Alexander Galaxus: The Complete Alexander Galaxus Trilogy

by Christopher L. Anderson

  He refocused, realizing that for better or worse that was no longer his problem—at least for the time being. To Nazeera, he said, “I have no right and no desire to share in anything you have earned but as a husband supporting his wife in her endeavors. I desire you, not your rank or your wealth in the Chem Empire. To me, Nazeera the woman is a prize far beyond wealth and position.”

  “That is your prerogative as victor in a challenge,” Nazeera told him. “However, you realize that should you fail the result will undoubtedly be war.”

  “Why should it come to that?” Alexander asked, somewhat surprised.

  “The Terran’s would never let their Overlord be slain without revenge, not if I read your planet’s character correctly,” Nazeera told him.

  “I have relinquished my position as Overlord,” he told her. “This is a point of honor, not of state. There will be no retribution.”

  “Then what of ascendancy,” she asked, getting up and pacing the room as he usually did when he was thinking aloud. “Surely there is a struggle for your seat. Who will sit in the Overlord’s throne now that he has abdicated; more to the point, who would dare sit in Alexander’s throne knowing when you return—and you shall assuredly return—you will claim it once again.” She turned toward him, her eyes narrowing to glowing blue slits. She pointed her nailed finger at him threateningly. “Don’t you try to make me believe that you’ve retired Alexander; there is no such thing for beings like us.”

  Alexander shook his head and smiled at her mythical logic. “That is not the way of Terrans, at least not anymore. Our ways of succession have long since progressed beyond violence. There won’t be another Overlord, but there will be a political leader who rises about the debate and administers Terra. Though you may think it impossible of us, we are proud that power transfers through the process of law, not strength.”

  “Even if that is so, the other races of the galaxy would not ignore the event,” Nazeera replied.

  “What do you mean, what do they have to do with this?”

  Nazeera sighed. “A conqueror you are, Alexander, because your mind thinks only of attack and gain. You think none would dare attack the Empire of Alexander, and you may well be right while you live—while you can return to Terra and seize the reins of power. You do not think of what may happen after you are gone, but there are others who do. They will wait for the chaos that follows your death. Your hard won empire will be split amongst the strongest. There will be civil war. It is during the turbulence following your death when the other races shall strike, before a new Overlord asserts himself.”

  “Terrans can take care of themselves.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” Nazeera told him. “That is not what the galaxy expects of Humans. Don’t you understand? It doesn’t matter what actually happens, Alexander. We still know nothing of Humans other than what the legends tell us. You, my dearest Alexander, have ensured that those legends were driven home as the truth. Word spreads quickly in the galaxy. I doubt that there is anything as much talked about in the Galactic council chambers as yourself. The galaxy is arming for fear of you. They may not attack your empire, not yet, because of you. Already, however, there will be those who foresee your death. When that occurs there will be a rush to the carcass.” She turned away as if unable to face him. “If Bureel somehow wins the challenge that rush will happen immediately. In fact, and I am sorry I must say this; Chem may very well be one of the scavengers. Right now you are considered as dangerous as a hostage as you would be free, just because you are alive.” Turning back to him, Alexander saw a new glow in her eyes, as if she was finally beginning to see through the murky fogs of Alexander’s strategy. He stifled a smile, because right now he was flying on blind instinct. He had nothing remotely resembling any strategy!

  “Somehow, my dear Alexander, you have manipulated events throughout this crisis, and there is no reason to say that you have stopped. If you die, however, the Terran Empire is weakened immeasurably. Dire times for Terra will follow.”

  “You are trying to advise me to recant my challenge to Bureel?”

