In the Republic, nationalization wasn’t very prominent. Aside from certain gases, minerals, and water, most other resources are corporatized. This included arms production. Roughly 35 percent of armaments were produced by the government, whilst the remaining 65 percent by corporations.

The biggest of them was the Lunar Defense Group. They produced most of the Republic’s warships, with the exception of battleships, turtle ships, and some other specialized ships. Its current chairman was Wilson Kaufmann, ninth generation of the Kaufmann family. He was a short man with short, black hair and average build.

As usual, he was reading reports alongside his top aide: his younger sister, Petra. “So, the Republic is planning an invasion, hm? That’s rare,” Wilson said. “What of the Empire?”

“They appear ignorant of the issue. The war council that is convening now is top secret. Only the fleet commanders and upwards, and their aides, are allowed to attend,” Petra said. “Well then, should we tell our branch in the Empire to warn them?”

In the Empire, Mark Defense Company supplied them with important war armaments. It was, unbeknownst to everyone else, a branch of Lunar Defense Group.

“Hm, I wonder whether we should,” Wilson said.

The balance of powers. The Kaufmanns have profited from the war. If it ceased, the Kaufmanns’ war industry would collapse. The Empire and the Republic; neither strong enough to decisively defeat the other.

Recently, however, the Empire lost two fleets in Alvisa. Whilst hardly fatal, this shifted the tide to the Republic’s side slightly. “It’d be good if both sides fight again. Hopefully the Empire wins this time, but not so overwhelmingly,” Petra gave her opinion. Like her brother, her mind was shrewd. Physically, however, she was so unlike him. She was tall and overwhelming, in her eyes a fire of vitality undimmed.

“Yes, let’s make it so. As soon as the Republic’s plans are known, leak them to the Empire. See to it,” Wilson said, as casually as ordering dinner.

And in this way, the war never ended, despite a number of peace-headed emperors and chairmen.

The war council itself was held two months after the news first spread to high-rank officials. Abbas and Henry both attended: the former as Admiral Falkenhausen’s aide, and the latter as an aide for Admiral Karunaratne—the chief of Rear Service Department. Fear of Imperial tapping of communications led the Republic’s top brass to convene a meeting in person, on Planet Tarlend, a Coreworld.

Marshal Gabriel Popov, Joint Headquarters Chief, opened the meeting dully: “The civilian government has ordered and authorized a general invasion of the Empire. With that in mind, let us have a rational and proper discussion.” The marshal was a dark-skinned man, tall and muscular. Nevertheless, there was a certain fatigue in his eyes as he scanned the room.

As an aide, Abbas wasn’t given a seat. He had to stand behind his commanding officer. By (probably not) pure chance, Yue was standing next to him.

Admiral Tang was about to raise her hand when the gaunt hands of Admiral Karunaratne raised. Marshal Popov nodded.

“As Rear Service Chief, I have to say, we are in no shape to launch major offensives. Anything involving more than three or four fleets would require months of logistical build-up,” he said. His breath was already weak.

The Rear Service was equal to the other departments, but in practice it was afforded some sort of special respect by the other departments. There was a reason no chief of Rear Service lasted more than a decade; many retired citing exhaustion, many others dying of heart attacks and fatigue.

“Three or four fleets are enough!” came the roaring voice of Admiral Potiorek, commander of Battlefleet Dragon, rising to his feet. “We will attack, strike the hearts of the Imperials with fear, and capture frontier territories. The supplies, we can take from the enemy bases. After all, this is a war meant to topple tyranny! We cannot win with half-assed efforts. We must dare to attack!”

“Marshal Popov,” Admiral Falkenhausen said calmly. “Are we told the goals of this expedition?”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“We are to determine it by ourselves.” There was a pained tone in the old marshal’s voice.

“Then let’s send in a fleet, destroy some asteroids or something, and then return home. Isn’t that what the government wants? A ‘victory’?” Vice Admiral Koo’s flat voice was choked with sarcasm.

The responses ranged from strong disapproval to Admiral Tang’s open, supportive laugh. “Yes, I support that. In fact, we should just send a torpedo boat, no need for a fleet,” she said.

“This council is no place for ridicule!” Admiral Cadorna shouted. He stood up, a gesture meant to intimidate, probably.

Why did he suddenly get angry?

Marshal Popov coughed loudly enough to silence everyone.

Abbas could see from his elevated height the two camps that soon formed: one was Admiral Cadorna’s ambitious, pro-war stance, and the other was Admiral Tang’s anti-war stance, with the latter being outnumbered roughly three to one. Abbas knew well where he should side.

