Sending It Along!

January 487 I.C., Odin

Captain Leigh should have waited until Kircheis was about to leave for the day to tell him about the letter. Since it was right after lunch, the rest of his work day was sure to be ruined. Kircheis was a good worker, and usually could focus on his tasks despite distractions, but there were very few things that could have knocked him as off-balance as this news. His daily tasks, a list of subjects to research for Leigh and some scheduling of fleet resupply that had been pushed onto his plate by the more senior staff in Braunschweig’s office, fell by the wayside. All Kircheis could do was look back and forth between the framed photograph on his desk and the wrinkled paper in his hand, comparing the Reinhard he had known in childhood to the one he saw in the new image.

It wasn’t as though he hadn’t seen recent photographs of Reinhard before. There had been the grainy security footage in the Phezzani newspapers along with his school yearbook photo. But this was somehow different. It wasn’t just that the image was clearer, and that the expression on his face— a tight lipped half-scowl— was familiar. Although Kircheis knew it was unlikely, he couldn’t help but imagine that in this picture, he was what Reinhard was thinking about.

He got himself a cup of coffee, then let it go cold at his elbow as he stared at the pictures some more. Lieutenant commander! Reinhard outranked him by a mile. The thought made Kircheis smile. It seemed like the natural order of things, in a way. It must have been his actions at Condor Base that had earned him such a promotion, even though they had happened when he was a student. Unless he had been allowed to leave school early, and had been promoted several times within the year? Kircheis wished he knew. What he wanted, more than anything in the universe, was to sit down across a table from Reinhard and listen to him tell every story he had from the past ten years. He could just imagine his voice, deeper with age but still with the authoritative tone that he assumed Reinhard would never drop.

That was impossible, of course. There was no way that Kircheis could go to Phezzan, even if it would have technically been legal. It was frustrating, to be so close and so far away. He would have to make do with this, a flash of communication.

Had Reinhard reached out just because of the connection that they shared? Or did he want to ask Kircheis for something? The idea was heavy in his stomach. He had, with Reinhard, sworn to destroy the Goldenbaum dynasty, a decade ago. Reinhard had told him to gain power by joining the fleet, and although Kircheis had not been planning to, he had done exactly that. With Captain Leigh, he had nestled himself up to the presumptive heir of the Goldenbaum throne.

What, exactly, did that mean for the promise that Kircheis had made to Reinhard, all those years ago? He didn’t know. And asking that question of himself only brought up more complicated and pressing ones.

What was Kircheis doing here under Braunschweig? He was going to have to answer that question eventually. When he lifted his head to look above the edge of his cubicle, he could just see the Braunschweig family crest, carved and painted wood, hanging on the wall across the room. He knew he was here because he had wanted to follow Captain Leigh. Leigh had offered to find him a place elsewhere— there were many places that he could have gone— but Kircheis had wanted to stay with him, even if Leigh did feel like it was stifling his career.

But what was Leigh doing under Braunschweig? Of course, Kircheis knew about the trade that Leigh had made: his services in exchange for Rear Admiral Mittermeyer’s life. But that didn’t explain Leigh’s ultimate goal. And Leigh must have had some kind of goal. Kircheis thought back to one of the first conversations that he had with Leigh, sitting across from him at Josef’s bar, Leigh’s legs all twisted up in the booth seat as they talked about ambition. He had said that he wanted to do more good than harm in the universe, and so he must have thought that he could accomplish that somehow under Braunschweig.

Kircheis could never ask Leigh directly if he was planning to overthrow Braunschweig when he was weak, after the civil war that was sure to be coming. It didn’t seem like that was the case from the work that Leigh was having him do, but Leigh wouldn’t be careless enough to let anyone else figure that out, even if it had been his intention.

