What Will You Say of the Bond We Had, Tender Comrade?

May 488 I.C., Odin

Kircheis let himself be lulled into a false sense of security by the beauty of spring on Odin. It was like everything in the world was softer for a few months. The weather was bright, and warmer than he remembered it being at this time of year. Every scrap of ground was lush with greenery. The wind was playful in his hair. The rain was soft.

And Martin had taken it into his mind to be strangely gentle and unargumentative to Kircheis.

This should have alerted him to something being wrong, the way Martin would ask him to go with him on the weekends someplace nice. He didn’t vanish in the evenings to spend time with his group of republican friends, and instead stuck close to Kircheis. When they had time, and the weather was good, they would go rent little boats to paddle around the lake in the grand nature reserve not far from the capital, and kiss among the weeping willows where no one could see them. Martin would stay up late and read him poetry, which Kircheis had always liked. He often tossed aside his schoolwork on the weekday evenings, and would do anything else just to spend time with Kircheis. Even when he was clearly busy with something that occupied his mind— the things that he did not allow Kircheis to know about— if Kircheis came into the room and found him frowning at a message on his phone, he would immediately put it away and deliberately smile, letting his outside concerns fall to the wayside.

Kircheis recognized all this as unusual, but he wanted to to assign the credit to the weather, to Martin feeling done with school, to anything other than what he should have recognized it as: a sign of dangerous things to come, and Martin wanting to savor the moment while he had it.

It all made Kircheis so happy that he didn’t want to think about the spring ending and what that would portend. Martin’s graduation from ONU was on Saturday, May 20th. On the night of Thursday the 18th, he lay beside Kircheis in bed. The windows were open, and the warm air was coming in. Even in the city, there was the sound of crickets and cicadas in the air.

Kircheis was spent and exhausted, the usual sluggish but pleasant sensation in all his limbs after sex. Still, he had enough energy to stroke Martin’s feathery hair as he lay against his chest. Martin had been so deliberate with everything he had done all evening— he had made a point of kissing Kircheis before he even was able to take off his uniform after work, and Kircheis had found him watching him as they ate dinner, a strange expression on his face. There was a calmness about him, when usually he was excitable. Their conversations hadn’t been laden with Martin’s tangents or diatribes, and so there had been long lapses of comfortable silence between them. The same was true now.

“Is there something on your mind?” Kircheis asked. “You’re quiet today.”

“Yes,” Martin said.

Kircheis remained silent, inviting Martin to elaborate, but he didn’t. He carded his fingers through Martin’s hair.

“Did you want to go out to dinner tomorrow?” Kircheis asked. “I can try to get home from work early, so that we can beat the crowds.”

“I promised my advisor I’d go talk with him about my future plans,” Martin said. “I probably won’t be back until late.”

“Alright. I’ll save you some leftovers.”

“You don’t have to— he said to meet him at a bar. I’ll probably eat there.”

“I’m jealous,” Kircheis said, his tone light. “Going out without me.”

“I love you.”

“I was teasing,” Kircheis said. “I didn’t mean to imply anything.”

“I know. I just wanted to tell you.”

“Ah.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of Martin’s head. “Well, I love you.”

“I’m sorry I won’t be home tomorrow.”

“It’s alright,” Kircheis said. “Maybe Sunday.”

“Maybe.” But there was something in Martin’s voice— hesitation.

Kircheis had to ask again. “What is on your mind?”

“I got my service letter the other day,” Martin said.

“Already? I thought—”

“They know when the university graduation is, and that’s when the standard deferment ends. I’m supposed to report by the end of the month.”

“Oh.” Kircheis wanted to offer Martin assistance, of whatever kind he could, but he doubted that Martin would accept any of it. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to worry. I wanted—”

The spring to stay as it had been.

Kircheis wanted that, too, and he knew by asking his next question, he was making that impossible, but he had to ask it anyway. “What are you going to do?”

Martin shook his head, and Kircheis squeezed his eyes shut, and pulled Martin closer to his chest, clinging to his breathing, his heartbeat, the feeling of his stringy frame, warm and alive.

“Don’t do anything you’ll regret,” Kircheis said.

“I won’t.”

When Kircheis returned home to his and Martin’s shared apartment after work on Friday, he found the place cold and empty. Although he had expected that Martin would not be there, he could tell something was different immediately. From the instant he stepped into the door, he had the sensation that something vital that had once lived in the house had vanished. He would later realize that the instant sense of foreboding was from his subconscious processing of the scene; both Martin’s hiking boots and daily shoes were missing from their usual place near the door.

Kircheis took off his uniform jacket and hung it up on the hook near the entrance, taking just a minute to forestall any discovery that might lay further in. Nothing was awry in the kitchen, save for the dripping sink that their landlord had yet to fix, but when Kircheis walked into the bedroom, he found that the closet door was open, and all of Martin’s clothes were missing. The dresser, too, had been emptied. All that remained were Martin’s various trinkets on top of the bureau— his collection of miniature ancient statues, which he had made a habit of purchasing whenever he went to Odin’s national art museum. On the wall, there had once hung a picture of both of them and Hilde, taken at the Mariendorf house, but that photo had been removed, and only the frame was still there, sitting propped against the wall on the floor. In the living room, most of his books remained, but there were a few exceptions— the slender books of ancient poetry had vanished from their usual place of honor stacked on the top shelf. His toiletries were missing from the bathroom, and Kircheis’s toothbrush looked pathetic alone in its cup by the side of the sink.

