Alexander Galaxus: The Complete Alexander Galaxus Trilogy

by Christopher L. Anderson

  “Now’s where we see whether this harebrained scheme works,” Alexander breathed, as splashes of blaster fire began to cascade amongst the fireships. The long range blaster fire continued, growing in accuracy and intensity, but with seemingly little effect on the tankers. This was not to be wondered at. Without life support systems or multiple weapon systems to keep powered up the fireships could expend as much power as was needed to regulate the defense shields. Once the ships came into optimal range, the shields would not matter for defensive purposes and their fields would be diverted to help funnel the final cataclysmic projector blast. The Alliance fleet kept hammering away at the core of fireships, completely ignoring the flanking Terran squadrons. After fifteen minutes of long range bombardment the foremost portion of the Terran sphere entered the Alliance envelopment.

  Three minutes later Augesburcke reported, “All elements of the fireship sphere are in optimal firing range, Alexander.”

  “Pull back the flanking squadrons. Release the hounds, Admiral.” Alexander ordered.

  Augesburcke punched a button at his comm panel and gave the order.

  Alexander turned to Nazeera, explaining, “I don’t dare let those squadrons face the firepower of that fleet. They’ve done their part for now. Still, if everything works according to plan they’ll be able to pick off some of the stragglers if the fireships break up the Alliance formation.”

  Nazeera squirmed in her seat. “I’m not certain of the ethical use of these fireships of yours, Alexander my love. It does not seem to be the most honorable way to meet in battle. I understand the reasoning, and the logic. Militarily it is, theoretically, a cunning move. I cannot help but think, however, that the Chem would be somewhat disappointed in your strategy.”

  “You surprise me, I admit, my dear,” Alexander told her. “I really did not think of the implications on that account, only of results. I suppose I would rather meet them face to face, but I cannot see a good probability of success in that manner. Not only am I outnumbered, but I am faced with invasion on three fronts. No military commander that I know of has won against such odds. With two foes I could have done it, but only if I could get the foe I’m after to actually engage me. My fear, Nazeera, has been the weaknesses of the Alliance, rather than its strengths. Frederick the Great found himself in much the same spot in Europe. Surrounded by strong neighbors interested in his territory he had to constantly go on the offensive, without real hope or even thought of conquering his neighbors, all to allow his kingdom to survive. In my case, however, the belligerent powers are acting in concert.”

  “I am unfamiliar with your analogy, Alexander,” Nazeera smiled, “but may I point out a slight difference? This Frederick of yours was not looking to conquer his neighbors, Alexander is looking for nothing less.”

  Alexander looked at his wife, the Elder of Chem, with a sour expression, but then broke out into a strangled laugh. He laughed at the lunacy of the idea, being reminded of his strange and humble beginnings. A year past the very consideration of his present reality would never have entered his dreams. Any further introspection was curtailed by Admiral Augesburcke. He tapped Alexander on the shoulder and brought the attention of the Overlord of the Terran Empire back to the battle.

  “Alexander, the first of the fireships is ready to go up.

  The laugh disappeared, “Now we see if Doctor Hashimoto’s tinkering works.”

  “Here, here,” Hashimoto agreed.

  The tension returned to the small cedar lined room. As the tanker “Star of Valdiz” prepared for Armageddon no one in the room recalled the soothing lap of the lake’s waters. The fiery beauty of the sunset was completely lost in the tension of the moment. When the “Star of Valdiz” blew another, more palpable wave of relief flooded through every breast in the room. Like a silent popcorn popper the light show began in earnest. Ship after ship erupted in blinding blooms of energy, sending out bright swaths of plasma and cutting huge gaps in the Alliance ranks. Within the space of fifteen minutes the Alliance formations were in tatters, and warships were scurrying away from the cataclysm of the Terran fireships.

  Alexander and Nazeera watched the slaughter grimly. It was difficult, even in its success, as the Alliance vessels and crews had absolutely no chance. Battleships were cut in two, and even those vessels in the core of the envelopment which were not targeted suffered heavily from the exploding ships about them. The immolation of the Alliance enveloping forces lasted only twenty minutes, by then the last of the fireships were gone. The havoc they wreaked on the Alliance formations was another matter.

