Ambition (16 page)

In Ofresser’s eyes, just visible through his full-face helmet, there rippled waves of brutal laughter. What held Mittermeier and von Reuentahl back from unequivocal praise of the man was that brutality, which transcended the bounds of bravery, inspiring physiological reactions of disgust.

Regardless of how they felt about him, it was an unassailable fact that the mission had stalled, with Corridor Six still unclaimed because of this lone, bestial man. Their anger toward Ofresser was doubled by that fact.

“We can’t let that monster live,” Mittermeier said in a low voice. Yet in spite of his tone and the intense look in his eyes, his words were somehow lacking in punch. The ability to lead massive fleets of ships through the vastness of space put these two men in the top class of the whole human race, yet with conditions as they were and an environment this limiting, they felt helpless in the face of Ofresser’s primitive fighting spirit and brute strength.

And yet, what was it that was holding Ofresser and his team physically and mentally together in the face of Reinhard’s forces’ repeated waves of attack? They kept on fighting and repelling them, even with no fresh troops to relieve them.

Normally, it would be unthinkable to fight uninterrupted in power armor for as long a period as eight hours.

Power armor was completely insulated, and even the absolute zero cold of outer space would have no effect on the human inside. But by the same token, the heat released by the human body had nowhere to go, so a soldier in the hard-to-endure temperatures of a suit used too long would very quickly lose his physical strength. A temperature-control device small enough to pose no obstacle to combat could just barely lower the temperature to 7 or 8 degrees centigrade lower than that of the human body.

So even driven mad with hatred and hostility toward Reinhard, the high temperature and various other unpleasant elements—sweat, itchiness, excretory troubles, feelings of despair—should have become unbearable after two hours. For them to have held out for eight …

“They’re using drugs.”

There was no other conclusion. It was only by using stimulants to keep themselves excited and awake that they could perform this superhuman labor. Just then, there was a transmission from Reinhard asking for a report on the status of the battle, and both of them briefly pulled back from the front line of the fight.

“Ofresser is a hero,” Reinhard opined with a hint of a cold smile after hearing their report. “But he’s a hero of the Stone Age.”

He was not going to dress down his two humiliated admirals, though.

“Leaving him alive serves no purpose, and most importantly, survival is not something that man is wishing for himself. Kill him as spectacularly as you are able.”

“Wait just a moment,” a third voice cut in. It was the chief of staff, von Oberstein. “I’d like to take him alive. Allow me to show Your Excellency how he may be of use.”

“You think that a man that obstinate could be of use to me?”

“It’s not a matter of his being willing.”

Reinhard’s brows drew together at those words.

“Brainwash him, you mean?” Reinhard could not muster favorable feelings toward chemical or neuro-electrical brainwashing.

His chief of staff only smiled and for a moment said not a word. “I’ll do nothing so
uncouth
as that,” von Oberstein said at last. “Please, just leave everything to me. Then you can watch as I sow a seed of mutual distrust among the nobles …”

“Very well, then, I leave it in your hands.”

As Reinhard spoke, a report came in from a communications officer.

Ofresser, the officer said, had appeared on the comm screen. At the news that he was triumphantly shouting something, Reinhard had him patch the feed through to his viewscreen.

“Is the golden brat brave enough to look me in the eye—even through a viewscreen?”

Ofresser was still wearing the helmet and took up the whole of the screen with his huge frame. His armor was darkly stained with human blood, and there were even bits of flesh stuck to it here and there. Around Reinhard, there were growls of anger and gasps of fear.

That was how the bestial giant looked as he began hurling insults at Reinhard through his armor’s comm system. After calling him a traitor who had trampled on the favor of the imperial family, a coward, an immoral monster, and an inexperienced whelp who had just gotten lucky, he added, “And you and your sister both used sex to deceive our prior emperor—”

It was in that instant that the cool reason in Reinhard’s graceful features went flying to the wayside, yielding its seat to an explosive anger. Lightning flashed in those ice-blue eyes, and the sound of grinding teeth slipped from between his finely shaped lips.

“Von Reuentahl! Mittermeier!”

“Sir!”

“Drag that obscene oaf before me. Alive. Even if you have to rip off his arms and his legs,
do not kill him
. I am going to tear his filthy mouth to shreds with my own two hands!”

The two admirals exchanged a glance. That was going to be a tall order. Too late, they realized for certain that Reinhard was just another creature of emotion.

The grenadiers of Reinhard’s force were about to assay their tenth charge. A barricade of corpses had been erected in their way, and Ofresser’s squadron, tipsy under the influence of the drugs and the bloodshed, glared at the enemy with glistening eyes.

“If you’re gonna come, you cowardly mice, then hurry up and come!”

His ferocious cries tore through the air.

“I’m gonna throw your bodies in a pot and make me a big mess of fricassee! Though I can imagine how bad the meat from the lowly birthed will taste. Still, you can’t be picky on the battlefield.”

“Barbarian,” von Reuentahl spat. “Like the supreme commander said, he’s a hero from the Stone Age. He was just born twenty thousand years too late.”

“And that means we’re going to have a pretty rough time of it twenty thousand years later,” Mittermeier added bitterly. He summoned his aide and ordered him to bring two suits of power armor.

“Admiral, you’re not both thinking of facing him yourselves?!”

“We’re going to be the bait,” said von Reuentahl. “That makes a certain trap more complete … How are preparations coming for your charge?”

“I think we’re just about ready, sir. But there’s nothing Your Excellencies need do yourselves.”

“The two of us are both full admirals,” said von Reuentahl. “That beast Ofresser’s a senior admiral. It would be nice if that made things even.”

