Respect for the Sklavenmoral

August 487 I.C., Iserlohn Fortress

All of Duke Braunschweig’s staff on Iserlohn had a few days of waiting before they were to be picked up and shipped back to Odin. Without any assigned duties, this left Kircheis with a lot of time on his hands. Since he had never been on Iserlohn before, he decided to make the most of his time there and do some sightseeing in the fortress. Of course, not being part of the fortress’s staff meant that most of the operational areas were firmly off limits, but he could still visit the main concourse, and the gardens. He went to the gardens first, thinking that a pleasant stroll through them would do him good, but despite the medical attention he had received aboard Rear Admiral Mittermeyer’s flagship, his ribs were still tender in a way that made breathing difficult. He made one long circuit of the space, though, considering how winding the paths were, this barely encompassed seeing any of it, and was too fatigued for it to be pleasurable to continue.

Iserlohn had a library, and this was where Kircheis went in search of a quiet place to spend his time. He wondered if Captain Leigh would show up there, since it seemed like his type of milieu, but there was no sign of him whatsoever. Not like Kircheis needed him for anything, but wandering through the bustling fortress without knowing anyone there was a particularly lonely feeling, and Kircheis wouldn’t have minded Captain Leigh’s quiet company in the least, even if they were just sitting across from each other and reading.

The library conformed to the most austere of the Imperial design philosophies: a cavernously high ceiling, wide tables of dark wood with individual reading lamps placed down their length, ornate molding of the walls, and columns that disguised the utilitarian metal structure of Iserlohn beneath. Although it seemed that in such a space that sounds would travel, especially given how oppressively quiet the place felt, the designers had included some trick in the ventilation to suppress noise. The library itself seemed to breathe, and this constant low rush of air swallowed the sound of Kircheis’s footsteps and any hushed voices.

He didn’t sit down at the long reading tables, but instead found a corner in the back with smaller seating areas, well out of the way of most of the foot traffic. It would have been a perfect little spot if there had been a window to look out of, but instead it was simply dark and quiet. The library had a huge section of books on strategy, and Kircheis pulled one from the shelf that Captain Leigh had offhandedly mentioned once. He intended to read it, and he had the book open on his table in front of him, but his eyes kept glazing over and circling the same lines in the introductory chapter over and over. His thoughts were troubled but indistinct, flitting between subjects too quickly for him to focus in on one thing and come to any resolution about it.

After a half hour, during which he had made it about ten pages into his book, a shadow fell between him and the nearest light source. Kircheis looked up, and saw an unfamiliar man standing in front of him. He was wearing a captain’s uniform, and he had a dour face, hair streaked prematurely grey.

“Sub-lieutenant Kircheis?” the captain asked.

Kircheis stood and saluted. “Yes, sir,” Kircheis said. “Do you need me for something, sir?”

“At ease. May I sit?”

“Of course, sir,” Kircheis said. He was already confused and on guard, but couldn’t say no.

The captain took the seat across from Kircheis, and waited for Kircheis to sit down before he said anything else.

“You have an excellent commander, Sub-lieutenant,” the captain said. His voice was flat and nasally, and despite the fact that he had his back to the light, his eyes glittered in an unnatural way.

If this compliment to Captain Leigh was intended to put Kircheis at ease, it did not work. “Yes, sir,” Kircheis said, and nothing more than that.

“It seems that he did not mention me to you. I am Captain Paul von Oberstein. Captain Leigh is… a friend of mine.”

The name was familiar. “You’re the one who saved the Iserlohn fleet,” Kircheis said.

“Captain Leigh is the one who saved the Iserlohn fleet,” Oberstein said. “I was only the one who put his advice into action.”

“He wouldn’t describe it like that,” Kircheis said.

“No,” Oberstein agreed. “But that does not stop it from being true.”

“Did Captain Leigh send you here to talk to me?” Kircheis asked.

“No. He speaks highly of you, so it seemed prudent for me to make your acquaintance while I had the opportunity.”

Kircheis was grateful for the dim light in the library for hiding any flush that rose to his ears. Still, he kept his voice even. “I’m pleased to meet anyone Captain Leigh considers a friend.”

“Indeed, Sub-lieutenant.” Oberstein studied him for an uncomfortable second. “As am I.”

