Alexander watched in awe as the Tyrannosaurus shook the corpse so violently that the body separated with a resounding snap, showering him with bloody chunks of flesh and innards. Then, as if in disgust the dinosaur tossed the remains high into the night air where it landed at Alexander’s feet.
Rex roared at him.
“Very well, you’ve made your point,” Alexander admitted. “You’re not a scavenger.”
Rex snorted so hard that Alexander caught the warm wind of its breath. Then it turned, bellowing, and plunged into the forest with the obvious intent on wreaking havoc.
“Touchy!” Alexander told himself, though, of course, he was not the only audience to his night’s adventures.
“You seem rather certain of your superiority, Alexander,” Bob noted. “This was quite an evening. You dare the Pantrixnian night, slaughter thirteen Kalvrones, and insult the galaxy’s greatest carnivore. Tell me, and the galaxy, Alexander, are you that arrogant or are you simply extraordinarily lucky?”
“Sometimes I am simply extraordinarily stupid, Bob.” He started carefully down the jumbled slope of the canyon.
“That’s an interesting comment, considering it comes from the longest lived nonresident of Pantrixnia. Indeed, this night you add to your record by a full fifty percent, completely eclipsing the mark set by Zunthrug the Bold. That’s a significant accomplishment, Alexander of Terra, and one which has not gone without notice.”
“What do you mean? Am I to be granted a reprieve? Better yet, has that sniveling worm Bureel finally remembered his noble heritage and agreed to my challenge?”
“Nothing so staggering,” Bob admitted. “I apologize for getting your hopes up. My intent was merely to inform you that you have ranked amongst the highest rated personalities on the ethernet, not just in Chem but throughout the galaxy! You are on everyone’s after dinner schedule.”
Alexander stopped suddenly, and turned to the automaton. “I had no idea,” he mused. “I send greetings to all who watch, both from me and from Terra. Take from my trials what you will, but I will offer you an ancient Terran saying for your reflection, “Don’t tread on me.”
“Treat us as your equals and we will enter the Galactic family peaceably and with reverence for your accomplishments. Threaten us, and we will respond in kind with ferocity you cannot imagine. Think carefully how you treat us. You do not understand your peril.”
“That is a dire warning, Alexander, and I expect the majority of the warning is directed towards the people of Chem.”
“Don’t misunderstand me,” Alexander cautioned. “I have a great deal of respect for the people of Chem. Yet the course of an honorable people can often be twisted by ignorance and trepidation. If my sacrifice on Pantrixnia can ease the transition of Terra into the Galactic neighborhood, and do so in peace, then I shall die well.”
“You speak with great finality, Alexander.”
“I’m banished here,” Alexander said in the darkness, making his way with difficulty through the jungle. “Unless I discover how to build a starship out of vines and logs this is the veritable definition of finality.”
“Is that regret?”
“Certainly,” Alexander replied gruffly, striking a path toward the river. He was seemingly unconcerned about the noise he was making, and for good reason. In the not so distant jungle Rex was still raising Cain in its kingdom.
Alexander knew the way, but it still wasn’t easy. Mother Nature was especially stingy when she designed Terrans for coping at night. Compared to the denizens of the jungle he was stone blind. Night was where his grotto really made the difference between survival and death. He was sure that other beings, equally capable of surviving on this world as he, failed simply because of protracted exhaustion.
Bob stayed with him, finally asking Alexander to expand on his last comment. Alexander growled, “What do you think? A planet bound people are suddenly informed of the civilized galaxy through threat and intrigue? We have dreams and aspirations of the wonders which you take for granted. We are warriors, yes, I readily admit that. We have our faults, but we are not without virtue. I regret that the galaxy decided its opinion of us before we could debate it. I shall die with that thought on my head; I shall most probably die with the slight of that dog Bureel rattling in my ears, without any chance for satisfaction! Regrets? Yes, I am full of them, but there is also contentment. I got to know the noble Nazeera, and in her I saw understanding and wisdom; so I’m not without hope of justice for my people, even though I shall never see it.”