Kircheis sat down on the neatly made bed— the fact that Martin had bothered to make the bed as he walked out of Kircheis’s life without a trace struck him somewhere low in his chest— and picked up Martin’s pillow. It still smelled faintly of his shampoo, and Kircheis held it and stared at the empty picture frame on the floor until the ache in his heart turned into a numbness that allowed him to take out his phone and dial Hilde’s number. He didn’t know what he was going to say to her, but she was the only person he could imagine talking to in this moment.

It wasn’t particularly unusual for him to call her, and she picked up after a few rings.

“Hi, Sieg,” she said, sounding slightly out of breath. “What’s up?”

Her cheerful tone made Kircheis momentarily lose control of whatever he had been about to say, and his mouth opened silently. The silence over the line caused Hilde’s tone to change.

“Sieg?” she asked.

“Hilde—” The tightness in his throat made it hard for him to get the word out. “Did you see Martin today?”

She was wary when she answered. “We had lunch together. He asked to meet me and we ate on campus.”

“Did he seem—”

“Is he alright?” There was a warble in her voice, and she clearly feared the worst.

“He’s gone. He left.”

“Are you at home?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Don’t go anywhere.”

He didn’t think he could, even if he wanted to. His legs felt like they weren’t going to obey him any longer. He just kept sitting on the bed, thinking. The anger that he knew he should feel, for being abandoned without even any goodbye, hadn’t hit him, and he doubted that it ever would. The only thing he could register was fear for Martin’s safety, and an overwhelming grief. He knew why Martin had gone— it was for his sake— but that didn’t make it any easier to bear. The ugly thought that it would have been easier to accept if he had come home and found a body ran through his brain, but he knew that wasn’t really true. Martin intended to do something stupid, but the hope that he could stay safe, that he could still find some way to protect him, somehow made it all worse.

He heard pounding footsteps on the stairs outside the apartment, and then Hilde ringing their doorbell. Had he already been sitting there for that long? Mechanically, he rose to his feet and went to unlock the door and let her in.

Hilde had been in his apartment many times. She would often stop by after her classes let out for the day to say hello, since Kircheis and Martin didn’t live far from the ONU campus. She looked around with an investigative eye the moment she stepped in the door.

“He took both his pairs of shoes,” she said immediately. “He usually leaves his boots with yours, doesn’t he?”

“He took most of his clothes,” Kircheis said.

“Did he leave a note?”

“I didn’t see one.”

She looked around briefly, and her eyes settled on the closed door to the second bedroom, the one he never slept in, the one with the brass SIEGFRIED KIRCHEIS nameplate he had taken from his dorm room at the IOA. “Did you check your room?” she asked.

“Er, no,” he said. But he didn’t have a good reason not to look in there, so he did. Hilde followed behind him.

There was the neatly made spare twin bed, and the desk that he occasionally used when he needed to be completely undistracted to work, and a beat up old dresser that held their out of season clothes. This room was so small that it didn’t even have a closet— which was his excuse for hanging up his uniforms in Martin’s closet, if anyone had ever noticed.

Hilde scanned the room, though there wasn’t much to see. But when she walked around the other side of the bed to look at the nightstand, she said, “What do you usually keep in this safe? It looks like he wanted you to be aware he took something out of it— he left it open.”

Kircheis’s blood ran cold. “It’s open?”

Hilde bent down and pulled out various documents and tossed them onto the bed. He felt ill watching her do this, primarily because the largest object that should have been first to be pulled out of the safe was not among the things she extracted, and, second, because among the innocuous paperwork— the copy of his birth certificate and some government bonds— there was his court orders detailing the conditions of his service in the fleet. She didn’t look too closely at the sheaf of papers, and Kircheis probably wouldn’t have minded her knowing, but, much like her presence in his false bedroom, it was something he would have liked to do on his own terms. Though considering all he had shared with Hilde over the years, and the fact that it had never managed to come up, maybe that time was never going to be any time but now.

“All yours,” Hilde said, glancing over the stack. “Did he keep all his papers in here, too? I assume you don’t have more than one safe.”

“My gun isn’t in there?” Kircheis asked.

Even in the dim light that came in through the window to the alley, he could see Hilde pale. “You kept a gun in there?”

“My fleet sidearm,” Kircheis said. “It’s issued to me permanently as an officer, but I don’t need to take it to work. I keep it locked up.” And the safe stayed in this room, far out of thought and sight, since Martin didn’t like the idea of it in their bedroom.

“No,” she said. “It’s not there.”

Kircheis walked back out to the living room and sat down heavily on the couch. Hilde sat next to him, though she sat sideways and drew her knees up to her chest, an unfamiliar-on-her imitation of one of Commodore Leigh’s postures.

“He took all his clothes, you said. And his papers. It probably means he’s not going to do anything dramatic right away,” Hilde pointed out.

“You know why he’s doing this, right?”

“He told me he had been served his fleet papers at lunch today. He sounded resigned, I guess. I asked him what he was planning to do, and he said he didn’t know.”

“He knew,” Kircheis said. “That’s why he asked you to lunch.”

“His way of saying goodbye…” Her voice was a little choked now. “I didn’t realize— he thanked me for being a good friend. I thought he was just being sentimental because he was graduating.”

“What did he say to you?” Hilde asked. “I assume you didn’t know he was going to leave.”

“I should have,” Kircheis said. “I should have realized.”

“Why? What did he say?”

“He didn’t want to say anything. I pressed him because he was acting strangely. He told me about being served his papers and—”

“What?”

“I told him not to do anything he would regret, and he said that he wouldn’t,” Kircheis said.

