Legend of Galactic Heroes Vol 1 Chapter 5

Chapter Five     Capturing Iserlohn

            I

            Iserlohn.

            That was the name of the Galactic Empire’s most important military fortress.

            It was positioned approximately 6,250 light years from the Empire’s capital planet, Odin, and near a middle-aged star named Altena (アルテナ). Altena was originally a lonely star without a planet. Here, the Galactic Empire constructed an artificial planet sixty kilometers in diameter, and that fortress made this place geographically significant. 

            If one took a bird’s-eye-view of the Milky Way, one could see that there was a triangular area where the Galactic Empire’s powers extended towards the Free Planets Alliance. Near the peripheral of this area, and in one of the triangular points, was Iserlohn. This area was considered a danger zone for s.p.a.ce navigation. In the past, it was a cosmic cemetery where the founders of the Free Planets Alliance lost many of their comrades. This fact was satisfying for the key figures in the Empire, which strengthened their resolve to construct a military base in the area to intimidate the Alliance.

            Within the area densely populated by variable stars, red giants, and abnormal gravity fields, was a sliver of safety; and Iserlohn was enshrined within that haven. The only way to travel from the Alliance to the Empire without going through this area was to pa.s.s by the Dominion of Fezzan, which, of course, could not be used in a military campaign.

            The Fezzan Corridor and the Iserlohn Corridor. Was there truly not a third route between the Alliance and the Empire? The Alliance politicians and military strategists struggled to locate a third corridor, but due to the lack of star charts and the Empire and Fezzan’s tangible and intangible interference, the effort to locate a third corridor suffered permanent impediment. As far as Fezzan was concerned, its existence hinged on it being a neutral trading post, so it was not rooting for the Alliance to discover a third corridor.

            Due to the above reasons, the Alliance’s intent to invade the Empire was reduced to attempts to capture Iserlohn. Within the last quarter of a century, the Alliance attempted six large-scale invasions. Time and time again they were repelled. That allowed the Imperial Fleet to boast that “the Iserlohn Fortress was paved with the corpses of the rebels.”

            Yang Wen-li also partic.i.p.ated in two of the attempts to capture Iserlohn. He was a lieutenant commander in the fifth operation and a captain in the sixth. Twice he witnessed the ma.s.s production of the dead, and came to understand the idiocy of brute strength attacks on the fortress.

            The Iserlohn Fortress could not be conquered from the outside. That was Yang’s impression when he was with the defeated fleet. So what could be done?

            In addition to the Iserlohn Fortress, there was the Iserlohn Garrison Fleet with 15,000 ships. The fortress commander and the fleet commander were admirals of the same rank. Could there be an opportunity for that fact to be exploited?

            Count Lohengramm also used Iserlohn as a forward operating base in his recent invasion. This was an ominous location for the Alliance. Whatever the cost, they must conquer this Empire military base. However, Yang was only given “half a fleet.”

            “Frankly, I did not think you would accept this mission.”

            Rear Admiral Cazerne said while paging through the fleet roster. His office was located within the Joint Operations Headquarters building.

            “The Commissioner and the Chief both have ulterior motives. You should know that.”

            Yang who was sitting in front of him chuckled but did not respond. Cazerne loudly slammed the doc.u.ments on the desk and turned with considerable interest to his military academy junior.

            “Our fleets have attempted six times in the past to capture Iserlohn, and we failed six times. Yet, somehow you are trying to succeed with half a fleet?”

            “Yeah… I thought I will try and see what happens.”

            Yang replied. Cazerne’s eyes squinted into two thin lines.

            “It seems like you feel you have a good chance of success.”

            “That is a secret.”

            “Even to me?”

            “If you find out then you will think I am c.o.c.ky.”

            “Fine. Just tell me if you need any supplies prepared. I am not saying this to try and bribe you.”

            “In that case, I need one Imperial warship. I believe we captured some in the past. Also, I will need 200 military uniforms.”

            Cazerne’s narrowed eyes were wide open again.

            “Deadline?”

            “Within three days.”

            “I am not saying you should pay me overtime, but it will cost approximately one gla.s.s of cognac.”

            “I will treat you two gla.s.ses, but I have another request.”

            “It will have to be three gla.s.ses. What is it?”

            “It is about the recently sprung up Patriotic Knights Corps.”

