Dawn (38 page)

His brain waves played the melody of low and somber laughter. The laughter of Earth’s religious and political ruler, known as the Grand Bishop, terrified Rubinsky and made every hair on his body stand on end.

“The flow of history is a thing that accelerates. Particularly in regard to the respective camps of the Galactic Empire and the Free Planets Alliance, the convergences of their political authorities and military powers are moving forward. To that, we will presently add a new mass movement among the people. The spiritual movement to return to Earth that has been lurking unseen in both camps will soon appear on the streets. The work of organizing them and raising capital has been left to you Phezzanese, and there must be no mistakes.”

“Of course.”

“It was for this purpose that our great master selected the planet Phezzan, sent people loyal to Earth there, and set them the task of amassing wealth. Through force of arms, you cannot stand against either the empire or the alliance. It’s only through economic might attained through careful use of its special position that Phezzan dominates the secular sphere, while it’s through faith that our Earth rules the spiritual … The galaxy shall be recaptured for Earth without a shot being fired. It’s a grand project that has taken centuries to be realized. And now, in our generation, will the wisdom of our master bear fruit … ?”

At that point, the polarity of his thoughts reversed, and he called out sharply:

“Rubinsky!”

“Uh … yes?”

“Don’t ever betray me.”

If even one person who had known the Landesherr of Phezzan had been present, his eyes would have snapped wide open at the realization that even this man could break out in a cold sweat.

“Th-that’s something I never dreamed I would hear you say.”

“You’ve both ability and ambition … I was merely warning you so that you do not succumb to temptation. Surely you are sufficiently aware of the reason why the illustrious Manfred II, as well as your own predecessor as landesherr, had to die.”

Manfred II had believed in the ideal of peaceful coexistence between the empire and alliance, and had attempted to implement that as policy. Rubinsky’s predecessor Walenkov had hated being controlled from Earth and had tried to act independently. Both of them had attempted acts disadvantageous for Earth.

“It’s because of Your Grace’s support that I was able to become landesherr. I am no ingrate.”

“If that’s the case, then all is well. That praiseworthiness will protect you.”

Some time later, the transmission came to an end, and Rubinsky went out onto the marble terrace, where, standing still, he looked up into the starry night sky. That he could not see Earth was fortunate. The feeling of relief, as if he had returned to reality from some other dimension, was gradually restoring his usual indomitable confidence.

Had Phezzan belonged to Phezzan alone, it might well have been he himself who was the de facto ruler of the galaxy. Unfortunately, however, the reality was different.

To the monomaniacs who were trying to reverse eight hundred years of history and make Earth capital of all the assembled stars once again, Adrian Rubinsky was nothing but a manservant.

However, would that be true in perpetuity? Nowhere in the universe was there an absolute and just reason why that had to be so.

“Well then, who’s going to be the last one standing? The empire? The alliance? Earth … ?” As Rubinsky was talking to himself, the corners of his mouth turned upward, just like the mouth of the fox that was his other namesake.

“Or will it be me … ?”

At Reinhard’s words, Kircheis nodded. “I’m in consultation with Mittermeier and von Reuentahl,” he said, “and operations planning is coming along nicely. There’s just one thing, though, that worries me.”

“ ‘What will the rebel forces do?’ ”

“Exactly.”

What would happen if, while the empire’s internal forces were divided between the Lichtenlade-Lohengramm axis and the Braunschweig-Littenheim camp, the alliance’s military were to take advantage of the state of civil war and launch a second incursion? Even Kircheis, who was confident in the planning and execution of his operation, was feeling uneasy about that point.

The golden-haired youth gave his red-haired friend an easy smile.

“Don’t worry about it, Kircheis. I have an idea. No matter how much skill Yang Wen-li may boast as a strategist, this measure will ensure that he won’t be able to leave Iserlohn.”

“And your strategy is … ?”

“In short, it’s this.”

Ice-blue eyes flashing enthusiastically, Reinhard launched into his explanation.

Although the empire’s political situation appeared to have gotten a brief reprieve because of the swift establishment of the Lichtenlade-Lohengramm axis, there was no way that the present configuration was going to transition into a period of stability. The Braunschweig-Littenheim camp was going to rise up with armed force or, more precisely, be driven into a corner from which it would have to rise up. A civil war was going to break out and divide the empire.