  “I cannot do that, and I would not,” Nazeera told him. “I say it only to remind you that there remains for you, Alexander of Terra, no personal trials. You have never been your own man, for as soon as you became Alexander of Terra you gave away all rights to be an individual. You are Alexander, Overlord of the Terran Empire. That you may refuse to be so means nothing. That even Terra turns away from you means nothing. The galaxy sees you as Alexander of Terra, Overlord of the Terran Empire. The galaxy sees you as the incarnation of a legend two kicellia old.” She collected her thoughts and the blue glow of her eyes grew brighter when she said, “You were born on the day the Scythians told the Galactic council that a Terran warlord would lead their race of warriors to the stars bent on Galactic conquest. That is your destiny Alexander, to be a conqueror, like the Alexander of old. You belong to Terra, and to the galaxy. You have no personal life as a Human called Alexander, and as flattering as it is to Nazeera the woman, Alexander’s conquest of her cannot be his goal. Alexander cannot pursue trivial pleasures. Everything he does not only affects Terra, but Chem and every other civilization in this galaxy.

  “You are old in lives Alexander, but young in your knowledge of the galaxy. Human hearts may not tremble at the thought of war any more than Chem hearts. We are warrior races, unique and strong. Yet look at what the legend of Human ferocity drove us to do. We were set on a war of extermination. The honorable Chem, ready to commit genocide on rumor, with no prior wrong done to us! Our neighbors are not so hardened. Their reaction cannot be calculated. They have lived with the thought of Galactic war for an age, your Galactic war Alexander. Legends are fine when they are just legends, but when they come to life they push people into unnatural acts. Humans may well be as strong as the Chem, so long as they have Alexander; my concern is that they are not as strong as they need to be without Alexander. I’ve come to love the Human race through you. I see so much that is strong and noble in you, but still so very different; I cannot help but think the galaxy would be a poorer place without you. However I may feel, it is a vast galaxy out there, my love, even without the Chem, and I wonder if Humans are quite ready for it.”

  Nazeera’s words sobered Alexander. The old mantle of responsibility once again settled on his shoulders. He felt anxious, and he wondered again if he was in the wrong place. Did he belong on the bridge of the Iowa? Perhaps, but not yet, something deep within his gut, something he’d come to trust, kept hammering away at him. Some form of Nazeera’s, and the galaxy’s, vision of Alexander, Overlord of the Terran Empire would be the correct answer eventually, but not yet—no, not yet.

  “Time will tell, Nazeera,” he sighed, and then he laughed. “You know, reality is a greatly overrated concept. It is what people perceive and not what is real that’s powerful. In that respect we create our own reality. I want you to know, Nazeera, that whatever happens, and wherever the paths lead Alexander of Terra, the way of Alexander the Man will always lead me here, to you. That is the reality I have created for myself.”

  Nazeera smiled back, and laughed, “We still have to live with reality to a certain extent—and decorum. You must therefore join me in the officer’s mess for a State dinner. You are, after all, an Ambassador, and I, unfortunately, am still married. Therefore, I cannot have dinner with you alone even though I am the Armada Commander.”

  “I have you alone now,” he grinned wolfishly, and he moved toward her..

  CHAPTER 2

  Nazeera smiled just as ardently and corrected him, “We are indeed alone Alexander, but you do not have me yet.” She pressed her compad and the doors slid open. Immediately the guards attended her. She nodded to them. “Escort the Ambassador to his quarters and wait upon him there. Ensure he is at the State dinner at 1800 hours!”

  “As you wish Armada Commander!”

  Alexander bowed to Nazeera and left with his escort.

  After dinner, an officer a
nd two guards escorted Alexander to his quarters. The Chem regarded him as a head of state, and not as a hostage. His quarters were spacious and comfortable, much more so than the Spartan tritanium steel cave he called a stateroom on the Iowa Besides a bed and bathroom there was a small study with a food dispenser, a desk and a visiplate. His escort, a young officer who by his actions seemed to hold the man in some awe, politely told him the method of operation for the dispenser and the visiplate.

