Stratagem Read online

  “I am Your Majesty’s subject, Count Alfred von Lansberg. I have come to rescue Your Majesty from the hands of a traitor. As this is a most unusual situation—please pardon any discourtesy on my part. Risking our lives in Your Majesty’s esteemed service will be our reward as your humble servants.”

  Blatantly ignoring his loyal servant’s impassioned speech, the seven-year-old emperor fiddled roughly with his bear, not as if Alfred’s words were meaningless but as if he didn’t understand them to begin with. At such an age, it would have been natural for him not to grasp Alfred’s solemn diction, but Alfred—knight, patriot, and romanticist to the core—had expected the young lord to be a shining prodigy. A flicker of despair beset Alfred’s eyes, but he persuaded himself that it was beyond his place as a retainer to question, and that being entrusted with this task was honor enough. From now on, he would refrain from lofty speeches.

  The child emperor indifferently pulled and twisted an ear on his bear and, when he finally tore it off, threw the one-eared bear to the floor. He sluggishly got off the bed and turned his back to the two dumbfounded men. Clearly, there was something wrong with this child.

  “Your…Your Majesty.”

  Alfred’s voice belied his confusion, just as the child emperor’s behavior had belied any impressions of his grace. Alfred hadn’t exactly counted on praise and gratitude, but at the very least he had thought to be met with a response befitting the ruler of a great empire, even if a childlike version of the same. Erwin Josef’s speech, conduct, and appearance sadly lacked a certain angelic quality expected of someone in his position.

  “What shall we do, Count?” asked Schumacher.

  Alfred shrugged, then sprang into action. He leapt toward the sacred and inviolable emperor, grabbing him from behind.

  The emperor let out a piercing scream. Schumacher shot a hand to the boy’s mouth. Alfred apologized for taking drastic measures, worried even now about being unable to observe decorum as his servant.

  They heard a woman’s voice from beyond the door.

  “Your Majesty, what’s the matter?”

  For a moment, the two men froze. As Schumacher restrained the struggling child, Alfred pulled out his particle gun and swiftly concealed himself in the shadow of the door. The thin figure of a woman in her late twenties or early thirties appeared in her nightgown. The emperor’s nanny and private tutor, no doubt. Under any other circumstance, Schumacher would have grilled her on Erwin Josef’s discipline and education.

  The woman approached the extravagant canopied bed, stumbling over the teddy bear on the floor. She picked it up and, noticing the missing ear, let out a dispirited sigh, as if this were a routine matter.

  “Your Majesty,” she was calling out again, when she made out the figures of the intruders.

  Her mouth dropped open, but her scream was over before it began when she became aware of Alfred’s gun. Fortunately for both parties, she fainted and fell to the floor like a cheap doll. The two intruders heard a flurry of footsteps. They exchanged glances and made their escape.

  Far from a rescue, this was outright abduction, Schumacher chided himself shamefully. He sympathized with Count von Lansberg, but this whole thing was turning into an unimaginable farce involving the world’s most ungrateful child and two adults with a pipe dream. If this changed the course of history, then wasn’t history itself a farce?

  Surely the maidservants had immediately informed the palace guard of the situation, but whether due to the confusion or because animosity toward Reinhard’s sect from an old retainer of the imperial court had delayed things, the soldiers didn’t respond until more than five minutes had passed.

  The head of the imperial guard, Admiral Mort, was sleeping in a lodging house attached to the main guard office but came running as soon as he received a report of unusual activity, naturally anxious to confirm the emperor’s well-being above all else. But the aging chamberlain was too flustered to give even a basic summary of events.

  “Where is His Majesty the Emperor? That’s all I want to know.” Admiral Mort’s tone was neither sharp nor furious, but nonetheless had an intimidating air the weak courtiers were ill equipped to resist. The aging chamberlain barely regained his composure and, mustering as much dignity as he could, gave an indirect account of two intruders who’d broken in and abducted the child emperor.

  “Why didn’t you say so sooner?!”