  The first phase of the attack was complete in its success and surprise. The second phase began in earnest as the flanking squadrons sought to capitalize on the confusion. On the periphery of the jumbled Alliance formations there was some semblance of a fair fight as the Terrans engaged those ships fleeing from the carnage. Still, through confusion and panic the Terrans inflicted extraordinarily heavy damage with very little harm to themselves. Two hours later when all was said and done Augesburcke reported the initial tallies. Alexander realized that empty feeling of an overwhelming victory over an unsuspecting enemy.

  “It’s like Agincourt or the Marianas,” the Admiral reported. “From the tapes we’re counting eighty-eight battleships and ninety-four heavy cruisers destroyed. That’s half their battleships in one fell swoop! The programming for the fireship’s targeting computers obviously worked well. They picked out the largest ships in their firing solution, and thereby caused an inordinate amount of damage to the Alliance heavies. Of the three hundred ships considered destroyed by the fireships and the Seventh Fleet over fifty percent were capital ships. That’s definitely a good days hunting!”

  “Our losses?”

  “We didn’t press the issue too hard after they began to regroup, though our forces are still harrying their efforts to concentrate their fleet,” Augesburcke assured his Overlord. “We lost the heavy cruiser Portland and six other ships. There are light casualties otherwise.”

  There was somber jubilation in the conference room, as Alexander was reflective. “What really hurt us, Admiral, and what could hurt us down the road is the Seventh’s lack of heavies. With only fourteen battleships we just couldn’t take advantage of the confusion. I’d wager that if we could have brought the Second or the Fifth with us we could have ended this war here and now. The Seventh may be potent enough when we have planetary projectors to support it, but as an attacking force I’m afraid we just don’t have the punch. Don’t get me wrong, we got in a good lick today, but I can’t help but think I had the opportunity to knock them out cold and we just didn’t have the muscle to get the job done! Maybe I was too fancy for my own good.”

  Alexander stifled his disappointment and sent a live message of congratulation to the Seventh Fleet. A censored account of the battle was released to the press. The approved images consisted of only the standard engagements between Terran ships and Alliance ships, and only vague casualty figures were given; but at the heart of the releasable data were images of the aftermath. Ship after ship of the Alliance fleet drifted lifelessly in a sea of ionized plasma.

  The business of the evening taken care of Alexander gathered up his drink, poured Nazeera a glass of wine and took her out on the deck. The night was clear and cool. The faint band of the Milky Way waxed overhead, and the vault above them was splashed with a dazzling array of stars.

  Nazeera looked above and sighed, “A pity your companion planet is not out tonight, it is one of the wonders of the known universe.”

  “The Moon?” Alexander said, as if she’d disturbed him from a long distant thought. “I remember looking up at the Moon one night long ago. It was the night when Terrans first set foot on another celestial body. I watched the eerie images on television, and then I came outside and looked up at the Moon. At that point I knew I wanted to be an astronaut and to make it in space. Unfortunately, things did not quite work out. Whether it was me, or my refusals to bow to the system, I never made it.
” He shrugged, emitting his trademark half strangled laugh, and added, “I suppose either way it comes back to me, but oh how galling it is to know some of the undeserving who made it!”

  “I am your wife, and yet I know so little of your past, my dear,” Nazeera noted. “I would hazard to say, however, that those same Terrans would be rather envious of your position now.”

  “Quite possibly,” Alexander smiled, “but you know it is strange. I had a great many hopes and dreams, Nazeera, that somehow didn’t pan out. All of them had to do with space, or what you recognize as the galaxy and our galactic neighborhood. There is bitterness in me still over that, but that bitterness never carried over into my love or fascination for the universe, even down to the Moon, which was my first celestial love. I’ve spent many a cold night watching it, and asking it why. This night, though, I rather enjoy its absence. Its light blots out all but the brightest constellations. When it is down, as it is tonight, the stars reappear and it is almost as if I can see into the depths of space, and gain some feeling for just how vast it is. This night reminds me more of our night on Chem, that first night.”