“He thinks he isn’t going to regret just vanishing?” She was suddenly angry, voicing what Kircheis couldn’t bring himself to. “He thinks he can just leave — you’re his best friend—”

“I love him,” Kircheis said. In the Imperial language, it wasn’t a sentence that could be misconstrued to mean something other than what it did. It stunned Hilde into silence, in which they could hear the sink dripping in the kitchen and the cars on the street outside.

“Oh,” Hilde said. “And he…”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.

“I haven’t told anyone,” Kircheis said. “Martin almost told you— maybe he thought you knew— but…”

“And how long have you been keeping this to yourself?” She seemed somewhat incredulous.

“Since we were in high school. Seven years?” He did the math, which almost made it worse. They had kissed for the first time in the summer after his freshman year of high school, but there had been something there before that. It didn’t matter at this point— it was all so long ago, and that time in his life was gone for good.

Her face went through various contortions as she sorted it out in her brain. The issue at hand probably made any shock about the revelation feel less important— Kircheis was grateful for that, anway. “And he thought he could go without saying goodbye. Seven years?”

“He doesn’t want to hurt me. I’m sure he thinks this is better than—”

“Than what?”

“If he told me what he was doing, where he is, he knows he’s putting me in danger. It’s against the law to not answer the summons. If he stayed here, he’d be arrested. He’s hiding, I’m sure.”

“He took your gun.”

“Or he’s planning something. I don’t know— I was the one who told him not to tell me anything. It was safer for both of us.”

“So he’s going to run and get killed doing something— and he expects you not to follow him?”

It was Kircheis’s turn to let the silence fall through the room. “Follow him how?” he asked after a moment. “Maybe he thinks if I run after him, I’ll join him.”

“Would you?”

His mouth was so dry. “I would want to.”

That didn’t exactly answer the question, but it seemed to satisfy her. “He’s going to get himself killed,” she said. “That’s what you’re saying?”

“I don’t think I can stop him.”

There was no way to save Martin without stopping him, and Martin had known as well as Kircheis that there was no way that Kircheis could dissuade him from his path. If he left without saying goodbye, they would never have to face asking directly and refusing directly. If he left, there was always a possibility that Kircheis would chase him, follow him, down and down.

“What are you going to do?” Hilde asked.

Kircheis had never felt so lost in his life. “I don’t know.”

Hilde let him stew in it for a moment, and then said, “If you don’t go find him, I will.”

“And then what?”

“If he can’t stand it here, I’ll put him in my luggage and haul him to Phezzan, if I have to,” she said. But her anger was impotent, and they both knew that was impossible. She collected herself. “But really, Sieg, you’re going to try to find him, I assume?”

“Yes,” Kircheis said.

“You should ask Hank for help.”

“He doesn’t need to be involved.”

“He wouldn’t hold it against you. Doesn’t he like Martin?”

He did, but that wasn’t the issue at hand. “Hilde— if I’m chasing Martin, Commodore Leigh is my superior—”

“He’d understand,” Hilde said firmly. Her voice tinted melancholy. “I think he’d even understand if you found Martin and went AWOL yourself.”

“That makes it worse.”

“You should ask for his help,” she said firmly. “He’d want to help you.”

June 488 I.C., Odin

Kircheis waited until the beginning of the next month to ask Leigh for help. He did some poking on his own, and he might have continued to do so, except for the fact that on June 5th, military police showed up at his apartment door, looking for Martin.

Kircheis was at home when they came, eating a very sad meal of microwaved canned pasta. He hadn’t yet taken off his uniform after dinner, since Martin was no longer around to be discomforted by him wearing it. When the doorbell rang, he initially ignored it, thinking it was probably just the mail, or someone wanting to prosthelytize for the Earth Church, but then the doorbell rang again, and he was forced to get up and answer it.

At the door were two MPs. Although it was clear from their uniforms that they were only enlisted men, even as an officer the sight of them was enough to put a chill down Kircheis’s spine.

One of them leaned back and looked at the number outside Kircheis’s apartment door. They clearly hadn’t been expecting to meet someone in uniform, and they quickly moved to salute, and Kircheis saluted back.

“Hello,” Kircheis said. “What can I do for you, gentlemen?”

“Does a Herr Martin Bufholtz reside at this address?” one of them asked.

“He used to,” Kircheis said. “He moved out after he graduated from ONU late last month. Now it’s just me.”

“What’s your name, sir?”

“Lieutenant Siegfried Kircheis,” he said.

One of them wrote that information down in a little memo pad.

“May we come in, Lieutenant?”

This was the last thing Kircheis wanted, but he didn’t have any way to refuse, so he smiled and said, “Of course, gentlemen.” He held the door open, and both of them stomped their muddy boots into his kitchen, and neither of them took off their caps as they came inside.

“May I ask you a few questions?” one said, while the other began walking through the apartment. Kircheis had, luckily, taken his name off the false bedroom and had stripped the bed, leaving the room open and empty looking. The larger bed in the room he had once shared with Martin still looked normal for just one person.

“I’m not sure how much I’ll be able to help you, but certainly. Did you want any tea?” Kircheis asked as he removed the remains of his dinner from the kitchen table and offered the MP a seat.

“No, thank you. This shouldn’t take long, sir. I’m just trying to find out where Herr Bufholtz has gone.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know. When he moved out, he said he was taking a trip to see his family, and I assume that after that— well, I don’t know.” Kircheis shrugged. “You’re here because he didn’t show up for his Fleet summons, I assume.”

“Yes, sir,” the MP said. “Not the hardest job to have, but someone’s gotta do it, sir.”

“Of course. I can give you his family’s phone number, if you like. He might just be there,” Kircheis said.

“I’d appreciate that, sir. You haven’t heard from him recently?”

