Alexander Galaxus: The Complete Alexander Galaxus Trilogy

by Christopher L. Anderson

  It a true statement and Alexander wanted to say it, but he also had an ulterior motive. It wasn’t what Nazeera expected. Her shocked expression told him he once again had the initiative. He was out of the emotional trap Nazeera put him in, and once again he could take an exterior view of his situation, analyzing it almost as if it were one of his past-life memories.

  Nazeera could obviously see that he was no longer controlled by his emotions, and she sighed.

  “Come on, Alexander, I think we both need a walk in the park after that.”

  Alexander had a multitude of questions spinning in his head, but conflicting motivations stilled his tongue. As they flew in her aerocar to the park, sitting next to each other in uncomfortable silence, the calculating side to him weighed what he needed to know with what Nazeera’s impressions might be. The Terran side felt an inner need to part with Nazeera on amicable terms. It was one of those ironic quandaries. Alexander would much rather debate the Chem Assemblage than fence with this extraordinary and enthralling woman.

  It was a misty afternoon in the park. The air was heavy with the scent of rain and wet earth. The fern shaped leaves dripped on the sodden path, but the rains were gone and the Chem sun sent golden shafts of light through rents in the clouds. Alexander and Nazeera walked in silence for a time. He couldn’t read her thoughts, but he was wondering how to say good-bye. Despite the difficulty of the circumstances he held no animosity for her. He was cognizant of the uneasy closeness in their brief relationship; something more than mutual respect and different than friendship.

  Nazeera broke the silence.

  “Alexander, I realize today was difficult. I want you to know that despite my misgivings I would rather have spent it in a more sociable manner. I have, I admit, enjoyed my time with you. I know I’ve told you this already, but it bears repeating. Pantrixnia and all it entails is not a personal vendetta of any kind. It was a purely practical decision when I first made it, and even then-when I knew nothing of you-it was not made with animosity. These are extraordinary times. The tempest brewing in the galaxy is many millennia in the making. We would keep the status quo, if we could, but those days are past. Much of what we knew, and much of what we care about will be swept away.

  “You lament that your life has no purpose. Well, Alexander, be comforted—you’ve changed the course of galactic history. If it is any consolation, you’ve already made your mark.”

  “It is not enough, I’m afraid, just to be a footnote in history,” Alexander told her, happy to hear a more personable tone in her voice. For some reason it mattered to him. “I’ve been that footnote often enough, Nazeera. Looking back on it doesn’t satisfy me in the least. I’m not quite done yet, you know.”

  He stopped and picked a flower. It was similar in shape to an orchid. The petals were purple with streaks of what looked like flakes of gold. He sniffed it, finding the scent pleasant but not overpowering.

  “I suppose I should’ve asked if it was poisonous or sacred first.”

  Nazeera laughed, sounding sincerely amused. “It’s Vatalya, the Shield maiden’s Flower. Legend has it that Vatalya decides a warrior’s fate and guides the chosen spirits to their rest.”

  “Like the Valkries,” Alexander smiled. “On Terra, it’s customary for a man to present a woman with a flower, usually a rose, as a token of affection and esteem. I can’t imagine a more suitable flower for the woman who will decide my fate.”

  “Alexander, I don’t know whether you’re being cruel or charming,” she said, taking the flower.

  “Take it in the spirit of our fireside rendezvous—which I’d like to revisit someday.”

  “Alexander,” she began, sounding half scolding and half intrigued. She never finished. Quick as a snake Alexander’s hand shot out, grabbed her jacket where it plunged between her breasts, and thrust her down to the ground.

  As Nazeera took the flower Alexander saw a dark shape dressed like a Ninja swoop out from behind the foliage directly at her back. The Ninja rode a small oval platform, like a flying surfboard. He aimed a blow with his armored fist at the back of Nazeera’s skull.

  Alexander had no time to warn her. He pulled her down with his left hand and punched at the assailant with his right. His fist connected with the center of the Ninja’s masked face, and there was a frightful crunching sound as bone snapped. Blood spattered Alexander. The Ninja flew off his board and rolled in the wet earth. He came to a stop down the trail—a motionless heap.