            “Oh, I heard about that. What a calamity.”

            Because Julian would be staying home alone, Yang requested that military police be arranged to patrol the area. Yang wanted the teenager to stay at someone else’s house for the time being, but the self-appointed home-front commander was not having it. After agreeing to arrange for it immediately, Cazerne thought of something, and looked at Yang again.

            “Oh, right. The high commissioner (高等弁務官) of Fezzan was strangely interested in you these days.”

            “Huh?”

            Regarding Fezzan’s unique existence, Yang was interested in it for slightly different reasons compared to others. The person that created this “dominion” was Leopold Laap (レオポルド・ラープ), a successful merchant from Terra. There were many things that were unknown about his background or his funding sources.  Who allowed Laap to create a place like Fezzan? What was the purpose of such a scheme? – Yang, who had wanted to become a historian, also spent time contemplating that issue, but he had not shared such thoughts with others.

            “The Black Fox of Fezzan seemed to have become interested in you. Maybe they want to recruit you.”

            “I wonder if Fezzan has good tea.”

            “They are probably seasoned with poisonous gas. In any case, how is your plan going?”

            “Plans rarely get carried out as scheduled. On the other hand, without a plan, things do not get done.”

            After he said that, Yang stood up. Piles of work were waiting for him.

            The 13th Fleet had only half the numbers of officers, men, and vessels, but that was not all. Among those officers and men, more than half were the residuals of the 4th Fleet and the 6th Fleet that suffered crushing defeats in Astarte, and the rest were recruits lacking combat experience. To add insult to injury, the commanding officer was a young spirited rear admiral merely in his twenties. The veteran admirals were surprised and amazed; and of course, Yang was definitely made aware of their ridicules. The baby who could not even change his own diapers was apparently going to beat up and kill a lion with his bare hands. It would probably be an interesting show. It was one thing if they gave him the opportunity, but that did not necessarily mean the task was feasible.

            Yang was not upset. In terms of this battle, if one was not afraid of its success rate, then that person must be an exceptionally optimistic person. Even Yang thought that.

            Just one person came to Yang’s defense, and that was the 5th Fleet commander Vice Admiral Bewc.o.c.k (ビュコック). He was a 70-year-old grey-haired admiral who was known to be quick-tempered and stubborn. If someone like Yang were to salute him, he might just return the favor by glaring uninterestedly at the person, silently questioning, “Where did this kiddo come from?” In the officers’ club, “The White Stag,” this “scary father figure” said to his colleagues who were mocking the 13th Fleet and Yang:

            “In the future, you might wish that you did not say anything that would make you feel ashamed. The lot of you are looking at the seedling of a giant tree and mocking its lack of height. It is a silly thing to do.”

            Suddenly, the place became deathly silent. They were reminded of Yang’s talents that were shown in Astarte and the battles prior to that. The old admiral’s words dispersed their crowd-mentality and the admirals all felt embarra.s.sed and uneasy. After finishing up their drinks, they left separately.

            After Yang learned about the story, he did not go out of his way to thank Vice Admiral Bewc.o.c.k. He knew if he had done that, the grey-haired admiral would just laugh in his face.

            The hostility from the other admirals had lessened for the time being, but the overall situation did not necessarily improve. The depressing fact that they were attacking an impregnable fortress with a “hybrid half fleet” that consisted of remnants and new recruits remained. 

            Yang paid careful attention to his staff selection. For his second-in-command (副司令官), he selected the fierce and experienced Commodore Fisher (フィッシャー) of the 4th Fleet. For his chief-of-staff (首席幕僚), he chose Commodore Murai (ムライ) who, although lacking in originality, had detailed and sophisticated organizational capabilities. For his deputy-chief-of-staff (次席幕僚), he picked a fighter named Captain Patrichev (パトリチェフ). Yang personally appointed each of them.

            Murai could remind him of common sense theories, which he could take into consideration when making tactical decisions; Patrichev would be able to take on the role of rallying the s.p.a.cemen; and Fisher could mobilize fleets reliably. When Yang made the selections, these were his considerations.

            Up to this point, he felt his selection was satisfactory. However, when it came time to select his adjutant, he was at a loss for ideas. Cazerne had already scouted out an “excellent young officer” for him. “Graduated second place in the officer academy’s cla.s.s of 794. An honor student, unlike you. Currently a.s.signed to the Joint Operations Headquarters Intelligence a.n.a.lysis Division,” Cazerne wrote on the memo.