“Not since he left, no.” Kircheis pulled out a pad of paper and pen from one of the kitchen drawers, and consulted his phone to write down Martin’s uncle’s phone number, which was Kircheis’s landlord’s business partner. That family connection was the reason he was able to stay in this apartment so cheaply. They had both gotten a deal on it. As he scribbled the number down, Kircheis wondered if he was going to have to find a new place when his lease ended. Focusing on this small and mundane question let him avoid the terror for a moment.

“How did you know Herr Bufholtz, sir?”

“Hunh? Oh, we went to high school together. He needed a roommate to help pay rent, and I had a posting in the capital. I’d rather live near the nightlife than in officer housing, so it made sense for us to split this place. It’s not bad.” Even as he spoke, he was cognizant of the other officer looking around the house, opening the closet doors, looking in his desk, pulling books at random from the bookshelves and flipping through them.

“I see.”

Kircheis felt like he was talking too much. He handed over his paper with the phone number on it. “That’s his uncle,” he said. “I’m afraid I don’t know his mother’s number or anything.”

“That’s fine, thank you, sir. I appreciate your helpfulness.”

There was an awkward moment of silence. It was clear that though the interview was meant to extract some information, the primary purpose was to stop Kircheis from interfering while the other man went through his belongings. In the pause in the conversation, there was the sound of the MP rifling through Kircheis’s closet.

“What’s going to happen, if you find him— if I’m allowed to ask that?” Kircheis said.

“Oh, well, if he cooperates, and it’s just some kind of honest mistake that he didn’t report, probably nothing but a reprimand,” the MPs said. “It’s if we don’t find him that it becomes an issue.” He laughed, but not in an amused way. Kircheis’s smile was thin.

“You put out a notice for his arrest, I assume?”

“Yes, sir. That’s what we’d do.”

The other man finished his cursory and destructive search of Kircheis’s room, and came back out into the kitchen.

“If you do happen to hear from him, I hope you’ll advise him to report for duty.”

“Of course,” Kircheis said.

“And if he doesn’t report, I do hope you call our number.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card with the tips hotline number printed on it. Kircheis was horrified by it, but didn’t let that show on his face, and just took it to look at. The other side of the card read, “ANY INFORMATION ABOUT SERVICE DODGERS, REWARD, 500 REICHSMARKS.” He walked over and put it on his fridge with a magnet.

“I certainly will. Is there anything else I can help you gentlemen with?”

“Not at the moment, sir. We’ll let you know.”

“Of course.”

They saluted Kircheis again, who saluted back, and he showed them out of his apartment. When they had gone, he slumped against the door. His heart rate, which had been calm and under control when they were talking to him, spiked, all of the panic he had been suppressing coming up at once.

He gazed at his apartment— something sacrosanct had been violated by the MPs coming in and looking through his belongings. There were so many things that were out of place. When he was able to move again, he went through and fixed them all, feeling slimy. Last of all, he stood in his kitchen, looking at the card on the fridge. It hardened his resolve to find Martin. He would talk to Commodore Leigh at his next opportunity.

Commodore Leigh’s office was in the same state of disarray that it always was when Kircheis came to see him the next day. Leigh was looking out the window, chair tilted all the way back with his legs on his desk, so his view was up to the sky, where puffy white clouds were scuttling along, chased by the wind that whistled down the street. When Kircheis knocked and announced himself, Leigh rolled his head to look at him.

“Don’t you usually go home around now?” Leigh asked. It was past the end of their assigned workday, but that didn’t mean much for either of them.

“I figured I could catch you before I left,” he said. “You were at the Braunschweig house for most of the day.”

“Yes,” Leigh said with a frown. He straightened himself up and put his elbows on his desk, replacing his feet that had been up there a moment before. “What can I do for you, Kircheis?”

Kircheis shut the door of the office behind himself, and took the seat in front of Leigh’s desk. Leigh waited patiently for him to state his business— there was that kind and concerned look on his face: the intensity of his gaze and the slight furrow of his brow.

“I’m afraid I’ve come to ask you about a personal problem, sir,” Kircheis said.

“I’m happy to help,” Leigh said. “Please.”

“It’s about my friend Martin.”

Leigh sighed. “I had wondered about him. Is he alright?”

“I don’t know. He’s—”

“Missing?” The knowing tone of Leigh’s voice made Kircheis feel worse.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m afraid to admit that I’ve been keeping a little secret from you, Kircheis,” Leigh said.

“Sir?”

“Rear Admiral Bronner has a special interest in you, and he informed me that Herr Bufholtz’s name had appeared on a list that one does not want their name to be on. I told him that neither you nor I knew anything about your friend.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that the rear admiral had asked you?” With anyone else, the direct question would have been cause for a reprimand, but Leigh just answered him honestly.

“I didn’t want to interfere in your business,” Leigh said. “And as far as Bronner is concerned, I was telling him the truth.”

Kircheis was silent for a moment.

“I figured you knew that you were being watched,” Leigh said. “And if you didn’t bring it up with me, it wasn’t something you wanted to talk about.”

“I did know he was watching me in some way,” Kircheis said. “I didn’t think he would involve you.”

“The rear admiral likes to get my opinion on things. But you came to see me about it for a reason— and that’s probably why Bronner came to ask me what I knew. What can I help you with?”

“MPs came to my apartment looking for him yesterday,” Kircheis said.

“I’m sorry.”

“I already was, but now I’m even more worried about him.”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but do you know what he’s doing?”

“No,” Kircheis said. “He left without saying goodbye, and you didn’t lie to Rear Admiral Bronner when you said that I didn’t know where he was. He’s gone— I don’t know where.”

