“Was that Alexander’s brilliant strategy, to unnecessarily conquer the Scythian Empire?” Sadat interrupted.
“I was simply making a statement, Ms. Sadat, not a judgment,” Hashimoto replied.
“It was a brilliant strategy, in all actuality, Ms. Sadat, psychologically speaking,” Koto told her. “You see it would have been impossible to placate the Chem. They would take that as a sign of weakness and attack as a matter of course. It would also be impossible to threaten the Chem into peace. Their own code of honor would prevent that. Reasoning with them could only have limited success, because the Chem prize actions above words. Alexander’s strategy, as he explained it to us beforehand, not after the fact as you insinuate, was a combination of reason and a show of strength. The tricky part was a show of strength without directly threatening the Chem. The Scythian’s, who had used us as their shield for centuries and were the direct cause of our precarious situation. They were the obvious tool.”
“A tool which we can no longer use, absolutely brilliant,” Sadat muttered.
“Despite your obvious contempt for the way events have turned out, Ms. Sadat, we have expanded the Human condition into the cosmos, and we have done so without bloodshed. We are here to stay,” Admiral Augesburcke said stonily. “If the Scythians do nothing else for us then they’ve served their purpose well. We’ll take it from here. That I think is enough for today, it is certainly enough for my patience. I hold this meeting adjourned. Good day.”
The members of the council on the Iowa were privileged to witness one of Admiral Augesburcke’s infamous explosions as the visiplates went dark. They knew the man, and this was not the first occurrence. After observing the Admiral for a few moments Doctor Hashimoto leaned over and whispered a single word to Doctor Koto.
“Tempest.”
Doctor Koto nodded. “It is quite beyond a squall, the skin coloration and fist pounding bear that out. He is still intelligible though, so it is not quite a typhoon. Yes, definitely a tempest,” announced the good doctor, referring to the informal system of ranking for the Admiral’s temper was used by the other members. It was fortunately unknown to the Admiral.
“Good God in heaven that woman’s grown unpleasant! She used to be quite reasonable, but now she seems to take delight in vexing me. As if we don’t have enough trouble as it is. I am at a loss to understand these politicians,” the Admiral thundered. At length he gained control of himself. Vehemently shoving himself out of his chair he straightened his uniform and stepped for the door. Without glancing their way he said, “Hashimoto, Koto, I’m off to the bridge. Why don’t you come with me. We need to talk.”
The two civilians followed the Admiral through the hatch. The ship’s hatches were still the small oval portals they were in the Iowa’s salt water lifetime, and they still served much the same purpose. The metal was lined with a molecular polymer acted like a silicon or rubber seal, so that the hatch was airtight. The hatches were routinely kept ajar so that a rush of air from a breach would close them by its own force. Though the hinges were lubricated so that they moved easily, the civilians on board, Hashimoto and Koto included, found the doors bulky and intractable and the portals half again too small. The military personnel could always recognize the civilians by the marks of a hatch on their forehead and their purple fingers. It would take them some time to get used to moving about the cramped quarters of the Iowa, and now the two PhD’s exerted themselves to follow the much older Admiral as he slipped through the ship like oil.
“I am really beginning to worry about Sadat,” the Admiral remarked, speeding up a ladder. The bridge was two decks above the conference room and there were several turns involved. The civilians doubled their effort. If they got left behind they’d most likely get lost, and that would only serve to raise the Admiral’s temper to the next level. “I wonder if the strain hasn’t gotten to her. She used to be quite reasonable.”
“There may be more to it than that, Admiral,” Koto told him. “She is one of the more prominent candidates for the newly formed Federation Presidency. Now that the Federation Senate has formed, the election of the President is the next order of business.”
“So why has that got her all uptight all of a sudden?” The Admiral asked. “What is this preoccupation with Alexander? Am I paranoid or is she going out of her way to chop his legs out from under him?”
