Legend of the Galactic Heroes, Volume 7

by Yoshiki Tanaka

  Of course, his next operation was itself tantamount to fraud in any case.

  Yang had calculated with near perfection the time and circumstances under which Lutz would deploy from Iserlohn Fortress. Yang didn’t think the FPA was capable of mounting an organized resistance to Reinhard’s second invasion, which was why these calculations had to be perfect to the minute and to the second. Had he known that Marshal Bucock and Admiral Chung Wu-cheng were pulling together the remnants of the FPA Armed Forces in order to challenge Reinhard, he would have needed to devise a different equation.

  Regarding this hypothetical, many historians theorize that “Yang Wen-li would have probably, for the first time in his life, thrown himself into a battle he had no hope of winning,” although there are also those who display an extremely harsh opinion of Yang: “If word of Marshal Bucock’s mobilization had reached Yang, he would have been forced to make an extremely painful choice: stand by and watch as a beloved superior died, or join in a battle he couldn’t possibly win. Suppress his reason, or sacrifice his emotions? It was because Yang didn’t know that he was able to devote his full attention to the artist’s task of retaking Iserlohn. Yang Wen-li was a lucky artist indeed.”

  The evaluation above reeks of prosecutorial malice, yet it does tell half of the truth. Yang believed that Bucock had retired, was taking care of the infirmities that came with advanced age, and would never go out into public life again. That was why, even when he had fled from Heinessen, he had refrained from involving the old admiral whom he so loved and respected. When he had met Reinhard in person after the Vermillion War, Reinhard had clearly stated that he would not seek to punish Bucock. He had kept that promise, and Yang had been sure he would continue to do so. On that point, Yang believed him implicitly.

  Of course, Yang’s prediction was, in the end, completely mistaken.

  As one more piece of evidence that Yang was preoccupied with the retaking of Iserlohn, one may point to his delay in inspecting the optical disc that Julian had brought back from Earth. The recapture of Iserlohn Fortress was everything, and Yang viewed the disc as something to examine only after he was on firmer strategic footing. He was already carrying a load greater than he could bear, and if another important matter was added to that, even Yang’s brain might overload and start throwing sparks. He most certainly was not taking intelligence on the Church of Terra lightly. Still, the fact remains that he received just a basic report from Julian and Olivier Poplin, and that the reporters themselves were more focused on the work ahead than on a past success. Julian and Poplin had both expressed regret—though the phrasing had differed according to their individual characters—at having missed out on the escape from Heinessen; now neither was about let himself be excluded from the plan to return to their “home sweet home.”

  In any case, Yang was at this time concocting a plan that in times to come would be praised by many a military scholar—those who disliked Yang would say it was less a tactic than a magic trick, and not helpful for others to learn from.

  Naturally, Yang intended to personally command the fleet that would nick Iserlohn Fortress, but the independent government of El Facil did not welcome the idea of his absence. What if a military force from the empire or the Free Planets Alliance were to attack, or an anti-revolutionary uprising were to occur during his absence? When Yang told them he would leave Admiral Merkatz behind to hold the fort, their unease and suspicion had been impossible to conceal, and Yang, infuriated, would have walked out of the meeting without another word if Frederica hadn’t pulled on his sleeve.

  What drove Yang crazy was that Merkatz, as a defector from the empire, was ostracized because his loyalty and trust were most likely directed toward Yang personally. Excessive trust in Yang Wen-li alone, and great wariness toward those whom Yang led, were strongly characteristic at this time of the civilians in El Facil’s independent government, and when it came down to it, they are believed to have been fearful that Yang’s party would usurp control and establish a military administration.

  In the end, Commander in Chief Yang ended up staying behind on El Facil with Caselnes, Attenborough, Commander Rainer Blumhardt, and Frederica, where he was to take charge of and command the entire operation from the rear. Admiral Merkatz took command of the forward unit, and command of combat operations during the capture of the fortress went to von Schönkopf. The following officers—Rinz, von Schneider, Poplin, Bagdash, and Julian—would also participate in combat. Yang would have liked to have had Julian by his side rather than on the front line, but he couldn’t just ignore the young man’s wishes. It is possible that a meeting he’d had with Boris Konev earlier had influenced his thinking somewhat.

  In times to come, the dominant image of Yang Wen-li would be that of a strategist in the rear commanding his admirals on the front, but this operation to retake the fortress was in fact his first time using that configuration. Up until then, Yang had commanded every operation he had devised from the very front lines, uniting in himself the role of both strategic planner and tactical executor. One reason he so respected his rival, Reinhard von Lohengramm, was the fact that the young, golden-haired dictator always led his forces into battle himself. Yang believed it was those who stood at the top who should brave the greatest dangers, and he had always lived that belief himself.

  From now on, however, the situation was going to be a little different. One more responsibility that Yang could not shirk had been pressed upon him. He himself was still a young man, and although he was capable of leading military affairs for decades to come, the need to train the generation that would come after him was urgent, and growing rapidly. For that reason, he also had to ask the seasoned veteran Merkatz to do more supervising than commanding, and to let Attenborough gain experience in overseeing the progress of the battle as a whole.