“You wander with great facility between the brusque and the eloquent, Alexander.” Bob answered, and then maintained its silence throughout the rest of Alexander’s trek through the jungle.
The way wasn’t easy, especially when he came to the river. Alexander had to shoot his way into the grotto. A dozen huge crocodiles smelt him out. They forced him into a tree, and it was there that he discovered the rifle had a night scope. It was possibly the only pleasant discovery of the evening, and it was the only reason he was able to get to the grotto at all. He picked off four of the massive creatures before the rest scattered into the water. Minutes later Alexander barred the entrance to the grotto, and heaved a sigh of relief.
Nessie barked her greeting and lay back down to sleep.
“Congratulations, Alexander of Terra. The populace of Chem passes on their appreciation for an exciting evening. There is one other message I am to pass on. It is my honor to relay a message from Nazeera of the Triumvirate of Chem.
Alexander looked up with renewed vigor at her lovely face playing on small hologram transmitted by the automaton.
“Greetings and congratulations Alexander of Terra, it has been some time since I enjoyed our meeting on the Chem Homeworld. I see now that the honor and resolve which you displayed before me and the entire Assemblage was genuine. Your exploits earn you renown amongst the most extraordinary figures of our time. We rejoice at your courage and prowess. You have our best wishes for continued success.”
Alexander read between the lines. Nazeera still believed in him. He knew that she hadn’t betrayed him at the Tyrannosaur’s canyon; it was simply another trick of Bureel’s. He didn’t wonder that they had spent so short a time together. The feeling was right, somehow. Marooned on this hellish planet he cherished that sentiment, as it was the only comfort he had.
Alexander awoke the next day with renewed spirits.
Nessie poked her head into the grotto and tossed him a fish.
He cleaned it, humming to himself, almost happy. He was putting the fish on the fire when he noticed something was different. Bob wasn’t there.
Alexander ate, and afterwards went outside. Perhaps the more mundane activities of his existence were wearing thin on the audience. The day wore on; Bob was nowhere to be found. The next day was the same, and the next. On the fourth day Alexander lost all hope of Bob returning or being replaced.
He was alone on Pantrixnia. Exiled. He’d spend the rest of his life on the hellish planet with no hope of ever seeing or talking to another sentient being again.
CHAPTER 38: The Armada Sails
The lights of Nazeera’s office were low. The ethernet was broadcasting a special on Alexander. It was a documentary with the title “Alexander of Terra, Conqueror or Friend?” It was typical journalistic sensationalism. They sought to weave a connection between the ancient Alexander of galactic legend, and this new Alexander. There was little real information available on either Terran, so it was amusing in its conjecture.
She smiled. The ordeal was almost at an end. Once the scout ship sent its report Alexander would be retrieved. She’d command the ship herself. Within a decurn Bureel would be dead, and she would be . . .
There was a light knock on the door and Nazar poked his head in, telling her earnestly, “The Elder has called an emergency meeting of the Assemblage.”
They left immediately, arriving at the Assemblage hall in a few minutes. Nervous talk pervaded the chamber, but no one knew wha
t it was about. When the Elder finally appeared everyone went dead silent.
“Nine decurns past, I dispatched a scout ship to the Terran system. The purpose was to determine whether the Terrans were arming for war, or defense.” His voice was heavy with gravity. “The scout ship entered the Terran system this evening. It sent a transmission that I will play in its entirety.”
The viewers brightened all around the room. A blue and white planet came into sight with a companion planet in near proximity. The image jumped in size to show a quarter of the planet. There were tiny bright lights orbiting against the velvet of space. The view magnified again and they lights turned into ships—ships unlike anything they’d ever seen.
A voice joined the tape, and the Elder explained, “That is Captain Terval, commanding the twenty member crew.”