Did Kircheis want to overthrow Duke Braunschweig, and the Goldenbaum throne with him? When he thought about what he wanted, his ambitions for the wider world, he wasn’t able to form a coherent picture. The Goldenbaum dynasty was wrong, certainly. He could see that clearly enough. But even if he and Captain Leigh were in a position to replace it with something else, what was that other thing? Did Leigh want the same things that Reinhard did? Or even the same things that Martin did?

It was funny. All his life, Kircheis found himself following behind people who saw their goals very clearly, while he stayed as their helpful shadow, tagging along. First Reinhard, and then Martin, and now Captain Leigh. He could admit that part of the reason that he had fallen in love with Martin was because his passion reminded him of Reinhard’s, if in a different way. The thought made him smile, though another glance at the photo of Reinhard made the smile feel uncomfortable on his face.

At the end of the day, he hurried out of the office and began the long trek back home. The apartment he shared with Martin was far closer to Odin National University than it was to the Ministry of War, though Kircheis didn’t mind. The subway trip and the brisk walk in the cold air was usually a good time to push all of his workday thoughts out of his mind before he saw Martin. He needed the separation between those two worlds.

Of course, today, even the light snowfall couldn’t distract Kircheis enough, and when he arrived back at home he was actually startled to walk in the door and find Martin sitting at the kitchen table, a pen between his teeth as he furrowed his brow at his computer. Kircheis didn’t know what he had been expecting to find at home. His mind had just been elsewhere. He shrugged off his jacket and went to change out of his uniform before saying anything to Martin, who looked up at him with a smile when he came in.

When Kircheis was in his underwear in the bedroom, fishing new clothes out of the closet, Martin wandered in, trailed his friendly hand across Kircheis’s back, then sat down on the bed. “Rough day at work?” he asked.

“No,” Kircheis said. “Just strange.” He pulled a new shirt on over his head so that he wouldn’t have to look at Martin for a moment, then turned to face him.

“Strange in a way you can talk about?”

“Not really,” Kircheis said. “I got some unexpected news from Phezzan.”

Martin raised an eyebrow, and Kircheis shook his head.

“It’s complicated. I’m just not sure what to do about it.”

“I understand.”

“How was your exam?”

“Fine,” Martin said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you for lunch.”

“It’s alright.” He found pants and sat down next to Martin on the bed to pull them on.

“You seem very out of it.”

“Perceptive.”

“I try.”

“Do you have any plans for dinner?” Kircheis asked.

“I think there’s some leftover meatloaf…” Martin said, then trailed off, catching Kircheis’s expression. “You want to go out, since we missed lunch?”

“Yeah,” Kircheis said. “That sounds good.”

“Sure. Give me twenty minutes.” He leaned over to press a kiss to Kircheis’s cheek, then stood. Kircheis smiled up at him, a real smile this time, and Martin nodded and headed out.

Twenty minutes later, they were bundled up in their coats and walking to a nearby pub that Martin liked, about a kilometer away. It was dark and cold, with snowflakes drifting down to land softly on Martin’s black toque, glistening like little stars each time they passed beneath a streetlight. The sidewalks were mostly empty, though cars rushed by, so they could speak freely without being overheard. Martin nudged Kircheis’s arm as they went.

“You’re paranoid, you know that?” Martin said.

“I know,” Kircheis said. “But that’s better than being careless.”

“That’s true.” He scuffed at some of the snow on the ground with his toe. “What was it that you wanted to talk about?”

“Nothing too specific,” Kircheis said. “I still think it’s better if I don’t talk about details.”

Martin nodded, silent.

“I just have been thinking a lot, recently.”

“You’re making me nervous.”

“No, there’s nothing to be nervous about.”

“Good.”

Kircheis glanced around the street again, just confirming that they were alone. “You know I love you—”

“Aw,” Martin said, interrupting him with a smile. Kircheis didn’t mind, but he continued.

“I do. I think it started because you always knew exactly what you wanted the world to look like. You know what’s right, and you don’t let anything stand in your way of chasing it.”

“You’re flattering me, Sieg.”