  “My lord, the dispenser is programmed to exclude anything harmful to your physiology. The visiplate controls allow access to the ship’s communication center. From there you can make a call to the Terran government, excuse me, to your Terran Steward or Regent. Pardon me, sir, what do you name your replacement while you are away. I am sorry; I did not mean "replacement," as in,”

  Alexander raised his hand to rescue the young Chem. “I simply call them officials,” he said. Then he observed that, “These quarters are remarkably well arranged for foreign dignitaries. Is it your custom to transport all such officials on Chem warships?”

  The Chem nodded, and said, “Yes, we allow no alien ships to cross over into Chem space, even for peaceful purposes. Normally, Ambassadors and their diplomatic entourage are transported on destroyer class vessels. Your rank, however, demands certain privileges.”

  “Of course,” Alexander replied, “I must admit, though, that this is a significant change from the quarters I resided in the last time I came to Chem.”

  “I understand there were certain misconceptions, sir,” the Chem said uncomfortably.

  “Yes, I think the Armada Commander chides me,” Alexander smiled. “She must think I have grown old and soft to desire such—” he grimaced as if in pain when he pushed down on the cushion of the bed—“such fluff.” The officer looked even more uncomfortable.

  “Shall I address this with the Armada Commander my lord? She did instruct me to report to her personally concerning your wants and needs.”

  “No,” Alexander said forcefully, playing the part of a barbaric Terran to the hilt. “As a supremely intelligent being, your Armada Commander possesses a commendable sense of humor. I’m certain this is her idea of a jest. I shall be fine. It will not be a problem to strip the bed of its mattress. Hopefully the frame is sufficiently hard. If it is not, I will call you and you may bring some rocks for me to sleep on.”

  “Rocks my lord?”

  “Yes, sharp ones,” Alexander replied with a mask of severity. “Weakness must not be allowed to creep inside your bones lad, remember that.”

  “Yes my lord,” the Chem officer swallowed.

  “Thank you; you have fulfilled your duty admirably.”

  “You are welcome, sir,” the Chem bowed. As he left he said, “I was told to instruct you that you have direct access to the Armada Commander through the second channel on the visiplate. The channel will connect your terminal to the Armada Commander wherever she happens to be. If that will be all, sir, good night.”

  “Good night,” Alexander said. After the officer left he sat down at the terminal. The visiplate was blank except for the lower portion of the screen. An amber box flashed on and off. There was no corresponding light on the console. After a moment he reached across and touched the screen where the box flashed. The screen brightened to show the image of a computer generated Chem officer. She said, “good evening Alexander of Terra, you have a message. Please stand by.”

  The viewer’s image changed to that of Admiral Augesburcke. The Admiral was seated on the bridge of the Iowa

  “Augesburcke to Alexander,” he began formally. It was quite naturally a clear channel and the Admiral obviously wanted any listeners to continue to believe in Alexander as the representative of the Terrans. There was something more in his mannerisms, however, which Alexander noted as he watched the transmission. The Admiral’s address was formal, as befitting a communication to a superior. Either Augesburcke was a fine actor or he was sincere. At this thought Alexander’s brow furrowed with a heavy weight. The Admiral’s message continued, “Alexander, word has reached Terra of our victory over the Scythians. The Terran Senate, formerly the United Nations, sends its congratulations and thanks. Might I add that the citizens of Terra also extend their appreciation for your skill and foresight,” Augesburcke was interrupted by a tape of the assembly at the Terran Senate. A resolution was read before the entire body. It concerned the actions of Alexander and the Fleet, but in particular Alexander. He found it somewhat embarrassing. Then the scene shifted to Times Square, then London, Paris, Moscow, Peking, and a dozen other cities. Throngs gathered beneath his lighted name. The scenes went on for a minute or two, and he waited patiently for them to end. It was ironic, he thought, universal adulation was common dream amongst Terrans, and he was no exception. He’d fed off the roar of the crowd, thrilling over his exploits in the NFL. To this day he could feel the tremors running through the concrete, the brass of seventy-thousand voices raised to him. The rush was the same, even after a decade. Now those voices were multiplied a thousand-fold and he felt empty, drained. It was not that he did not appreciate the sincerity of emotion, but he wondered why it should be so exuberant. Certainly, any other Human would have done their utmost in his place. Alexander simply had the remarkable good fortune to carry it off. Finally the Admiral returned. “Alexander, pardon the inclusion but it is the right of the populace that you know their gratitude.

