IV
March 20, year 3 of the New Imperial Calendar.
As von Oberstein set foot on the surface of the planet Heinessen, his face betrayed no sentiment in particular. Wittenfeld, who had been forced to travel with von Oberstein despite his strenuous objections, muttered bitterly to his back, “I don’t fear death in the slightest, but I won’t go down with von Oberstein. If I had to share the ride to Valhalla with him, I’d kick him out of the Valkyries’ chariot before we arrived.”
His staff officer, Rear Admiral Eugen, warned Wittenfeld that he was speaking too loudly, but the flame-haired fighter only scowled. He was only acting in accordance with a rule passed down in the Wittenfeld family for generations: be loud in your praise of others, but even louder in your denunciations. Then he sneezed twice. Heinessen was so cold it was as if the seasons had wound back a full three weeks.
Von Oberstein himself coldly ignored the disparaging tune that the Black Lancers’ commander was playing. Elsheimer, the chief civilian bureaucrat, met them at the spaceport and accompanied him to the building that von Reuentahl had chosen as the seat of his governorate. Wittenfeld and Müller staked out their respective command centers in a hotel near the central spaceport, then got down to the matters of fleet and troop deployment. They did not go with von Oberstein to the governorate building. Only a handful did, including Commodore Ferner, head of von Oberstein’s team of advisors; Commander Schultz, his secretary; and Commander Westpfal, who led his security detail.
While Wittenfeld and Müller had good reasons for not joining them, they also had an undeniable lack of interest in dropping everything to accompany von Oberstein. Von Oberstein, for his part, had little interest in their company. The problem he wanted to get down to as quickly as possible was not the sort that required their abilities as battlefield leaders. It called rather for the unique talents of a man like Heidrich Lang, who was still in custody.
The situation on Heinessen changed with blistering speed and intensity the very next day. Ground forces under the direct control of the minister immediately set about arresting “dangerous persons” resident on the planet.
Huang Rui, former Human Resources Committee chair for the alliance. Vice Admiral Paetta, erstwhile commander of the alliance’s First Fleet. Vice Admiral Murai, who had once been chief of staff for Marshal Yang Wen-li. Over five thousand people in all were arrested in a single sweep. Virtually everyone who had held a position of any importance in the Free Planets Alliance was uprooted and imprisoned in the operation that came to be known as “Von Oberstein’s Scythe.”
“I can’t understand what the minister’s thinking,” said Wittenfeld to Müller as news of this development reached them. “Can you?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“The way I see it, the best thing to do with those democratic republicans is let them say whatever they like. They can’t actually follow through on a single percent of it, after all.”
Müller nodded, a thoughtful expression in his sandy eyes. “Locking up people for political offences and thought crimes does tie up resources that might have been used to hold regular criminals,” he said. “It might end up actually damaging public safety on the planet.”
Neither Müller nor Wittenfeld agreed with the minister’s high-pressure approach to keeping the peace, but they had no authority to object to it, and in any case their mission was the assault on Iserlohn. Preparations for battle occupied all of their time. Senior Admiral Wahlen, too, received permission to bring the reorganized remnant of his fleet back from the Gandharva system to Heinessen, bringing the imperial forces to 40,000 ships. The necessary supply lines were also in place, and preparations for the assault on Iserlohn almost complete after just a few days.
And so, despite the fact that von Oberstein and the three senior admirals were on the same planet, their divergent responsibilities kept them so busy that they barely saw each other for the entire month of March. Finally, on the afternoon of April 1, the three admirals went to visit the minister together.
“We have a question, minister,” Wittenfeld said forcefully.
Von Oberstein had kept them waiting forty minutes while he dealt with some paperwork. “Very well, Admiral Wittenfeld,” he said. “Let me hear it. But I ask that you keep it both brief and logical.”
After being kept waiting, it took every ounce of Wittenfeld’s strength to control his anger at being spoken to that way. Still, he succeeded, and forced out his next words through gritted teeth.
“I will come right to the point, then. Rumors both inside and outside the military claim that you have imprisoned all these political and ideological criminals as hostages so as to force Iserlohn to abandon its resistance. It is difficult to believe that an army as superior in strength as ours would resort to such underhanded measures, but we want to hear the truth from you personally. What say you?”
“Am I to be criticized on the basis of a rumor?” asked von Oberstein.
“The rumor is false, then.”
“I did not say that.”
“So you do intend to use the prisoners as human shields in the fight against Iserlohn?” asked Wahlen. He was as pale as Wittenfeld was red. Müller, too, although he had not spoken, was staring aghast at von Oberstein. Wittenfeld opened his mouth to speak again, but von Oberstein cut him off.