  IV

  During the preparations for the assault against Iserlohn, Yang called in Boris Konev prior to making personnel decisions, and asked him to negotiate and organize on Phezzan, so that the anti-Imperial faction of merchants there might secretly lend support to El Facil’s finances.

  “No matter what kind of promissory notes El Facil’s government might issue, the odds are very high that they’ll never be honored. It might sound funny to hear me say this, but to get the Phezzanese dancing to your tune, you’ve got to offer conditions attractive enough to make it seem worthwhile.”

  Boris Konev’s words sounded plausible enough, and fundamentally, he had accepted Yang’s request. As was his wont, however, he couldn’t let things go without first trying to throw back a curveball. “Actually, the seeds of a threat would also work. If the empire controls all of inhabited space, that won’t be good for Phezzan. If things look to be headed that way, Yang, they’ll have no choice but to support you.”

  “How about this, then? ‘In light of negative effects stemming from the Phezzan people’s pursuit of profits, the empire will make it its goal to distribute Phezzan’s wealth equally and end the monopolization of the means of production. All industries are to be nationalized.’ ”

  “If that’s factual, it’s going to be a nightmare. But could it be factual, I wonder?”

  “It might become factual. The kaiser hates the monopolization of wealth. How are the empire’s Boyar nobles being repaid for that now?”

  “I can’t imagine you being a fan of monopolies either…” For just an instant, Konev seemed to grin wryly. “Well, if you’re gonna pick a fight anyway, the stronger the other guy, the more it’s worth doing. Still, I’m not without a question or two.” Boris picked up his teacup, but didn’t drink from it. “I want to ask you this directly and up front: are you really serious about bringing down Kaiser Reinhard?”

  Now Boris Konev had not even a cold smile. The expression plastered on his face went beyond mere seriousness. “So far, Kaiser Reinhard hasn’t misgoverned, and he’s got talent and military strength enough to unite all of space. Once he’s over
thrown, Yang, what guarantee is there that things will get better?”

  “There is none.”

  Truth be told, Yang was still trying to think of some way to save democracy without bringing down Reinhard, but thus far had arrived at no breakthrough.

  “At least you’re honest. In that case, I’ll leave that one aside and ask you one more: once republican democracy has grown this weak, there’s no guarantee it will ever recover—no matter how hard you may try to make that happen. Even if you do involve Phezzan, you might just get taken advantage of. Even though all of this could end up being for nothing, you’re still okay with this?”

  “Maybe,” Yang said, taking a sip of tea that had cooled completely. “Still, if you don’t scatter any grass seed because it’s just going to wither eventually, the grass won’t ever grow. We can’t not eat just because we’ll get hungry again. Isn’t that right, Boris?”

  Boris Konev softly clucked his tongue.

  “Your metaphors are lame, but they’re also right.”

  “After Rudolf von Goldenbaum destroyed the old Galactic Federation with his usurpation, two centuries passed before Ahle Heinessen appeared. Once republican democracy is completely uprooted, things get really harsh before it comes back. Even if it’s going to take generations, I still want to lighten the next generation’s burden just a bit.”

  “By ‘next generation,’ you mean Julian?”

  “Julian’s one of them, certainly.”

  “Julian’s got a lot of potential. Working with him these past few months, I’ve come to see that very clearly.

  As a pleased expression appeared on Yang’s face, Konev threw him an ironic glance.

  “But, Yang, no matter how great a singing voice Julian might have, at least for now, he can only use it on the stage that is the palm of your hand. Though I think this is something you’ve known for a long time yourself.”

  As Yang appeared unwilling to answer, Boris Konev returned his cup of untouched tea to its saucer and crossed his arms. “A student who’s too faithful to his master will never surpass him. If things continue along this path, Julian will never be anything more than a reproduction of you on a regressive scale. Although that alone is plenty impressive…”

  Boris’s critical way of putting it rubbed Yang slightly the wrong way. Though Yang was well aware of what his friend was like, there were still times when he could get his feelings hurt. This was because Boris knew how to poke Yang exactly where it hurt.

  “Julian has a lot more potential than I do,” said Yang, “so that isn’t worth worrying over.”

  “In that case, let me ask this: what kind of teacher did you study under? No, not just you—Kaiser Reinhard must’ve raised himself, too. Even if Julian outstrips you in terms of raw potential, it’s very possible he’ll never come close to you, depending on how he’s brought up. Actually, there’s something related to that that bothers me a little.”

  Boris Konev’s fingertips pinched his chin as his tea reflected the uncertain outline of his upper body.

  Julian had not tried to analyze the optical disc they had obtained on Earth himself. He had brought it to Yang still sealed, intending to yield judgment and analysis to Yang. As an expression of fidelity, this was nothing to complain of, but had it been up to him, Boris would have looked through that disc himself first. Then, even if the disc were lost, he could have become a living record, surpassing those more highly ranked in terms of the set amount of data he had, and raising the value of his own existence.

  “Julian ought to be a little more rebellious. After all, rebelliousness is the fountainhead of independence and self-reliance.”

  “That’s a nice line, but have you told him that?”