  Two other Ninjas flew out of the forest. One carried a sword in one hand and a knife in the other. The other carried a long forked spear and whirled a set of bolo balls. Before Alexander could react the bolo spun through the air and the balls whipped around his legs. The balls thumped painfully on his thighs, binding his legs. Fortunately, Alexander stood ready for conflict after the first attack, and his legs were planted firm and wide—he didn’t fall. The Ninja charged with his fork.

  Alexander ducked beneath the spear, but just barely. The fork missed his head but creased his shoulder. Alexander thrust forward with his legs, throwing a shoulder block into the Ninja’s knees as he flew by.

  The Ninja cried out as Alexander cut his legs out from under him. He tumbled over his shoulder and the board went flying off into the trees. The Ninja landed a meter behind Alexander, and he whirled and dove on the injured attacker. The Ninja tried to draw his knife, but Alexander pinned that arm to the ground and struck him once, twice, three times on the jaw. The Ninja went limp.

  Alexander snatched up the knife. There was a whoosh behind him. Without looking he dove aside, but he felt the cut of a blade on his back even so. Ignoring the burning pain he cut the cords of the bolo. He got out of it just as the third Ninja turned backed toward him.

  He snatched the spear and held out the forked tines as the Ninja charged. The Ninja thought better of the attack and pulled up and over Alexander, but not quite out of reach. Alexander jabbed upwards, catching the Ninja between his legs. He missed piercing the Ninja’s flesh, but the fork got caught in between the Ninja’s legs and sent him flying off the board. He tumbled into a tree, and struggled groggily to his feet.

  Alexander pounced on him like a lion, lifting the Ninja off the ground. Viciously he tore the mask off, leaving a bloody weal across the dark flesh. His hand went to the throat, and then he stopped, frozen. The Ninja was a woman.

  Her face transformed from surprise to fury, and she cried out. Her knife flashed. Alexander saw that it was going to penetrate his stomach—there was nothing he could do.

  Something hot swept past Alexander’s ear and forehead. Then he heard the “Whoomph!” A deluge of hot charred flesh rained on Alexander’s face. He looked up to see half the Ninja’s head blown clean off. The knife fell from her twitching hand.

  He let her go. She fell with a rumpled clatter.

  Alexander turned to Nazeera, a stern gleam in his eyes. “Well, did I pass that test too?”

  Nazeera holstered her gun, but shook her head. She touched the screen on her sleeve, and said, “I’m sorry Alexander that wasn’t my doing. I told you things have changed; this is part of what I spoke of. There are elements of Chem society that don’t want this to go any further.”

  Alexander sighed, and winced at his cuts—they burned. “Your world is beautiful, Nazeera, but dangerous. I hope the next time I come back here it’s as a tourist, not a brigand.”

  Nazeera laughed, as a trio of aerocars descended on them. There were military people and a medical team. They saw to Alexander’s wounds. He endured the attention stoically; more interested in what Nazeera was doing with the single surviving Ninja. Nazeera killed the one, and Alexander’s blow to the face killed the other. As it was, the medical team had to give a shot to the last Ninja to revive him.

  When he came to he simply glared at Nazeera and refused to answer any questions.

  “Very well, it’s Pantrixnia for you. Take him away!”

  She came over to Alexander and got the report from the doctor.
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  “I’m phasing the dorsal wound now; it won’t be but a moment,” the doctor said. “He’s not seriously damaged; he’ll be fine for Pantrixnia.”

  “Silence!” Nazeera roared, catching Alexander and the doctor off guard. The doctor actually dropped his instrument in his surprise. Before he could retrieve it Nazeera clutched him by the collar, and said in a venomous voice, “You are speaking of the Warlord of Terra—you will display the proper reverence! If you utter another word beyond the duty of your office you’ll join that other vermin on Pantrixnia, do you understand?”

  “Yes, Lady Nazeera,” the doctor said in a shaky voice. He knelt before Alexander. “Accept my apology, Dread Lord, I mistook myself. May I finish my duties?”