            The person that appeared in front of Yang was a beautiful young woman with hazel eyes and naturally wavy dirty blond hair. Even the dully colored, simply designed, black and ivory-white uniform seemed dazzling on her. Yang removed his sungla.s.ses and stared intently at her.

            “Sub-Lieutenant Frederica Greenhill (フレデリカ・グリーンヒル). I am interviewing for the position as Rear Admiral Yang's adjutant,” the woman greeted.

            Yang put his sungla.s.ses back on to hide his facial expression, and then wondered if Alex Cazerne was hiding a black tail with a pointy tip in his uniform slacks.

            The woman was the daughter of Admiral Dwight Greenhill (ドワイト・グリーンヒル), the deputy chief of Joint Operations Headquarters (統合作戦本部次長). She was renowned for her amazing memory.

            With her, the staff list for the 13th Fleet was determined.

II

            April 27, 796 UC, the Free Planets Alliance’s 13th Fleet commander, Rear Admiral Yang Wen-li, deployed to capture the Iserlohn Fortress.

            The official reason for the deployment was because the newly-minted fleet intended to perform their first large-scale exercise in the frontier starzones in the opposite direction of the Imperial border. They therefore headed from the Alliance capital Heinesen towards the opposite direction of Iserlohn, utilizing the Pulse Warp method, at the speed 50 times the speed of light. After continuing the course for three days, they recalculated their route, and repeated eight long distance warp jumps and eleven short distance warp jumps before finally entering the Iserlohn Corridor.

            “Four thousand light-years in twenty-four days. Not bad.”

            Yang muttered. “Not bad” was an understatement. This hastily formed fleet made it to its destination without losing a single vessel. That fact alone was worthy of praise. However, the credit should be given to the second-in-command, Commodore Fisher, who expertly maneuvered the fleet. His virtuosity in fleet operation was something to be admired.

            “It is because there is an expert in the 13th Fleet,” Fisher said.

            Yang completely relied on Fisher in this area, so no matter what Fisher said, Yang would only nod in agreement.

           Yang focused his entire mind on only the strategy to capture Iserlohn. At the very beginning of the operation, Yang confided his plan in the three high ranking officers on his team: Fisher, Murai, and Patrichev. The only response that came back was dead silence.

            Fisher was starting to have silver in his hair and his beard. Murai was neurotic looking, lanky, and middle-aged. Patrichev had long sideburns along his chubby face, and always looked as if he was about to burst out of his uniform. For a while, all three just stared speechlessly at their young commander.

            “What if we fail?”

            After their long silence, Murai asked the obvious question.

            “In that case we would have no choice but to flee with our tails between our legs.”

            “But even then…”

            “Ah, do not worry. It was unreasonable to throw half a fleet at Iserlohn to begin with, so the humiliation will belong squarely to Chief Sithole and me.”

            After the three of them took their leave, Yang called in his current adjutant, Sub-Lieutenant Frederica Greenhill.

            Because of her position as the adjutant, Frederica became aware of Yang’s plan before the three senior officers learned of it. She did not object to it or express any concerns. On the contrary, she predicted Yang’s success with more confidence than Yang had.

            “Why are you so confident?”

           

            Completely baffled, Yang could not help but asked.

            “Eight years ago, at El Facil, Rear Admiral also succeeded.”

            “That is really a poor choice of evidence.”

            “But, Sir, you successfully planted absolute trust in the heart of a girl.”

            “……?”

            To her suspicious superior, the beautiful woman officer with dirty blond hair said:

            “I was with my mother in El Facil at the time. My mother’s parents lived there. I remember clearly the young sub-lieutenant who barely had time to eat, who was gnawing on a sandwich while commanding the escape line. Then, he choked on his sandwich, so a 14-year-old girl brought him a paper cup of coffee. That sub-lieutenant probably forgot about this a long time ago.”

            “……”

            “After drinking the life-saving cup of coffee, guess what he said?”

            “…What did he say?”

            “I hate coffee. I wish you had brought me tea.”

             Yang nearly burst out laughing, so he quickly coughed to try and suppress his laughter.

            “Did I say something that rude?”