  “To business then, the Senate has, of course, approved you as the Ambassador to the Chem, as well as all other Galactic civilizations. As contacts are made with other civilizations we trust you would like to continue the policy of designating representative Ambassadors to each. The Senate will shortly be debating several paramount questions including the disposition of the former Scythian Empire, Terran expansion and colonization, and various security issues. Your thoughts on those subjects are, of course, required. We will endeavor to set up a secure communications link with you, with the Chem’s cooperation. In the mean time we shall provide couriers and ships to ensure active communications. A staff will also be provided for you at your leisure.

  “The Senate and the Fleet await the outcome of your continuing negotiations with the Chem Empire. The Terran Federation sends its regards to the Chem Empire and hopes that your negotiations will provide a foundation for a long friendship between our two peoples. This concludes my report. The best wishes of the Federation and the Fleet go with you. Hail Alexander!”

  Alexander reclined with a heavy sigh as the screen went dark. “Hail Alexander,” he echoed. “Ah, my beloved Rome, that protocol has been slandered and bastardized since Caesar’s time, are we quite ready for it again? Is it proper that it should be resurrected after our all too recent shame? Watch yourself Admiral. And you, Alexander, take care in your own desires. The worst democracy is far better than the best tyranny. If and when you seek power again, Alexander, be careful how you manage it!”

  The message caused Alexander to reflect deeply on what the Admiral said, and what Nazeera told him. Humankind looked upon him as a conquering hero, but to the galaxy he was the military Overlord of a new and dangerous empire. In Nazeera’s mind, and the galaxy’s no doubt, Alexander’s previous successes came as a result of his manipulating his environment and the people around him. While this was true to some extent, their views were no doubt exaggerations of the truth. Alexander reacted to crisis after crisis in his rise to fame, and his success was largely due to astute assumptions on his part. There was a difference now, and he immediately understood the powerful implications inherent in his position. Before he was unknown, a surprise player in the galactic saga with no reputation; only the inferences of legendary Human prowess. Now after his victories, he had the benefit of all those terrible powers of legend, deserved or not. Whereas before he had no position; the galaxy now assumed that he was the Overlord of the Terran Empire. Finally, and most important to is mind, he was not reacting anymore. Whereas before Alexander reacted to every crisis; now he had instinctively put h
imself in the only position where he could be an outsider. He distanced himself from the details of empire building on Terra, and put himself in a position where he could observe Terra, the Chem, and the other Galactic cultures without distraction. This would give him a grand view of the cosmic chessboard, and was much more advantageous than being down in the trenches of Terra, wondering what his position and place in their future history would be.

  Suddenly he felt very weary, though satisfied. He laid his head on the desk, and closed his eyes. His voice was a murmur, and he spoke to himself, and for himself, “Now my task is not simply to die well, but to learn and understand the cosmos around us. Opportunity shall not forget me I think, and I am somehow confident that when the reins to Terra’s chariot are once handed to me it will be under a more permanent contract. That is when I shall be in the most danger to myself, and from myself. There is so much we’ve dreamed of, and so much that is possible. All that can be ruined, however, by a leader corrupted by hunger and power. I, of all people cannot allow myself to be the destroyer of those dreams, even if they should turn in directions I do not choose. What was it the Roman’s did when their generals entered the city after a triumph? There was a great parade, and accolades showered down upon the victor as he was driven chariot through the streets; but all the while a lieutenant whispered humbling words into the conqueror’s ear. May I have the strength to be that voice in my own ear when I need it.” With that last thought he slipped into a light slumber.