“He couldn’t have gone far,” Leigh said, somewhat bitterly. “Anybody who’s a flight risk, they make sure you can’t leave the planet, unless a noble’s smuggling you on their private ship. There’s no passenger ship to Phezzan that would be allowed to let him on board.”

“I don’t think he’s trying to go to Phezzan, sir.”

“No? It’s the best place to be, if you want to start a new life.” Although there was an odd tone in Leigh’s voice, Kircheis was too focused on Martin to try to pry Leigh’s feelings about Phezzan apart.

“I think he intends to stay here, and—”

“And what?”

“He wants to make a difference.”

“Why do you think so?”

“It’s the way he is, sir.”

“I admire people who are like that,” Leigh said. “It’s unfortunate that it’s a dangerous life to live.”

“Yes, sir.”

“If I were in Herr Bufholtz’s shoes, and I was committed to not running away, and staying to make a difference, I’d be waiting for the same things I’m waiting for now.”

Kircheis didn’t want to ask— even before Martin had vanished he hadn’t wanted to put a timer on the end of what passed for peace around here— but he wanted to know how long Martin had to wait. “How long do you think it will be before the Kaiser dies?”

“I’m not a doctor, Kircheis.” This was Leigh’s way of saying he didn’t want to think about it, either. “Months, maybe. I don’t think there’s any way it would be more than a year. That’s what Princess Amarie has said.”

“I don’t think Martin will wait years.”

“He’s not a patient man?”

“He’s not a careful one,” Kircheis admitted.

Leigh nodded. “I see. Is there something you’d like me to do?”

“Could you ask your man on Phezzan to keep an eye out? Just in case. If he does make it to Phezzan, it would be a relief to know that.”

“I can ask,” Leigh said. “But you don’t think he’s headed that direction.”

“No. I just don’t know what else to do, or where else to look.”

Leigh leaned forward on his elbows and looked at Kircheis intently for a second. “Do you want to find him?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” he said.

“Yes, you do,” Leigh said. His voice was very gentle, but his words cut right to the heart. “You want to find him, but you’re afraid of what will happen when you do. That doesn’t change the fact that it’s what you want.”

He was right, of course. “Yes, sir.”

Leigh tilted his head. “I’m sure it’s not the same situation, but you will recall that the reason both of us are working for Duke Braunschweig is that I gave up quite a lot to find my friend, Rear Admiral Mittermeyer, when he was in trouble. I wouldn’t blame you at all for doing what you have to do for friendship. That’s worth more than most things.”

Kircheis nodded.

“I know it’s difficult,” Leigh said.

“Even if I do want to find him, I don’t know how. I don’t know where he went.”

Leigh steepled his fingers. “Does he want you to find him?”

“I— Probably.”

“Then if you tell him that you want to meet, he will tell you how to find him. I assume you have some kind of code that he would recognize, even if you have to invent one now. It’s easy, when you know someone well.”

Kircheis felt nauseous. “If I did that, he’d think that I wanted to join him.”

“You don’t have to find him, if you don’t want him to think that,” Leigh said. “But do what you need to do for peace of mind.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And be careful, whatever you do. You are being watched. I don’t think Rear Admiral Bronner is out to get you, but he does like to know things, especially the way the winds blow.”

“I know, sir.”

“Is there anything else I can help you with?”

A flush rose to Kircheis’s cheeks. “There is one thing, sir.”

“Oh?”

“Martin stole my sidearm when he left. If there’s an inventory, I’ll be marked as missing it.”

Leigh promptly reached down and opened his desk drawer. He took out his own sidearm, which had apparently been laying in there, and held it out to Kircheis. “Here’s a replacement.”

“Sir, you can’t give me yours!”

“Why not? It’s not like I’m capable of using it well. Here.” He kept holding it out until Kircheis reluctantly took it, and clipped the holster onto his belt beneath his uniform jacket.

“Thank you, sir,” he said.

“You’re welcome.” He smiled. “I’m sure if it comes down to it, I’ll be safer with it in your hands than with it in my own.”

“Yes, sir.”

It seemed like Leigh had something else to say to him, so Kircheis waited a moment before standing to go.

“I’m sure you probably won’t want to tell me the details,” Leigh said. “But I hope…things go well with your friend.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The next night, Kircheis dressed in dark clothing, tucked his distinctive hair beneath a cap, donned a large pair of reading glasses purchased from the drug store, and walked through the center of the city, a can of spray paint tucked into the satchel that swung at his side. He had a destination in mind, though he was open to alternate possibilities if any occurred to him on the way.

He was almost waylaid by the Earth Church headquarters, the one that had burnt down several years ago, and had now been reconstructed on the same spot with a smooth concrete facade, something so unlike the usual Imperial architectural style that it was a wonder they had ever gotten a building permit. But eyeing the security cameras that dotted the corners of the building conspicuously, Kircheis moved on.

He almost turned down towards the residential part of the city, where brownstones clustered close together, and where had once been arrested on Martin’s behalf. But he figured that there was no reason that Martin would ever be looking at that old house again, and so Kircheis didn’t walk in that direction.

Instead, he made his way towards Triangle Street, which was dark and eerie at this time of night, even with the streetlights. There was rarely anyone in the odd, triangular plaza, even on a busy day, and this was after midnight. He looked around, just for good measure, and wished he had a spotter with him. But the only person he could have invited was Hilde, and he didn’t want to involve her.

He shook his can of white spray paint, and the rattle of it echoed and bounced off the tall buildings around him, announcing his presence like an alarm. But no one came out of any of the buildings, and the cars that drove by on the main streets didn’t stop, though their headlights briefly illuminated the whole square, flashing like lightning bolts as the cars rumbled by.