There was an awkward moment of silence as Kircheis struggled to find something to say. “Are you permanently stationed on Iserlohn, sir?”

“For now, yes. I imagine that might change in the future.”

“Why is that, sir?”

Oberstein gave him a look. “Fleet Admiral Muckenburger has been known to have a personal hand in some staff assignments, when it suits him. It may be that an officer with volatility on his record will not be well suited to a post on Iserlohn in the coming years.”

Kircheis could read between the lines of that statement well enough: Oberstein knew about Leigh’s plans for Iserlohn. It at least proved that Leigh did trust Oberstein, but Kircheis wasn’t sure that made him any more comfortable with the man. It would have been different if Captain Leigh was here, but he wasn’t.

“I see.” He opened his mouth, then decided not to ask the question on the tip of his tongue.

“No one can hear us here, Sub-lieutenant,” Oberstein said. “Say what you like.”

This reassurance was not reassuring in the least, but their conversation probably would be nearly incomprehensible to anyone who didn’t already know what they were talking about, so Kircheis acquiesced. “Would the fleet admiral be right to reassign you?”

“Yes,” Oberstein said. In a peculiar movement, Oberstein reached up to his face, then dug his fingers into his right eye. Kircheis flinched, then watched in fascinated horror as Oberstein’s eyeball came out into his pinched fingers. It was clear now that it was mechanical, and Oberstein was not in any distress, but that didn’t make the empty, dark hole in his face any less disturbing to look at. Oberstein pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the mechanical eyeball dispassionately.

“Did that happen when you—” Kircheis asked, unable to stifle his curiosity. He was sure that Oberstein was doing this to invite a question, but it still felt uncomfortable to comment on.

“No,” Oberstein said. “I was born blind.” He examined the eye in his hand, and the iris flashed momentarily red. “I apologize. This unit is beginning to fail.”

“It’s fine,” Kircheis said. “Do you need help?”

“No.” Oberstein’s fingers were unusually narrow and delicate, and they deftly moved around the eyeball, surely touching and checking things that were too small for Kircheis to see in the muted library light. After a moment, he replaced the eyeball in his face. Kircheis relaxed some of the tension that he had been holding in his back, though now when Oberstein looked at him, he had the sense that the captain could see directly through him. This feeling was not reduced any by what Oberstein said next. “Unlike Captain Leigh, I am fortunate to be able to hide the qualities that many in the Empire would despise me for, most of the time.”

There was no way that Oberstein knew about Martin. Captain Leigh didn’t even know about Martin, not really, and he certainly wouldn’t have said anything even if he did. Yet Kircheis somehow felt that Oberstein had seen directly to his center, coldly. Kircheis kept that thrum of fear out of his voice. “Yes, sir,” he said.

“But it can be to Captain Leigh’s benefit as a leader. It encourages… a kind of loyalty.” Oberstein broke his piercing gaze. “And he is a man who can put that loyalty to good use, if he is given the opportunity.”

Kircheis remained silent. He didn’t think there was anything to say to Oberstein that wasn’t incriminating, on some level. And the frankness with which he spoke, although Kircheis understood it, alarmed him.

“You understand, Sub-lieutenant,” Oberstein said. “Captain Leigh considers you a friend, and not simply someone who works under him by obligation. I am sure that this means you have no small measure of personal loyalty towards him.”

Oberstein was waiting for him to respond. Slowly, Kircheis nodded. “As you said, he is an excellent commander.”

Oberstein didn’t smile, and there was no change in the flat stare of his eyes, but the slight motion of his head indicated that Kircheis had said something that he wanted to hear. “He is an excellent commander, if he is in a position to command. He has far more enemies than he has friends.”

“What are you saying, sir?”

“I think you understand well, Sub-lieutenant.” Oberstein steepled his thin fingers on the table before him. “If you are loyal to him, you have a responsibility that goes beyond the chain of command.”

“Like you and the Iserlohn fleet, sir?” Kircheis asked. He knew he was on dangerous ground.

“Moreso,” Oberstein said. “If Captain Leigh dies, there will not be another man this generation who is capable of accomplishing what needs to be done. He is the only one with the talent, in the right position, who understands the true nature of the Empire.”

“You’re asking me to protect him with my life, sir?” Did Oberstein think he wasn’t already doing that? Captain Leigh must have given him the wrong impression.