“No, really,” Kircheis said. “I’ve never had that kind of drive. And I really admire that about you.” He stuck his hands in his pockets.

“You do have it,” Martin said. He frowned. “It’s not everybody who would rush in to get arrested for—”

“I did that for you,” Kircheis said. “Not for any other reason, like ideology or convictions.” He looked away down the street. “Just for you.”

Martin was silent for a long second. “I know,” he finally said. “But even so. You know what’s right and what’s wrong. You could do anything you needed to.”

“Could I?” Kircheis asked. He looked up at the sky. Some snowflakes landed, fluttering, in his eyelashes, and he blinked them away. “Will I?”

“What’s this about, Sieg?” Martin asked.

Kircheis didn’t say anything for a second, but in the darkness as they passed beneath a burnt out streetlamp, he reached for Martin’s gloved hand. Martin squeezed his fingers.

“Captain Leigh is in a position to make sure Duke Braunschweig’s daughter becomes Kaiserin,” Kircheis finally said. To forestall Martin’s objections, he added, “I know you don’t think that’s a guarantee, and I know you don’t think as highly of Captain Leigh as I do, but he really is a genius. If nothing happens to him, he will figure out a way for his side to win.”

“Okay,” Martin said slowly, trying to figure out Kircheis’s angle.

“And I’ll be right there with him.”

“Maybe.”

“I don’t know what Captain Leigh wants the world to look like, but I’m pretty sure it’s not what Duke Braunschweig wants the world to look like.” He realized he was crushing Martin’s hand in his, so he relaxed his fingers. “And I know what you’d want the world to look like.”

“And you?” Martin asked, nudging him with his shoulder.

“I don’t know,” Kircheis said.

“What are you getting at, Sieg?”

“If everything goes well, I might be in a position to—”

“Kill Duke Braunschweig?” Martin asked. “Start a coup?”

Although Martin’s voice was light, giving voice to Kircheis’s anxieties made his stomach drop. “Or something,” he finally said.

“Aren’t you lucky,” Martin said.

They were just a little ways away from the pub now. Kircheis stopped and turned to face Martin. “Would you ask me to do that for you? Or something like it?”

He wasn’t just asking Martin, Kircheis realized. He was also asking Reinhard. But Reinhard wasn’t there to answer, and Martin was.

Martin looked up at him. “And if I did?”

Kircheis opened his mouth, then closed it again, looking away. “Please don’t,” he said.

“Are we on the same side, Sieg?” Martin asked. His voice was quiet, but there was an iron edge in his tone, the same conviction that Kircheis had fallen in love with coming back to cut as deeply the other way.

“I hope so,” Kircheis said. “I want to think so.”

“Then why would it matter if I asked you—”

“I just can’t make promises, Martin. And I am worried that you’ll ask me to make one, and I won’t be able to.”

Martin frowned, his face half in shadow, turned away from the flashing neon lights advertising the pub just down the street. “You could, if you wanted to.”

“I have to be able to make my own choices,” he said after a moment. “Captain Leigh told me once that if I didn’t, I’d end up places that I don’t want to be. I—” He shook his head.

“And would you do what your commanding officer tells you?” Martin asked.

There was an uncomfortable stretch of silence. “I don’t know.”

“Why did you bring any of this up?” Martin snapped. “Did you want to have an argument about it?”

“No, of course not,” Kircheis said. He was tempted to explain the letter from Reinhard, but that would only make Martin feel worse, he knew. “Things are just changing.”

“In what way?”

“I can’t explain it,” Kircheis said. Martin turned away and began walking towards the pub. Kircheis took a few hurried steps after him. “Martin!”

“I understand, Sieg,” he said, but the edge remained in his voice. “Let’s get dinner.”

He managed to get back into Martin’s graces, at least a little bit, while they ate, talking about his schoolwork and other mundane things. The argument— or whatever it had been— didn’t go far from either of their minds, but they recognized it wasn’t anything that could be resolved. From the way that Martin kept sneaking glances at Kircheis’s face while they ate, it seemed clear that Martin did expect Kircheis to change his mind, when the time came for it.