            “Yeah, you did. Then you crumpled up the empty paper cup…”

            “Ah, I am sorry. But, you really should use your memory on something more beneficial.”

            Yang said sternly, but it was really just an attempt to hide his embarra.s.sment. Frederica was someone who was able to pick out six conflicting photos out of the 14,000 photos of the Iserlohn Fortress. That alone proved that she was using her memory in beneficial ways.

            “Please have Captain Schönkopf come in,” Yang ordered.

            Captain Walter von Schönkopf (ワルター・フォン・シェーンコップ) appeared in front of Yang exactly three minutes later. He was the captain of the Rosen Ritter (薔薇の騎士《ローゼンリッター》) regiment that belonged to the Alliance Land Warfare Division. He was a sophisticated looking man in his early thirties, but people of the same s.e.x tend to think of him as a “smug b.a.s.t.a.r.d.” He was originally born to an Imperial aristocrat family, and he should have been wearing an Imperial uniform on the battlefield.

            The Rosen Ritter was originally established with Imperial aristocrat children who were exiled to the Alliance in mind. The regiment had been in existence for half a century already. That history was partly written with golden letters, and partly smeared with black ink. There were twelve captains in the past. Four died fighting against their motherland. Two retired after rising to the ranks of admirals. Six defected to their motherland: some secretly escaped, and others took enemies as friends on the battlefield. Schönkopf was their 13th captain.

            Thirteen was considered an ominous number, so there were those that argued that he would become the seventh traitor. There was not one accepted hypothesis on why the number thirteen was ominous. One of the hypotheses said it was because the war that utilized the now-abolished nuclear fission weapons and nearly annihilated the entire human race on earth lasted thirteen days. It was also suggested that it was because the founder of an ancient lost religion was betrayed by his thirteenth disciple.

            “Walter von Schönkopf reporting in.”

            The respectful tone and the unscrupulous expression were in disharmony. Yang thought as he looked at this former Empire national who was three or four years older than himself. Perhaps the man’s contrived mannerism was his means to judge someone’s character, but even so, he could not test if people meshed well like this every time…

            “I wanted to speak with you, officer.”

            “Is it important?”

            “Somewhat. It is regarding the capturing of Iserlohn.”

            For a few seconds, Schönkopf’s eyes wondered about the room.

            “That is very important. Are you sure you want to tell me?”

            “It has to be you, so please listen carefully.”

            Yang started explaining.

            …Five minutes later, he finished listening to Yang’s explanation. Schönkopf’s brown eyes expressed a peculiar expression. It seemed that he was having a difficult time suppressing his feeling of shock.

            “I will preemptively say this, Captain. This is not a deceitful strategy, it is fraud. No, I should say it belongs in the category of little tricks.”

             Yang took off his black military beret and twirled it around on his fingertips as he said.

            “However, if we wish to occupy an impregnable fortress like Iserlohn, then I think this might be the only way. If this does not work, then this task is beyond my abilities.”

            “True, there may not be other methods.”

            Schönkopf replied as he stroked his chin.

            “The powerful fortress may breed carelessness in the people. The potential for success is pretty good, but…”

            “But?”

            “If I become the seventh traitor, then all of this will be naught. What do you think about that?”

            “Troubled.”

            Upon seeing Yang’s serious expression, Schönkopf gave a bitter smile.

            “It certainly would be troublesome. But were you just troubled? Did you think about how you would handle it?”

            “I did think about how I would handle it.”

            “And?”

            “Nothing came to mind. If you were to betray us, we will be in your hands. We will not have much of a choice.”

             The beret flew off Yang’s finger towards the floor. The former Empire national picked it up for Yang, dusted it off, then handed it back to his superior.

            “Sorry about that.”

            “Do not worry about it. So, you trust me completely?”

            “To tell the truth, I do not have a lot of confidence.”

            Yang replied frankly.

            “But, if we do not trust you, then this plan itself cannot be implemented. Therefore, I trust you. It is under this premise.”

            “I see.”

            Although he replied as such, Schönkopf appeared to be unconvinced. With a look that was half probing and half self-reflecting, the captain of the Rosen Ritter examined his young superior.

            “May I ask you something, Sir?”

            “Yes?”