  Mort scolded the chamberlain but, not wanting to waste time on investigating his culpability, called his aide-de-camp and calmly ordered a sweep of the palace. The aide-de-camp’s face went stern as he consented to the order, rushing out of the room to mobilize his men.

  “I don’t think I need to tell you to keep this matter to yourself, Chamberlain.”

  The chamberlain only nodded in response to Mort, who, judging from his expression, was more worried about being accused of negligence than for the emperor’s safety.

  The petty soldiers knew nothing of the emperor’s abduction. Neither did they need to know. Only aware that something serious had happened, they grabbed their infrared sensors and starlight scopes and canvassed the palace’s expansive grounds, with its more than one hundred thousand private homes, like packs of nocturnal animals.

  At last, the aide-de-camp hurried back and gave his assessment. Infrared had picked up residuals of some unusual activity, which disappeared somewhere near His Majesty Sigismund I’s statue.

  “There appears to be an underground passage that leads to the outside, but it’s beyond my station to lay a hand on the emperor’s statue. With your permission, I’ll investigate it at once.”

  Mort stood stock-still, not saying a word. Only now did he remember hearing of a vast labyrinth beneath Neue Sans Souci. A feeling of crushing defeat invaded the chest of the veteran military man, just as the intruders had invaded the palace. He’d always prided himself on doing his utmost to fulfill the duties allotted to him to the letter, and until tonight had done just that. From now on, that accomplishment would be spoken of in the past tense, if at all.

  Ulrich Kessler had overcome countless dangers on the battlefield, courageously working his way up the ladder to become general. But when he heard news of the emperor’s abduction, he couldn’t stop shaking. Changing into his military uniform, he ordered the closing of all spaceports, called for roadblocks at all major roads leading out into the suburbs from the imperial capital, and mobilized a regiment of military police. He wondered who could have pulled off such a heinous crime. His brain cells scrambled and settled on two names: Count Alfred von Lansberg and Leopold Schumacher. But hadn’t Duke von Lohengramm just the other day relaxed the monitoring of their activities? And why now?

  Kessler’s expression changed from shock to worry before going momentarily blank, as if he were staring into an abyss. Only after much conscious effort did he manage to slip on yet another mask as he carried himself, clad in his impeccable black-and-silver uniform, outside his official residence.

  I

  At 3:30 on the morning of July 7, the prime minister of the Galactic Empire, Duke Reinhard von Lohengramm, was forced out of bed by an urgent message from military police commissioner Admiral Kessler. As Kessler bowed his head in gratitude on the screen of his visiphone, Reinhard thought, So they went through with it after all. He rather welcomed this turn of events. His relaxation of monitoring Count von Lansberg had had its intended effect.

  When Reinhard arrived at his office, Hilda came running. The imperial prime minister’s chief secretary, a constant fixture alongside a public figure like Reinhard, received constant communications from the officer on duty. Likewise, Reinhard’s chief aide Rear Admiral von Streit, secondary aide and now lieutenant von Rücke, and Captain Kissling, head of the imperial guard, came at once.

  Captain Günter Kissling was a young officer of twenty-eight with stiff, coppery hair and topaz eyes. Those eyes, along with his peculiar way of making ha
rdly a sound even when walking in his military shoes, earned him comparison to a panther among those to liked him and to a cat among those who didn’t. Naturally, Reinhard hadn’t given him the responsibility of being his personal bodyguard because he cared about these characteristics, but because he saw in him that special combination of bravery and composure that went above and beyond the norm. His distinguished military record across multiple wars didn’t hurt, either.

  Before long, Admiral Kessler, accompanied by Admiral Mort, appeared before Reinhard. Under the careful watch of Reinhard’s closest aides, the two of them knelt before their lord and apologized for letting the intruders get away.

  “Instead of apologizing for your indiscretion, Kessler, I would rather you’d carried out your assigned duties. Just make sure His Majesty doesn’t leave the capital.”

  Kessler took his leave to mobilize a military police squadron. He wondered if anyone noticed he’d been doing all he could to avoid looking directly at the young lord’s face. This left Mort. Still kneeling, his head hung heavy with guilt.