That night, they lay in bed, tucked under a mound of blankets as the snow spattered the window. Martin’s arm was cold as it draped across Kircheis’s side, and his forehead was pressed against Kircheis’s shoulder, his feathery hair tickling Kircheis’s back. Kircheis wound his fingers in Martin’s, making him shift sleepily against him.

Kircheis wanted to say something to him, to find a way of closing the wound there in the quiet and peaceful bedroom, when it was just the two of them without the rest of the world reaching its hard hand in, but there was nothing he could say that would make it better. He couldn’t explain himself, and he couldn’t say the one thing that Martin would want to hear: a promise. All he could do was pull Martin’s arm tighter around his chest and press a warming kiss to his cold hand.

When he eventually fell asleep, he felt a mix of guilt and elation to dream of Reinhard.

“And me?” the dream Reinhard asked, standing out in the snow. “Will you make promises for me?”

Again, Kircheis had no answer that he could give.

That weekend, Kircheis visited Hilde at her house. This was not unusual for him; she invited him over for lunch or dinner at least twice a month, and she stopped by his and Martin’s apartment after her schoolday ended more often than that. It was a sunny Saturday, and the snow had frozen into a hard shell over the ground. The light reflecting off of it made strange patterns on the ceiling of Hilde’s parlor.

She and Kircheis sat across from each other on the couches, mugs of coffee in hand and a plate of cookies on the table between them. Her father had been home, but had needed to leave immediately following lunch to deal with some sort of urgent matter at Neue Sanssouci, so it was just the two of them. Over lunch, they had spoken about little of substance, but now that they were alone, Hilde was looking at him expectantly, knowing that he had something on his mind.

“Can I ask your opinion on something?” Kircheis asked her as she nibbled on a cookie.

“Of course.”

“Has Captain Leigh ever told you what his plans are, for after the civil war?”

That was apparently not the question that Hilde had been expecting. She straightened in her seat, and put down her coffee.

“No,” she said. There was obvious conflict on her face; she opened her mouth to ask him a question, then stopped. “But if he hasn’t told me, I’m sure it’s not my business to know— don’t tell me.”

“I don’t know what his plans are,” Kircheis said. “I was wondering if you did.”

“Oh.” She shook her head. “No, I don’t even know if he’d tell me if I asked. Some of the things he’s said do make me wonder, but…”

“What did he say?”

“He only told me that everyone should remember that Lady Elizabeth is going to be the one wearing the crown, not Duke Braunschweig. It’s true, but I don’t know if he meant more than that.” She pursed her lips. “Does he not like the duke?”

“I don’t think liking him has very much to do with the way Captain Leigh sees things. Why?”

“It only seems like— even Duke Braunschweig sees Lady Elizabeth as a tool— if he thinks that she will have all the power, where does that leave the duke?”

Kircheis took a sip of his coffee to try to cure the suddenly dry feeling in his mouth. “I don’t know.”

“I suppose he wouldn’t say anything like that to you. You work for Duke Braunschweig, too.”

“He wouldn’t want to put me in danger by knowing what his plans are,” Kircheis said. It was a startling mirror to the way he felt about Martin. Knowing anything that Martin was thinking would put them both at risk. Kircheis had the sensation that he was in a dark room, reaching blindly for someone to follow, but they were all walking away from him as quickly as they could.

“He’s nervous,” Hilde said. “Are you?”

“About when the Kaiser dies? Of course. How could I not be?”

“I don’t like to see him be nervous,” Hilde admitted. She smoothed her hands over her pants. “I wish he didn’t feel like he has to keep everything so close to his chest.” She looked at him. “Has he told you any of his plans for Braunschweig’s fleet?”

“Some,” Kircheis said. “I do research for him, and he trusts me with that.”

“I don’t want to ask—”

“They’re sound plans,” Kircheis said. “If Duke Braunschweig follows them. I think he’ll win.”