On the wall, in an unfamiliar script, Kircheis carefully wrote a fragment of a poem.

τᾶς κε βολλοίμαν ἔρατόν τε βᾶμα

κἀμάρυχμα λάμπρον ἴδην προσώπω

ἢ τὰ Λύδων ἄρματα κἀν ὄπλοισι

πεσδομάχεντας.

It was a week later that a postcard appeared in Kircheis’s mailbox. The front was a picture of birds flying over the ocean, with a picturesque sailboat cresting a wave beneath them— it was the kind of postcard that one could get in a tourist shop near any of the beaches about an hour’s drive from the capital. This one bore the name of what Kircheis presumed was a bar in the corner: The Captain’s Lounge. The back was scrawled in Martin’s undisguised handwriting.

“I’m enjoying my summer vacation. You’d like the beach too, if you ever left your office. Come by on Friday, and I’ll buy you a drink. Love, Your Anactoria”

Kircheis laid the postcard on his kitchen table and stared at it for a long time. It was dangerous for both of them if he did go visit Martin. He doubted that Martin was staying anywhere near this particular beach and this particular bar— he was probably in the capital still, which would be how he saw Kircheis’s message in the first place— but it was a good idea to meet further away. Especially if Martin didn’t trust him. Although he had been the one to request the meeting, the fear of what he would say to Martin when he saw him made Kircheis want to skip it.

He had asked to meet under the pretense that he wanted to join Martin— he knew that was how Martin would interpret his message. He didn’t want to join him. He wanted something impossible, and what was there to say to Martin about that impossibility?

But he asked for the day off of work, which Leigh granted him without any comment, and Kircheis took an early morning train out to the beach.

The sun was just coming up when he arrived, and it hadn’t yet cut through the fog that crept over the salt marshes that turned into beachhead further down. Herons stood with their tall legs among the reeds, and gulls wheeled and cawed overhead. Kircheis walked the kilometer or so from the train station over the paved bridge road through the marsh, towards the beach, which was empty except for a few people hunting for shellfish and a few others running their dogs through the packed sand where the tide had just gone out.

Kircheis took off his shoes and rolled up the legs of his pants to walk along the beach. He let the cold ocean water wash over his feet, and he trekked towards the boardwalk a ways away where there were a few restaurants and closed carnival games. It was too early for any tourists to be on the boardwalk— there were only a few local fishermen dangling their long poles out over the deeper water. But this was where Martin had asked to meet— there was the bar at the beachside end of the structure— so Kircheis climbed the wooden steps and walked along until he reached the far end, and he leaned against the railing, looking out over the ocean.

The sun was burning off the fog now, and the morning light glittered on the waves beneath their foamy crests. It was going to be a hot day, but the air was still cool for now. Kircheis had brought a book to read, in case he had to wait for Martin to appear, but watching the low tide begin to roll back in was enough to occupy him for a long while.

He was so engrossed that he didn’t notice someone coming up behind him until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He whirled, and for a moment didn’t recognize the person before him.

Martin had bleached his hair to a straw blond and cut it short. He was dressed in an outfit that seemed wholly unsuited to him— a pair of workman’s jeans and a loose and stained shirt, tied with a messy kerchief at his throat. They were so unlike his usual neat clothing that they changed his whole silhouette. But all the rough fabrics in the world couldn’t disguise the way his hands were uncalloused, and his limbs were willowy. He had a canvas bag slung across his back, though it looked mostly empty, probably just holding a bagged lunch.

“I didn’t expect you to be here so early,” Martin said.

“You didn’t give me a time.”

How strange, that these were the first words they said to each other. Had Kircheis been expecting Martin to fall into his arms, right there on the beach? No. But there had been a part of him that had hoped for it, nonetheless.

“You didn’t bring much,” Martin said, pointing at the satchel that swung by Kircheis’s side.

“Should we really talk here?”

“No, you’re right.” Martin looked around warily. Though there had been only fishermen out when Kircheis arrived, there were now more people trickling onto the boardwalk, the early summer crowd, and some of the vendors were rattling open their metal stall doors and beginning to play music that wavered through the salty air, breaking the morning stillness. “You weren’t followed, were you?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

They walked together back down the boardwalk and away from the beach, back towards the salt marsh. There was an area of rolling sandy dunes before they sank down into the still water of the swamp on one side, and the packed sand of the beach on the other. This was where they headed, finding a place like a basket of scrubby grass woven into the crumbling, sandy earth. It was cool and shady in their hollow between the dunes, and the sand walls were tall enough to hide them completely from sight when they sat. They took up positions across from each other, their knees close enough to touch.

“I’m so glad you came,” Martin said, as soon as they were hidden. “I had hoped you would. But I didn’t want to presume anything—”

“You left without saying goodbye.”

“I know,” Martin said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t have a choice.”

“You did. You could have told me what you were going to do. I wouldn’t have stopped you. I don’t think I could have.”

“You would have tried, and then you wouldn’t have come to find me here.”

“Do you really think that I would just never want to see you again?” Kircheis asked. Although he was trying to stay calm, and he was usually good at it, the pain crept into his voice. “Do you really think that about me?”

“No,” Marin said. “But if you had tried to stop me then, I probably wouldn’t have let you find me.”

Kircheis ripped at the grass that grew from the dunes. Its roots went deep, and it was wiry and scratched his hands as he tried to pull it out. “I would have tried anyway.”

“I know.” There was a moment of silence. “I’m so glad you came. I didn’t really know what I was going to do without you. You’ll make things so much better when—”

“Martin—” It was Martin’s fantasies that brought Kircheis down to reality.