  Reinhard’s ice-blue gaze fell expressionless onto the back of Mort’s head, but for reasons contrary to what everyone suspected. He was in no position to be angry, but he wasn’t about to let anyone know that. He had no choice but to let his arrow fly from its bowstring.

  “Vice Admiral Mort, tomorrow—no, it’s already tomorrow, isn’t it?—I will notify you of your punishment at high noon today. Until then, you are to be sequestered in your office. Make whatever arrangements you need to ensure you have no regrets.”

  Mort bowed his head even more deeply. Fully taking the young lord’s hint, he left quietly, thankful to be alive. Reinhard watched him until he was gone, feeling Countess Hildegard von Mariendorf’s fearless, discerning blue-green eyes burning a hole into him.

  “Is there something you wish to say to me, fräulein?”

  “Only what I told you the other day. Namely, the likelihood of Phezzan sending their agents here to abduct a certain someone.”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  Reinhard’s response was cold and transparent.

  “Duke von Lohengramm, you fortified your sister’s villa with guards. That was understandable under the circumstances. And yet I find it strange you didn’t extend the same level of protection to the emperor’s own person, and that you let him fall into the hands of intruders on your watch.”

  Hilda took care to keep her voice neutral, but the gist of her words hit Reinhard where it hurt, and so the imperial prime minister couldn’t very well abandon his good humor.

  “And your conclusion is, fräulein?”

  “Here’s what I think. You, Duke von Lohengramm, joined forces with Phezzan and deliberately allowed them to abduct the emperor. Am I wrong?”

  Hilda was never one to entertain lies, and Reinhard had no intention of telling any.

  “You’re not wrong.”

  Hilda shook her head in disappointment. The elegant imperial prime minister felt the necessity of the assertion, on top of everything else.

  “But I’ll tell you one thing: I’m not joining up with that lot—those Phezzanese. I’m just using them. I’ve promised them nothing.”

  “Do you think you can just lead Phezzan around by the nose?”

  “As if they haven’t tried to do the same to me?”

  Reinhard spat with blunt disdain at the very notion. Only then did he reveal to Hilda his conversation with Commissioner Boltec. Hilda listened, her narrow shoulders drooping as every word aligned more closely with her assumptions.

  “Does this mean you intend to launch a full-scale assault on the Free Planets Alliance?”

  “I do. But that was decided long ago. Only the timing has accelerated. Either way, one couldn’t ask for a more splendid justification.”

  “And was scapegoating Vice Admiral Mort also part of your brilliant strategy?”

  “No harm will come to his family.”

  Knowing this wasn’t an excuse, Reinhard ended the conversation with a wave of his hand.

  One hour later, secondary aide Lieutenant von Rücke announced that Vice Admiral Mort had committed suicide. Reinhard nodded in silence. He ordered a shaken von Rücke to make all the necessary arrangements and to ensure that neither Mort’s reputation nor his family would be harmed. Reinhard was beginning to see what an epic hypocrisy this all was. But it was better to have done it than not. If it was something for which he should be punished and reprimanded, then he would get his comeuppance sooner or later, although by whose hand he couldn’t say.

  He called for Hilda.

  “Assemble all admirals and senior admirals.”

  “As you wish, Duke von Lohengramm.”

  Reinhard wasn’t sure whether to take her curt smile as a sign of their reconciliation or an ill omen against it.

  II

  At that time, the Galactic Imperial Navy had three senior admirals (Paul von Oberstein, Wolfgang Mittermeier, and Oskar von Reuentahl) and ten admirals (August Samuel Wahlen, Fritz Josef Wittenfeld, Kornelias Lutz, Neidhart Müller, Ulrich Kessler, Adalbert Fahrenheit, Ernest Mecklinger, Karl Robert Steinmetz, Helmut Lennenkamp, and Ernst von Eisenach). Müller was still bedridden after injuries sustained in the Battle of Iserlohn, and Kessler was leading an investigation into the emperor’s abduction under strict secrecy. The remaining eleven answered Reinhard’s summons.