            “The order that was given to you this time was absolutely unreasonable. You were asked to lead half a fleet of the least desirable s.p.a.cemen, the equivalent of a motley crew, to defeat the Iserlohn Fortress. Even if you had refused the order, not many would blame you. But, you accepted it. Was it because you had this plan that you felt was implementable in terms of its technical aspects? Even if that was the case, I want to know the real reason you accepted the order. Are you hoping for honor? Or are you looking for a promotion?”

            Schönkopf looked cynical and unrelenting.

            “I do not think it is for a promotion.”

            Yang answered indifferently, as if he was discussing someone else’s life.

            “I am being called a ‘sir’ before I turned thirty. I think that is enough for me. For one, after this battle is over, if I am still alive, I would like to retire.”

            “Retire?”

           “Um, yeah. I will get pension and severance pay… I only have one other person with me. If we live modestly, it should not be difficult.”

            “You plan to retire under this kind of circ.u.mstance?”

            Hearing that Schönkopf’s voice was full of disbelief, Yang laughed.

            “You said ‘this kind of circ.u.mstance.’ If we are able to occupy Iserlohn, then we will cut off the only route the Empire can use to attack us. If the Alliance does not do anything stupid such as a reverse invasion, then the two fleets will not be able to confront each other, at least not on the large scale.”

            “……”

            “Then, the Alliance can utilize diplomacy to gain a favorable footing militarily speaking. We may even be able to sign a satisfactory peace treaty with the Empire. If that is the case, then I can peacefully retire.”

            “But do you think it is possible for that peace to be permanent?”

            “In the history of mankind, there was never lasting peace. Therefore, I would not wish for something like that. I am hoping for a few peaceful and prosperous decades. If we must leave some kind of legacy for the next generation to inherit, then peace is definitely the best option. Also, the maintenance of the peace that was inherited from the previous generation then becomes the responsibility of the next generation. Then, should each generation after that not forget their responsibility, we may be able to keep the peace for a long time. However, descendents forgetting their ancestors’ legacy is inevitable, so humans keep starting over from scratch, and that is fine.”

            Yang stopped toying with his military beret and gently put it back on his head.

            “In short, my hope is at most several decades of peace from here on out. Still, if we have just a tenth of the wars we have now, that would still be thousands of times better than what we have currently. I have a 14-year-old boy at home. I do not want to see that child being drawn to the battlefield. That is all.”

            Yang stopped talking and the room became silent, but it was not quiet for long.

            “With all due respect, sir, you are either an overly honorable person, or you are the best casuist since Rudolf the Great.”

            Schönkopf broke into a wide grin.

            “In any case, the reply I received was more than I had expected. I will also devote my meager abilities to your cause, for your non-everlasting peace.”

            Because neither party had any interest in exchanging appreciative handshakes, their conversation immediately took a more practical turn, and they began to examine the details of their plan.

            III

            Iserlohn had two Imperial admirals. One of them was the fortress commander (要塞司令官), Admiral Thoma von Stockhausen (トーマ・フォン・シュトックハウゼン); the other was the Fortress Garrison Fleet commander (要塞駐留艦隊司令官), Admiral Hans Dietrich von Seeckt (ハンス・ディートリヒ・フォン・ゼークト). Both of them were in their fifties. They were approximately the same height, but Stockhausen’s waist circ.u.mference was slightly thinner than Seeckt’s.

            The two of them were not close, but that was more due to tradition than it was due to personal reasons. There were two commanders of the same rank in one workplace. It would be incredible if they had no conflicts.

            Their mutual hostility naturally extended to the s.p.a.cemen under them. As far as the fortress defense force was concerned, the fleet members were just pompous freeloaders who flee home to the safe zone whenever the battles outside become dangerous. The fleet members were the prodigal sons, so to speak. In the opinions of the fleet crew, the fortress defense force members were the s.p.a.ce moles that hide in their safety nests and pick the appropriate battles to partic.i.p.ate in. 

            Their pride as the warriors who defended the impregnable Iserlohn Fortress and their mutual desire to fight against the “rebel fleet” precariously bridged them together. In truth, they despised each other and competed for merits whenever the Alliance Fleet attacked. As a result, they achieved considerable success in the past.

            The military administration had put forward several proposals to consolidate the chain-of-command, and combine the fortress commander and the garrison fleet commander into one post, but, the proposals were crushed each time. Eliminating one of the top commanding posts concerned the high-ranking military officers greatly. Besides, the two posts’ mutual animosity had not led to any fetal consequences.

