Alexander Galaxus: The Complete Alexander Galaxus Trilogy

by Christopher L. Anderson

  “That morbid possibility, ladies and gentlemen, is what keeps me awake at night. Let me give you a swift breakdown on the situation as I see it. Currently we are in a state of undeclared war with a Galactic Alliance of over one hundred billion beings. They have three fleets comprising almost four thousand warships massing on three separate fronts. Their purpose is to invade our space within the week. I remind you that these are the very same people who infiltrated the highest levels of our government, and, I fear, have already executed the Terrans they replaced. To make matters even more interesting humanity is currently trapped upon a single planet, making it extraordinarily vulnerable to extermination or enslavement. Although this diverts valuable military resources I think the crisis is grave enough to warrant an immediate emigration of over two hundred million Terrans to planets throughout the Federation.

  This is an issue of survival for our civilization, and in my simple mind the concept of emigration it is not a difficult one or a pressing one considering our military necessity. It should be a straightforward and logical solution. Yet while I wrack my all too Terran brain for a way to preserve you and your way of life you come to me and demand a present emigration policy which for all intents and purposes segregates the Terran species. Forgive me if I do not give that concept its due reverence in light of my other problems.” The expressions of the gathered throng were positively hostile, and Alexander addressed this promptly, “Now I realize that my comments are blunt, and some might even say inflammatory. Forgive me if I am not an orator with diplomacy for a language, but I believe it is more important to understand one another without interpretative vagueness, than to coddle. We simply do not have the luxury of time. I want you to understand two things about myself, and about this situation. First, as Overlord Alexander is not a Catholic; he is not a Protestant; he is not a Buddhist; he is not American, British or Russian; he is not of the Western Hemisphere; he is not even of Terra. Alexander is of the Terran Empire, and the President of a Federation comprising over two hundred star systems. That is my viewpoint. It must be. Therefore, your Holiness, when I consider your petition for a Catholic planet for settlement I must consider it against what is best for the Empire and the Federation, not for yourself or your constituents. My second point is this: we live under the threat of invasion from superior forces. My primary responsibility is the preservation of our civilization, not the purity of your institutions. I will do whatever I deem necessary to preserve our civilization in this crisis.”

  “We have every confidence in your ability to defend our civilization, Alexander,” the Pope replied. “However, since an immediate emigration is part of your design why not fulfill both of our desires? You wish for a quick emigration to disperse our species. We understand and condone that. We wish for planets of our own where we can “purify” our beliefs, nothing more. To that end we can quickly mobilize our emigrants, which simplify your requirement.” The Pope went on about the plans for the future they would build on secularized and ethicized planets; each free for trade, of course, but glorious in their Terran difference.

  Alexander listened to the Pontiff’s offer in stony silence. When he finally held up a hand to stop the Pope an expectancy filled the air. Alexander’s voice was grave as he told them, “I celebrate your desire for the betterment of our people but I fail to find a single time in the course of Terran existence when avoiding a problem through segregation worked. It is a policy doomed to failure, and I for one cannot be party to it. This is a glorious opportunity provided at a dire time for our species, and one of my concerns is what this opportunity presents. If just one of these planets we are to colonize survives I would like to find upon it a cross section of the full range of the Terran condition, not just a single slice. Our civilization, ladies and gentlemen, is not based upon a single religion, ethnicity, or belief, but a conglomeration of them. I want to preserve that. Now, for my part I could order a military evacuation. You know this. I would much rather have your cooperation. For this cooperation I want to offer you a standard emigration policy. There are roughly two hundred odd planets upon which I want to place one million Terran settlers each. Unfortunately, we do not have the time to measure out exact quotas, and all encompassing representation to these planets. Neither do we have time to move two hundred million people. Initially, at least, we must compromise. Our Scythian friends tell me we have only about five hundred ships available to transport up to five thousand colonists each with a minimum of supplies. We have selected two hundred planets for the initial wave of colonization, and assigned specific planets for each ship. The average round trip time for these vessels is four days, two out and two back. Under a worst case scenario the Alliance fleets will converge on Terra sometime in the next twenty three days. The math is simple, ladies and gentlemen. With the full cooperation of yourselves we can move only about fourteen million people in the allotted time. True we can set up viable colonies, but can we preserve our diversity? There is also the problem of embarkation. It is one thing to volunteer to emigrate, and quite another to get the five thousand people together at the same place and same time; especially if you attempt to get a cross section of people. The latter constraint is quite frankly impossible. We need to move people quickly, and under conditions where not all are volunteers. That is where your help is essential. The quickest way to accomplish our goal is to target small towns throughout the world. The people are already gathered in requisite numbers, there is a political hierarchy already established and the people know each other. In the coming phases of emigration we can address the multiplicity of representation to each planet. For the moment, however, we need to move people. Sociologists from the Federation Senate have supplied you with a breakdown for the locales targeted for emigration. We do not have the luxury of extended debate on this; I need your support now. You have my assurance that each colony will be held under strict conditions of freedom of religion, speech, etc. If you will lend your support to this effort I will provide the transportation. That is the gist of my offer.

