Alexander Galaxus: The Complete Alexander Galaxus Trilogy

by Christopher L. Anderson

Alexander admitted it to be bold, but as far as brilliance, he told them, “No plan is brilliant unless it works. There are hoards of very pretty plans in the archives written by General’s who died by them! I’m quite certain Marcus Lucinius Crassus thought himself a military genius until the Parthians destroyed his bought legion and poured molten gold down his throat!”

  “I am not quite willing to let it go at that,” Augesburcke said, “and that raises again my own disquiet of leaving you to the mercy of Chem “honor.” The reputation of the Chem aside this Bureel is a slimy bastard. He’ll not hesitate to forget convention while it’s convenient and slit your throat. I for one am hesitant to allow him the chance. We have here a strategy wherein the entire Alliance will begin to unravel almost as soon as war was declared, but it won’t amount to a hill of beans if the name of Alexander is not behind it. The Galactics fear you as much as the might of Terra. We can’t afford to lose that.”

  “Short of parking a Terran fleet around orbit in Chem, Admiral, there’s not much you can do to help me.”

  “By my calculations, Alexander, there aren’t enough Chem to stop us from doing just that.”

  Alexander was silent for a long while. Finally he said, “Admiral, I cannot condone it or authorize it. You will, however, have as good knowledge as anyone on my whereabouts and actions on Chem. No doubt if Bureel means to execute me it will be broadcast. What you do in my absence is entirely up to you. I leave you with full control of the fleets, and the initiative.”

  “Understood, Alexander.”

  There was one more question before they broke for the evening—the coup. Alexander was blunt about it, but his answer still surprised them. “Gentlemen, events have progressed so far that you, in your opinions, and I in mine, consider such a serious action as necessary. It’s obvious that we need to find out who we’re dealing with in the Senate, and on which side of the aisle they stand, or to be blunt which side of the galaxy they were born on. Beyond that we should let events continue as they are. If the actions or non-actions of the President and the Senate bring the politicians in line with our reasoning then our task becomes less painful. You can bend an ear, so to speak, with those in the Senate who are of similar understanding. They can, at the proper moment call for my return to Terra. The tide of events will accomplish for us what a regiment in the Senate will not. On the other hand if the President and the Senate surprise us and turn out to be quite capable of handling the situation then we are happily relieved of such an unpleasant task as accomplishing a coup. Good night gentlemen!”

  CHAPTER 19

  The Scythian delegation was fidgety, if that term could be used to describe their unabashed nerves. They sat at the conference table, five of them, opposite Admiral Augesburcke and two marines with blaster rifles. Augesburcke glared at them. Alexander was late, purposefully late. He let the Scythians stew for a good half hour before he abruptly entered. Augesburcke rose to salute him, and the marines stood at attention. Trembling, the Scythians stood.

  Alexander watched them on a visiplate during the wait, and their nerves were apparent. He therefore attacked them headlong, “So you would not deal with anyone but myself. Very well I’ve spared some time for you. What is it you have to say?”

  The Scythian’s were wholly unprepared for such a tack. They sat dumb faced and silent.

  “You are a conquered race, yet I have allowed you a personal audience. My time is not my own. Say what you have to say.” Still, no response, but it was obvious that this was not due to stubbornness. Alexander leaned back in his chair, content with the initial shock. He hoped it made them more pliable to a reasonable Alexander. “You perhaps have grievances?” he said, opening the door to a more non-threatening discussion. “I hear you have ceased any and all activity on behalf of Terra, and yourselves for that matter. Can you explain this?”

  “We find no advantage in working for our conquerors,” a Scythian replied, finally.

  “An honest approach, and a natural one,” Alexander admitted. “It is a time honored tradition to continue resistance in a passive manner, though it is not always possible to do so for extended periods of time. What is it you then wish to talk about? You made your answer to my President and her envoys that you would deal with no one but myself. What is it you wish to deal with me about?”

  “The situation has changed since that time,” the Scythian replied, almost boldly.