  “Get on with it,” Alexander frowned.

  The doctor picked up his instrument and finished his work.

  Nazeera ushered Alexander into her aerocar and they left the park with an escort.

  “Thank you for saving my life, Alexander,” she said when they were alone again.

  “You can thank me by having dinner with me this evening. Consider it a farewell gesture of respect to a formidable adversary, if there is no other proper way of accounting for it.”

  Nazeera smiled, but told him, “I’m afraid I couldn’t consider it in any such way. You can be far too charming for your own good, Alexander. I can’t say more, except that as I’m married it would be socially unacceptable for my station. I’ll leave it at that. It was a good barb, though, Alexander, and well aimed. I’m justly chastised for my verbal dissections. Is that a product of your awakened memory, or did you always have that skill?”

  “I don’t know that my past-lives have so beneficial an effect, Nazeera. I have a few pirates leering at you, a statesman admonishing them, a king too gloomy with guilt to care, and a Prussian too noble to whisper anything but attention to duty in my ear.”

  “You have your own Assemblage trapped in your skull, I pity you, Alexander.”

  “Don’t pity me, Nazeera. It’s been an extraordinary adventure. I count myself fortunate, not only for the opportunity history offers me, but for meeting you. You’ve made a grim adventure a wonderful experience.”

  Nazeera smiled, but turned her eyes from Alexander, a deep blush flushing her features. “Alexander,” she said finally, “you are no doubt the strangest man I’ve ever met. You speak as though you’re looking back, with the full knowledge that somehow you’ll prevail in the terrible trials to come. I can’t fathom what’s going on in that Terran head of yours, but whatever it is, I’m one step behind. It’s my task, I remind you, to probe and interpret your reactions, not the other way around.”

  “Don’t worry, Nazeera, if you knew everything about me you’d probably be even more confounded!”

  Nazeera dropped Alexander off at his cell and left abruptly. It was a thoroughly unsatisfactory goodbye.

  Alexander lay down on the simple bed drained and dejected. He regretted that his time on Chem was now at an end. What troubled him was that it was a personal regret, not a regret that he’d failed in his self appointed task. Beyond his limited ambition there was the hauntingly fascinating persona of Nazeera. The desire to know her better preoccupied him, making Alexander angry with himself for wasting what little time he had to mentally prepare for his coming ordeal.

  He fell into a restless slumber.

  Alexander snapped awake. Something or someone was in the darkness of the cell with him.

  CHAPTER 22: Conspiracy

  The Chem clock told him he slept for only a few minutes.

  He didn’t move or alter his breathing. His senses told him what he needed to know without the requisite civilized responses, and rather than give his awareness away Alexander stayed still and listened to his senses.

  A foreign scent drifted in the air from behind. A soft footfall scuffed the metal floor, experienced rather than heard. His senses told him the position and the movement of the threat, and when it passed a certain point he acted. Alexander’s actions were half planned, half instinctive. He lay on his side with someone advancing behind his back. In one spasmodic thrashing he twisted and turned, lashing out with his leg in a wide sweeping slash. His sweep caught hold of someone’s legs, taking them out from under them.

  Alexander leapt up, eyes wide and seething, even as a dark shape crashed to the metal floor. He lunged towards the figure to tackle and hold, but the figure was swifter than he. It recovered, scrambling to the side with a roll and a lithe leap. The shadow of a gun stopped Alexander from further advancement.

  “Good evening, Alexander,” exclaimed a voice, at once Chem and male. The lights snapped on to reveal a Chem, as tall as Alexander, handsome and lean, perhaps three-fifths his weight.

  The Chem smiled and applauded him, “Well done!”

  Alexander relaxed, crossing his arms over his breast. “I’m so pleased I passed your little test. Is there anything else, or are you disturbing my slumber for sport alone?”

  “Not at all, not at all my worthy charge,” the Chem laughed. “I’m here for a reason. Let me introduce myself, I am Nazar, and I’ll command the ship which takes you to Pantrixnia. I understand you’re prepared?”