“You are not paranoid, Admiral, and indeed I’m also somewhat surprised that Ms. Sadat has taken such a blatantly open tack on the matter,” Koto said. “The truth of the matter is that Alexander is now a rival to Ms. Sadat, and she wants the Presidency. He’s in her way.”
Augesburcke stopped dead in his tracks, making the two civilians shuffle to a sudden halt. “You mean to tell me this is all some political game of hers?” He asked, incredulous at such a concept. “Is that what this is all about? We’re trying to build an empire, and I might add, ensure that some Humans are around to enjoy it for another generation; meanwhile she’s playing power games? I’d thought better of her than that.”
“It’s the nature of the political animal, Admiral,” Koto said.
“Shoot them all,” was the Admiral’s solution as they stepped onto the bridge. The bridge was a scene of quiet efficiency, but it swiftly came to attention when the Admiral stepped in. The Admiral acknowledged Captain Thomas, and the crew went back to their duties. It was a sign of swift adaptation to their environment that neither the newcomers to the bridge, or the crew on duty took any notice of the enormous beauty of the star spangled visiplate which wrapped itself around the forward portion of the bridge. The old bridge of the Iowa was, in fact, only a small part of the new structure. The new bridge absorbed the rooms behind as well as above the old space. It was now deeper and taller than before, and more accommodating to the increase in personnel required at the station. Augesburcke stalked to the chair set above the command chair of the Captain. He plopped down and glowered.
“This, gentlemen, is the seat of Alexander,” he said gruffly. “It is my intention to keep it open for Alexander if and when he should return. We are not out of the woods yet. This thing is far from over, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let some stiff necked politician ruin it for us now that we’ve come so far.”
“We are in another paradigm shift, Admiral,” Koto told him.
“I wish you wouldn’t use that psychobabble phraseology on me, Koto,” Augesburcke said. “I’m a military man. I hear your words, but I don’t understand a damn thing about them.”
Koto smiled and explained, “It’s a change in the way we perceive things, basically. You see, we’ve already gone through several such instances very recently. The first was the introduction of the Scythian’s to our reality, as opposed to our conjecture. We faced the reality that we were not alone in the universe, and as if that were not enough of a psychological shock we learned that our very existence was threatened. Our reaction was typical, despite the uniqueness of the situation in Human existence. We drew together behind an authoritarian front to face the threat. Think of the amount of power you were given as head of CODOTS. Certainly no such power would be allocated to such a small group under normal political circumstances. Then again when we were short of any practical answers to the threat, short of a desperate war, CODOTS itself gave an enormous amount of power to Alexander. Such is our reaction to enormous levels of stress. As Human Beings we look to someone to take command when we ourselves don’t feel we have the solution. Under such conditions can an Alexander have the most influence, but when those conditions have passed, or are perceived to have passed we revert to the previous paradigm. The politicians perceive the threat to Terra is over. They are now, quite naturally, reverting to the habit patterns, protocols and ambitions which governed them previously. There will be a power void in the Terran Federation, as I would expect CODOTS to be dissolved, or at least severely curtailed shortly. Politicians in the Senate, the Presidency and the Judiciary of the new Federation government will fill that void. They are alr
eady jockeying for position.”
“You are right,” Augesburcke admitted. “It looks as though we’ll be playing the same old games, only on a Galactic scale now.”
“We will, and in that sense Alexander’s departure is to me another brilliant move by a very astute individual,” Koto said.
“How so?” Augesburcke asked.
“Think on it Admiral, he arrived on the scene as a figurehead but ended up in actual command of the fleet. Is that not so? Would not you or Captain Thomas have followed his lead after the successful conclusion with the Chem?” Koto’s question was probing, and it caused the Admiral, and the Captain who had been listening in to ponder it seriously.
“Come to think of it, my mindset by that time was that he was in command,” Augesburcke admitted. “It’s a strange thing, seeing as I am a commander myself and I grudgingly give up control. It is the truth, however. At the moment, I considered Alexander my superior. Captain, what were your thoughts.”