  One would think that everyone’s pleasant dreams had been interrupted, as the invisible hand of daybreak was just brushing away the darkness, but none seemed to have gotten much sleep. Despite losing Siegfried Kircheis and Karl Gustav Kempf the previous year, Reinhard’s admirals were as vibrant as ever. A pair of ice-blue eyes scanned the council room.

  “There was a minor incident tonight at Neue Sans Souci,” said Reinhard by way of understatement. “A seven-year-old boy was abducted.”

  There was no wind, yet the air in the room stirred as these brave, long-serving soldiers held their collective breath and let it out at once. Any man unable to extrapolate the identity of the abductee wouldn’t have been sitting there anyway. Only von Oberstein appeared unfazed, but the other admirals surmised he was just being his usual expressionless self.

  “I’ve put Kessler on a manhunt, but the criminals are still at large. I’d like to hear your opinions before dealing with tonight’s developments. You may speak freely.”

  “It goes without saying the criminals are remnants of the high nobles’ faction rallying together to restore their influence. I see no reason to suspect anyone else,” said Mittermeier, receiving grunts of agreement from his comrades.

  “Still, to abduct His Majesty the Emperor? We cannot underestimate the organizational power and ability of the high nobles. But who might their ringleader be?” said Wahlen.

  Von Reuentahl’s mismatched eyes glistened.

  “Whatever happens, it’ll all be clear soon enough. Once the criminals are apprehended, Kessler will make them squeal. And on the off chance they should get away, you can be sure they’ll boast of their achievement. What would be the purpose of the abduction if they weren’t going to broadcast it far and wide?”

  “I think you’re right, in which case we’ll have to retaliate. I wonder if they’re ready for that.”

  Wittenfeld addressed Lutz’s doubts.

  “More than ready, I would say. Maybe they’ll even use the emperor to shield themselves against our attack. As pointless as that would be.”

  “Yes. For now, at least, they’re confident enough to stave off our pursuit.”

  “Since when did they grow such nerve? They can’t evade us forever, so long as they’re in the empire.”

  “Or could it be they’re setting up a secret base in the frontier?”

  “You mean a second Free Planets Alliance?”

  At this point, the calm voice of Paul von Oberstein cut through the tension.

/>   “I think we should set aside the possibility of a second Free Planets Alliance for now and focus on the existing one. The remnants of the high nobles and the republicans may seem like oil and water, but who’s to say they wouldn’t make an illicit union if it meant keeping von Lohengramm from establishing hegemony? If our criminals take refuge in the Free Planets Alliance, you can be sure we won’t be able to strike so easily.”

  “The Free Planets Alliance?!” said several admirals in unison.

  Although it was a known fact that von Lohengramm had enemies left and right, they had never expected remnants of the high nobles to join forces with the Free Planets Alliance. Had a fundamentally impossible oath been sworn between the reactionary conservative and republican factions?

  “As von Reuentahl has said, His Majesty’s whereabouts will become clear soon enough. For now, I’d like us to refrain from jumping to premature conclusions. If those insurgents calling themselves the Free Planets Alliance are complicit in this treacherous plot, rest assured we’ll make them pay for it. Greed has blinded them to the bigger picture, and their regret will bury them if we don’t first.”

  Reinhard’s spirited words had an equally inspiring effect on his admirals, who straightened themselves with fresh resolve.

  “During the emperor’s absence, we’ll bide our time by saying he’s sick. The seal of state is in the safe custody of the prime minister’s office, so the government will be unaffected. I demand only two things from all of you. First, you are to breathe not a word of the abduction to anyone on the outside. Second, you will assemble all fleets under your direct command and be ready to launch at a moment’s notice. As for other matters, I’ll give you instructions as needed. We’ve been at this since before daybreak, so let’s adjourn.”

  The admirals stood to attention and watched as Reinhard took his leave, after which they dispersed home to resume their usual duties. Mittermeier clasped von Reuentahl on the shoulder as he was leaving.