  “As well as I shall ever be.”

  “Really, have you no unfinished business on Chem then?”

  Alexander’s eyes narrowed, wondering whether the question was a trap.

  “Indeed, Alexander of Terra, you spoke better before the Assemblage,” Nazar told him. “In that hall you proclaimed how honorable your folk were, and how steadfastly you met peril. I even recall anger when you thought yourself insulted. Are your words simply words, or is there resolve behind them?”

  “I do not hide behind my words, Commander Nazar,” Alexander told him. “Have a care lest I make you put that gun to use. What’s your game?”

  “I merely question the temerity of your word,” Nazar told him.

  “That is enough to tempt me,” Alexander told him, moving forward.

  Nazar held the gun up and said, “It’s your own silence, Alexander of Terra, which incriminates you.”

  “How so, what are you talking about?”

  “Why Bureel’s challenge to you, of course,” Nazar told him.

  “Who is Bureel, and what is this of a challenge?” Alexander asked viciously. There was something smelling of intrigue to Nazar’s game, something which must have advantage to both Alexander and the Chem, so he played along. It wasn’t so difficult to act enraged at the thought of insult, as it was essential to Alexander’s present character. What made it unconsciously easier to react, as opposed to act, were the personas of days past which every hour became more and more a part of the instinctive Alexander.

  “Hasn’t Nazeera told you?” Nazar asked him. Alexander’s response was exactly what Nazar apparently expected, and desired, as he continued in a more pleasant manner. “Well, then, my sister is at times more concerned with affairs of state than minor items such as points of honor. Yes, Nazeera is my sister, and the head of our house. Bureel, by the way, is her husband, though not of her own choosing. That is another story, however. It occurs to me, if you’re truly ignorant of Bureel’s challenge, that I have wronged you; if I wrove done so you have my sincere apologies.”

  Nazar was circumnavigating a point he wanted to get across, and Alexander was beginning to see that there was more to his position than that of a gladiator awaiting execution. Nazar obviously had no love for his brother in law, and Alexander was not above helping Nazeera out of such a situation, especially if it furthered his cause.

  “I have immense respect for Nazeera, and I wouldn’t consciously take any action to cause sorrow to her or her house. Yet I cannot overlook a point of honor, especially if I’m slighted behind my back. What of this Bureel’s challenge to me?”

  “Bureel is an interesting sort of fellow in the most despicable sense,” Nazar told him, adding, “That is a personal opinion of my own. My sister and I, however, agree on many things, the soul of honor being on
e of them. To make a challenge is a serious act, don’t you think?”

  “None more serious.”

  “Perhaps I exaggerate my brother-in-laws measure, but where the honor of one’s family is concerned I must be exacting, and stringent in my regard.”

  “A despicable act brings shame on not only the offender, but the whole house. In my view, it is often better that the offending member settle the matter honorably than to blight the family with shame. Sometimes, however, there are practicalities which prevent even these things from happening. A House will hide its embarrassments for the greater good.”

  “At times, however, such attention to detail can be to the benefit of a house. At other times such self reflection can benefit both houses of the conflict, and their empires.”

  “Say on.”

  “Allow me to show you something, Alexander of Terra, which you may find interesting.” Nazar played a tape of the Assemblage. The camera zoomed in to display the discussion of Nazeera, Nazar and a Chem identified as Bureel. Nazar watched, needing to add no narrative to the scene. As the Chem warrior and statesman expected Alexander said nothing. He simply glowered, his scowl deepening with every word from Bureel.

  CHAPTER 23: A Family Squabble

  The setting sun suffocated all levity in Nazeera’s great hall. The thought of the meal made her think of Alexander. She cursed herself. Despite her best efforts at distancing herself from the man, he’d become more than a nameless being to her. Alexander was an extraordinary man with personality and ambitions—ambitions she dashed.

  The thought of his inevitable death dampened her spirits. She would like see him again, and ignore the impending destruction of his Homeworld, but he was teaching her too many things she did not want to know about himself, his people and Nazeera the woman.