Terval said, “As we noted earlier there are a large number of scans taking place in this system, most emanating from the planet itself. Therefore, this is as close as we can get. The scan system indicates an advanced planetary defense, but what’s interesting is the presence of ships. We’ve identified one hundred and thirty-seven vessels thus far, of which the majority are Scythian cargo freighters. We must assume the rest are Terran, and are obviously warships. The particular vessel in our viewer is in the process of forming a squadron.”
The picture revealed a large vessel coming around the night side of the planet. Unlike the smooth shark-like shapes of galactic warships this ship brazenly sprouted sharp metallic superstructure and weaponry. It made no pretense at being anything other than a warship.
Two other ships of equal size and twenty smaller ships were all in formation. The ships moved slowly away from the planet and into space. Their course would take them past the scout ship, and quite close.
“We have our screens up so they shouldn’t be able to detect us,” the Captain said. “We should get a very good look at them.”
They did indeed. The battleships paraded majestically across the viewer as it closed in. They made an impression on the Captain.
“Incredible! I’m reading a full array of weapon systems, defense screens, scanners and superluminal engines. The design is certainly not that of any galactic civilization we know of, so I must assume it’s Terran. I have no definitive analysis on the ship’s complement, the formation is loose and of strange configuration, but as to the ships themselves they are definitely comparable in weapons and defense. Wait a moment. We’ve been spotted!”
A transmission interrupted the picture. It was a large Terran in a black uniform with silver decorations.
“Alien vessel, this is Captain Thomas of the Battleship Iowa. You’re in Terran space. Maintain your position and prepare for escort. Please acknowledge.”
The Chem Captain gave several curt orders to the crew, and the Assemblage heard the surge of the engines. The Terran squadron was breaking up. Initially, there seemed to be no method, but in a moment it became apparent that the Terrans were attempting to block the Chem escape. Another message came over the Chem’s video ordering the ship to halt or the Terran’s would open fire.
The Chem ship turned away from the squadron, though the viewer still showed the Terran ships. The battleships spread out with a halo of other ships around them.
“Prepare to engage superluminal engines!” Captain Terval ordered. The viewer showed the battleships close behind. Suddenly six enormous flashes of flame erupted from the lead ship. The screen went dead.
Silence filled the hall. At length the Elder said, “No further communications were received from the scout. None are necessary. Captain Terval and his crew did their duty honorably. His ship was well armed and fast but was nonetheless destroyed. Terran intentions and capabilities are, I think, self explanatory. We are now in a struggle for the very existence of our Empire. I ask for no debate. I put forth a motion of war against the Terran system, and the Scythian Empire. What says the Assemblage?
A chorus of “yea” greeted the Elder. “The Armada will sail at the earliest opportunity. Nazeera of the Triumvirate will command the Armada. May fortune follow us,” he said, and he left the chamber.
The hall burst into a cacophony of conversation, but Nazeera would have none of it. She stormed out of the building, Nazar at her heel, and Bureel watching in evil pleasure.
At home Nazeera raged, “How could I be so blind, Nazar? I shall take a ship to Pantrixnia and blast him myself before we destroy his precious planet!”
“He may not have betrayed you, Nazeera,” Nazar told her.
“How can you say that? You saw the Terran Fleet. They’ve been mobilizing for years with the Scythians graciously providing cover!”
“That may be so,” Nazar replied, “I’m not speaking to that. I’m merely saying that Alexander may be telling the truth, at least as he knows it. His memory tapes give no indication of an advanced Terran space faring capability, or modern technological war fighting capability.”
“Memory tapes can be altered.”
“But why alter the tapes and not the memory? If he was so important that the Terrans purposefully put him in our hands then why leave his memory intact? Chances are we would discover the inconsistencies, and fairly soon after that, the truth. Alexander is a pawn in all this. He was truthful about everything to you; to the extent he was able.”
“Let him live his life out on Pantrixnia then,” she said bitterly. “He is a symbol of my shame and foolishness. I want nothing more to do with him!” When Nazar attempted to protest she cut him off, “I mean it Nazar, nothing more! I could not live with such shame around me.”
