Alexander Galaxus: The Complete Alexander Galaxus Trilogy

by Christopher L. Anderson

  “Fair enough.”

  “Very well, may we continue? How much do you remember of this previous life now that your memory has been awakened?”

  Alexander shrugged. It was a difficult question, for he didn’t want to shock her into reneging on their agreement. On the other hand he would be asked his perceptions on other experiences, and he knew or guessed too much about Nazeera to think he could get away with lying.

  “It’s difficult to gauge how many experiences I should recall about a lifetime,” he told her, truthfully. “Certain things come readily to mind, and other experiences may be recalled when I see them. It is much as my present life. I remember what I was, what I did, places, people, great events. Some of it’s distinct, but most is still buried I think, waiting for a question or a picture to dredge it up.”

  “What is foremost in your mind in connection with that life?”

  Alexander smiled, “I think of that life and I see the wide swells of the ocean. I smell the salt, the powder, the blood. I feel the long crush of boredom, both at sea and in retirement. I see my children, kin, my friends and especially my wife. Countess Eliza Orionez! I can see her eyes, feel her hair and hear her words. She was striking!”

  He looked hard at Nazeera, cocking his head unconsciously to the side. The expressions on Eliza’s face were strikingly similar to those of Nazeera. Alexander smiled thoughtfully, and said, “Eliza was strong and fiery; she was absolutely indomitable. You remind me a great deal of her, Nazeera. There are the mannerisms, yes, and your carriage, but most of all I think it’s something in the eyes.” He looked at her closely, now conscious of a growing blush under her tawny skin. “Yes, it is in the eyes. You share something of the same soul, I think.”

  CHAPTER 15: The Council of Fear

  The mood in the Senate chamber on Roma was somber. It was not a large gathering. There were only ten representatives, one for each of the civilized cultures outside of Scythia and Chem. There were no aides, no reporters, not even a recorder automaton. The Chamber was sealed and shielded. Even the Hrang would have been unable to gain any data on what went on inside if their ambassador chose to be silent. At this moment She-Rok, the Hrang representative, simply listened alongside his counterpart Kvel Mavec to Grand Admiral Guenuel Koor of Golkos. The Golkos as a rule were not affable, but today the Grand Admiral was positively offensive.

  “The situation is intolerable,” she told he assembled ambassadors. “The Golkos went along with your game, putting off Scythian requests for a deployment of warships to their space, and what do we get? The Scythians have cut off all traffic with the Golkos Empire. Within a decand the Golkos markets are in a panic, there are runs on foodstuffs, power cells, emergency supplies and armaments. There have been riots in the capitol. We have lost total communication with two of our frontier worlds, and five others have been forced to declare martial law. The Empire is in chaos. What happened to the slow calculated response of the Scythians? We underestimated their resolve, and it resulted in disaster. Even were they to re-instate trade the recovery period will be measured in periums!”

  “What of it,” hissed the Seer’koh ambassador, Sheer’nhak, twitching his serpentine tail irritably. Only half as large as the gaunt two meter Golkos the saurian nevertheless accosted the Golkos’ view of the situation. “Are the Golkos alone in their quandary? No. We’re all part of this. Rather than whining at the loss of our precious luxuries we should revel in newfound freedom. How many millennia did the Golkos stand alone before the sniveling Scythians sapped your will? The very trade you speak of was once Golkos strength.”

  Sheer’nhak’s head bobbed up and down, a sign of his agitation. His sharp claws drummed on the hard surface of the table, clacking in a fusillade of irritating staccato shots.

  “It is the same with all of us. Little by little we’ve sold bits and pieces of our empires to the Scythians and they’ve always called us to task for it. Were it not for our very rational fear of the Chem we’d have repeated our past cowardice and caved in again. I celebrate the Chem’s stubbornness. The balance has been out of joint for too long in the galaxy. Now, painful though it may be, we have a chance to right it. Our civilizations have weathered worse in our history, and I daresay we will again. There’s no point in complaining about it, so we might as well stick together and see it through.”