And when that happened, Yang would come up with an ingenious reading of the situation and intervene—for example, suppose he joined forces with von Braunschweig’s people to defeat the Marquis von Lohengramm in a pincer movement and then repaid von Braunschweig’s side with a single blow to slaughter them. The Galactic Empire would likely fall.

Or maybe he could give his plans to von Braunschweig, let him do half the fighting against Reinhard, and then hit them both when both sides had reached the limits of exhaustion—that he could probably do himself. For his part, Yang was actually rather disgusted that he prided himself so on his mind as a tactician. When he had murmured, “I can feel the temptation,” that was what he had been talking about.

If he were a dictator, that was what he would do. But what was he but one soldier of a democratic nation? There were, of course, restrictions on what he could do. To exceed those restrictions would only make him Rudolf’s successor …

When Julian had taken away the cup of cold tea, brewed a fresh pot, and set it on Yang’s desk, Yang noticed at last.

“Oh, thank you,” he said.

“Did you have something on your mind?”

Upon being asked directly, a boyish look of embarrassment appeared on the face of the youngest full admiral in the Alliance Armed Forces.

“It’s not the kind of thing I can talk about with other people. I mean, honestly, if all people think about is winning, there’s no bottom to how low they can go.”

Not quite understanding what Yang was getting at, Julian remained silent and waited for him to continue.

“By the way,” said Yang, “I understand von Schönkopf’s been teaching you how to shoot. How’s that coming along?”

“From what the rear admiral says, I’m apparently ‘a natural talent.’ ”

“Oh, that’s good to hear.”

“But, Commander, you never practice marksmanship at all. Is that really all right?”

Yang laughed. “I don’t seem to have any talent for it. Don’t care to make an effort, either, so at present I just might be the worst marksman in the service.”

“Well, in that case, how do you protect yourself?”

“A fight where a commanding officer has to take up a gun to defend himself is already lost. All I’m thinking about now is how to not end up in that situation.”

“I see. In that case, I’ll be the one to defend you.”

“I’ll be counting on it.” Smiling, Yang picked up the cup of tea.

Watching the young commander, a thought occurred to Julian:
He’s fifteen years older than me. In the next fifteen years, can I reach his level?

The boy had the feeling that it was too great a distance.

The galaxy turned, carrying with it thoughts, beliefs, and hopes beyond number.

It was SE 796, IE 487, and neither Marquis Reinhard von Lohengramm nor Yang Wen-li had foreseen any of what still lay ahead for them.

Yoshiki Tanaka was born in 1952 in Kumamoto Prefecture and completed a doctorate in literature at Gakushuin University. Tanaka won the Gen’eijo (a mystery magazine) New Writer Award with his debut story “Midori no Sogen ni…” (On the green field…) in 1978, then started his carrier as a science fiction and fantasy writer. Legend of the Galactic Heroes, which translates the European wars of the nineteenth century to an interstellar setting, won the Seiun Award for best science fiction novel in 1987. Tanaka’s other works include the fantasy series The Heroic Legend of Arslan and many other science fiction, fantasy, historical, and mystery novels and stories.

Ninety years from now, a satellite detects a nearby black hole scientists dub Kali for the Hindu goddess of destruction. Humanity embarks on a generations-long project to tap the energy of the black hole and establish colonies on planets across the solar system. Earth and Mars and the moons Europa (Jupiter) and Titania (Uranus) develop radically different societies, with only Kali, that swirling vortex of destruction and creation, and the hated but crucial Artificial Accretion Disk Development association (AADD) in common.

Ten billion days—that is how long it will take the philosopher Plato to determine the true systems of the world. One hundred billion nights—that is how far into the future Jesus of Nazareth, Siddhartha, and the demigod Asura will travel to witness the end of all worlds. Named the greatest Japanese science fiction novel of all time,
Ten Billion Days and One Hundred Billion Nights
is an epic eons in the making. Originally published in 1967, the novel was revised by the author in later years and republished in 1973.