“I can understand your bitterness, dear wife,” Bureel told her as he entered the room. “We must forget such petty thoughts, however, in view of our greater purpose. Once the Terran system and Scythian Empire are under our sway, then there will be time to turn our attentions to smaller matters.”
“What is it you want Bureel?” Nazeera asked dangerously.
“What does every male Chem want, an heir. I’ve let the subject lie far too long. Before I allow you to go into battle I want an heir. It is a valid request, and a legal one.”
“Leave it alone, Bureel,” Nazar cautioned. “I’m in no mood to listen to your legalities today. The subject can wait until after the war. We are far too concerned with the survival of the Empire to deal with this.”
“How patriotic of you Nazar,” he said. “I am touched with your far sighted duty to the state. However, this is a personal matter between my wife and me. You would do well to leave it alone. The tribunal does not take kindly to interference in these matters.”
“He’s right Nazar. You should go.” Nazeera told him.
Nazar left, but not before he planted himself in Bureel’s face, “This will be settled between us one day.” Then he stomped out.
“Well, what of my request?” Bureel asked. “I’ll take it to a tribunal the moment I leave this room, if you don’t agree. That would likely result in a rather compromising scandal.”
There was a long pause. Nazeera had no doubt that Bureel would do exactly as he threatened. It was the Empire that made the decision for her. “I have conditions, Bureel,” she told him with finality. “You will leave Nazar alone. You will in all appearances, no matter how small, support and conform to the policies of the House of Nazeera. There will be no undermining of my position in the public eye, is that understood?”
“Understood and accepted,” Bureel smiled.
Nazeera never claimed any memory of the act, when Bureel finished she showered—she tried over-rode the computer safety and tried to scald away the stain—then she returned to the Assemblage. She avoided Nazar that entire day, and their dinner was silent. The next day she went to the physician and had the fertilized egg removed. They put it in an incubation cell, and she forgot about it.
CHAPTER 39: Who Is To Be The Next Caesar?
Admiral Augesburcke turned off the tape of “Alexander of Terra, Conqueror or Friend?” and addressed the assembled CODOTS team. “Ladies and gen
tlemen, this broadcast aired within the Chem Empire two days before we blew their spy ship out of space. We seem to have answered their question, any thoughts?
“It was an unfortunate incident, Admiral, but hardly uncalled for,” Admiral Sampson replied.
“Maybe, but the timing couldn’t have been worse,” Doctor Koto said. “You see, Alexander single handedly built a bridge of communication between the Chem and Terra. Indeed, he’d been our representative to the galaxy, and we couldn’t have chosen a more effective one.
“He won their respect, and even their admiration. I’m not blaming the military. Their actions were logical and well justified. The question we now face is, do we give in to the prospect of total war or is there a way to rebuild this bridge of communication?”
“They’ve stopped transmissions from Pantrixnia,” Faizah Sadat pointed out. “I can’t say that Alexander is portraying the best of Terra, but I must admit it fulfills the need of the situation admirably. If his actions are calculated then he’s an astute individual, if not then we’re very lucky indeed. Either way this is an unfortunate turn of events. We need him whoever he is. However, I don’t see how he can help us anymore.”
“The Chem cut the transmissions after their formal declaration of war,” the Admiral told the assembly. “They wouldn’t let the media build their adversary into a hero.”
“But they’ve already done that to a certain extent,” Doctor Koto said. “There is, perhaps, a way we can use that.”
Augesburcke spread his arms wide in resignation. “I’m not sure how we can, Doctor. The Chem’s association with Alexander was quite specific. I don’t think they’re going to transfer his qualities to our Fleet. Just because I’m a flag officer and I’ve driven a tank doesn’t make me Rommel. That is our biggest problem, as Ms. Sadat has previously pointed out: our complete lack of legitimacy. We’ll have the ships to face the Chem, but that’s not the point. The military might of Terra is a legend, and we’ve no way to flesh it out.”
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