Oberstein stared at Kircheis in silence for a long moment. “With more than that, should it become necessary.”

“More than my life?”

“There are things greater than that,” Oberstein said. “He would not ask them of you, so I must. Anything that it takes for him to succeed, you must do.”

Kircheis tried to keep his face expressionless. “It seems like you’re asking me to disobey his orders, if I think it’s for the greater good.”

“Yes,” Oberstein said.

“And obey yours, sir?”

Oberstein stared at him. “No,” Oberstein said. “I am not the type of man who would inspire that loyalty in anyone, and I do not expect it of you.”

“Then what are you asking of me?”

“I understand that you value Captain Leigh’s friendship highly. If there should be a time when you need to disobey his orders, to sacrifice your friendship, to save his life, I expect that you will.”

“And what kind of time would require that?”

Oberstein’s gaze was piercing. “You know about El Facil.”

Kircheis tried to keep his expression neutral. “Yes.”

“He must not be allowed to sacrifice himself, no matter what the cost is— to you, or to anyone else. His value is far too great.”

“I see,” Kircheis said. “He wouldn’t see it that way.”

“I know. But you must, for his sake.” He paused. “If you would take a bullet for him, or swallow poison meant for him, taking other burdens up for him is also your duty.”

“What would you have done, if you were at El Facil?” Kircheis asked.

“At the time, I did not realize his value,” Oberstein said.

“If something like El Facil were to happen again tomorrow.”

“If I must, I would do the same thing I did at Iserlohn,” Oberstein said. “In some ways, the greatest danger to Leigh is himself.”

“Captain Leigh would not stand down from a gun pointed at his head, if there were people at stake like there were at El Facil.”

“Then I would find some other way, Sub-lieutenant.”

“Does Captain Leigh understand this about you?”

“Yes. And he understands that I can be of use to him.”

“Does he understand that you are going to tell his friends to make him abandon his morals?”

“I’m not asking him to abandon anything,” Oberstein said. “If the time comes, I do not know if he has the strength to do so. I hope that he understands what will be required of him, but I am not a man to put my trust in hope, and so I am preparing for other eventualities.”

“Do you expect me to tell you I’ll do something one way or the other, sir?”

Oberstein stood. “No, Sub-lieutenant. But you will think about it, which is all I need from you today.” He nodded at Kircheis. “Goodday.”

Kircheis watched him go, without saying another word.

Kircheis didn’t see much of Captain Leigh during their short stay on Iserlohn. He caught one or two glimpses of him in bars or strolling the main concourse, often walking next to Rear Admirals Reuenthal or Mittermeyer, or Captain Oberstein, who stood out now that Kircheis knew who he was. It didn’t seem like Leigh was avoiding him, and if Kircheis had sent him a message asking to meet, he certainly would have— when they passed each other on the concourse, Leigh gave a funny smile and wave— but Kircheis decided not to disturb him.

They ended up on a transport ship provided by Braunschweig to return them to Odin a few days later, and on that long journey he did see plenty of Leigh. He seemed to be filled with a strange new emotion, and he would alternate between smiling off into space and scowling at whatever plan he was trying to concoct in front of him. The two expressions lived on his face without much in between, aside from his usual good-natured smile when he saw Kircheis.

“Is everything alright, Captain Leigh?” Kircheis asked as he sat across from Leigh in the officers’ mess, watching him type something on his computer, with two fingers dancing over the keyboard, while his other hand waved a bagel distractedly through the air. His eyebrows were furrowed, and it looked like he had forgotten that he had a bite of the bagel in his mouth.

“Mmph?” Leigh asked, and then came to his senses more fully. “Oh, yes, Kircheis, everything is fine. For now, I suppose.”

“Is this thinking about what you’re going to do with Captain Ansbach on Cahokia?”

“Oh, er, no,” Leigh said. “I just have to get Braunschweig to fortify that position. He’ll probably have Ansbach come home, honestly. It’s a waste to keep him out there.”

“You think so?”

“Ansbach is a valuable member of the duke’s staff,” Leigh said. “We might have our differences, but I’d prefer to have him on Odin— or wherever the duke is. He’s a tempering influence, in a way that I am not capable of being.”