  “See what through, Sheer’nhak?” Koor asked. “It is all well enough to take the bitter pill of self sufficiency and swallow it, but is that all we face? Our empires are in crisis and we face the possibility of a Chem coming out, or worse the explosion of Terra into our galaxy? That’s what this means. The Chem are pushing the Scythians to the brink, and don’t think the Scythians will ignore the fact that not one of our fleets is deployed to Scythian space to protect them. Are we about to face Terran legions landing on our Homeworlds during this vulnerable period of chaos?”

  “All the more reason to get our houses in order, and that quickly,” Sheer’nhak said forcefully, his artificially altered voice rattling insistently.

  “It would take even the Scythians time to deploy Terran legions,” She-Rok said, breaking into the debate. “At this time we’ve intercepted a great deal of coded traffic on the Scythian net. They are deploying their merchant fleets throughout their empire, and it seems apparent that they are indeed arming Terra. The Scythian habit of efficiency and documentation is noteworthy, and consistent. Despite the possible misuse of data the Scythians continue to catalogue and schedule their convoys to the minutest detail. To be certain they do encode their ethernet traffic, but we broke that code long ago. The Hrang can provide a detailed accounting of which ships have entered the Terran system and what their cargo is. A comprehensive list would be exhaustive, and beyond necessity. Suffice it to say that Terra is arming for war, but there is at this point no indication of Terran troops leaving the Terran Homeworld.”

  “That will change,” Koor told him.

  “No doubt it will,” the Hrang agreed, “but at this time the ethernet traffic only addresses plans for a Terran defense force to be moved to the Scythian Homeworlds, not beyond them. That is the Scythian plan. There are some interesting indications that the Terrans may have ideas of their own, ideas which may have implications for us all.”

  “How so,” Koor inquired.

  “From the ship’s manifests we have discovered that the Scythians are supplying Terra with equipment for planetary defenses and troop deployments—that’s to be expected—but that’s not all. The Terrans demanded the Scythians supply them with their entire inventory of fleet spare parts and weaponry. The Scythians are cooperating in a most vigorous manner. We’re not certain how, as of yet, but there can be no doubt about it: the Terrans have a fleet of warships and they are busy modernizing it.”

  “Impossible!” Koor exclaimed.

  “You are quite correct, Grand Admiral, but I’m afraid it is true nonetheless.”

  The Council table erupted in pandemonium. Apparently, the news was too much for members of the Council. The prospect of Terran legions transported by their own fleets was worse than any Scythian threat.

  Admiral Koor couldn’t get the Councilors to come to order. It wasn’t until she pulled out her gun and shot the communicator out of the hand of the Syraptose Ambassador that the Councilors emerged from their panic. The Syraptose turned his pudgy face to her in shock, unable to utter a single word of protest. The rest of the table turned to her.

  Admiral Koor holstered her gun, and said, “That’s better. We’ll get nothing done with this yammering. It’s exactly what the next Alexander wants. He will play to our weakness; that is, he’ll divide us and pick us off one by one. Our only hope is to maintain a concerted front.” She turned her hard eyes on She-Rok. “Ambassador, would you please elaborate. We’re acting as if Alexander himself is on our doorstep. Is he?”

  “No, Admiral, he is not. Before we get too caught up in this hysteria let me ease your minds somewhat. We know Terra has indeed been in the first stages of explori
ng their solar system. Our conjecture is that this effort is a desperate attempt to modify their primitive intra-system vessels into defensive systems. They have correctly surmised that if the Chem come they will not land on Terra and engage in a terrestrial war, which would be much to Terra’s advantage. Rather Chem warships will stand off the planet and bombard it to dust. All the planetary projectors in the galaxy would not change the outcome of that engagement. Therefore, they are doing anything and everything they can to make the Chem pay dearly before they come into bombardment range. In our considered opinion there is nothing in this to be overly concerned of. Any Terran fleet which results from this enormous expenditure of energy will be wholly defensive in capability, and just as tied to the Terran system as their exploratory ventures. They simply do not have the time to build a fleet capable of threatening us.”

