Stratagem
Legend of the Galactic Heroes, Vol. 4, Stratagem
© 1984 by Yoshiki TANAKA
Cover Illustration © 2007 Yukinobu Hoshino
All rights reserved.
English translation © 2017 VIZ Media, LLC
Cover and interior design by Fawn Lau and Alice Lewis
No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the copyright holders.
HAIKASORU
Published by VIZ Media, LLC
P.O. Box 77010
San Francisco, CA 94107
www.haikasoru.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Tanaka, Yoshiki, 1952- author. | Huddleston, Daniel, translator.
Title: Legend of the galactic heroes / written by Yoshiki Tanaka ; translated by Daniel Huddleston and Tyran Grillo
Other titles: Ginga eiyu densetsu
Description: San Francisco : Haikasoru, [2016]
Identifiers: LCCN 2015044444| ISBN 9781421584942 (v. 1 : paperback) | ISBN 9781421584959 (v. 2 : paperback) | ISBN 9781421584966(v. 3 paperback) | ISBN 9781421584973 (v.4: paperback)
Subjects: LCSH: Science fiction. | War stories. | BISAC: FICTION / Science Fiction / Space Opera. | FICTION / Science Fiction / Military. | FICTION / Science Fiction / Adventure.
Classification: LCC PL862.A5343 G5513 2016 | DDC 895.63/5--dc23
LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015044444
Printed in the U.S.A.
First Printing, June 2017
Haikasoru eBook edition
ISBN: 978-1-4215-9798-0
Galactic Empire
REINHARD VON LOHENGRAMM
Commander in chief of the imperial military. Imperial prime minister. Duke.
PAUL VON OBERSTEIN
Chief of staff of the Imperial Space Armada. Acting secretary-general of Imperial Military Command Headquarters. Senior admiral.
WOLFGANG MITTERMEIER
Fleet commander. Senior admiral. Known as the “Gale Wolf.”
OSKAR VON REUENTAHL
Fleet commander. Senior admiral. Has heterochromatic eyes.
FRITZ JOSEF WITTENFELD
Commander of the Schwarz Lanzenreiter fleet. Admiral.
ERNEST MECKLINGER
Deputy manager of Imperial Armed Forces Supreme Command Headquarters. Admiral. Known as the “Artist-Admiral.”
ULRICH KESSLER
Commissioner of military police and commander of capital defenses. Admiral.
AUGUST SAMUEL WAHLEN
Fleet commander. Admiral.
KORNELIAS LUTZ
Fleet commander. Admiral.
NEIDHART MÜLLER
Fleet commander. Admiral.
ADALBERT FAHRENHEIT
Fleet commander. Admiral.
ARTHUR VON STREIT
Reinhard’s chief aide. Rear admiral.
HILDEGARD VON MARIENDORF
Chief secretary to the imperial prime minister. Often called “Hilda.”
HEINRICH VON KÜMMEL
Hilda’s cousin. Baron.
ANNEROSE VON GRÜNEWALD
Reinhard’s elder sister. Countess von Grünewald. Lives in seclusion at her mountain villa.
ERWIN JOSEF II
37th emperor of the Galactic Empire.
RUDOLF VON GOLDENBAUM
Founder of the Galactic Empire’s Goldenbaum Dynasty.
DECEASED
SIEGFRIED KIRCHEIS
Died living up to the faith Annerose placed in him.
KARL GUSTAV KEMPF
Died in battle at Iserlohn.
Free Planets Alliance
YANG WEN-LI
Commander of Iserlohn Fortress. Commander of Iserlohn Patrol Fleet. Admiral.
JULIAN MINTZ
Yang’s ward. Ensign.
FREDERICA GREENHILL
Yang’s aide. Lieutenant.
ALEX CASELNES
Administrative director of Iserlohn Fortress. Rear admiral.
WALTER VON SCHÖNKOPF
Commander of fortress defenses at Iserlohn Fortress. Rear admiral.
EDWIN FISCHER
Vice commander of Iserlohn Patrol Fleet. Master of fleet operations.
MURAI
Chief of staff. Rear admiral.
FYODOR PATRICHEV
Deputy chief of staff. Commodore.
DUSTY ATTENBOROUGH
Division commander within the Iserlohn Patrol Fleet. Yang’s underclassman. Rear admiral.
OLIVIER POPLIN
Captain of the First Fortress Spaceborne Division at Iserlohn Fortress. Lieutenant commander.
WILIABARD JOACHIM MERKATZ
Imperial Navy veteran who defected to Iserlohn. A “guest admiral” who is treated as a vice admiral.
BERNHARD VON SCHNEIDER
Merkatz’s aide.
ALEXANDOR BUCOCK
Commander in chief of the Alliance Armed Forces Space Armada. Admiral.
LOUIS MACHUNGO
Yang’s security guard. Warrant officer.
JOB TRÜNICHT
Head of state. Chairman of the High Council.
DECEASED
NGUYEN VAN THIEU
A fierce commander of Yang’s Iserlohn Patrol Fleet. Died in pursuit after the Battle of Iserlohn.
PHEZZAN DOMINION
ADRIAN RUBINSKY
The fifth landesherr. Known as the “Black Fox of Phezzan.”