“I see.” Kircheis was tempted to glance at Leigh’s computer screen, but resisted the impulse. “What are you working on, then?”

“Captain Oberstein had some suggestions for me about some of our future strategies.” Leigh glanced around pointedly at the other soldiers in the mess, most of whom were involved in their own meals and discussions and ignoring Leigh and Kircheis, but Kircheis got the message.

“I see.”

“He told me he spoke to you, by the way.”

“He did. In the library.”

“What did you think of him? He’s a good friend of mine, but I think— through no fault of his own— he sometimes comes off badly.”

“You trust him?”

Leigh stared off into space, a melancholy expression on his face. “Yes, I do. I don’t think that I will always agree with him, but we have the same goals, and he’s an honest and good man— and my friend.”

“I’m glad to have spoken with him, then,” Kircheis said. It was a diplomatic answer, delivered in a diplomatic tone, but it made Leigh smile.

“Good.”

September 487 I.C., Odin

Kircheis was very glad to return to Odin. He arrived in the middle of the day, and so when he arrived at his apartment that he shared with Martin, it was dark and empty, Martin being at school still. It was good to have a period by himself, to acclimate to the atmosphere of his home, before Martin filled the space and all of Kircheis's thoughts.

The late of the Odin summer was still hanging on, and the warm sun was coming in through the open windows. There was the chittering of birds in the eaves of the roof, and the hustle of traffic on the street below. Water dripped from the kitchen sink faucet, and the refrigerator hummed tunelessly. Kircheis’s chair at the kitchen table creaked as he leaned back in it, and the glass of ice water he poured for himself tasted just as mineral as ever. It all grounded him, reminded him of where he was— safe at home, shedding the skin he wore when he was out for his job.

It was difficult to let go of the tension that he carried, the outer shell, but he tried to relax before Martin returned. It didn’t take long at all for Martin to get back. He had known Kircheis was coming, so he probably had left school as soon as he could, and ran back home. It warmed Kircheis’s heart to hear the door banging open, and Martin seeing his shoes lined up in the entrance and yelling out, “Sieg! You’re back?”

“I am,” Kircheis responded, standing to hover in the kitchen doorway to watch Martin pull off his own shoes.

There was a moment when they just looked at each other, both remembering the argument that they had parted on, and then Martin smiled, and all must have been forgiven, because he took the few steps forward and fell into Kircheis’s arms to kiss him.

Kircheis’s bruises were all healed now, of course, but the tenderness of the touch still shocked him, and he wasn’t sure what to do with his limbs. He had to let Martin guide him through it: letting Martin run his hands through his hair, letting Martin cup his cheeks with his delicate hands, letting Martin tug him through the apartment until they fell onto the couch, which creaked beneath their sudden, falling weight. If Martin noticed that Kircheis was making him take the lead, he didn’t care. His enthusiasm floated Kircheis along, and was enough for both of them.

Only when Martin stilled enough to rest against Kircheis’s chest was he able to move of his own volition, brushing his hand down Martin’s back and very gently tucking his hair behind his ear. Martin was smiling, the unrushed, languid, familiar expression. Kircheis’s face was much more serious, looking into Martin’s eyes.

“How have you been?” Kircheis asked.

“Fine,” Martin said. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you, too. I’m glad to be back early.”

“I wish you wouldn’t have had to leave at all.”

Kircheis was silent for a moment, fingertips brushing Martin’s hair. “Yeah,” he said. “I wish I didn’t either.”

Martin smiled, like he had won a victory, and he rolled over so that he could wedge himself in between Kircheis and the back of the couch, half reclining on Kircheis’s chest. Despite the heat in the room, the sweat making both their clothes cling to them oppressively, Martin’s bodyweight was comforting against him.

“What makes you change your mind on that?” Martin asked.

“I never really wanted to go.”

“You volunteered.”

“For Captain Leigh’s sake,” Kircheis said. “I’m glad I was there for him, but…”

“Hm.”

Kircheis was silent, letting Martin nestle into his shoulder.

“But it wasn’t what you expected?” Martin asked.

It certainly hadn’t been, but not for any reasons that he was willing to express to Martin. There was no need to bring up Annerose. “It went pretty badly,” Kircheis said. “I’m lucky to be alive.”

“Oh. So much for Captain Leigh’s plans.”