  There was a murmur of approval and relief at She-Rok’s conclusions, and the Hrang continued.

  “There are other developments which will be of interest to all of us. We have been keeping track of the Chem build up as well, and in doing so we have discovered that the Chem attacked and destroyed a Scythian vessel. In the process they captured a Terran from the vessel. We don’t know why the Terran was on board, but it’s very probable that he was a military liaison of some kind. Whatever his previous role he is now under the scrutiny of the Chem. Their obvious intent is to study their foes and so have a better understanding of what they will face when they attack Terra. In fact, the Chem consider this Terran to be so important that Nazeera of Chem herself took charge of the interrogation on her return to Chem from Rome.”

  “How do you know all of this?” Sheer’nhak asked. “The Chem are usually quite secretive about matters such as these.”

  “We had a bit of fortune,” the Hrang answered, “and it turns out that won’t be secret for long. We gained access to a tape which was meant for broadcast sometime in the future. The Chem sentenced the Terran to Pantrixnia, their prison planet. As all of you know it is not so much a prison as a place of execution. We’ve all seen the broadcasts. They are a Chem version of the Terran gladiatorial games.”

  “Yes, yes, what of the tape? How does it explain Terran intentions?” Koor asked impatiently.

  “I will play the tape presently, and you may see for yourselves. Please excuse the poor quality. It is a hurried copy of a copy provided by the Chem Assemblage to one of their ethernet broadcast companies.”

  In the center of the table a holographic projection began to play. It was a copy of Alexander’s trial before the Chem Assemblage. She-Rok allowed it to run its full length, and a nervous silence followed every word. When the tape finished the ambassadors glanced at one another, dread in their expressions. She-Rok addressed the obvious question, telling them, “It is a strange coincidence that the Scythians had on board their ship a Terran claiming to be none other than Alexander, or more properly his heir. It may also be coincidence that the Chem seem to accept him as such.

  She-Rok consulted a handheld screen for a moment, then added, “We can’t know for certain, but it’s obvious that during the questioning the Terran is bothered by the distinction. He attempts to dissuade Nazeera of Chem that he is the representative of Terra, and even goes so far as to plead ignorance for his people. When these attempts fail to move Nazeera he shows his true self. Let me repeat the latter section for you all.” She-Rok pressed a lighted switch on his console and the projection zoomed in to show Alexander pointing a threatening finger at the Chem. In a commanding voice he said,

  “Do what you will with me, if you can. I defy you to the end. Gauge well what you see in me; for it will return to you five billion fold! It will come to you with fire and fury, and it shall never stop until the thirst for vengeance is forever sated!”

  “Thus did Alexander of Terra show his true self,” She-Rok continued, “and in doing so reveal what his intentions are. The Terrans know of Chem’s plans, obviously through our friends the Scythians. Alexander’s plan may have been to strike at the Chem Empire. Fortunately, the Chem interrupted his preparations, striking when the Terran Overlord was off-world negotiating with his Scythian allies. The Chem now have Alexander, and they shall take care of him before he could lead his people to the stars.”

  She-Rok looked around the room for confirmation of his conclusion, but all he saw was nervous skepticism.

  “I sense you are unconvinced with the evidence. It is sketchy, I admit, as we have no concrete data concerning the current Terran political situation. There is some history on this particular Terran, he was a famous gladiator but there are no records of his political career. The last power struggle of note on Terra was fifty periums ago between the warlords Kennedy and Khrushchev but that resulted in a stalemate. According to Scythian report, conflict on Terra has been continuous since that time, but without resultant unification. It is probable that the Scythians mislead us as far as the rise to power of the Terran formerly known as Thorsson, now Alexander Thorsson.”

  “Probable? She-Rok it is not a probability but a certainty!” Koor swore. “I will hazard to say that none of us doubt that he is none other than Alexander, the heir of Alexander the Great. Terra has been unified beneath our very eyes and we knew nothing about it until it was almost too late!”