            It was May 14th of the standard calendar.

            The two commanders, Stockhausen and Seeckt, met in the conference room. Originally, this room was a corner in the high-ranking officers’ lounge. However, because it was of equal distance to both their offices, it was remodeled to be completely soundproof.  Both of them detested going to the other person’s office, and because it was unreasonable to rely on only video conferences when they were both present in the same fortress, this was the compromise.

            Over the last two days, the communication around the fortress had been disrupted. There was no room for doubt that the rebel fleet was nearby, but it did not appear that the rebel fleet intended to attack. The reason for their meeting today was to discuss the proper course-of-action for the situation, but their conversation was not heading towards a constructive direction.

            “You said there are enemies present and we should attack, yet we do not even know their position. It is not possible to fight like that.”

            Stockhausen said, but Seeckt reb.u.t.ted. 

            “That is why you have to go out, look around, and find out where the enemies are hiding. If the enemies are attacking us, then I guess they would have mobilized an overwhelmingly large fleet.”

            Seeckt said. Stockhausen nodded confidently.

            “Then this time they will also be defeated. The rebel fleet had attacked us six times, and six times they were defeated. If they come again, it just means the six times will become seven times.”

            “This fortress really is the greatest.”

            ‘And it is not because you are competent,’ the Garrison Fleet commander implied.

            “In any case, it is a fact that the enemies are nearby. I want to mobilize the fleet and do a recon.”

            “Like I said, we do not even know where they are. It is pointless to recon. We should wait a little longer and see.”

            As their conversation went in circles, the communications room contacted them. A strange message came through on their circuit.

            Interference was severe, and the communication was choppy, but finally the following message was determined:

            – We are in a Bremen-type light cruiser (ブレーメン型軽巡洋艦), and we have been dispatched from the Imperial Capital Odin to Iserlohn to deliver an important message. We were attacked by the enemy in the corridor, and we are fleeing. Requesting rescue from Iserlohn. –

            The two commanders looked at each other.

            “We do not know where they are in the corridor, but considering this, we must deploy.”

            Seeckt pushed out a twisted voice from the back of his thick throat.

            “But are you okay with that?”

            “What do you mean? My men are different from the s.p.a.ce moles that only hope for safety.”

            “What do you mean by that?”

            They arrived together at the war room looking rather angry. Seeckt ordered his fleet’s deployment, and as he was explaining the reason, Stockhausen looked away.

            When Seeckt finished speaking, one of his staff officers stood up.

            “Your Excellency, please hold on a minute.”

            “Captain Oberstein?”

            Admiral Seeckt addressed Oberstein with not an ounce of cordiality in his voice. He disliked his new general staff officer (GSO). The staff officer’s hair was half grey, his skin was chalky, and once in a while even his ocular prostheses gave off a weird sheen. Seeckt loathed everything about the staff officer’s appearance. It was as if despair painted the man.

            “Do you have a suggestion?”

            The superior’s voice was dismissive, but at least on the surface, Oberstein was not bothered.

            “Yes.”

            “Fine, go ahead.”

            Seeckt replied reluctantly.

            “Yes, Your Excellency. This seems to be a trap.”

            “A trap?”

            “Yes. It is to lure the fleet away from Iserlohn. We cannot deploy. We should wait and observe the situation.”

             Seeckt snorted angrily.

            “Are you saying that if we were to deploy, the enemies would be waiting for us; and if we were to engage them, we would lose?”

            “That is not what I meant…”

            “Then what did you mean? We are servicemen. Our duty is to fight. Before we seek our own safety, should we not engage and shoot the enemy? Besides, what about saving our allies who are being cornered?”

            A portion of his response could be attributed to his distaste for Oberstein, but it was also because he saw Stockhausen observing their discourse with a sarcastic expression. Moreover, Seeckt was the warrior type who could not hold back if he saw an enemy. It was against his nature to huddle in this cage of a fortress and wait for his enemies. He believed that those who do that are not worthy of sailing warships.

            “Well, Admiral Seeckt, what your GSO said also makes sense. Whether they are friends or foes, we do not know their exact location, so it presents greater risk. What about we wait it out and see?”

            With Stockhausen inserting that kind of opinion, the situation was determined.

            “No. The entire fleet will deploy in one hour.”

            Seeckt affirmed.

