Endurance

by Yoshiki Tanaka

  As Kesselring casually turned to look at a pastel painting on the wall, he was fighting off the impulse to burst out laughing. A wise man recognizes difficulty, but a fool sees nothing as impossible. Ordinarily, Count von Remscheid shouldn’t have been such an incompetent, but the idea of an Empire Eternal, drilled into him since early childhood, was no easy thing to overcome. And as long as the partisans of the old order continued to live in that fantasy, the government of Phezzan could use them, whether they defected to Phezzan or remained in the empire.

  The landesherr’s young aide was wasting no time that day. After leaving Count von Remscheid’s residence, he headed straight over by landcar to the home of another man, named Henlow. Henlow had been dispatched to Phezzan as the Free Planets Alliance’s commissioner, which put him in charge locally of the alliance’s diplomatic mission to Phezzan. Unofficially, he had one other duty as well. That was his role as leader of the alliance’s anti-empire spy ring on Phezzan. He thus occupied a position of great strategic importance for the alliance. However, position, responsibility, and capability do not necessarily all go hand in hand.

  It was said that the quality of alliance commissioners had been in decline for the past several years. Every time administrations changed, top officials would reward their supporters with lucrative positions in government. Business leaders and politicos who knew very little of diplomacy would show up, having gladly accepted commissionerships in order to burnish their reputations. Henlow’s father had been the founder of a well-known corporation, and though Henlow was now its owner, word had it that his incompetence and unpopularity had exhausted all the affection there was for him, until at last management had tactfully sent him off into exile.

  When Henlow, with his sagging cheeks, large belly, and tiny eyebrows, greeted Kesselring, he wasn’t quite able to hide his embarrassment. He had had it pointed out to him recently that some government bonds Phezzan had purchased from the alliance were already past their dates of redemption.

  “The total value comes to approximately five hundred billion dinars. Normally, we should ask you to redeem them for us immediately, but …;”

  “All at once? But that’s entirely—er …; I mean …;”

  “Yes, it most certainly is. Pardon my rudeness, but it’s entirely outside your country’s ability to pay. So I’d like you to consider our dominion’s forbearance in the exercise of its legal rights as proof of the friendship and trust we feel toward your nation.”

  “I can’t thank you enough.”

  “However, that extends only so far as your country remains a stable, democratic nation.”

  The commissioner sensed something ominous in the voice and expression of Rupert Kesselring.

  “By which you mean Phezzan is harboring doubts about my nation’s political stability? May I interpret your words that way, sir?”

  “Does it sound like I’m saying anything else?”

  At this sharp retort, the commissioner sank into an embarrassed silence. Kesselring softened his features and assumed a more polite tone of voice.

  “Phezzan truly does want to see the Free Planets Alliance continue on as a stable democracy.”

  “Quite right.”

  “Disturbances like last year’s coup d’état put us in an extremely awkward position. If the coup had succeeded, the capital we had invested there might well have been confiscated without compensation in the name of national socialism. Freedom of industry and the protection of private property are indispensable to Phezzan’s ongoing survival, and it would be highly irritating if your country’s government changed in such a way as to deny those things.”

  “I certainly agree with what you’re saying. But that reckless conspiracy failed, and my country continues to protect its traditions of freedom and democracy to this day.”

  “Regarding that, Admiral Yang Wen-li’s contribution was …; exceedingly great.”

  Kesselring’ s words implied that Henlow and those like him had made no contribution at all, but unsurprisingly, Henlow didn’t notice.

  “Yes, indeed. He’s quite a commander …;”

  “In terms of raw talent, reputation, and ability, there is no one in the FPA military who can stand shoulder to shoulder with Admiral Yang. Isn’t that so?”

  “Well …; certainly, but—”

  “And how long do you think such a man is going to tolerate being ordered around by this present administration? Have you given any thought to that, Commissioner?”

  For a time, the commissioner seemed to be cautiously mulling over the meaning of the young aide’s words. Then, at last, a look of surprise and horror spread out over his face.

  “You—you can’t be suggesting he would …;”

  In answer, Rupert Kesselring smiled like a student of Mephistopheles. “I see you’re a man of penetrating insight, Excellency.”

  It was not entirely without effort that Kesselring was able to say those words. Inwardly, he was actually cursing the man’s thickheadedness. Naturally, he would do nothing that might reveal his honest feelings, though. Right now he had to patiently guide the commissioner, as if training a forgetful dog to perform a trick.

  “But, but …; last year during the coup d’état, Admiral Yang sided with the government—he put down the uprising. Why would a man like that turn on the government now?”

  “Last year is last year. At least consider this: it was because of Admiral Yang that the coup could be crushed so completely and so quickly. But if he ever grew ambitious himself, who would there be to stop him once he’d mobilized his forces? Weren’t both Iserlohn and Artemis’s Necklace completely powerless before him?”

  “But …;”

  Henlow started to mount a defense, but he trailed off without continuing, pulled out a handkerchief, and wiped the sweat from his face. Doubt flavored with fear was making his stomach churn. Kesselring could see that clearly. Sprinkle in a little more spice and his doubt would take a decisive turn into suspicion.

