I
“PEACE HAS BEEN ESTABLISHED. The battle between the Imperial Navy and the Iserlohn Revolutionary Army is over.”
When this report arrived from Julian Mintz, it was as if the goddess of joy had strewn blossoms from above, blanketing Iserlohn Fortress in their petals. Its fleet had plunged into battle without any allies to speak of. Utter annihilation had been a perfectly plausible outcome.
But there was darkness within the light. The Battle of Shiva had killed more than two hundred thousand of Iserlohn’s troops—a horrifying 40 percent of those who had gone into battle. The Rosen Ritter regiment in particular had ended the fighting with a scant 204 surviving members, every single one of them injured. Five years earlier, during the battle for Iserlohn, they had numbered more than 1,960. Small wonder that they had achieved such renown for valor and ferocity in this age of upheaval.
When the names of the highest-ranking dead were conveyed to Iserlohn, including Walter von Schönkopf, Wiliabard Joachim Merkatz, and Louis Machungo, the fortress was solemn. The hundred thousand who had remained home rued these losses with a hundred thousand different emotions. News of von Schönkopf’s death appears to have provoked particular lamentations among the women of Iserlohn, but no statistical survey was conducted and the truth remains unknown.
Interference from the Galactic Empire being now absent, Iserlohn Fortress was able to receive FTL transmissions from Julian with a clear, crisp picture.
“Julian,” said Frederica. “That was a dirty trick. If Commander Yang were still alive, he’d certainly have had words for you.”
Julian understood exactly what she meant. While she had remained in the safety of the fortress, he had gone into battle against the Galactic Empire. In a way, he was relieved. He had avoided the need to drag Yang’s widow onto the battlefield. Just as the Free Planets Alliance had once needed Yang himself, the republic needed Frederica. For Julian, too, she was an essential presence—a woman to be protected at all costs. She had spoken to him not in irony but in thanks.
“What will you do now?” she asked. “Let me hear your plans.”
“First I’ll lead the surviving troops to Heinessen,” Julian said. “We’ll travel with the Imperial Navy. I expect to meet the kaiser there, and then I can make my proposal.”
“And what are you going to propose?”
“All sorts of things.”
Julian revealed to Frederica one of his ideas—a method for restoring the spirit and institutions of democracy while coexisting with the vast Galactic Empire. To wit: they would return Iserlohn Fortress to the empire in exchange for an autonomously governed zone on another planet. Perhaps Heinessen itself. Eventually, they could make the empire promulgate a constitution and establish a parliament. Through repeated constitutional revision, they could shift the entire empire toward openness. Many years would be needed, and unstinting effort. But there was no other way. Not now that they had taken arms and swum through an ocean of blood to reach the shore of a meeting with the kaiser.
“If that works out,” Frederica said, “Yang Wen-li can finally return to Heinessen.”
With this sentence, Frederica gave her assent to Julian’s future diplomatic strategy. She had no particular attachment to the “Iserlohn” part of the Iserlohn Republic. As Poplin might say, “Iserlohn’s a fine lady, but she’d make a terrible housewife.” Iserlohn’s topological situation and impregnable defenses made it a peerless military base, but if coexistence with the Galactic Empire was the goal, the fortress and its mighty Hammer of Thor might actually be a liability. Iserlohn had played an important role in the story of democracy, but that role was now over.
Her conversation with Julian finished, Frederica spoke to Caselnes beside her.
“Well, Admiral Caselnes, you heard him. Our day of parting from Iserlohn Fortress will soon be here. Can I leave the administrative side to you?”
“By all means, Mrs. Yang,” said Caselnes. “I’ll get it so spic-and-span the empire won’t find a thing to complain about, even if they give it a white-glove inspection.”
Caselnes had been the highest-ranking officer in the former alliance military, but until Frederica spoke to him he had been somewhat dazed. It was the sight of von Schönkopf’s name among the ranks of the dead that had done it. I didn’t even think that man could die, he thought.
Frederica thanked the faithful Caselnes and was just leaving when he suddenly remembered something and called out to her.
“Oh, Mrs. Yang. My wife said to invite you for dinner tonight. I know it must be inconvenient timing for you, but I’m afraid I can’t defy Hortense. I’ll send Charlotte Phyllis for you at seven o’clock.”
“Thank you. I’d love to.”
The Caselnes family’s goodwill warmed her heart.
Frederica entered her quarters. This was where she had lived with Yang when he was alive, longer than they had lived anywhere else as man and wife. If Iserlohn Fortress were returned to the Imperial Navy, she would finally have to move out. This place was too big for her anyway, now that she lived alone. Even if the warmth of her departed husband remained with her.
She also had powerful emotions about the bridge of Hyperion, where she had spent four years facing life-and-death situations alongside Yang. The sight of that young would-be historian insolently sitting cross-legged on the table and producing magic tricks and miracles by the score was burned into her mind, there to remain until memory itself was lost.
But now Hyperion, too, had been lost forever in the Shiva Stellar Region. It had become the grave marker for Wiliabard Joachim Merkatz, another fine commander. That’s the best use for it now, she thought. Hyperion was lost, Iserlohn Fortress would be returned to the empire, and Frederica herself was without child, so Yang’s bloodline had ended with him. But Frederica would not forget. Julian would not forget. They would always remember that Yang Wen-li had lived—had been by their side. They would remember his face, his gestures, his way of life.
Frederica sat on the bed and picked up a photograph of her husband. “Thank you, my darling,” she whispered to him. “You made my life so very rich.”