“Sieg?”

“I’m not here to join you,” Kircheis said. “I’m sorry.”

Martin’s whole demeanor changed. He tensed, and his face lost its pleased smile.

“Then why are you here?” Despite the warmth of the sun cresting over the dunes, with Martin’s icy voice, it was suddenly cold.

Truthfully, Kircheis didn’t know the answer to that question. “Because I love you.”

“But not enough.”

“Martin— don’t—”

“Don’t what?” he asked. “Don’t say what we’re both thinking? Isn’t that the only thing I’m good at? Speaking truth to power?”

“What power?” Kircheis asked. “I don’t have any power over you.”

“It’s funny that you can think that. You could have me arrested right now. You could kill me— you’re stronger than I am.”

“You stole my gun.”

Martin lifted his chin. “I did.”

“Did you bring it with you today? Just in case?”

“And if I did? Did you bring a weapon?”

No, he hadn’t. Commodore Leigh’s gun was locked up in his safe at home.

“No,” Kircheis said. “I didn’t ever think you would hold me at gunpoint. If I’m wrong, then I’m sorry for having misjudged you. And I’m sorry that you thought that I would be the kind of person you’d need to point a gun at.”

“I didn’t bring it,” Martin said, but he was lying. Kircheis could always tell when he was lying. His gaze twitched towards his canvas bag, sitting in the sand next to him.

It had happened so long ago that it almost felt more like a dream than a memory, but Kircheis remembered the day he had spent in the forest with Reinhard, when he had been terrified of Reinhard’s potential for violence, and Reinhard had soothed him by pressing the gun into Kircheis’s hands, entrusting him with everything.

Martin didn’t trust him at all.

They looked at each other in silence, until Martin looked away. “Why did you leave a message that sounded like you wanted to join me? I didn’t think you were a liar.”

“I wanted to see you,” Kircheis said. “And I want to protect you— to make sure you’re safe.”

“The best way to do that is to stay away from me, if you’re not going to help me. You’re being watched— I know that. It’s dangerous for you to meet me.”

“I do want to help you,” Kircheis said. “I just can’t blindly leap into whatever you’re planning. I don’t want to watch you throw your life away. I could help you get to Phezzan, or—”

“No,” Martin said.

Kircheis didn’t bother asking why not. “Fine.”

“Why won’t you come with me?”

“If things were different, I would,” he said.

“Different how?”

If he had never met Commodore Leigh— that was the way it would have to be different. Seeing Leigh’s plans, so real, made it clear that if there was a way to make the galaxy better, it was by helping him. Martin was doomed to fail, Kirchies was sure of it, even if he didn’t know exactly what Martin’s plans were. If he hadn’t met Leigh, he might have been content to try and fail at Martin’s side. Or maybe he was lying to himself, and if they were in different positions, he would have done anything to keep Martin alive and safe, just like he always had.

“I don’t know,” Kircheis said.

“I wish you’d figure out what you’re doing,” Martin said, and his voice was purposefully cruel. “It’s all very easy to see, if you open your eyes.”

“I wish it was easy for me.” He paused. “I have always loved that about you.”

“Stop it.”

“What do you want me to be to you, Martin?” Kircheis asked.

“What I want you to be and what you are are two totally different things.”

“I don’t want to stop loving you— don’t make me.”

“You won’t join me.”

“I don’t want to leave you, either. I don’t know how you can just walk out of my life— I wouldn’t have done that to you.”

“You wouldn’t have?” Martin asked. His voice was still cold. “You’ve run away on some errand that would have killed you, if you hadn’t been lucky. If you had died on Cahokia, or planet Castrop, or wherever you’re sent next, how is that any different?”

“I’m not intending to get killed.”

“And neither am I.”

There were several things that Kircheis could have said. He wanted to point out that Martin had never been good at protecting himself without Kircheis there to save him. But instead, he said, “And what do you think is going to happen to you when you take my handgun and charge into Neue Sanssouci after the Kaiser dies? I assume that’s what you’re going to do, or something just as futile.”

“It’s not futile.”

“You think that you can stand up against the whole of the Empire? You alone?”

For the first time, there was regret in Martin’s voice. “I would prefer not to be alone.”

“I can’t watch you throw your life away on something pointless!”

“It’s not pointless. That’s you problem, Sieg. It matters to me, even if it doesn’t to you. At least if I die, I’ll be doing it for something right, something that means something, not just because your superior ordered you to.”

“I’m trying to fix it, too,” Kircheis said. “There’s an actual plan to make this place better.”

“And that’s what you’ll tell yourself when Duke Braunschweig orders you to kill for his right to the throne. I think you can justify a lot by telling yourself that it’s all for the best.”

“So can you!” Kircheis said. “You can be as cruel as you want me, if you tell yourself that you’re right.”

“Yes,” he said. “Because I am right, and I’m going to do the right thing, no matter what it takes. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t, and I don’t know how you can.”

“Because I don’t just care about myself,” Kircheis said. “I can’t throw away a decade of my life with you— or anyone else I know. I can’t be that selfish.”

“But it hasn’t occurred to you that there are people in the world outside of you and me, billions of them. I think their lives matter a little bit more than whatever you feel.” Martin was breathing heavily, and a flush had risen to his cheeks.

Kircheis wanted to shake him. None of those billions of strangers would know or care that Martin was going to kill himself for them, but Kircheis would be the one who would have to bear it. But telling Martin that wouldn’t have made any difference, so he didn’t say it. Instead, he looked at Martin in silence, and wondered if there was anything he could say. Martin tried to calm his breathing, and he looked away from Kircheis, though there was nothing to see over the top of the dune except for the sky.