  “By that you refer to the impending invasion of the so called Alliance?” Alexander smiled. “Your Galactic friends will come to liberate you from the terrible Terrans and return you to your eminent positions of economic influence throughout the galaxy? They will of course forget all the whispered threats which caused the Chem to go to war with us. They will of course forget the economic thumbscrews which you’ve applied to them for the last two millennia. They will forget all these things and let the Scythians return to the prominence and wealth to which they are accustomed. Does this sound likely?” He waited a moment for a response, but there was none. “Very well, I shall assume you agree with me that an Alliance Empire will be no more advantageous to the Scythians than a Terran Empire. Let me then tell you where your advantage lies. You are a free people, and by that I mean free. I will remove my troops from your four Homeworlds. Your Homeworlds are to return entirely to Scythian control. The remainder of the planets of the former Scythian Empire will become open for emigration from Terra. They are to be member planets in the Terran Federation, but otherwise free to conduct their own affairs. There will be some diminishment of Scythian estates in some locales, but no Scythian will be forced out of their home. They shall be given the same rights and privileges as Terran citizens of the Federation. Scythian control of the freighter fleet will not be usurped. From now on we will purchase passage at standard rates. You shall be allowed access, as Federation citizens should you decide to accept citizenship, to any planet, port, or other location that the Federation is not at war with. You shall in short be able to conduct your affairs as before, but this time as citizens of a Federation.

  “Your further advantage also lies in your Human partners. Scythians are enterprising, but they are cautious. Humans, on the other hand, are explorers as well as traders. It is our intention, once these current troubles are over, to begin a vast exploration of the regions around our known civilizations. That should prove a boon to the Scythian entrepreneur. You will also have competition to spur you on, as we are ardent traders ourselves. In essence you are being given the opportunity of becoming part of something with a great deal of potential. If it doesn’t work out, well, you can always say you were coerced, that is, if the Alliance is interested in hearing your version of the story.”

  “What is your price for our cooperation?” The Scythian’s replied, knowing fair terms when they saw them.

  “Silence, for now,” Alexander replied. “There will be a time and place for a formal acceptance of my terms. For the time being Admiral Augesburcke will inform you of what we require.”

  “As you wish, Alexander,” the Scythian said, but then it asked, “I wonder, however, at the brevity of your revenge. It does not follow reason.”

  “You learned very little of us in several thousand years I’m afraid,” Alexander noted. “What use would an enslaved people be to us? What did you expect, mass executions, tyranny, terror? Maybe that is all you had the right to expect, watching us at a distance. Hopefully, we’ve learned from our own madness. In this instance, however, it is more than altruism. There is an old saying from old Earth: "politics makes strange bedfellows.” Suffice it to think that when I found a suitable requirement for your special skills my revenge died. Alexander can use you, and you need Alexander. That is enough.”

  “We will abide by your terms at your leisure,” the Scythian said. Then, for the first time Alexander or any other Human witnessed, the Scythian’s bowed with respect.

  The next day Alexander met with Augesburcke privately just before returning to the Kun-Gha. They shared a farewell drink. The Admi
ral handed his Overlord a gin and tonic, “Tanqueray and tonic, actually,” the Admiral said.

  “Really, Admiral, my dossier must be quite explicit,” Alexander said, taking the drink with relish.

  “It was very detailed,” the Admiral smiled. “Not the Air Force dossier, the Soviet dossier. You like your Tanqueray, you hate blackberry brandy, whiskey and all forms of schnapps. Microbrews are your favorite beers, and otherwise you’ve developed rather a bourgeois attitude towards cheap brews. You waver back and forth between Pepsi and Coke. You prefer grapefruit juice over orange juice. Those were the highlights of the “drinks" section.”

  “I’m not certain I want to hear more,” Alexander said.

  “They were just as afraid of you as the Alliance,” Augesburcke told him. “They expected great things from you.”

  “Well I hope I haven’t disappointed them,” Alexander said, and then he dug out a file. “Speaking of dossiers I was reading the file on our President. Did you notice that she is a relative of President Anwar Sadat? In fact she spoke on several occasions at U.S. universities on the subject of civilian governments at risk from military dictatorships. Her main theme was, and I quote, “In times of crisis the civilian government is in danger of overthrow by elements of the military—especially when pursuing a difficult path to peace.” It is an obvious reference to the assassination of President Sadat, God rest his soul, by the Muslim Brotherhood in the Egyptian military. He was pursuing a very difficult peace with the Israelis. He was a courageous man who died at the hands of ignorant cowards. Maybe she fears some parallels here?”

