III
The disruption in the former alliance territories, renamed the Neue Land by the empire, seemed to worsen by the hour. Distribution of military supplies was a first-aid measure at best. The civilian administration that had inherited authority from von Reuentahl’s governorate cast about for solutions, but the blockages in the supply networks showed no signs of improvement. Some distribution bases were overloaded beyond capacity, so that supplies were left to rot outside the warehouses; elsewhere, fleets of supply ships roamed in search of anything that might fill their empty holds.
And then a report arrived on the desk of Senior Admiral August Samuel Wahlen: “Disquieting signs around Iserlohn Fortress.”
Wahlen was not especially surprised by this. Iserlohn had always been a “cluster of disquiet and danger”—had it slumbered always in peace, what value would its existence have had in historical terms? It was against the threat of Iserlohn that Wahlen and his fleet had been stationed in the former alliance territories after von Reuentahl’s death.
However, if the report was not surprising, it was certainly unpleasant. Quelling the ongoing riots and uprisings in the alliance territories was more than enough to keep him occupied, both physically and mentally. Military force would not be sufficient to deal with the Iserlohn Republic—more or less the sole official enemy of the empire—and he worried about the safety of his fleet’s rear.
The riots on Heinessen and elsewhere in the Neue Land are driven by both political and physical demands. Setting the former aside, the latter are virtually impossible to meet through military activity alone. The only solution is to restore the supply networks as quickly as possible, and I request that the administration act to effect this.
Such was the report from Wahlen that arrived at the imperial capital. Kaiser Reinhard approved it at once, ordering the Ministry of Works to see to Wahlen’s request. He also began assembling a vast force in the sectors around Schattenberg to respond to Wahlen’s request for backup.
At this time, the Imperial Ministry of Finance was formulating a five-year plan to unify the currency used across the entire territory of the new empire. However, the chaos in the Neue Land would cause delays in carrying this out. Given that it had only been a year and a half since galactic unification itself, there seemed little need for urgency, but the change of plans did not sit well with Reinhard’s perfectionist side.
Wahlen was not the sort of man to mix public with private affairs, or pursue grudges of any sort, but the child he had left behind in the older territories of the empire was never far from his mind. He could not suppress the desire to complete the imperial project of galactic unification as quickly as possible and return to his home.
Although Wahlen had not had occasion to hear Wittenfeld’s bellicose proposals with respect to Iserlohn, there could be no doubt that the existence of the republic was a factor in virtually every major development currently seen across the galaxy. Ultimately, Iserlohn would have to be destroyed.
Accordingly, Wahlen deployed his fleet at the midway point on the route connecting Heinessen and Iserlohn Fortress, making it easier for him to monitor Iserlohn’s movements—and respond, if necessary—while still allowing him to suppress the rioting in the former alliance territories. He had accepted command of the imperial forces stationed on Heinessen two months before—the days of superficial peace were over, and the true chaos of war was almost upon him. He had 15,600 ships under his command, which should have been enough to overwhelm Iserlohn’s entire military.
✦ ✦ ✦
Admiral Wiliabard Joachim Merkatz, who would turn sixty-three that year, probably lived the most regulated lifestyle on Iserlohn. The republic’s other officials joked that they could set their watches by the movements of the aging former imperial admiral.
Even the bad actors that were Attenborough and Poplin showed due respect to this exiled imperial general. Not only did they refrain from teasing him, they even treated him with the respect his position warranted. After all, no less a personage than Yang Wen-li had seen fit to welcome Merkatz as a state guest with all the honors. There was also the age difference. The thought of Merkatz stalking galactic battlefields ten years before they were even born made both of them sit up a little straighter in their seats.
After the death of Yang Wen-li, Merkatz had been given command of a fleet in the Iserlohn military for the first time. During the Lippstadt War, even if only nominally, he had moved ships by the hundreds of thousands, but his new fleet was two orders of magnitude smaller. Some might see this change in circumstances as a decline, but Merkatz himself gave no sign that it bothered him, quietly working under his commander Julian Mintz to form strategies, craft fleet plans, and lead his ships out in deployment. Naturally, he was not entirely without emotion.