Captain Thomas’s dark face twisted in a kind of embarrassed smile, “To be perfectly honest, sir, I was awaiting his next orders. When he came onboard with Carte Blanche he was a stranger to me, and I’ll admit he was a threat. "Who does this guy think he is, and why the hell should I do as he says?” Those were the words that first popped in my head. But you gave him the lead, sir, and damned if he didn’t take the reins. By the time he finished his negotiations he was in command. I was waiting for his orders, and I would have followed them at the moment.”
“And now, what would you do now if Alexander were suddenly on the bridge?” Koto asked. “What would you do now if he ordered you to attack the rebel Chem. Would you do it?”
“No,” Augesburcke said flatly, and Thomas agreed.
“No you wouldn’t, and I would guess that Alexander realized it as well,” Koto said. “He operated on our emotional subconscious at the time. When the crisis passed he realized his power also passed. Why stay and watch yourself diminish in others eyes? It was better for him to leave with his mystique at its pinnacle, than to stay and shrink in the withering light of political wars.”
“Don’t tell me Alexander was playing political games, Koto,” Augesburcke replied, rather disappointed.
“That would crush the selfless image we all have of him, wouldn’t it?” Koto observed. “However, I don’t honestly think he was being anything other than authentic. He realized the implications of the situation, I’m certain. What could the possible results of his remaining be? Would he become what we still hold him to be before the galaxy: the military dictator of the Terran Empire? That was improbable once the euphoria of the moment wore off, and knowing something of him I don’t truly believe that it is his ambition. Alexander has a strong sense of democracy and fair play, which are troublesome traits for a dictator. The other result of his remaining was to quickly shrink in importance and slowly fade from the scene. He could very possibly build a political career from his accomplishments, and might have done so, but it was not a process he had the patience for. He was not willing to play the game as it was supposed to be played. Alexander played by his own rules even before this happened to him, why would he change now?”
“I see what you’re driving at Doctor, but what’s next for him?” Augesburcke asked.
“I told you he was astute,” Koto replied. “You don’t know how astute. He’s chosen the one avenue which will keep his options open. He’s pursuing Nazeera, which is a personal desire, but he’s also secured, thanks to you Admiral, a real position of power as Ambassador to Chem and all other civilizations. Previously, Alexander’s power was illusionary. It was real so long as things worked out, but at the first hint of trouble you were there to take command. That is not how it ended, but that was the true constitutional source, if you will, of his power. Now he has a real position of power which will in no way diminish the stature that he’s built. He’s still in the midst of things. Our biggest task as a new Galactic empire is to form relations with other civilizations, and that puts Alexander squarely in the center of the picture.”
“Is he trying to build a power base for the Presidency perhaps?” The Admiral asked.
“That’s what a politician would do,” Koto replied. “Alexander, however, is no politician. He hated the politics of the military in his previous life, and that has carried forward. From my observations of him I think the answer is simple. He’s not finished making a contribution, and he wants to stay involved. He’s put himself in a position where he feels he will be useful. He’s not in the Senate building a political career; he’s out there dealing with the need at hand. Alexander’s instinctively put himself in the most volatile arena in this entire drama. He may very well have ambitions, but it is a different kind of ambition than that of a politician. A politician aspires to a position, and then seeks to do something with the power of that position. Alexander aspires to an idea, a goal, and takes those positions which allow him to accomplish those ideals. It is a subtle, but important difference in the man’s character. He’s sees great things for Humankind, not for himself.”
“An altruistic man, that would not have been my description of him, he took too readily to command. He enjoyed it too much,” the Captain observed.
“Not an altruist,” Koto told them. “He’s not even an idealist. Alexander is far to realistic to think that he can lead Humankind to some higher plane of government or existence. He is, if anything, a pragmatist; he thinks the situation is driven by common sense, but as a leader he has enough confidence in himself to want to lead us there. He realizes that he is one of those people who can rise above the moment and control events towards a certain destiny. He thinks he sees something out there for us, and he’ll do everything possible to move us in that direction.”