  “It’s possible,” Augesburcke mused. “Although I have to point out that Egypt wasn’t in danger of being annihilated by Israel. Our position is more consistent with Israel, but I see what you mean.” He took a sip from his own drink and shrugged. “I admit I only thought about her paranoia in context with political jealousy. That is something I have profound experience with unfortunately. Still, that fits quite nicely with her paranoia concerning you doesn’t it? No doubt there are some Hrang operatives who are only too happy to help her along. We should concentrate on the Senate appropriations and Defense committees, but there’s no doubt the Senate is rife with spies, perhaps even Ms. Sadat’s staff.”

  “I am quite sure we will find some unexpected surprises,” Alexander said. “Admiral how many spies did we find in our squadron wide search?”

  “Seven, all noncombatant or supervisory positions and all revealed by X-ray photos,” Augesburcke told him. “There has been no action, no notification taken, as you ordered. Sensitive information is being funneled around them, and a dis-information campaign is being started. We will keep pumping them until we spring the surprise. Five of them were Iowa crew, including the Operations Officer. Captain Thomas nearly screwed himself through the ceiling; he’s known the Ops Officer for twenty years. Not one of them showed up on the medical equipment the Scythian’s gave us.”

  “Keep it under wraps, but start the search fleet wide,” Alexander ordered. “Let’s expand it if we can especially in the Senate and if possible the Executive. Work up a scam. Let’s assume we contracted some disease from the Chem. Assume it’s communicable and have everyone checked with a complete exam, including X-rays. Before this breaks, however, I want you to mingle with Senators, and I especially want you to see the President.”

  “You think she’s a spy?” Augesburcke asked, surprised.

  “Admiral, I think she’s surrounded by them; but if she’s not a spy for the Alliance she ought to be!”

  CHAPTER 20

  Faizah Sadat, the Human Faizah, followed the aural prompting which told her to leave her small metal holding cell and proceed down the hallway. She was naked, and pain was an insistent reminder of the last session the aliens inflicted upon her. As she left her cell she found around twenty other Human Beings in the same circumstance. They milled about aimlessly. She knew some of them from previous holding cells, and when they saw her they gravitated to her, and to her strength. Faizah ignored her own pain and smiled. She thought of Alexander and how Humankind had as a whole gravitated to the example he portrayed. It was her turn now, in no less important a context. This was no test of honor, however. There was no chance at glorious death under the watchful eyes of a hard but honorable foe. This was Alexander’s Scythian ordeal only under the cruelest of taskmasters. There was no hope for return under these beings. She’d seen Humans die on the operating table, terribly awake during vivisections conducted by mechanical surgeons. Anesthesia was an unnecessary luxury for lab animals, and that is exactly how they were treated. Questioning sessions were handled brutally, again by machines. She’d not seen a live being aside from the other Human captives since her final memory of Earth. She’d fallen asleep, as usual, studying on her sofa in her New York apartment. It took her several days to realize that her nightmare was terribly real. She tried to use the example of Alexander to rally her spirits, but in the end it was only her own resolve that allowed her to hold her head up. Of all Humans, Alexander would know the horrible gulf between his experience and theirs. He could appreciate their trials.

  The voice told them to proceed down the hallway. It gave no further instructions. The prisoners looked about aimlessly until Faizah moved on. Mechanically they followed her. “There is nothing before us that has not already been done,” she said loudly. “If they have yet to break our spirits, after all their despicable acts, then there is no possibility they shall overcome our world, or our God, or our spirits. They may have control of our bodies, but our spirits and our souls are our own!” The people took heart at Faizah’s words and their steps were firm. Their brows knits, young and old, with tight defiance. They followed her to a large vaulted chamber, again of metal. Within were several other groups of Humans, nearly a hundred in all.

  The voice returned, flat, emotionless, but this time it was not mechanical. “You have served your purpose, Humans, but before you die know that you shall not die vain. You shall serve to stem the evil tide of the tyrant Alexander and preserve the Galactic peace.”

  Faizah stood defiantly in the dark steel chamber with her companions and listened closely to the words, guessing their meaning. As were her brethren Faizah was exhausted, but the glare in her eyes betrayed no fear. The fear was in the unseen voice, and it was for Alexander. “You would be responsible for so vile an act? I warn you it will not be without repercussion.”