  “The Chem are to be congratulated for their watchfulness, even as the Scythians are to be damned for their treachery!” Sheer’nhak spat, beside himself in indignation. “To be so duped by the Scythians that they conspired with the Terran Overlord without our suspecting is detestable. My only joy is that the Scythians will more than likely pay for their double-dealing with their civilization. If the Chem leave any of them un-skinned the Seer’koh will make it our duty to finish the job!”

  “If they have the chance,” Koor reminded her comrade. “The Chem will have to triumph over the Terrans first.”

  “But the Terrans will be without their Overlord,” She-Rok reminded them. The rest of the table looked to the Hrang, and the reptile smiled. “My friends it took the chaotic Terrans two millennia to find their Overlord, and the heir to Alexander’s legend. Now he is in the safe keeping of the Chem, and soon he will be nothing but a short lived spectacle on the Galactic ethernet. Alexander shall die on Pantrixnia for all to see. With him will die Terra. Without Alexander there is no cohesive Terran threat and the Chem will do what the Chem do best: conquer and destroy their enemies. Terra will cease to be a civilized world, unless the Chem seek to settle it. Chem ardor will be spent on Terra and Scythia, saving us from them and extinguishing forevermore the Legend of Alexander.”

  CHAPTER 16: A Walk in the Park

  Alexander peered down the dark undulating tunnel. The comparison to being inside someone’s intestine couldn’t be more uncomfortable, or more appropriate.

  A short way ahead the passage widened somewhat, but in the midst of that larger space the warm sour air sparkled with flashes of light—like blinking Christmas lights. They didn’t cast any illumination on the passage, and he knew that he didn’t want to touch them. He approached them carefully, meaning to slide to the side of the passage and pass them by. There was plenty of room to get through them, but as he approached the lights Alexander heard a multitude of chimes. The sparkling lights moved toward him.

  He froze.

  The lights stopped, but one stopped so close that he could feel it’s brilliance on his skin. It was still inches away, but it roasted him as if the light were a small inferno.

  Alexander stepped slowly, carefully back.

  “You’re sure this is how I get my memories back?” Alexander asked Nazeera. She stood behind him at a safe distance.

  “You should be cognizant of the concept of association, Alexander.”

  “Yes, like I associate Nazeera with peril,” he growled. He stooped low, being careful to make no sudden movement. He took a round rock and rolled it along the rough floor ahead of him. The sparkles flurried around it, emitting a plethora of pops and zaps. When the rock stopped they took up their pos
itions in the middle of the passage again.

  Alexander took another rock and eased towards the sparkles. When he was within a meter of the dangerous cloud he tossed the rock back whence he came—toward Nazeera. The sparkles took off after the rock, and Alexander moved forward, taking care not to walk faster than the rock rolled. After moving beyond the spot guarded by the sparkles Alexander stopped and glanced back.

  The rock stopped at Nazeera’s feet, but she stood there unconcerned as the sparkles attacked it. When they were finished they began to float back to their station. Nazeera stepped smoothly up to them.

  Alexander grinned as the sparkles moved toward her.

  Nazeera simply smiled and raised her hands. She moved them outward and then back in as if weaving on an unseen loom. Half the sparkles followed one hand and half the other. They went out and rushed back in, out then in. Each time they rushed in the sparkles crossed paths and some collided. When they ran into each other the emitted a flurry of angry sparks and went out. After doing it a half dozen times only a single sparkle remained. Nazeera drew her hands apart and it split in two. When it crashed back together it snuffed itself out with a plaintiff sizzle.

  “That was a much more elegant solution than mine, I’ll admit, but how does it get my memory back?”

  Nazeera touched her sleeve.

  Alexander was in the cockpit of his purple fabric covered Fokker Triplane. Ahead of him was a Bristol Fighter—a two seat Tommy scout with a dangerous rear facing gun. Without thinking Alexander jinked to the left, but stopped the plane before it traveled more than a few meters.