  Please remember that we have the entirety of our civilization to protect, not just one facet. No plan is perfect, but this is as fair as I can be to all of you. Doctor Koto, my Minister of Terran Development will work out the details. I want to start moving people by tomorrow, voluntarily. I will start moving people by the end of this week, whether you like it or not. What do you say?”

  Before the Pontiff could answer Admiral Augesburcke stepped up to Alexander and whispered something in his ear. No one around them could hear what was said but Alexander’s face suddenly went ashen. It was enough of a change to immediately silence the crowd.

  CHAPTER 4

  The Overlord nodded to Augesburcke and told the assemblage, “If you will excuse me for a moment I have something to attend to.” Then without waiting for a response Alexander drew Admiral Augesburcke, Nazeera, an aide and the Scythian Ambassador off to the center of the green.

  “Set up your screen Sergeant,” Augesburcke told the aide. The man manipulated the controls of a small grey box attached to his belt, and in a moment a transparent hemisphere shut out the world acoustically and electronically.

  “Is it set up?” Alexander asked. Upon receiving affirmation from Augesburcke he continued, “I was afraid of this, but sailing into Syraptose and Quotterim space was not without risk. Let’s see how bad it is. Alright Ambassador please establish a link.”

  “Very well,” the Scythian replied without emotion. As one of his taskings to the Scythians Alexander placed Scythian representatives on a number of his ships, as well as keeping the Scythian Ambassador to Terra close by. Out of earshot Alexander referred to the Scythian as “Ambassador Football,” in deference to the nuclear “football,” a small attaché case with communications gear and codes the President of the United States once carried with him. Just as a President could begin a war or launch a counterattack by using the codes and communications gear in the “football” Alexander could view a telepathic link between his Scythian “football”
and any of its companions stationed on his far flung ships. It was a connection vastly more superior in every way than the ethernet.

  The Ambassador held a small boxlike device which fit neatly into the slender palm of its four fingered hand. After a moment the box hummed, and then a small holographic image of a distinguished looking man in uniform appeared.

  Alexander nodded, and addressed the image. “Admiral Cathcart, report please.”

  “Hail Alexander!” The Admiral replied, and then informed his Overlord, “At 1732 hours we picked up a superluminal signature on our passive scanners. We received no hails and intercepted no ethernet messages, but the signature dropped out of superluminal shortly after contact. Its size was consistent with a squadron of warships. Fearing detection I dispatched two squadrons to intercept while the main body continued course and speed. We varied the formation as dictated by doctrine to set up a random fluctuation in our signature until I was informed by my Squadron Commander that all eleven enemy warships were destroyed. No messages were sent, and one relay probe was destroyed.”

  “Were there any Syraptose survivors, Admiral?”

  “None sir,” the Admiral replied evenly. “We caught them cleanly by surprise. There’s nothing out there but gas and dust.”

  Alexander nodded gravely, finally asking “Are you on time?”

  “Everything proceeding according to plan, Alexander,” the Admiral reported.

  “Very well, Admiral, you and your crews are to be commended on the professionalism with which you accomplished a difficult mission,” Alexander said evenly.

  “Thank you, hail Alexander!” the Admiral saluted, and Alexander cut the connection.

  The Overlord turned to Augesburcke, a troubled look on his face. “I don’t know whether to be relieved or worried,” he confided. “It was a masterful stroke by Cathcart to get away without raising the alarm, but I’m not so certain about this no prisoners business. I know I left the details to the discretion of the Admirals on the scene, but my God, eleven ships gone like that, and with their entire crews. This can really be a dirty business.”

  “Unavoidable, I would say,” Augesburcke said, “but if you’d like to issue further instructions,”

  “No, that will not be necessary,” Alexander interjected. “Patton once said, and I believe I quote him, “Never tell people how to do things. Tell them what to do and they will surprise you with their ingenuity.” Besides, in his shoes, I would have done the same thing.” Alexander mulled over the present events in his head, finally saying, “A month has passed since the Ascension and the original Alliance target date. The rooting out of their Hrang operatives gave us at least three weeks time, but now it seems the Alliance is back on track. How many Alliance warships have massed thus far Admiral?”

  “We have a pretty good idea on their numbers and their complement,” Augesburcke told him. “Our subs have pinpointed the Alliance fleets on the Syraptose and Quotterim fronts, and we have detailed scans. The Golkos-Seer’koh front is somewhat more ambiguous. The Golkos are the only member of the five fleets on that front who share a frontier with us. Now the Golkos are jealous of their space so they’ve insisted on escorting their confederates to the rendezvous coordinates. That works to our advantage. It takes time to transit the entirety of Golkos space. They’ve been at it for over a month, but they should be reaching their rendezvous points within the next several days. We already have boats waiting for them. We can only estimate the numbers and complements of those forces still at superluminal speeds, but there’s an enormous amount of chatter on their subspace nets. Apparently the Alliance is somewhat out of practice at this sort of thing, and the fact that they are trying to coordinate between nine different fleets and ten cultures is aggravating the situation. Our listeners have been cataloguing the Alliance ships, by name, type, etc... The Alliance folks are fairly free on the net, and their media is as interested in their progress as we are. Between their chatter, their media, and our scouts we have as accurate a picture as we could expect.