RUPERT KESSELRING
Rubinsky’s son and chief aide.
NICOLAS BOLTEC
Imperial resident commissioner. Former aide to Rubinsky.
ALFRED VON LANSBERG
Count who defected to Phezzan.
LEOPOLD SCHUMACHER
Former captain in the Imperial Navy. Defected to Phezzan.
BORIS KONEV
Independent merchant. Old acquaintance of Yang’s. Working in the office of the Phezzan commissioner on Heinessen.
MARINESK
Administrative officer on board the Beryozka.
DEGSBY
Bishop dispatched from Earth to keep an eye on Rubinsky.
GRAND BISHOP
Ruler in Rubinsky’s shadow.
*Titles and ranks correspond to each
character’s status at the end of Endurance
or their first appearance in Stratagem.
Major Characters
Chapter 1:
Thunder
Chapter 2:
Labyrinth
Chapter 3:
The Arrow is Loosed
Chapter 4:
The Legitimate Galactic Imperial Government
Chapter 5:
A Departure
Chapter 6:
Operation Ragnarök
Chapter 7:
Military Attaché
Ensign Mintz
Chapter 8:
Invitation to a Requiem
Chapter 9:
Phezzan Occupied
About the Author
Mutations of history and consequences of victory are determined in an instant. Most of us live idly on as echoes of such instants, as they retreat into the past. Those cognizant of them are few, and those who willfully set them in motion fewer still. Unfortunately, the latter always win the day, bolstered by armies of malice.
—D. Sinclair
Knowing the future, directly experiencing the present, and indirectly experiencing the past: each offers its respective thrill of happiness, fear, and anger. Those who live in the past are destined to be slaves of regret.
—E. J. Mackenzie
I
The year was 489 of the imperial calendar. Spring arrived late but with a vengeance against winter’s tenacious purchase, decorating the s
treets of the imperial capital of Odin in an abundance of flowers. The season changed and those flowers withered, giving way to thick, fresh verdure as winds ushered in the first invigorating blush of summer.
It was the middle of June, a time of year when temperatures across the midlatitudinal zones of Odin’s northern hemisphere were at their most pleasant. Today, however, was unusually hot and humid. Clouds drifted far above the children weaving through fields on their way home from school.
The building which housed the office of the imperial prime minister was made of light-gray stone and boasted an air of intimidation that exceeded its purpose. Naturally, it hadn’t been built for its current figurehead, Reinhard von Lohengramm. Many imperial family members and noblemen before him had taken its high seat, exercising authority as imperial deputies over thousands of fixed-star worlds. Reinhard was the youngest and mightiest to ever hold office in its confines. Whereas his predecessors had been appointed by the emperor, he had been the first to make the emperor appoint him.
A solemn, melancholy young woman walked through this building’s hallowed corridors. Although the cadence of her step, muted garb, and pale-blond crop presented a man’s appearance, her light makeup and the orange scarf peeking out from her collar betrayed this impression.
As the prime minister’s chief secretary, Hildegard von Mariendorf, or Hilda, had earned the reverent salute she received from Reinhard’s guards, who granted her entrance into his office.
Hilda thanked them warmly and sought out the handsome young Reinhard inside. The imperial military’s commander in chief had been gazing out the window but swung his luxurious golden hair in Hilda’s direction as she entered the spacious room. He cut a striking figure, decked out in his magnificent black uniform trimmed in silver.
“Am I disturbing you, Your Excellency?”
“Not at all. I would hear your business, fräulein.”
“I come bearing a message requesting a personal meeting from Admiral Kessler. He says it’s urgent.”
“I see. Kessler’s in that much of a hurry, is he?”
Ulrich Kessler, who held concurrent posts as commissioner of military police and commander of capital defenses, was not without fault, but neither was he one to let impatience or confusion get the better of him, as both the prime minister and chief secretary were aware. Kessler’s urgency was therefore not to be taken lightly.
“I’ll see him. Bring him in,” said the empire’s de facto dictator, brushing away golden locks from his forehead with slender fingers. He’d never once shirked any duty of his station—a fact not even his enemies could deny.
As Hilda turned on a heel, a faint light spread its rays through the window. Thick clouds descended on the horizon, giving way to a scattering of sickly white.
“Thunder.”
“The Weather Bureau is predicting thunderstorms. An atmospheric disturbance, they say.”
The faint crack of an electrical discharge in the distance approached their eardrums. The sound intensified until a hammer of light crashed down into the frame, sending legions of reinforcements in the form of raindrops across the windowpanes.
Ulrich Kessler was shorter and broader shouldered than his young lord. A handsome, virile man in his midthirties, his countenance nonetheless told a seemingly longer story of military service. His eyebrows were flecked with white, and his temples had prematurely grayed, surrounded by waves of solid brown.
“Thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice, Duke von Lohengramm. I have it on good word that two extremist supporters of the old aristocratic regime have infiltrated the capital. I came here as soon as I was notified.”
The young lord, stationed by the window, looked over a shoulder at his subordinate.
“And how is it that you came by this information?”
“Actually, Your Excellency, it was an anonymous report.”