  “You speak from ignorance, Human,” said he voice. “We shall, however, give you a moment to prepare yourselves.”

  “How very noble of you,” Faizah said sarcastically. “I only wish I could live long enough to see Alexander when he gives you your just deserts. There will be a reckoning, I guarantee it!” Then she turned to her companions. They gathered around her, a huddled mass of fearful Humanity. Her fear melted in a comforting vat of hatred, and she let that violent humor taint her aristocratic voice. “Do not be afraid, friends. They can take away our lives, but they cannot take away our faith in God or our pride in Humankind. We shall be avenged, if that comforts you. Those who author despicable acts always pay. Let us remember Alexander when he faced certain death. Can we be any less courageous? Take pride in your Humanity. Let nothing but spite and hatred for our captors weaken your hearts. Humankind shall overcome their treachery. Let them be assured that Alexander and the legions of our brethren will avenge us. Think only of that! Alexander will avenge us!” A hue and cry rose, “Alexander! Alexander! Alexander!” Suddenly a staccato of laser fire cut off the voices. The darkness of the chamber was lit with flashes of deadly light. The metal room echoed with the grunts of injured Humans and the thud of falling bodies, but there were no screams of fear, no pleading for mercy. After a long horrible moment the room was eerily silent.

  CHAPTER 21

  “This is insupportable!” Bureel growled to the Assemblage Chamberlain, his lieutenant Gurthur. The whole of the Assemblage was in a dull roar. The ranking survivor’s full report from the skirmish at Lompoc V had just
concluded and to the Bureel supporters, of which the Assemblage had a necessary majority, it was a sobering message. Not only had Nazar escaped, but the Terrans proved as formidable an adversary as rumor built them. Alexander himself led the Terran squadron, which could in no way be blamed for forcing the battle after the Chem Commander’s patronizing request for a Terran withdrawal. Alexander again acted with dignity, honor and resolve. The thought of him leading the entirety of the Terran Fleet against an already weakened Chem brought a new interpretation to the wisdom of Nazeera’s peace. There was no trepidation on the part of the Chem warriors, ordinarily they would welcome such a test for glory but the stakes were now such that even the most war loving of them had second thoughts. Even the hard core Bureel supporters could now admire the foresight of Nazeera, and the skill with which she gained concessions from Alexander for not fighting. Imagine, they thought, gaining a frontier of twelve strategic systems from a warlord like Alexander! The defeat at Lompoc V was a slap of cold water in their face. Murmurs arose questioning the very wisdom of war. It was a subject ordinarily taboo, but now noble Chem without a sliver of fear in their bones questioned themselves, and their leader.

  Bureel recognized the change in the wind, but he did not let it dampen his resolve, at least not visually. He looked out over the Assemblage, knowing they expected him to lash out in anger at the defeat, but he knew he must be above that. Lordly did he bow his head, but he kept his shoulders strong and upright. He must be, he thought, not the lesser to Alexander in their sight. When his eyes met those of the ranking commander of the decimated squadron, awaiting his lord’s dispensation, he strove to ensure they were wise.

  “My heart grieves at our defeat, as must all Chem when victory exceeds our grasp,” he said finally. “It does not grieve with disgrace, however. There is glory in battle, even though it ends in defeat. It hardens the warrior for the next trial, and ensures that there is no room in the breast for anything less than the annihilation of the foe! To fight to the last is admirable and wins the warrior everlasting notoriety. To withdraw is more difficult, though at times there is more wisdom in it. You returned to Chem in defeat, but without your returning we would know nothing of our enemy. This was a lesson to our pride. Let us treat it no less, but make of it no more. Let Alexander scurry about with his squadrons when the full weight of the Chem Armada is upon him! Let this example perk our appetites for revenge. Our day will come, soon.” Bureel paused and studied his Assemblage. The light was back in their eyes. They listened intently. He could now reiterate his vision of the future without it sounding disingenuous. “We will pay back this trifling attention of Alexander. After my Ascension we shall rebuild our armadas for a new day of glory. Then shall we declare war upon the upstart Terran and his fledgling empire. We will unite the Chem, all the Chem, back into the honor bound people the galaxy fears. We will expand into our rightful place amongst the stars. Only in this way may we fulfill the purposes of our ancestors, and the yearning of our hearts. You know my mind!”