Hilde relaxed a little. “Good. I trust your judgement on that.”

“I wish—”

“What, Sieg?”

He looked at her, and then he just smiled. “I wish I could show them to you, Fraulein Hilde.”

“I appreciate that,” she said with an answering smile.

But he couldn’t keep things lighthearted for long. “If you had your way, what would you want things to look like, when all of this is over?”

Hilde frowned in concentration. “I want everyone I know safe,” she said.

“Aside from that.”

“With Lady Elizabeth on the throne?”

“If that’s what you want to see.”

“I think…” She picked up her coffee and took a sip. “We should sue for peace with the Alliance,” she said finally. “I think everything else can follow after that.”

Kircheis nodded. It was a practical suggestion, given that even the shortest civil war would leave the country vulnerable if they didn’t sign a peace treaty, but it was an almost apolitical one. Hilde had her own reservations about politics, or at least about voicing them.

“I hope we can,” Kircheis said.

“What do you want things to look like?” Hilde asked.

“I don’t know,” Kircheis admitted. He frowned and looked out the window. “I like to think that I want the same things that Captain Leigh wants, or that Martin wants.”

“Martin is an idealist,” Hilde said shrewdly. “I love him, but he is.”

“That’s not a bad thing to be.”

“A better thing to be is a person who can make plans and follow them.”

Kircheis took a sip of his coffee. “There’s good reason that Martin doesn’t talk to me about anything other than ideals.”

“Are you worried about him?” Her voice was softer now.

“How can I not be?” Kircheis asked. He rubbed the back of his neck. “If he puts the wrong foot out of line, and he might be planning to, everything is going to come down on him. I try to be careful but there’s only so much I can do for him.”

“What’s this all about, Sieg?” she asked. “Is he in trouble?”

“No,” Kircheis said. “Not that I know of, anyway.”

“That’s good.”

He sighed, then looked at her, really looked. She sat still under his scrutiny, except for the coffee dregs that she was tipping back and forth in her cup. “I can trust you, Hilde,” he said finally. It wasn’t a question.

Her eyes widened, but she nodded. “If you want to.”

He couldn’t quite look at her. “I don’t think I have anyone else I can talk to like this.” He picked up a cookie and thought about eating it, but ended up just squishing it between his fingers. “I got a message from an old friend of mine, the other day,” he said.

“Who?”

“He was my next door neighbor, but his family fled the Empire when he was ten.”

“How did you get a letter from him?” She was leaning forward, curiosity always one of her strongest drivers.

“It’s a long story. It came through the embassy on Phezzan.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t really matter.”

“And what did he have to say?”

“Nothing,” Kircheis said. “Just hello.”

She raised her eyebrows and said nothing.

“I know,” Kircheis said. The cookie crumbled to dust in his hand, and he ruefully tried to get the crumbs onto his little plate instead of all over Hilde’s couch and floor. “When we were little, I promised to help him. I think— well, Rear Admiral Bronner thinks that because he’s reaching out to me now, he wants to try to use me as a spy, or a tool.”

“It must have been some promise that you made.” Hilde’s voice was carefully neutral.

“We were kids,” Kircheis said. “But he was always so sure of himself, and that made me sure of him.” He smiled, a little wry. “I think he still is sure of himself.”

“You wouldn’t be telling me this if you were planning to spy for him.”

“No,” he said. “I wouldn’t be.” He looked out the window at the sparkling snow on the ground. “Rear Admiral Bronner wants me to spy on him— to be a double agent.”

“And you won’t do that, either?”

Kircheis was quiet for a long moment. “It’s not really about that.” He shook his head. “It’s Martin, too, and Captain Leigh. I—” He hesitated for a long second. “I don’t know if my friend who wrote to me does want to use me for anything. I hope he doesn’t. But I know Martin would.”

Hilde looked at him silently, waiting for him to continue.