“No, it wasn’t really his fault,” Kircheis said.

“If you say so.”

“He did his best to make sure as many people made it out safely as he could. That’s the kind of man he is.”

“He’s the kind of man who works for Duke Braunschweig,” Martin pointed out.

“So am I.”

This brought Martin up short, but he came up with a response quickly enough. “I think you’re different. And you were forced into it.”

“So was Leigh.”

Martin shrugged. Although the conversation was already treading in dangerous waters, Martin was still relaxed, which made Kircheis feel like he had room to clear the air.

“I killed people out there,” Kircheis said after a minute. His voice was low, barely even audible. Martin stiffened against him, but didn’t immediately leap up. Kircheis didn’t know what he would have done if Martin had. Maybe the reason Martin didn’t react was because he didn’t know what either of them would do either. “I did it because I was protecting Captain Leigh, and because I might have died if I didn’t. But I still made the choice. There’s only so much you can say I was forced into.”

“Most people who make excuses don’t understand that,” Martin said. “Why are you telling me this, Sieg?”

“Because if I didn’t, you would wonder, wouldn’t you?”

“And that’s worse?”

“I don’t want to lie to you.”

“It would be easier for you if you did,” Martin said.

“I don’t know why you think so.”

Martin let out a heavy breath, and, after a second, said, “Was it difficult— to kill, I mean?”

“No,” Kircheis said. He closed his eyes. “It wasn’t.”

“Oh.”

“Why do you ask?”

“I’m in my last year of school,” Martin said. “No more deferment after that.”

“Yeah.”

“How do you justify all this to yourself?” Martin asked. “I know you. You couldn’t possibly enjoy it. But you do it anyway. I know I won’t. No matter what anyone tries to make me do— I won’t go out there and kill for the Empire.”

“You’re a better man than I am.”

“Nobody else would say that.” The flattery— though it hadn’t been intended as such— soothed Martin, made his tone warm. “We don’t live in a time or place where people valorize anything other than death.”

“I wish we did live in a different time,” Kircheis said. “Maybe someday.”

Martin’s voice took on the tone it always did when he was quoting something, though Kircheis didn’t recognize it. “Someone, I tell you, will remember us. Even in another time.”

The silence filled the room as Kircheis waited for Martin to finish the poem, or whatever it was he had been quoting, but Martin didn’t say anything else.

“Can I ask what you’re planning to do, when you are called up?” Kircheis asked.

“It’s dangerous to ask.”

Kircheis fell silent.

“I won’t go to the killing fields. I’d rather do anything else.”

“Anything?”

Martin shrugged. “I can’t stand by and watch it happen. To me, or anybody else.”

“Will you run away?”

Martin shrugged again, but this time he looked up to the ceiling, and there was a contemplative tone in his voice. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“What’s the alternative?”

“There are plenty of alternatives.” The weird, thoughtful tone in Martin’s voice put Kircheis on edge.

“You won’t do anything dangerous, will you?”

“I’m not afraid of dying,” Martin said. “I just don’t want to be made to kill.”

“Martin—”

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about it.” He paused. “I won’t ask you for anything, Sieg.”

That was painful, and Kircheis couldn’t even tell if it was designed to cut, or if it was meant to be an olive branch.

“I would help you run,” Kircheis said. “Or hide. Whatever you needed.”

“Maybe,” Martin said. “It’s still a year away. Don’t worry about it, Sieg. I’ll figure something out. And I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

Kircheis tried to push the fear away. “I feel like you’ve changed the way you’re thinking about this since I left.”

“I don’t think so,” Martin said. “My morals have always been the same.”

“But you don’t want to ask me for anything, now.”

“I believed you, when you said you didn’t want to give it.”

Kircheis wanted to protest, to say that he had been referring to something completely different, but to Martin, they must have been one and the same. Martin was good at making him feel ashamed, even if it wasn’t his explicit intention. It was the guilt of knowing that Martin was right, and that Kircheis was going to continue down his own path, far away from the clear and cold light that Martin saw so clearly.