            Soon, the 15,000 large and small vessels of the Iserlohn Garrison Fleet started to depart.

            Stockhausen watched them via the port access control monitor in the fortress command and control center. The scene of these giant tower-like warships and streamlined cruisers sailing towards the outer s.p.a.ce in an orderly fashion was a magnificent sight to behold.

            “Heh, I hope you suffer a little before you come back.”

           Stockhausen cursed under his breath. He would not say, ‘I hope you die,’ or ‘I hope you lose,’ even as a joke. He had at least that much restraint.

            After about six hours, another communication came through. It came from the Bremen-type light cruiser. They finally arrived near the fortress, but they were being pursued by the rebel fleet, and they requested support from the cannon. That content was heard through the white noise. 

            As the gunners prepared to a.s.sist, Stockhausen felt displeased. Where was the moronic Seeckt hanging out? After that kind of boastful talk, he could not even rescue a lonely ally?

            “Ship on the screen!”

            The subordinates reported. The commander ordered them to magnify the image.

            It was a Bremen-type light cruiser drunkenly heading towards the fortress. There were large amounts of visible lights behind them. Of course, those would be the enemy.

            “Prepare the cannon!”

            Stockhausen ordered.

            However, inches before entering the main fortress cannon’s range, all of the Allied vessels stopped simultaneously. Timidly, they drifted along an invisible border. They watched as the Bremen-type light cruiser followed the guiding waves sent out by the fortress control room into the port, then admitted into the fortress, before they started turning back.

            “Smart, you knew you were no match.”

            The Imperial Fleet s.p.a.cemen boisterously laughed. They felt their power was one with the fortress, and that bolstered their confidence.

            After the Bremen-type light cruiser entered the port and docked at the magnetic field, they saw the miserable condition it was in.

            Just the exterior of the cruiser had over ten damaged areas. From the cracks on the outer sh.e.l.l, white cushioning material was squeezed out like the intestines of an animal. The amount of hairline cracks could not even be counted with the fingers and toes of one hundred s.p.a.cemen.

            A hydrogen-powered vehicle full of maintenance s.p.a.cemen drove near. They were not a part of the fortress unit, but were instead under the command of the Fortress Garrison Fleet commander, so they felt very sympathetic to the cruiser’s plight.

           The light cruiser’s hatch opened, and a young officer emerged with white bandages wrapped around his head. The man was handsome, but his face was pallid, and his clothes were stained with dried dark red matters.

            “I am the captain, Lieutenant Commander von Laeken (フォン・ラーケン). I wish to request a meeting with the fortress commander.”

            It was clearly the Imperial official language.

            “Understood. However, what exactly is the situation outside the fortress?”

            One of the maintenance officers asked, but Lieutenant Commander Laeken gasped in pain. 

            “We do not know either, since we just came from Odin. But, it seems that your fleet has been destroyed.”

            Then, Lieutenant Commander Laeken glared at the speechless crowd and cried:

            “Apparently the rebel fleet has pa.s.sed through the corridor, and they seem to have thought up some ridiculous method. This is not just about Iserlohn. This concerns the fate of the Empire! Please take me to your commander right now!”

            The request was heeded immediately.

            Admiral Stockhausen was waiting in the command and control center. When he saw the five light-cruiser officers ushered in surrounded by guards, he quickly stood up.

            “I am Stockhausen. Explain the situation. What happened?”

            The fortress commander stomped over and said with a volume that was louder than necessary.

            If the prior communications were correct, and the rebel fleet found a method to pa.s.s through the corridor, then the Iserlohn Fortress’s raison d'etre itself would be called into question. The reality was that it was imperative for them to come up with a countermeasure for the rebel fleet’s actions.

            Because Iserlohn itself was immovable, the garrison fleet was crucial at a time like this. Yet, Seeckt acted like a complete fool! Stockhausen could not remain calm.

            “The situation is like this…”

            This was Lieutenant Commander Laeken’s voice. As his voice gradually weakened, Stockhausen leaned closer to his face.

            “…The situation is like this. Your Excellency Stockhausen, you just became our hostage.”

            The moment suddenly froze, and instantly melted. The guards cursed loudly and drew their blaster guns, but Lieutenant Commander Laeken’s arm already wrapped around Stockhausen’s neck, and he was pointing a ceramic blaster gun that metal detectors were not able to pick up at the side of Stockhausen’s face.