“It’s less about what I want and more that if he tries to do that, it won’t end well for him,” Kircheis finally said. “I worry about him.”

“You don’t trust him.”

“No,” Kircheis said. He closed his eyes. It was easy to admit things to Hilde, easy to say them aloud. “I can’t trust him.”

“Or your friend on Phezzan.”

He nodded.

“And Hank?” Hilde asked.

“I do trust Captain Leigh,” Kircheis said. When Hilde didn’t say anything, he opened his eyes to look at her.

“Good,” she said.

It was funny. Leigh would probably go out of his way to make sure Kircheis didn’t feel like he was bound to obey him, and yet Leigh was the one Kircheis would have followed with the least hesitation. He didn’t say that to Hilde; she understood.

“And you,” Kircheis said. “I trust you.”

“Were you trying to ask my advice?” she asked, looking away and sounding uncomfortable.

“If you’re willing to give it.”

“Of course, Sieg.”

“What should I say back to my friend?”

“What do you want to say to him?”

“Nothing that I could ever put in a letter.”

“Do you feel like you understood what he was trying to say to you?” she asked.

“Yes,” Kircheis said. “I think so.”

“Then say something that he would understand. It doesn’t have to be long, and it’s probably better if it isn’t.”

He nodded. “You’re right.”

Kircheis found Leigh in his office on Monday morning. Leigh was half asleep still, his thermos of tea tilting dangerously in his hand as he looked at something on his computer with bleary eyes. He didn’t greet Kircheis with any formality when he came in, just waved at him to sit, and Kircheis did, silently, until Leigh seemed to come to his senses enough to recognize that it was Kircheis sitting there in front of him, and that he ought to do something about that.

“Did you need something, Kircheis?” he yawned.

“If you’re going to send a reply to Muller, I figured out what I want to say to Reinhard, sir.”

This woke Leigh up, and he leaned forward, putting his thermos down with a clank amidst the mess on his desk. “I’m glad you thought about it. Do you have a letter?”

“No,” Kircheis said. “I think it’s better if we don’t have too much contact.” It was a difficult admission, a painful one, but Leigh nodded and just reached for a pen and paper.

“What is it that you want to tell him?”

“Just say, ‘I’m doing what you said to.’”

Leigh wrote it down. “Rear Admiral Bronner will ask you what you said that you were going to do,” he cautioned.

“I know.”

“If he asks me, what should I tell him?”

“Reinhard told me to join the fleet,” Kircheis said.

“He already knows you’re in the fleet, so there wouldn’t be any need for you to tell him that,” Leigh pointed out. “Bronner won’t like that answer.”

Kircheis was silent.

“Okay. I’ll include this when I write back to Muller,” Leigh finally said. He studied Kircheis. “Are you alright?”

“I feel like I should ask you that, sir.” The dark circles under Leigh’s eyes were only growing deeper by the day.

“I’m fine, Kircheis,” Leigh said. It felt unusually sharp, an end to any further questioning from Kircheis. Kircheis nodded.

“Alright, sir.”

“If that was all?”

“It was.”

Leigh smiled at him, an expression that made it all the way to his eyes. “I’ll get that letter written and passed along.”

“Thank you, sir.” Kircheis stood to leave, and Leigh turned back to his computer and thermos of tea. When Kircheis was at the door, he hesitated and turned back. “Captain Leigh,” he said.

“What is it, Kircheis?”

“Do you remember that time we went to Josef’s, and talked about ambition?”

“Of course.” Leigh’s voice was soft and hesitant. “Why?”

“I’m not here because I’ve been pushed into things,” Kircheis said. “And I’m not going to be.” He met Leigh’s eyes, though for some reason it seemed like a struggle for Leigh to hold the eye contact; his face twitched and his gaze flicked away and back again. “We have the same ambitions, so whatever it is you need from me, I am your loyal—”

“Friend,” Leigh finished, cutting him off.

Kircheis wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Yes, sir.” He wished he hadn’t said anything.