Returning to work in Duke Braunschweig’s staff offices felt odd. Although Kircheis had been through the most harrowing ordeal of his life thus far, the world of Odin and Braunscwheig’s normal fleet routines had continued on without him. His desk and cubicle was just as he had left it, and his fellow junior officers and the rest of the staff of the building greeted him warmly upon his return, asking jovially how it had been on Cahokia. Kircheis responded to this with as much friendly candor as he could, but the mask was firmly back on, and he couldn’t say much to any of his coworkers, aside from Leigh, who was not around. Since Ansbach had remained on Cahokia, this meant that Leigh had the unenviable responsibility of going over the current status and future plans with Duke Braunschweig himself, in his manor.

Kircheis wasn’t sure when Leigh would be back, and, although Leigh had left him with a handful of clear tasks to accomplish, Kircheis kept leaning backwards in his seat and glancing out the window, hoping to see Leigh return, walking up the street with his hands in his pockets and his face up towards the sky, as was his usual way.

There was no sign of Leigh, but on one of the times that Kircheis glanced backwards out the window, he saw a familiar car pulled up outside— it was Count Mariendorf’s personal vehicle, recognizable by its slightly antique make and its unusual forest green color. Kircheis had no idea why Count Mariendorf would be stopping by Duke Braunschweig’s admiralty except to speak to Leigh, but Leigh wasn’t around. He slipped out of his cubicle and jogged through the building to find the count, checking upstairs at Leigh’s office first, where Count Mariendorf was just beginning to knock on the door.

“Count Mariendorf!” Kircheis said. “I’m sorry— Captain Leigh isn’t here right now.”

The count turned and smiled at Kircheis. “Oh, Sub-lieutenant Kircheis. It’s good to see you again. Leigh told me in a letter that you had an unpleasant time on your trip. I’m happy you’re back safely.”

“Thank you, sir,” Kircheis said. “Was there something you needed from Captain Leigh?”

“I was hoping to ask his advice, but if he’s not here I might have to do without it.”

“I’m happy to pass along a message for you, if you like.”

“I’m afraid that will be a little too late. I’m leaving tonight.”

“Where are you going, sir? If I may ask?”

“Is there somewhere private we can speak?”

“Of course, sir.” Kircheis pulled out his ring of keys and unlocked Leigh’s office, which made the count raise a silent eyebrow. “I sometimes come in here to drop things off while the captain is out,” Kircheis said. “He won’t mind if we talk in here.”

“Captain Leigh trusts you quite a lot.”

“Yes, sir. I try to live up to his expectations.”

Leigh’s office was just as messy as ever, though he had made some effort to tidy it before they went to Cahokia. Kircheis pulled out the two chairs in front of Leigh’s desk so that they could sit facing each other, neither wanting to offer the count the messy spot that Leigh usually occupied, nor take it himself. Mariendorf looked around, and his eyes settled on the picture that Leigh kept on his wall, the one of himself and Rear Admirals Mittermeyer and Reuenthal, when they had all been cadets.

“Did you see Rear Admiral Reuenthal while you were on Iserlohn, by the way?”

“I saw him, but didn’t speak to him. Captain Leigh did, though. He seemed to be doing well.”

“That’s good, that’s good.” The count settled himself into his seat, rubbing his hands across his knees. “I’m going to pay a visit to Lord Maximilian von Castrop,” he said finally. “The situation has become so untenable that the crown has asked me to make a personal intervention before the fleet is sent in to resolve the issue.”

“I didn’t realize it was so bad, sir.”

“Very few people do, Sub-lieuenant. And that’s by design. It’s not good to let the rest of the court know just how far Lord Castrop has been able to push things while we continue handling him with the kid gloves.”

“Yes, sir. I can see that. What was it that you wanted to ask Captain Leigh?”

“I have a distinct feeling that Lord Castrop is going to force the crown to take off its gloves sooner or later. I doubt that I will be of any effect going there.” He sighed. “I wanted to ask Leigh’s opinion, about how much I should warn Lord Castrop about what’s coming. If the situation is not going to be resolved with words, then the Fleet will need to enforce order.”

“Do you know which fleet is going to be sent, if the worst happens?”

“That’s part of what I was hoping to ask Captain Leigh. He has a very good sense of where everyone is and who goes where. But I know it wouldn’t be one of the ones stationed at Iserlohn,” the count said. “Castrop’s lands are in the other direction. I assume that the first forces sent will be some small peacekeeping fleet. Nothing huge. Fleet Admiral Muckenburger wouldn’t want to be seen to overreact of his own volition— he will send the smallest force he can until the crown orders him otherwise. After all, he doesn’t want to look like someone eager to step on the toes of all the other noble families.”