  “I’m sure what I’m saying sounds slanderous, but I do have some grounds …;”

  “By which you mean?”

  Jowls tensed, Commissioner Henlow leaned forward. He was now just a cheap marionette dancing to Kesselring’s flute.

  “Artemis’s Necklace. Twelve attack satellites in stationary orbit over Heinessen, and Admiral Yang destroyed all of them. But do you really think it was necessary to destroy all twelve?”

  “Now that you mention it …;” Henlow said after a moment.

  “What if he viewed them as an obstacle to his own capture of Heinessen later on and so eliminated them early while he had the chance? I’m speaking solely out of affection for the alliance’s government, and if I’m wrong, I’m wrong, but I do think it would be best to have Admiral Yang explain himself.”

  Having exhaled all sorts of rhetorical poisons, Kesselring took his leave of the Henlow residence. After reporting on all that had happened to the landesherr, Kesselring was looking a little down.

  “What’s the matter? Something seems to be bothering you.”

  “I’m happy that things went well, but there’s some subtle something that just feels like it’s missing when they’re that easy to manipulate. I’d just like to do a negotiation sometime where the sparks really fly.”

  “You just can’t please some people. Before long, you’ll say you want someone easier to negotiate with. And even if today’s negotiation was easy, don’t think it was because of your superior diplomatic skills.”

  “I understand that. It was because the commissioner is in a very weak position …; both publicly and privately.”

  Rupert Kesselring laughed in a low voice. The commissioner was a man filled with worldly desires, and in accordance with the landesherr’s orders, Kesselring himself had provided the man with both money and beautiful women, taming and domesticating him for future use. Corrupting foreign diplomats did not
violate the moral code of the Phezzanese. Things that could not be bought with money certainly existed, but things that were for sale were to be bought at their fair market prices—and once bought, to be used.

  “By the way, Your Excellency, I hesitate to bring up such a small matter, but could we speak for a moment about a man called Boris Konev?”

  “I remember who he is. What about him?”

  “We’ve received a somewhat hesitant complaint from the office of our commissioner in the Free Planets Alliance. He’s not very cooperative or hardworking, it seems, and above all he is terminally unmotivated.”

  “Hmm …;”

  “As an independent trader, he seems to have had a passable head for business. But tying him down with the status of public employee …; Wasn’t that a bit like ordering a nomad to go and till a field?”

  “So what you’re saying is that he’s not the right man for the job?”

  “Please forgive me if I’ve annoyed you. While I do believe the measures Your Excellency takes are without fail the product of deep consideration …;”

  Rubinsky rolled a sip of wine with the tip of his tongue.

  “There’s no need to worry. Indeed, Mr. Konev may well have belonged out in the wild. However, I’ve got pawns that may look useless right now but whose purposes will become apparent later on. Just like with bank accounts and bonds, the longer the term, the better the interest rate.”

  “That’s certainly true, but …;”

  “How many hundreds of millions of years did it take for oil to form in the Earth’s strata before it became something that was usable? Compared to that, give a human being fifty years and he’s sure to show results, no matter how late a bloomer he may be. It’s nothing to fret over.”

  “Hundreds of millions of years …; you say?”

  In the aide’s murmured words was the ring of a strange sense of defeat, as if the gap in what the two men were made of had just been driven home. Kesselring turned again to look at the landesherr.

  “Even so, the direction that pawns on a chessboard have to move in is decided, but that doesn’t apply to people. They move whichever way they like, and making them into something useful may be surprisingly difficult . . .”

  “Don’t ruin my metaphors when I’m on a roll. It’s true that human psychology and behavior is vastly more complicated than pawns in chess. So to make them move like you want, you just have to make them simpler.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Drive the other person into particular circumstances and you can take away his options so there are fewer moves he can make. For example, take Yang Wen-li in the Alliance Armed Forces …;”

  Yang’s standing was a little uncertain at present. The alliance’s authorities were in what could best be described as a love-hate relationship with him. It made them uneasy to think that Yang might jump into the realm of politics with his present level of support and legally rob them of their authority. But they also had fears—fears Rubinsky had inflamed by way of Kesselring—that Yang might use his vast military forces to establish his own supremacy extralegally. Given these two concerns, the authorities, for their part, would have liked to have had Yang eliminated. However, Yang’s military genius was absolutely essential to the alliance. If Yang weren’t there, the Alliance Armed Forces might well fall apart without even fighting. Ironically, one could even say that Yang was protected precisely because of the empire’s dictator, Duke Reinhard von Lohengramm. If Reinhard were not a factor, the alliance’s authorities would have run wild with glee and gotten rid of Yang, whose presence would no longer have been needed. That didn’t mean they would go so far as to take his life, but they wouldn’t think twice about making up some political or sexual scandal to drag his reputation through the mud and rob him of his civil rights. A first-rate leader finds purpose in the question, “What can I accomplish with my power?” Whereas a second-rate leader’s only purpose is to perpetuate that power for as long as possible. And in its present state, the alliance clearly had leadership of the second-rate variety.