  “How so?” Nazeera coaxed him, turning her beautifully luminous eyes from the heavens and to his. She reached out to touch his arm, but a sharp hissing cut the air, interrupting her advance. Alexander’s arm was suddenly yanked from beneath her hand. She caught sight of his legs being dragged beneath the rail. Alexander hit the deck hard upon his back. A grunt of pain and surprise were all he could utter as the breath was driven from his chest. Nazeera started, but with the quickness of a cat she grappled his arm. Just as she found purchase on his flesh, Alexander was yanked underneath the rail and off the deck. Nazeera was pulled from her feet as she vainly sought to hold onto him, but he was gone into the darkness, leaving nothing but his skin beneath her nails. She cried his name aloud, but all she heard in response was the splash and swirl of the black waters of the lake.

  CHAPTER 14

  Admiral Sampson was used to making decisions alone, but this time he felt the full weight of the world—no the Empire—on his shoulders. The battleship Gangout had developed engine trouble a day past. For twelve hours she limped along with the rest of the fleet, but then her starboard engine gave out and she dropped out of superluminal. Admiral Sampson ordered the battleship Wisconsin to rejoin with the Gangout, and if she could not be brought to speed to rescue her crew, and scuttle the ship, discreetly. It didn’t turn out to be quite that simple.

  As luck would have it the Gangout dropped over the superluminal horizon right into the center of an inhabited system. Before long the Gangout registered the inevitable and unavoidable scans of the Quotterim. The Captain of the vessel, realizing he’d been sighted and understanding the dire results wisely jammed the planet’s communications system. The Gangout still had use of her systems through power supplied by her good superluminal engine, so she entered orbit about the planet and established quarantine. The timely arrival of the Wisconsin squadron overwhelmed whatever response the inhabitants might have considered against the Gangout, but it presented Admiral Sampson with a stark dilemma.

  The Admiral rubbed his ebony jaw in thought. Captain Palmero had taken charge of the quarantine when the Wisconsin entered orbit, and he was now on the viewer. Palmero had just given Sampson a preliminary report over a tight communications band. Sampson dropped his own squadron out of superluminal to contain the communications signal to a bare minimum, but now he was getting nervous. His fleet was divided, and the enemy knew he was there. At all costs he needed to contain the situation and prevent the information of his presence from reaching the Alliance. Just what that cost might be he was afraid to calculate. There was a long silence.

  “Captain, how many people does this planet have?”

  “Nearly thirty million, Admiral,” Palmero replied grimly. “This is no small frontier town, or world, but an important planet in this sector of the Quotterim Empire. Our Scythian charts list it as “Altamira,” the second largest center of commerce in this province. They get convoys through here monthly, and random traders nearly every day. Fortunately for us there were no traders in the system other than those already on the planet’s surface when we arrived. Currently the situation is in hand, but I can’t guarantee how long that will last.”

  “Are you in contact with the planetary government?”

  “Only to issue our ultimatum,” Palmero answered. “When immediately jammed all of their communications bands, all that we know about at least. I then issued an ultimatum to the effect that the planet was under quarantine. Any outgoing signal from the planet would trigger a bombardment and any ship leaving the planet’s surface would be destroyed. Thus far they seem to be taking us seriously. We’ve seen no attempt either way.”

  “That was quick thinking, but we need more,” Sampson told him. “We need to bring the situation to a head and we need to do it fast. I can’t afford to keep the Wisconsin tied up playing jailer, and there is no way we can shut down every transmitter on a planet that large. I think we need their help.”

  “How do we go about getting it?”

  “We’re on the right track with this quarantine, we just need to get them to buy into it is all,” Sampson smiled.

  “I’m listening,” Palmero replied.

  #

  Alexander’s brain registered only the unexpected shock of the assault until the frigid waters of the lake slapped him into sensibility. He went under with the rush of water around his ears, and something wrapped about his legs, pinning them together. Whatever it was it immediately began pulling him through the darkness. Instead of trying to fight it Alexander heaved downwards with both arms, clawing for the gulp of air which surprise had denied him. His head broke the surface for an instant, and he did not waste the moment with trying to cry out. He took in a lungful of air and was summarily dragged under and through the water. With the air in his lungs Alexander was able to focus his mind on his predicament. According to the pressure in his ears he was not too deep, but he was moving quickly, more quickly than he could swim; dragged by his legs. He could see the faint gleam of two lights maybe five meters ahead in the stygian night beneath the lake, but nothing else.