“Yes, that sounds reasonable, sir.”

“The other thing I want to know is— Lord Castrop has a set of satellites protecting his planet. It’s called the Artemis Necklace. He believes that it makes his planet safe from invasion, even if he doesn’t have a fleet of his own.”

“Where did he get that?”

“He used part of his father’s fortune to buy it from Phezzan, as well as a cut of his profits on some of his business.”

“Phezzan doesn’t have one, does it?”

“No, but the rebel territory’s capital planet, Heinessen, does.”

“Interesting,” Kircheis said.

“In what way?”

“I can probably tell you what Captain Leigh would say.”

“He’s that predictable, is he?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, in lieu of Captain Leigh’s advice, I’ll be happy to take yours.”

“He’d say that there isn’t a technological solution that’s infallible, no matter what the person who built it thinks.”

“He would say that.”

“And I’m sure that he would also say that Phezzan has some reason for selling this technology to Lord Castrop and the rebel territories, while not using it themselves.”

Count Mariendorf laughed. “Yes, that is the kind of thing that Leigh would say. Phezzan must not have been kind to him, to make him question their motives so often. But I think Phezzan simply does not want to antagonize either us or the rebel territories by making themselves look like a fortress rather than the only peaceful place in the galaxy.”

“I wouldn’t know, sir.”

“Yes, of course. That’s just speculation on my part, anyway. So, Leigh would tell me to warn Castrop that the Imperial Fleet is more than a match for his Phezzani technology.”

“You would have to say that anyway, wouldn’t you, sir?”

“Well, I would at least like to lend some honesty to my words.”

“Do you think he’ll believe you?”

Count Mariendorf sighed. “No, I doubt it. If he felt that the Fleet posed a real threat, he wouldn’t have gotten to this point.”

“So you’re being sent on a fool’s errand?”

“Someone has to,” the count said. “Much like Leigh, I would prefer to have a peaceful solution before sending the Fleet in. Especially if any of Lord Castrop’s confidence is well founded. I don’t want to see our soldiers die, but especially not in a petty internal squabble about taxes and inheritances.” Even as he said it, the count made a chagrined expression: there would undoubtedly be a great loss of life in the forthcoming civil war, which everyone could see on the horizon and no one could do anything to stop.

“I hope not, sir. How long do you expect to spend with Lord Castrop?”

“I don’t know. I doubt that I’ll be on his planet more than a week. If he isn’t interested in me speaking to him, then there’s no reason for me to stay for any longer. I certainly don’t want to be anywhere in the area when the Fleet comes through.”

Kircheis hesitated. “Will you be safe there?”

“I’m an emissary of the crown,” Mariendorf said. “And I myself am not a threat to Lord Castrop in any way. I don’t foresee there being any personal trouble. Did Hilde speak with you?”

“No, I sent her a letter while on the way back, but we haven’t spoken yet. Why?”

“Oh, she’s concerned about me traveling. I had wondered if those fears had rubbed off on you.”

“I thought she was concerned about the Kaiser’s health.”

“I think His Majesty will hold out for the few weeks I’m dealing with Lord Castrop,” the count said. “It certainly would be inconvenient if he died now. But then, of course, Lord Castrop would suddenly become the least of everyone’s problems.” He laughed, but it was resigned.

“I hope so, sir.” He hesitated, then asked, “Is the reason you’re asking Captain Leigh for advice because Duke Braunschweig would like Lord Castrop’s favor?”

This, too, made Count Mariendorf laugh. “While the duke would like the favor of everyone in the universe, he understands that if the Kaiser cannot even keep Lord Castrop on his side, then he has even less to offer. No, I doubt I can do anything for Duke Braunschweig in this matter, aside from handling it as delicately as I can. I came to ask Leigh’s advice as a friend.”

Kircheis nodded.

“I’m happy to have yours instead, of course.” Count Mariendorf stood. “Will you tell Leigh I came by?”

“Of course, sir.”

“And while I’m traveling, if you would be so kind as to look in on Hilde. I’m sure she would appreciate the company.”

Kircheis flushed, the tips of his ears going as red as his hair. “Yes, sir.”