“The bloody fantasies of military romantics are of no use to us on this occasion. If the alternative is to throw away a million more lives, I think it far preferable to use five thousand political criminals as a tool to extract a bloodless concession from the enemy.”
Wittenfeld did not agree. “What about the honor of the invincible Imperial military?” he demanded.
“Honor?”
“I could defeat Iserlohn with my fleet alone. But Müller’s fleet is here too, and now Wahlen’s. Forty thousand ships in all. Iserlohn will be crushed without any need for your underhanded tactics!”
The more fiercely Wittenfeld blazed, the colder von Oberstein grew. The gaze from his famed bionic eyes assailed the three admirals like vaporized winter frost.
“We cannot base our strategy on the hollow braggadocio of a man who has himself produced no real results. The point at which military force alone might have resolved the situation is far behind us.”
“Hollow braggadocio?!” Wittenfeld’s face was now bright crimson, as if reflecting his hair. Shaking off the attempts of his colleagues to restrain him, he strode forward. “We have accompanied His Majesty Kaiser Reinhard to countless battlefields, defeating even his fiercest foes. How dare you dismiss our achievements?”
“I am well aware of what you have ‘achieved.’ How many times did the three of you work together to serve Yang Wen-li the sweet liqueur of victory? Not just myself, but the enemy forces as well—”
“Damn you!” roared Wittenfeld, springing toward von Oberstein. Shouts filled the ears of those present, and tumbling human forms crowded their vision. The unprecedented sight of a senior admiral straddling an imperial marshal and seizing him by the collar lasted just a few seconds. Müller and Wahlen together seized Wittenfeld’s muscular form from behind and dragged him off von Oberstein. The minister rose with a calm better described as mineral than mechanical, brushing the dust from his black and silver uniform with one hand.
“Admiral Müller.”
“Yes?”
“While Admiral Wittenfeld is confined to his quarters, I place command of the Black Lancers in your hands. I trust you have no objection?”
“If I may, minister.” Müller’s voice trembled with emotion, teetering right on the edge of what he could control. “I have no objection, but I do not believe the Black Lancers will accept it. The only commander they recognize is Admiral Wittenfeld.”
“It is not like you to speak so thoughtlessly, Admiral Müller. The Black Lancers are part of the Imperial Navy. They are not Wittenfeld’s private army.”
Unable to argue the point but still not accepting it, Müller looked at Wittenfeld, who was breathing with his shoulders, and Wahlen, who still held Wittenfeld by the arm.
“You seem very confident of this, Minister, but do you think our proud kaiser will accept your plan? Is it not clear from the fact that he sent us here with our ships that he means for us to battle Iserlohn with honor? Do you intend to ignore his wishes in this regard?”
“The kaiser’s pride has left Iserlohn Corridor littered with the bones of millions.”
Müller was speechless.
“If these measures had been taken one year ago, when Yang Wen-li escaped from Heinessen and fled to Iserlohn, millions of lives could have been saved. The empire is not the kaiser’s private property, and the Imperial Navy is not His Majesty’s private army. What law permits the kaiser to send troops to their deaths for no reason but personal pride? How does that differ from what was done in the Goldenbaum Dynasty?”
Von Oberstein ended his speech, and the silence in the room was as heavy as vaporized lead. Even the intrepid admirals were taken aback by the intensity with which he criticized the kaiser. Frozen in place, struck dumb, they could not even offer counterarguments.
Commodore Ferner watched this grave but silent performance with understandable apprehension. What the minister asserts is most likely true, he thought. But that truth will bring him nothing but enmity.
The unmoving reflections of the three admirals gleamed in von Oberstein’s bionic eyes.
“I command you as His Majesty the Kaiser’s representative. I was granted this status by imperial decree. If you have objections, perhaps you should take them up with the kaiser.”
He was entirely correct, though the others might be forgiven for seeing this as an unjustified borrowing of the kaiser’s authority. But from von Oberstein’s viewpoint, it was simply the easiest way to cut short a fruitless debate. To Wittenfeld, though, he seemed a coward, criticizing the kaiser in the harshest terms one moment, and then invoking His Majesty’s name to shore up his own position the next. Wahlen felt the same way, and even Müller retained some reservations.
But von Oberstein had no time for what they felt. “This discussion is over,” he said. “Commodore Ferner, see the admirals out.”
And so in this manner, the situation on Heinessen was advancing in a direction that Julian and the others had not even imagined.