“I hope it’s worth it,” Kircheis finally said. “I hope it makes you happy.”

“It doesn’t matter if it makes me happy. It’s something I have to do. Maybe you’ll get that, someday.”

Martin stood. As he did, he knocked over his bag, which had been sitting next to him. It flopped down the side of the dune. When Martin grabbed for it in a panic, sending rivulets of sand cascading down around his sliding feet, the gun fell out onto the sand and came to a stop in the lowest part of the hollow between the dunes. They both looked at it, and neither of them moved.

“Keep it,” Kircheis said. “If it’ll help you stay safe.”

Martin picked up the gun and shoved it back into his bag, which he slung over his shoulder. He didn’t look at Kircheis.

“Can I see you again sometime?” Kircheis asked.

“What good would it do either of us?”

“Maybe none. But I don’t want to leave you like this, and never see you again.”

Martin scuffed the ground with his toe. “I don’t want to listen to you begging me to give up everything I stand for,” he said. “It makes me think less of you.”

“I won’t try to stop you.”

“I’ll think about it,” he said.

That was the best Kircheis was going to get, so he nodded. Martin looked at him for a second longer, then scrambled up the side of the dune and slid down the other side, headed back to the beach. Kircheis leaned back into the stiff grass and looked up at the sky, watching the birds wheel overhead.

October 488 I.C., Odin

Kircheis was asleep in his empty apartment when his phone rang. After months, he had gotten used to sleeping by himself in the queen bed, but he still sometimes woke up disoriented when he got tangled in the sheets, reaching for a body that wasn’t there. There was that moment of disorientation now, as the phone buzzed and jangled on his nightstand, and Kircheis sat up in a thrashing panic.

There was only one type of phone call that Kircheis could get at three in the morning— a bad one.

It took a moment for Kircheis to gather his wits about him in the dark, trying to think past the loud ringing. He centered himself by looking around in the dimness and reminding himself of the familiar furniture, only the outlines visible. It was pouring rain outside, and the window of his bedroom was smeared with the water dripping down, rendering the streetlights an indistinguishable orange haze in the darkness, casting strange glows onto the ceiling.

He answered the phone before its fourth ring.

“Hello?”

“Kircheis—” It was Commodore Leigh.

“Yes, sir,” Kircheis said. “What’s happening.”

“The Kaiser died about an hour ago,” Leigh said. “Duke Braunschweig is going to evacuate his family.”

Kircheis had been prepared for this happening. Something clicked in his mind, and he put away everything other than the task Leigh had for him.

“What do you need me to do, sir?” Kircheis asked.

There was a moment of silence from the other end of the line. “Lichenlade controls part of the military police,” he said, though Kircheis already knew that. “All of Duke Braunschweig’s allies are in danger.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Go to the Mariendorf house. Do whatever the count tells you.”

“Sir— what about you?”

“I think we’ll meet up— Count Mariendorf will probably need to join the duke, but everyone knows he’s an ally that the duke considers valuable, and I don’t have anyone else I can send—” Of course, all of the duke’s small staff on the planet would be helping evacuate his household.

“Yes, sir,” Kircheis said. “I’ll go.”

“Do what the count tells you,” Leigh said again. “Whatever he says.”

“I will, sir.”

“And Kircheis—”

“Yes, sir?”

“Stay safe.”

“You too, sir.”

Leigh hung up the phone. It took less than two minutes for Kircheis to get his clothes on, get his boots on his feet, and take his gun from the safe. As he tucked it into its holster on his belt, he realized that Commodore Leigh probably hadn’t gotten himself a new sidearm, and a shiver of fear went through him. But that didn’t stop him moving, and he was already out his door, dialing his phone to get a taxi, and then calling Hilde to tell her the news.

He was standing under the awning in front of his apartment and waiting for his taxi, barely shielded from the rain that cascaded down when Hilde picked up the phone. She was groggy, but she too knew that there was no good reason for a phone call in the middle of the night.

“Sieg,” she said. “What’s happening? Are you alright?”

“The Kaiser died,” he said. “Wake up your father, and anybody else. Commodore Leigh told me to go to you, to make sure you and your father are safe. It’s going to be dangerous for Braunschweig’s allies if they don’t get off Odin right away.”

There was a moment of silence from the other end of the line as Hilde processed the information. “I should get to the Braunschweig house,” she said. “That’s where we should go. We’ll leave the planet with them.”

“Don’t go anywhere,” Kircheis said. “Not until I get to you.”

“But if we need to hurry we should hurry. We can meet you there.”

Kircheis knew that the reason Leigh had told him to go to the Mariendorf house was so that Count Mariendorf could order Kircheis to protect Hilde. That was one of the things Leigh had taken away from Hilde’s time in Castrop’s captivity. But Hilde wouldn’t accept that as an excuse, so Kircheis said, “I don’t want to get separated. The Braunschweigs have already probably left their house and are headed somewhere safe temporarily. When I get to you, Leigh can tell us what we need to do. The situation is probably changing by the minute.”

“How long will it take for you to get here?”

“I don’t think many people know what’s happening yet,” Kircheis said as he looked down the street. He could see the lights of the taxi coming towards him. “The roads are still clear. Give me twenty minutes.”

“Do you know what Hank is doing? And Maggie?”

“He didn’t say. But Leigh will take care of her.”

“I’ll wake up my father,” she said.

“I’ll be there soon.”

“Sieg—”

“Yeah?”

“Stay safe.”

“I will.” He hung up as the taxi pulled up to the curb in front of him.