  “How could I? I can’t say embarrassing things like that.”

  After Boris Konev had promised him his best efforts and departed, Yang ill-manneredly threw both of his legs up on the table, and set his beret on top of his face. While it wasn’t exactly the fault of Boris Konev, he was feeling no small amount of exhaustion. At any rate, it was the government of El Facil—not him—that should be promoting secret handshakes with Phezzanese merchants.

  Yang’s political stance at this time would in the future become the object of many a debate.

  “…Yang Wen-li, ultimately unable to embrace an individual as the object of his political devotion, was forced instead to look for it in a system. The system of republican democratic government. And systems, when it comes down to it, are formalities. Although he understood all too well that in extreme times, extreme measures and extreme talents are necessary, the reason that he ultimately did not try to become head of the revolutionary government himself was his fixation with the system of civilian control that is republican democratic government. In fact, El Facil’s revolutionary government was established due to the military might and personnel resources of Yang Wen-li’s faction, and no one could have criticized Yang if he had chosen to stand at its top.”

  “…The most tragic fact was that only one man existed at the time who had character sufficient to stand above Yang, and he was one who could never be the object of Yang’s political devotion: Reinhard von Lohengramm. As a dictator, and as an autocrat, Yang held Reinhard von Lohengramm in utmost esteem. This applied to both his talents and abilities. Beyond that, he even liked and respected him personally. Reinhard, however, due to his truly exceptional gifts, became the greatest enemy of the republican democratic system. Within the strict confines of the republican democratic system, Reinhard could never have exercised his gifts to their fullest. It was only dictatorship to which his immense genius was suited.”

  “…Yang understood all this very well. Which was exactly why he could not step beyond the bounds of the republican democratic system. The moment he used the excuse of an ‘emergency’ to exceed the system’s framework and become a dictator in both the political and military spheres, the universe would exist as nothing more than a stage for the standoff between the tyrant Reinhard von Lohengramm and the dictator Yang Wen-li. If that standoff was going to call out for bloodshed, Yang considered it infinitely preferable to offer everything up to Reinhard instead. Even if he had to bet on bloodshed and employ tactical trickery, it was the republican democratic system he had to defend.”

  “…The critical view of this idea of Yang’s, which paints it as a hidebound formalism, can, of course, be established. ‘It’s not the system, but the spirit; Yang, by fixating excessively on the outward appearance, abandoned his responsibility to defend the inner truth,’ they say. However, as a student of history, Yang knew of many wicked dictators who had used that line of reasoning. He also knew that the majority of dictators had appeared because they were wished for, and that their source of popular support was not the people’s loyalty to a political system, but to an individual. He knew that his own subordinates tended to be loyal to him personally more than they were to the republican democratic system, and that meant he could never stand at the top. He knew very well that the chaotic combination of supreme military power and utmost popularity produced an illness that was deadly to the republican democratic system. More than anyone else, it was he himself that he feared, should authority become concentrated in his person. Who has the right to call that cowardice…?”

  This essay, written with great effort to preserve its neutrality, was penned by Julian Mintz. It was a work he poured both his passion and reason into, but if Boris Konev had read it, he might have thought, “He’s got no rebelliousness in him.” If Yang himself had read it, he would have certainly scratched his head and looked away. In any case, it was certain that Yang Wen-li, who looked carefree at first glance, had no small number of worries.

  I

  THE ASSAULT UNIT commanded by Admiral Merkatz, tasked with the recapture of Iserlohn Fortress, rang in the New Year of SE 800 in a remote corner of the Iserlohn Corridor. No matter how fierce the mission baring its fangs before them, it was
simply their style to stick out their tongues and pop champagne corks. As Olivier Poplin put it, “Iserlohn Fortress isn’t going to run away, but we can only toast the New Year now.”

  Unusually for him, Walter von Schönkopf was in agreement. The two of them had been taking turns pouring champagne into Julian’s glass when Louis Machungo came by, took Julian’s glass from him, and turned toward Poplin. “You’re making him drink like he’s an elephant,” he scolded.

  Julian shook his head, trying to rid his body of excess alcohol content. He looked over at von Schönkopf, and the story that Dusty Attenborough—whom they’d left behind on El Facil—had told him came bubbling up from the depths of his consciousness.

  “It’s not like I was seriously hoping for a quarrel in the von Schönkopf family,” Attenborough had said earlier, defending himself from a question Julian hadn’t even asked.

  Just before the assault unit had mobilized, Attenborough had made it a point to inform von Schönkopf that his daughter was about to head into combat for the first time.

  “Vice Admiral, are you aware that a teenaged junior officer named Katerose von Kreutzer is in this unit?”

  Contrary to Dusty’s unspoken expectation, the aristocratic defector had displayed not a feather’s weight of surprise.

  “She a looker?”

  “Er…why do you ask?”

  “If she is, she’s my daughter. If she isn’t, it’s somebody else with the same first and last name.”

  “She’s…a looker,” Attenborough had admitted with resignation.

  Von Schönkopf had nodded, and proceeded to delete the name of Katerose von Kreutzer from the list of volunteers for the Iserlohn campaign.