skill levels, I’d like to point out that the number of workplace accidents has increased by 30 percent over the last six-month period. In a transport-convoy accident that happened in the Lumbini system, over four hundred lives and fifty tons of metallic radium were lost. It’s plausible that shortened training periods for civilian astronauts had a lot to do with that. Moreover, astronauts are being overworked due to personnel shortages.”

  He had a clear and brisk way of speaking.

  “On this point, I have a proposal: of the technicians presently being forced to work for the military, I’d like to see four million of the transport and communications personnel returned to civilian life. At a minimum.”

  Huang’s gaze swept across his fellow councillors, coming to a rest on the face of Defense Committee Chairman Trünicht. His eyebrows twitched as he responded.

  “Please don’t make unreasonable demands. If we released that many from rear service work, the whole organization of the military would collapse like a house of cards.”

  “So the Defense Committee chairman says, but at the rate we’re going, our society and economy will collapse before the military does. Do you know the current average age of an operator working in the capital’s Lifestyle Supply Distribution Center?”

  “… No.”

  “Forty-two.”

  “That doesn’t sound like an unusual figure to me …”

  Huang pounded the table forcefully.

  “Because it’s an illusion created by the real numbers! As many as 80 percent of them are either twenty and under or seventy and over. Average them, and you certainly do get forty-two, but in reality there is no backbone of experienced technicians in their thirties and forties. Throughout all the machinery of our society, there’s an ongoing weakening of the software that makes it run. I hope I can impress on all of our wise councillors just how terrifying a thing that is …”

  Huang closed his mouth and looked around at everyone once again. Aside from Lebello, there was no one who met that gaze head-on. One had his eyes turned down, another casually averted his gaze, yet another looked up at the high ceiling.

  Lebello took over for Huang.

  “In short, now is the time to let the people rest and rebuild their strength. With Iserlohn Fortress now in our hands, the alliance should be able to put a stop to the empire’s invasions of its territory. And this situation should hold for the medium term. And that being the case, what possible need is there to willingly launch an attack from our side?”

  Lebello made his appeal with fervor.

  “To drive our citizens to even greater sacrifices than they’ve already made is to abandon even the basic principles of democracy. They cannot bear the burden.”

  Voices of refutation rose up, starting with Intelligence Traffic Committee Chair Cornelia Windsor, the only woman among the councillors. She had just been sworn in a week ago.

  “There’s no need to pander to the egotism of citizens who make no effort at understanding our great and noble purpose. And what great enterprise has ever succeeded without sacrifice?”

  “Madam Windsor, the people are beginning to wonder if these sacrifices might be too great.” Lebello said this to counter an argument that came straight from a textbook, but his words had no effect.

  “No matter how great the sacrifice—even if it were to mean death for every one of our citizens—we have something that we must do.”

  “Th-that’s no longer a political argument.” Lebello had raised his voice without realizing it.

  Casually ignoring him, Madam Windsor turned toward the attendees and in a strong voice that carried well through the chamber, began imparting her opinions.

  “We have a noble duty. A duty to bring down the Galactic Empire and rescue all humanity from its oppression. How can you say we’re walking in the path of righteousness if we, intoxicated with cheap humanitarianism, forget that great purpose altogether?”

  In her early forties, she was an attractive woman—graceful, with an intellectual sort of beauty—and in her voice there was a musical ring. That alone raised the danger Lebello sensed in her to another level. Was cheap heroism not clutching at her own ankles?

  Just as Lebello was about to make another counterpoint, Chairman Sunford, who had remained silent till now, spoke up for the first time.

  “Um … I have some materials here. Could everyone look at your terminal?”

  Everyone was a little surprised, and for a moment all eyes focused on the chairman—he was oft said to cast “a thin shadow”—before turning to their terminals as instructed.

  “This is the general public’s approval rating for this council. It definitely isn’t good.”

  The value displayed—31.9 percent—was not far off from what the attendees expected. Not so many days had passed since Madam Windsor’s predecessor had fallen in a disgraceful bribery case, and as Lebello and Huang had pointed out, societal and economic stagnation was a very serious issue.

  “And on the other hand, here is our disapproval rating.”

  There were sighs at the value: 56.2 percent. It was not unexpected, but the disappointment was unavoidable.

  Observing the reactions of all present, the chairman continued. “At this rate, it’s doubtful we can win in the elections early next year. I can see us being caught between the pacifist faction and the strongest hard-liners, and falling short of a majority. However …”

  The chairman lowered his voice. Though it was hard to say whether this was intentional or not, it was greatly effective in drawing in the attention of his listeners.

  “I’ve had the computer run some numbers, and it’s almost certain that if we can secure an epoch-making victory over the empire within the next one hundred days, our approval rating will rise 15 percent at minimum.”

  There was a soft stir of voices in the room.

  “Let’s take a vote o
n the military’s proposal,” said Madam Windsor. After a few seconds, several voices were raised in agreement. Everyone was thinking about keeping their committee chairmanships versus returning to the opposition in the event of electoral losses, and it was only during this interval that there was silence.

  “Wait a minute.”

  Lebello had half risen from his seat. Despite the fact that he was under a sunlamp, his cheeks were pale like an old man’s.

  “We have no such right. To launch a needless invasion just to maintain political power … no such right has been given to us …”

  His voice trembled and cracked.

  “My, you say such pretty things.”

  Madam Windsor’s cold, brilliant laughter rang out. Lebello was at a loss for words as he looked on, stunned at the sight of policy makers about to pollute the spirit of democratic government with their own bloody hands.

  From his seat some distance away, Huang was looking at the anguished figure of Lebello.

  “I’m begging you, please don’t lose your temper,” he whispered, and stretched a thick finger toward the voting button.

  Six in favor, three opposed, two abstaining. A two-thirds majority of valid votes cast was required for approval, and the yes votes had that number; it had just been decided to invade imperial territory.

  However, the results of the vote shocked the councillors—not because the mobilization had passed but because one of the three votes against it had been cast by Defense Committee Chairman Trünicht.

  The other two votes, cast by Finance Committee Chairman Lebello and Human Resources Committee Chair Huang, had been expected. But wasn’t Trünicht acknowledged by all as a hard-line hawk?