“That can be a dangerous thing,” Augesburcke said.
Koto shrugged, “It depends on the person and their views Admiral. Isn’t that what you’ve been doing as Chief of CODOTS? That is what every person in command does. Where Alexander becomes important, again, is in this: he’s thinking on a galactic scale. Ms. Sadat, for example, is thinking as a Terran. You, Admiral, are thinking within the new boundaries of the Federation. Alexander is thinking beyond the civilized portion of the galaxy. The fact that there are twelve other cultures besides Terra is nothing out of the ordinary to him. He accepts the fact as a matter of course and deals with it. In my opinion he is the only truly Galactic Human in any position of power right now. The rest of us have some catching up to do.”
“Should we still use him, can we trust him?”
“If you take my advice Admiral then use him for anything and everything you can,” Koto said. “The man was perfectly willing to die on Pantrixnia for the simple purpose of putting forth the best possible face for Humankind. That’s not a conclusion most people can get themselves to act on. We are individuals first. Alexander has a martyr complex. He doesn’t want to die, but he’s more afraid of being forgotten, of not making his mark, than he is of dying. What’s more, he read the Chem perfectly from the very beginning, and that caused him to emphasize certain things in his persona. He didn’t change as much as he adapted. The qualities he emphasized, however, are vastly important to the scheme of things. He took to heart an ancient code of honor, stoicism, selflessness and strength. He had an opportunity to recreate Humankind for the Chem. The face he put before them was strictly Humankind as he thought we ought to be. That is one of the things that endeared him to all of us. We value those qualities, and he’s living them out. He will not easily abandon them Admiral.”
CHAPTER 6
As the loyalist flagship sped towards Chem, Nazeera and Alexander walked in the cavernous hanger of the Kuntok. Three planetary shuttles and Nazeera’s personal scout crowded the deck. There was no recreational area on the Kuntok. This was the only place on the ship where they could walk together and not be under the scrutiny of the crew.
“How is your back?” Nazeera asked. “The surgeon worked on you for quite some time, and she seems to
think her surgery was rather ineffective, the damage was significant.”
“It is much improved,” Alexander answered. “There is some discomfort, however, I can walk. I will not complain. There are many who cannot say so much and yet they do not let it slow them down. This is a limitation at worst, nothing more. I may have to give up golf for a while.”
“What is golf, one of your more violent recreations?” Nazeera asked.
“It’s not meant to be violent, though it can indeed turn out that way!” Alexander laughed. “Actually, it is a deceptively simple game which tempts ones patience and skill. If I ever return to Terra I’ll take you out on a course and show you. Only by playing it can you appreciate it. It’s not something you can explain.”
“Do you miss your planet much?”
Alexander sighed, a strange light coming into his eyes. “I hadn’t thought of it until you asked. I suppose every being misses their planet in some way. There are certain things I think of, such as my float house on Lake Pend Oreille. It’s colder there than on Chem, but it’s surrounded by the mountains. I could sit on the deck and let the waters rock me to sleep. I miss the solitude there. I don’t miss the life I led there, however.”
“I would be interested to know more of your previous life,” Nazeera told him. “I cannot quite imagine you as anything other than Alexander the Conqueror.”
“What did you think of my speech?” Alexander avoided the subject of conquest. He’d delivered a policy speech an hour ago, which the Chem recorded for broadcast. In it he broadcast his official position of Terran support for Nazeera and the loyalists, blasting the rebels, Bureel in particular, for their underhanded attacks on himself, and the Chem government which made the peace with him.
“You stepped around that question skillfully enough. You have the makings of a politician. I told you that you were eloquent, my dear Alexander,” she said. “I do not think that anyone will have any trouble whatsoever reading between the lines. For a diplomat you are rather blatant.”
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