“An anonymous report?” said the prime minister, displeased. Those two words were like noxious insects corrupting the flower garden of his soul. He’d always been wary of anonymous intel, despite knowing its worth.
A silver flash snaked its way through the sky amid baying thunder, breaking the silence like smashed porcelain. Its ominous reverberations lingered in their ear canals. Before these faded, Reinhard steeled himself and urged the chief of military police to go on with the details of his report.
Kessler manipulated a small box, bringing up a holographic image before the young prime minister’s eyes. Although not handsome per se, the face belonged to a man of obvious character and pedigree, one whose features betrayed nothing of the darkness behind his smile.
“Count Alfred von Lansberg. Age 26. As one of the nobles who took part in the Lippstadt Agreement, he defected to Phezzan following the defeat.”
Reinhard nodded in silence. He recalled the name and face. An active participant in numerous ceremonies, von Lansberg had never shown a sliver of animosity toward Reinhard. More harmless than not, having been born in the peacetime of the Goldenbaum Dynasty, von Lansberg was a cultured man of scholarly disposition who poured his energy into mediocre poetry and novels. The type who’s never worked a day in his life, thought Reinhard. A man ill-equipped for these turbulent times. To be sure, his acquiescence to the faction opposing Reinhard was less an act of hatred than the simple result of being a victim of his own high pedigree and the traditional values of which he deemed himself gatekeeper.
The hologram of von Lansberg’s face gave way to a slightly younger man’s that had all the qualities of a capable businessman. It was, explained the chief of military police, that of Captain Schumacher.
Leopold Schumacher had graduated from IAF Academy at age twenty, ascending the ranks to captain a decade later. Being of ignoble birth, he’d played second fiddle to the front lines for much of his career and, unlike Wolfgang Mittermeier, had gained few opportunities to distinguish himself through military service. Considering this, he’d gotten surprisingly far. Fortified by keen powers of reasoning and exemplary performance during missions, he was more than capable of mobilizing a large force to action. He was destined to go far.
Reinhard noted with regret that greed had left its fair share of kinks in his network. But whatever he might have lacked in human resources, he made up for in material resources. Since losing his redheaded comrade Siegfried Kircheis last year, he’d been reluctant to bury his grief.
Which raised the question: why had Count Alfred von Lansberg and Schumacher abandoned their haven of Phezzan to infiltrate enemy-controlled Odin?
“I take it they forged identification to gain entry,” said Reinhard, “and under false names?”
Kessler’s answer was a categorical no. They hadn’t so much as raised an eyebrow at passport inspection. Had it not been for the anonymous tip, their true identities might never have been discovered. Given that IDs were issued by the autonomous government of Phezzan, Phezzan had clearly been complicit in this matter, prompting Kessler to seek His Excellency’s political judgment.
After seeing Kessler out with a promise of further instructions, Reinhard returned his gaze to the sky, now clamoring with thunder and lightning.
“I suppose you know an imperial historian once compared Rudolf the Great’s angry bellows to thunder, Fräulein von Mariendorf.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Quite the simile.”
Hilda avoided an immediate reply, instead studying the elegant figure of the young prime minister, whose solemn attention extended well beyond the window. Hilda heard malice in Reinhard’s voice.
“As for this phenomenon we call thunder…”
Reinhard’s regal features glowed in a flash of lightning, resembling a statue made of salt.
“…its energy is wasted the moment it’s used. It gives off a tremendous amount of heat, light, and sound but rages madly just for the sake of it. That’s Rudolf to a T.”
Hilda
opened her shapely lips but closed them without a word, guessing her answer was furthest from Reinhard’s mind.
“But not me. I’ll never be like him.”
Hilda felt those words being directed partly to Reinhard himself, partly to someone who wasn’t in the room.
Reinhard turned back to the room and to the youthful aristocrat standing in it.
“Fräulein von Mariendorf, what do you think? I’d like to hear your opinion.”
“Regarding Count von Lansberg’s motivation for returning to Odin?”
“Yes. He could just as easily live out his days quietly on Phezzan, banging out that doggerel he has the audacity to call poetry, yet he returns to face certain danger. Why do you think that is?”
“Von Lansberg always was a romantic.”
Not exactly rich in humor, Reinhard seemed tickled by her retort all the same, and his mouth rippled into a broad smile.
“I respect your insight but find it hard to believe that good-for-nothing poet returned to his old home in search of romance. I’d be inclined to agree with you if he was an older man, but not one year has passed since the civil war.”
“As you say. Count von Lansberg’s reason for coming back would have to be much more significant to be worth the risk.”
“What could it be, then?”
Reinhard enjoyed his dialogues with the wise noble. Not merely for allowing him the company of a woman, but because he appreciated the informal debates between intellectual equals and he valued the stimulation and vitality she brought to his thinking.
“As history has shown, terrorism against the powers that be is enough to prompt any romantic into action. Could it be that, in hopes of satisfying his unflagging loyalty and sense of duty, Count von Lansberg has made a decisive, infiltrative move?”
Hilda had answered well. Last year, she’d taken over something of the late Siegfried Kircheis’s irreplaceable value to society.