            “You b.a.s.t.a.r.d…”

            The naturally red face of the command and control center guard captain, Commander Remler (レムラー), became even redder.

            “You are one of the rebels! How dare you…”

            “Pleased to meet you. I am Captain Schönkopf of the Rosen Ritter. Since both my hands are full, I would not be able to take off my makeup before greeting you.”

            The captain laughed audaciously.

            “To think it went so well. To be honest, I did not think it would work. I even brought a properly forged ID, and he did not even check. However secure a system is, it is only as good as the people using it. This is a good lesson to learn.”

            “A good lesson for whom?”

            As he said sinisterly, Commander Remler aimed his blaster at Stockhausen and Schönkopf. 

            “You think you took a hostage?  Do not equate Imperial servicemen with rebel b.a.s.t.a.r.ds like you. His Excellency fears dishonor more than he fears death! He will not be used as a shield to protect your life.”

            “Your Excellency, are you troubled by this overpraise?”

            After the mockery, Schönkopf eyed one of his four subordinates who were closely guarding him. That subordinate took a palm-sized, disk-shaped object out of his Imperial uniform. It was also made out of ceramic.

            “You get it? It is a Seffle particle (ゼッフル粒子) generator.”

            When Schönkopf said that, it was as if an electric current flowed through the large room.

            The “Seffle particle” was a kind of chemical substance named after its inventor Karl Seffle. Seffle was an applied chemist. He invented the particle to facilitate planetary scale public works projects and mining operations. Basically, it was a substance that, if reacted with heat or energy beyond a certain level, would ignite and cause a gas-like explosion within a controllable range. However, whatever field an industrial technology was invented for, humans would find a way to militarize it.

            Commander Remler’s face turned almost black. It was now impossible to fire energy-beam shooting blasters. Firing one would kill all of them. The Seffle particles in the air would be ignited by the energy beam, and everyone in the room would be burnt to a crisp in an instant.

            “Com..Commander…”

           One of the guards cried with despair. With hollow eyes, Commander Remler looked to Admiral Stockhausen. Schönkopf slightly loosened his arm, and after two deep breathes, the Iserlohn Fortress commander surrendered.

            “You won. There is no other way. We surrender.”

            Schönkopf secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

            “Alright, everyone, go according to plan.”

            The captain’s subordinates carried out his order. They entered the computer program and neutralized the defense system. Via the air conditioning system, they delivered hypnotic gas throughout the fortress. The technology s.p.a.cemen who were hiding within the Bremen-type light cruiser popped out and began to quickly perform these tasks. It was only noticed by a small number of people. It was as if Iserlohn’s body was invaded by cancer. It was robbed of all of its functions.

            Five hours later, the Imperial s.p.a.cemen were freed from their bean soup like muddy sleep, only to be stunned by fact that they were disarmed and taken prisoner. The number of Empire s.p.a.cemen captured, including personnel in combat, communications, supply, medical, maintenance, administration, and technical support, totaled 500,000. The fortress also had an enormous food factory. The environment and facilities in place could support over one million people, including the Garrison Fleet. It was obvious that the Empire intended for Iserlohn to be a permanent fortress both in name and in actuality. 

            However, from now on, the officers and men of the Alliance 13th Fleet would be walking these grounds.

            In this manner, the Iserlohn Fortress that had sucked up the blood of millions of Alliance servicemen in the past changed hands without adding a single drop of new blood.

 IV

            In the corridor filled with danger and obstacles, the Imperial Iserlohn Garrison Fleet was wandering in search of the enemy.

            The communications officers struggled to get in touch with the fortress, but suddenly, their faces were flushed with outrage, and they called over Commander Seeckt. After eliminating the relentless interference, they finally restored communications. However, the message they received from the fortress was, “A portion of the s.p.a.cemen revolted. Requesting rescue.”

            “A revolt within the fortress?”

            Seeckt was speechless.

            “Can Stockhausen not even get his subordinates under control? What an incompetent fool!”

            However, to have Stockhausen humbly requesting rescue from him was very satisfying, and he felt a sense of superiority wash over him. To be able to do his colleague a great favor was rather pleasing.

            “The fire under our feet needs to be put out first. Whole fleet, return to Iserlohn immediately.”

            Seeckt ordered.