  Currently we have two hundred and seventy-three ships on the Quotterim/Bael/Fen-Dsi front; and two hundred and forty-seven ships on the Syraptose front already in position. By today’s count there are twenty-five hundred ships enroute to the Golkos-Seer’koh front. As I said the massing elements of the fleets are still enroute at superluminal, so scans are vague at best. However, from the ethernet traffic we estimate the Golkos-Seer’koh rendezvous will be complete within the next two days. The Quotterim and Syraptose seem a bit less enthusiastic even if theirs is the easiest logistically. They won’t be massed for a week, at least. The Golkos numbers are pretty firm. The Syraptose will contribute five hundred ships when their rendezvous is complete; the Quotterim/Bael/Fen-Dsi fleet will number almost eight hundred. Any way you look at it we’re going to be dealing with thirty-five hundred to four thousand ships.”

  “They are not leaving themselves much of a Homeworld reserve,” noted Nazeera. “Those ship counts are consistent with the balance of their fleets. There are, of course, mothballed reserves but such ships are hardly suitable for the long journey to Terra. The Syraptose, Quotterim, Seer’koh and Golkos might muster several hundred of these ships for planetary defense. Many, however, would undoubtedly be impulse drive ships and so they would have limited firepower. The Alliance must not consider an offensive strike on your part possible, Alexander. “

  “Why should they? That would leave our own defenses quite weak.” He folded his arms in thought and muttered as if to himself, “Interesting, though that they should be so bold; I wonder if it is coincidence or whether they really have someone over there who knows what they’re doing?”

  “There’s quite a bit of jockeying going on,” Augesburcke added. “The Alliance has been offering to negotiate several times a day, probably to buy more time. They’re a week off, at least, from any form of coordinated assault, or at least a month behind their original timetable, and counting.”

  “Excellent,” Alexander replied. “The Alliance and it’s dilly-dallying has given us much more flexibility. If they’d advanced on their original time schedule on or about the Chem Ascension our strike arms would have had to go in at emergency flank. That would have increased the risk significantly. Fortunately, that idea was no more than wishful thinking on their parts. By the afternoon of the Ascension our patrols still outnumbered their fleets! As it is we’ve been able to pick our way at cruise through the most sparsely populated regions of Syraptose and Quotterim space. Assuming no more misfortune we can expect to arrive at H-Hour with fresh ships. There is at least a week before the Alliance can even be in position for a strike. Set our new H-Hour accordingly, Admiral.”

  “Consider it done,” Augesburcke replied.

  “Admiral, I think it very likely the Alliance will not survive to fire a shot.” Alexander thought for a long moment. No one interrupted him; they were getting used to his mannerisms. Finally he said, “Has there been any indication that either of our forces have been discovered beyond Admiral Cathcart’s report?”

  “None whatsoever,” Augesburcke told him. “We’ve been listening closely for any indications of suspicion. There’s been nothing thus far. Fortunately the idea of radio, or in this case ethernet silence is as natural to us as it appears to be alien to our counterparts.”

  “That’s not what worries me,” Alexander mused. “I am confident that our crews are the utmost professionals, but in my experience, plans barely survive the implementation phase. The fortunes of war depend on how we react to changing situations, both fortunate and unfortunate. We’ve got over five hundred ships gallivanting across the galaxy, hopefully in secret. Currently we must depend on the innovations of our crews for the success of our plans. That’s the toughest thing about sitting here, Admiral. I’d rather be out there.”

  “That is the toughest thing about command,” Augesburcke agreed. “I miss not being there myself, but Sampson and Cathcart are quite capable. They’ll handle everything.”

  “I
trust their judgment, Admiral, but I’m tired of inactivity. Push the reconnaissance patrols beyond the frontiers. Let’s have a look their disposition. I’m especially interested in the Golkos-Seer’koh fleet. What do they plan on doing on our frontier until the rest of the Alliance is ready? If they think we’ll just sit and wait for them to bring the war to us then they’re in for a surprise.” Augesburcke smiled in response and Alexander gave the order to cut the screen, returning them to the English daylight.

  Somewhat grimmer of aspect and no less resolved Alexander changed his mind set and approached the Pontiff again. “My apologies, ladies and gentlemen, Galactic affairs have a priority on my time these days. Where were we?”

  The Pope’s steely eyed visage was not welcoming, but he said, “I suppose we could not hope for a less prejudiced response, Alexander, considering your position and your responsibilities. However, we must confer further on the details of the matter. In that sense, at least, we must work together. We have provided a united front against an uncontrolled emigration thus far, but maybe it is time to turn that unity to more constructive purposes.” The Pope suddenly smiled at Alexander’s expression of surprise, and he said, “Yes, Alexander, religious and ethnic leaders can be reasonable as well as you. In that territory you do not hold a higher ground than does God. We shall consider your offer and continue our talks through Doctor Koto. In other words you shall be able to begin moving our people tomorrow, as you desire. Our best wishes on the remainder of your day and our combined prayers on the outcome of the war.”