  “Yang Wen-li is at this moment standing on a slender thread. One end hangs from the alliance and the other from the empire, and as long as this balance holds, Yang will be able to stand, albeit unsteadily. However . . .”

  “You mean to say we of Phezzan will cut that string?”

  “We won’t even have to—just causing it to fray a little will be plenty. As we do so, Yang’s options will steadily decrease. Another two, three years and Yang will have only two paths left to choose from: either be purged by the alliance’s ruling authorities, or overthrow the present authorities and take their place.”

  “It’s also possible he’ll be killed in battle by Reinhard von Lohengramm before it comes to that.”

  The landesherr’s aide just wouldn’t stop pointing out potential problems.

  “I can’t allow Duke von Lohengramm the pleasure.”

  Rubinsky’s tone was plain and easygoing, but something murky was at work at its bottom. Kesselring had a feeling that Rubinsky was dodging his questions. “There’s also the possibility that Yang Wen-li will defeat Duke von Lohengramm on the battlefield. How would you deal with that situation?”

  “Mister Kesselring …;” the Landesherr said with a subtle change in the tone of his voice. “It looks like I’ve said too much and you’ve heard too much. We both have lots to do besides sitting here and talking philosophy. This plan will require us to set up Count von Remscheid as leader, of course, and we still haven’t picked the members of the team that will put it into action. First, I need you to take care of that.”

  After a moment’s pause, Kesselring said, “My apologies. I’ll complete the selections soon and then return with my report.”

  The aide left the room, and Rubinsky’s powerful body sank down deep into his chair.

  When this project was put into action, the Galactic Empire, under von Lohengramm’s dictatorship, and the Free Planets Alliance would be made mortal enemies. This plan had to be executed, however, before some politician of great insight arose and tried to negotiate peaceful coexistence between the two powers.

  On the firm jaw of the landesherr of Phezzan, there was a faint smile like that of some carnivorous beast.

  He mustn’t give them the chance to realize that the enemy of the Free Planets Alliance was not the Galactic Empire but the Goldenbaum Dynasty. The moment that the empire and the FPA recognized the Goldenbaum Dynasty as a common enemy that they should bring down together, peaceful coexistence between von Lohengramm’s new order and the FPA would be possible. And so they must never realize it. The struggle between the two great powers must go on for a bit longer. Not forever. Another three years, or maybe four, would be enough. Then, when the flames of war had at last died out, those benighted fools would never imagine who it was who ruled all inhabited planets, as well as the space that tied them together …;

  It was the end of February when Rupert Kesselring, aide to the landesherr of Phezzan, visited Leopold Schumacher in Assini-Boyer Valley, some nine hundred kilometers north of the capital. In a nation centered on commerce and trade, this region was one vast tract of arable land. It had long been left fallow, but just last year Schumacher’s group of settlers had opened up a collective farm there and begun developing the land.

  Leopold Schumacher had held the rank of captain in the Imperial Navy up until last year, when he had joined with the nobles’ confederated forces in the Lippstadt War, serving as a staff officer under Baron Flegel—one of the hardest of the hard-liners. The baron, however, had continually ignored Schumacher’s advice and opinions and, ultimately, had flown into a rage and tried to murder him, only to be shot dead himself by soldiers who’d had more faith in the advisor than in the commander. Afterward, Schumacher had taken charge of the crew and defected with them to Phezzan. In this new land, they had abandoned their pasts to start over. The thirty-three-year-old Sch
umacher had had a promising career ahead of him in the military, but now he was tired of war and conspiracy, and sought a life of quiet satisfaction.

  To that end, Schumacher had disposed of the weapons systems in the battleship they had ridden to Phezzan and then sold off the ship to a Phezzanese merchant. The money he had distributed among the crew, and then he tried to depart, leaving the future of every man in his own hands. His subordinates, however, wouldn’t disband. Although they had abandoned their homeland and defected to this place after their defeat in battle, they lacked confidence that they could survive in the dog-eat-dog world of Phezzanese society, where quick wits and craftiness were not optional and you couldn’t let your guard down for a minute. Tales of the Phezzanese people’s shrewd pursuit of profit were exaggerated in the empire, and the crew, made up of simple soldiers unfamiliar with how this world worked, didn’t feel like they could rely on their own abilities here. The only things they trusted in were Schumacher’s prudence and sense of responsibility. For Schumacher’s part, he couldn’t abandon the soldiers who had saved him from the muzzle of an enraged Baron Flegel’s sidearm.

  The soldiers had left the question of how best to use their shares completely up to Schumacher, and the wise former staff officer—also lacking confidence that he could do business with the Phezzanese and come out a winner—had chosen to go into agriculture. It wasn’t glamorous work, but it was steady. Not even a people as business oriented as the Phezzanese could live without food, and generally speaking they were willing to pay premium prices for fresher, more delicious produce. By supplying quality foods to merchants who knew how to enjoy the finer things in life, they could probably make it on Phezzan, Schumacher had figured.

  Schumacher had made effective use of the funds obtained from the sale of the battleship. He had purchased land in the Assini-Boyer Valley, installed a plain but well-equipped mobile residence, and acquired seeds and seedlings. For the defectors, a long, patient battle with the land was just beginning.