  He grappled for his blaster, which had served him faithfully under the waters of Pantrixnia, but as his hand grasped the emptiness he remembered with painful clarity leaving it behind with most of his armor. Immediately his hand shifted down to his thigh, and there, nestled safely in its sheath, was the Chem knife. The nearly half a yard of Chem steel came into his hand willingly, and Alexander struggled against the current to place its edge on his bindings. Try as he may, though, Alexander could not reach beyond his feet. The alarm for air began to sound in his head and he placed the blade between his legs and felt it run up against his bindings. He cut upwards and felt the thong part. Nothing. He reached again, feeling the edge run up against more bonds. He cut again, and then again. Finally, with the desperation to breath reaching a painful crescendo, he cut what turned out to be the last bond.

  He settled to a stop, scrambling upwards. In a flash of foam he broke out into the starlight, now seeming bright as day, and drank in the cool fresh air. There was no chance to relish the freedom. Alexander filled his lungs five times and then plunged below again. His antagonists were below, and he searched for their lights. Instantly he saw them, slightly apart, but almost upon him. He cursed, assuring himself that never again would he forget his blaster. That weapon would have made quick work of his present problem, but he still had his knife, which glowed dully with the diffuse light of the approaching flashlights. The sudden thump of a spear on his Chem cuirass, the one piece of armor he was wearing, spurred him into action. Alexander did not wait further upon his adversaries. He chose the closest light and charged. Alexander’s experience being what it was he didn’t know what manner of being he would meet. His surprise was almost physical when he came to grips with what appeared to be a normal wetsuit clad Terran armed with a knife.

  That was nearly
all he saw, however, as the light of the flashlight careened wildly in the ensuing melee. Alexander did not bother to attempt to grapple the knife arm of his foe, but rather sought to grasp with his left hand while wildly plunging his huge blade into the writhing figure. It was a savage and desperate struggle in the cold dark, short of breath, thrashing through the frigid liquid. With nothing to see Alexander clutched blindly. He found little purchase on the figure, as all he felt was the slick suit and streamlined equipment. His knife thrusts were accordingly erratic, but the huge blade still found something. The dancing beams of the flashlight grew suddenly cloudy, diffused by some foreign substance in the water. He felt his adversary’s hand desperately clawing at his breast, finding nothing but the hard scales of the cuirass. The assassin’s blade scraped and thumped against his torso without effect. Realizing belatedly that Alexander was armored the attacker shifted his thrusts to Alexander’s head and neck. Alexander felt the cold bite of the blade creasing his skull, but he ignored it as his blade finally found full purchase in the soft yielding vitals of the assassin. He used the anchor of the blade to pull himself closer to the assassin, reaching out with one hand to steady himself, and wrapping his powerful legs around the torso. The assassin grunted in pain, pinned as he was, and struck weakly at Alexander’s armored back. Alexander, feeling the striking arm on his left shoulder caught it in the crook of his left arm and pinned it to his side. The assassin immobilized, Alexander set himself for a killing blow but even as his knife rose he felt an arm wrap itself around his shoulders from behind. Alexander struck, twisted, and kicked free of the pinned assassin in one instantaneously violent movement. His blade plunged and twisted into the first assassin’s breast as the second assassin’s knife, meant to cut his throat, instead slashed wickedly across his cheek. Pulling his blade free and blindly guessing that he now faced the second assassin, he struck upwards. The blade again found flesh, and this time Alexander heard the palpable scream of pain. He twisted the blade, gaining another satisfactory response, and as before used the anchor of the blade to find his foe. His left hand found a strap, and he pulled his blade from the assassin’s groin. The second assassin continued to strike wildly, but they were weak blows, and they ended altogether when Alexander calmly buried his half meter of steel in his ribs.