There was no need to bathe the stars with crimson.

The majority quickly overrode the minority. “A true democracy, hm?” Yue whispered very lowly.

Abbas smirked.

At last, a tactical plan was “agreed”: a general offensive against the Empire’s most prosperous zone, that was in the south of the Republic if viewed from above. The lynchpin of the Empire’s domain in this zone is Fortress Thalassa, orbiting the Thalassa Starzone. If this zone fell, the Empire would suffer a severe economic blow, particularly in its agriculture.

A break was convened. There was a restaurant for high-rank officers nearby. Abbas, Yue, and their commanding officers picked a particularly isolated table. They ordered roast venison and sat down.

“So, Fortress Thalassa, is it?” Admiral Tang said. “It is a strategic fortress, I’ll grant them that. The Imperials were smart to build it.”

“What are our chances of taking it, Admiral?” Abbas asked, partly out of curiosity. He’d very much like to see this fortress for himself.

Admiral Tang’s eyebrows quivered as she put a piece of venison in her mouth. “Mm, your question is flawed. If we throw our entire Armada at it, it’ll fall, naturally. But the Imperials will send their own fleets to defend it. Logistics, materiel, the number and quality of warships involved, the skill of the commanders—all of that would decide the outcome.”

“Not much, unless we send in at least half the Armada.” Admiral Falkenhausen’s answer was far more straightforward. “Judging from all those factors.”

“Admirals, have you prepared a united front?” Yue asked. “Admiral Cadorna’s faction is far more organized.”

Admiral Tang shrugged. “Look, it is what it is,” she said. “Aside from Falkenhausen and I, the big names on our side are—let’s see—Koo, Kadita, Wallenstein, Anand ....” She listed some other seven or eight names; fleet commanders and a few department chiefs.

“So the plan is to rein them in as much as possible. It doesn’t look possible to stop it entirely,” Admiral Falkenhausen sighed.

The foursome toasted with some white wine at his prompt.

“Can I ask something more personal?” Abbas asked.

“Ask away,” Admiral Tang said.

“I noticed something ... it looked like Admiral Cadorna was very agitated the moment Admiral Tang stepped in. Is it just his character or is there something else?”

“You’re quite sharp,” Yue said. “Well—“

“I’ll tell the story myself,” Admiral Tang interjected after pouring herself another glass of wine. “You know the Battle of Istoria Starzone?”

“Oh ... yeah, I know.”

The Battle of Istoria Starzone was one of the Republic’s biggest victory over the Empire. The Empire launched a massive invasion with twelve numbered fleets, with Admiral Karl von Marbach on the head.

“Our good friend Cadorna was in charge, and he got spanked. So Marshal Popov ordered me to take over,” Admiral Tang said. “I was still thirty-three back then ... it was 20 years ago or so. Ah, how time passes so quickly.”

Everyone had finished their main course and was going for sorbet. “I ambushed Karl once, then beat him in a field battle twice ... ah, good old Karl. He was real good. Of course, imbeciles like Cadorna doesn’t stand a chance against him. Where’s he now, by the way, Falkenhausen?”

“He’s head of the Royal Fleet now, I hear,” the old admiral said.

“Kicked upstairs, then, huh? Poor guy,” Admiral Tang chuckled. “Oh, back to the original question. They wanted to promote me to Supreme Commander of the Armada. I declined, because I felt I was too young back then, and I wanted to build up my experience with Battlefleet Chiyou. So fucking Cadorna got the job.”

Admiral Tang grinned. “That’s all. He’s psychologically shaken, because he only has his current position because I practically gave it to him. Well, of course, I couldn’t do it without this guy right here.” She elbowed Admiral Falkenhausen, causing him to gasp in pain.

“My ribcage isn’t made of steel!” he protested.

“Falkenhausen, you were the one who pinned down the enemy fleet at Isto—“

“I don’t want to recall past battles,” he said. “Our hands are stained with blood.”

Admiral Tang sighed. “We’re soldiers fighting a war. We’ll shed blood either way. Theirs, if we win, and ours, if we lose.” Admiral Falkenhausen nodded in dismay.

Abbas looked at his own hands. Hands stained with blood.

Stained with blood from the very beginning.

Abbas mentally shook his head off and tried to switch to happier news. “But, Admiral Falkenhausen, you’re about to retire, right?”

“Oh, yes. I am.”

“Let’s toast to your health and safe retirement then!” Abbas said.

The quartet toasted again with another bottle of white wine.

“And to peace,” Admiral Falkenhausen added in low voices to himself.

The war council was about to convene again.