An elephant treading on thin ice: that was how others had always seen Merkatz. Not just in terms of this military action, but also with respect to his position within the Iserlohn Republic. This tiny, tiny power led by Frederica G. Yang had to protect not just itself but also the trembling, vulnerable flower bud that was democratic republican governance.
February 7.
“Iserlohn’s forces are on the move.”
The report from the scout squadron reached Senior Admiral Wahlen by FTL transmission. This development, too, did not come as a surprise. It was somewhat unusual, however, that after maintaining a cordial neutrality during the Reuentahl Rebellion, Iserlohn should take action now.
“When are they expected to reach the mouth of the corridor?”
“Pardon me, Your Excellency, but they aren’t moving toward us.”
“Where are they going, then?”
Immediately after the words left his mouth, Wahlen chuckled ruefully at his own stupidity. The Iserlohn Corridor was an all but two-dimensional space. If Iserlohn’s forces weren’t coming toward the Neue Land, there was only one other way they could go.
“They are headed for the imperial end of the Iserlohn Corridor, Your Excellency. It seems they mean to invade the empire’s home territory.”
Shock rippled through Wahlen’s staff officers. A junior admiral by the name of Kamfuber raised an excited voice.
“Your Excellency! After causing us much vexation and confusion, it appears that those Iserlohn dogs are embracing self-destruction. Let us enter the corridor at once and ensure that they have no home to return to!”
Wahlen could not immediately agree with the proactive position his subordinate took. As a strategist of the finest order, he had no intention of underestimating the enemy. The commander of Iserlohn might be young, but he appeared to be deeply influenced by Yang Wen-li. Presumably he had some kind of plan. So he thought—still, if Iserlohn’s forces had left the fortress to invade the old core of the empire, it was settled imperial strategy that Wahlen should enter the corridor and threaten them from the rear. He could not simply sit by and watch as events unfolded. Like the leaders of the Iserlohn Republic, he was responsible for more than just himself.
On February 8, the Wahlen Fleet set off.
Allow the enemy to think that their wishes have been granted. At the same time, psychologically box them in until they are convinced that no other course of action exists—and don’t let them realize what you’re doing.
Here lay the essence of Yang Wen-li’s strategic approach. Yang’s insight into enemy psychology was so accurate that it had earned him the sobriquet of “Magician.” He could read the opposing side’s thinking as easily as if it were written on paper. However, he would have preferred not to. He resorted to this kind of tactical deception only because he was not in a position to establish strategic superiority. He had not been a dictator, or even the supreme commander of the alliance military. As a front-line commander near Iserlohn and nothing more, he had not been able to extend his authority beyond the bounds of those challenges that could be dealt with at the tactical level.
Several hypotheticals cast sorrowful shadows on Julian’s thinking. What if Yang had risen to head the alliance’s strategic command headquarters? What if the disastrous defeat at Amritsar had been avoided, and the alliance not lost the bulk of its military and first-class commanders? History, Julian thought, might have proceeded in a different direction altogether.
“And saved everyone a lot of trouble.”
Julian heard Yang’s voice clearly in his mind. He blushed. He had not fully understood the import of Yang’s musings in the past, having laughed them off with comments like “You sure do hate working.” The laughter of ignorance, indeed.
Three hundred years ago, an obscure republican known as Ahle Heinessen had managed to find his way through this dangerous corridor brimming with hardship with only a handful of allies by his side. This had been the Long March, with which the history of the Free Planets Alliance began. That history had ended in SE 800, but the memory of Ahle Heinessen and his ideals must never be lost. Such a loss would only give strength to a social system in which people yielded their political responsibilities to others, giving their “betters” carte blanche to rule over them.