How would Ofresser react when Mittermeier and von Reuentahl appeared together before him? Judging by his apparent state of mind, there should be no way he would let anyone else have such valuable prey. It was clear he would come running forward eager for single combat—a part of humanity’s heritage handed down since the Stone Age.

For their trick to succeed, bait was essential, and that bait had to be delicious.

If it were Reinhard himself, the conditions would be perfect, but as that might actually end up making the mechanism a little too obvious, it was the two of them who were most appropriate.

They got into their power armor, and as soon as they stepped into the corridor, excited whispers escaped from among Ofresser’s men. As the bravery of von Reuentahl and Mittermeier was widely known, there would be great honor for the man who took their lives. After silencing them, the giant glared at the two admirals.

“He thinks you can win by coming at me together? Is that the extent of the brat’s wit?”

“We won’t ever know unless we try,” Mittermeier shot back. Taking that as a disrespectful challenge, Ofresser stepped over the barricade of dead bodies and came out to approach them. He walked with large strides. Even through his armor, the energy of his ferocious desire to kill overwhelmed the place. Eyes shining with bloodthirstiness, he sprung toward the two men—

And in that instant, Ofresser’s towering form grew
shorter
. Although his stature came to nearly 200 centimeters, his head was suddenly far lower than that of the 184-centimeter von Reuentahl or the 172-centimeter Mittermeier. Enemy and ally alike swallowed their breath as if they had just witnessed magic. Could what they had seen have really just happened?

The floor had subsided beneath him. Ofresser had sunk into the floor up to his chest, and his arms had just barely stopped him from sinking farther. The two-handed tomahawk that was his other self had fallen to the floor about one meter away.

It was a pitfall, a hole gouged out of a floor made from compound crystalline fibers. Or more precisely, irradiation by inverted populations of hydrogen and fluoride had been carried out over a period of three hours from the level underneath the sixth corridor, weakening the fibers’ molecular bonds so they could not withstand the shock of Ofresser’s weight and actions.

Mittermeier leapt forward and kicked the tomahawk out of Ofresser’s reach. Ofresser’s face, stunned at this unexpected reversal, turned a reddish purple inside his helmet as he realized his circumstances.

“We have Ofresser!” shouted von Reuentahl. “And we’ve no use for the rest of them. All armored grenadiers: charge!”

Von Reuentahl picked up the tomahawk that his colleague had kicked away and favored his prey with a cold smile.

“I thought we’d need a trap to catch a wild beast, and you’ve fallen into it splendidly. A cheap trap that no one but you would get caught in.”

“Coward!”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

A stream of charging soldiers brushed against his side as they
passed.

Having lost their commander, Ofresser’s men drew back from the charge of Reinhard’s invigorated forces. Perhaps when they lost their daring commander their fighting spirit had dried up like a puddle under the blazing sun.

Reinhard’s vengefully rampaging forces closed in on Ofresser’s men and, with swings of their tomahawk battle-axes, set to the slaughter. Twice, waves of a counterattack rolled against them, and twice, they crushed them.

Corridor Six had been secured—and painted red.

Bound with two sets of handcuffs, wearing an electric helmet used in executions, and with as many as a dozen guns pointed at him, Ofresser was dragged in front of the comm screen.

Faced with the gleaming flames of Reinhard’s fury and hatred, as well as nearly certain death, Ofresser kept his head raised haughtily. Whatever the man’s shortcomings, it was certain that he was no coward.

However, the comm screen was shut down right away. On the flagship
Brünhild
, the chief of staff was trying to change his commander’s mind.

“Killing him is easy, but Ofresser has no fear of death. Not only that, killing him now would elevate his reputation, make him an indomitable hero—a martyr for the Goldenbaum Dynasty. Surely that’s not what you wish.”

Reinhard didn’t answer.

The storm that was raging inside him was clear to see in his ice-blue eyes. At last, his tightly clenched lips parted as he pushed out a brief question.

“What are you going to do with him?”

“Send him back to the nobles’ home base. Unharmed, of course.”

“Ridiculous!”

It was Mittermeier who had shouted. His young countenance was flushed with anger and alarm.

“After all that hard work … after letting all those soldiers die, we finally caught that wild animal! And you say you’re going to set him free? No matter how generously he might be treated, that tomahawk of his will still spill a lot of our people’s blood on the next battlefield. You can bet on it—not that there’s anything to be gained even if you win that bet. I acknowledge no reason to keep him alive. We should execute him immediately.”

“Agreed,” said von Reuentahl, succinctly but in a strong tone of voice. What was von Oberstein doing, turning an untamable beast loose in the field? He demanded that very answer, but the chief of staff remained unmoved.

“When the nobles see Ofresser returned unharmed, what do you think they’ll believe?” he said. “They’ve always been a suspicious lot—and we have executed sixteen of the top leaders among Ofresser’s subordinates, scenes of which even the nobles have been made aware of by FTL. If Ofresser returns, alone and unharmed, after that …”

“All right,” Reinhard said, cutting off von Oberstein. The light in his eyes was changing to that of fierce but suppressed emotion. He looked at his two hardworking and dissatisfied subordinates. “You have to recognize that, too. I want to let von Oberstein handle this. Any objections?”

“None, milord. As Your Excellency wishes.”

Von Reuentahl and Mittermeier answered as one. They, too, had realized what von Oberstein intended. The slight bitterness in their expressions was probably because it wasn’t to their tastes.

Ofresser was released, and even given a shuttle with FTL capability. Modest words of gratitude were not exactly forthcoming from his lips, but it was a fact that he was dumbfounded. Head tilted in bewilderment, he boarded the shuttle and departed the fortress.

Sixteen of Ofresser’s colleagues and subordinates had been publicly disposed of by firing squad. Staden had been taken prisoner still lying in his hospital bed. The young imperial marshal had seen no need to meet with him.