Alexander Galaxus: The Complete Alexander Galaxus Trilogy

by Christopher L. Anderson

  Koto shrugged, saying carefully, “Destruction on a planetary scale, Admiral. After all, that’s what Alexander’s threat of retribution boils down to.”

  Augesburcke was dumbstruck, “Do you really think he’d give such an order?”

  “I don’t know Admiral,” Koto told him sincerely, “I really don’t know.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Grand Admiral Khandar stood stoically before the military council. The council was composed of the highest ranking military leaders of all the members states of the Alliance. At the moment all with the exception of the Grand Admiral were in an extreme condition of agitation. Khandar expected no less, so he let them have their say. Understandably, the two most vocal representatives were the Admirals from the Syraptose and Quotterim fleets. They represented the two empires who were least enthusiastic of the invasion of Terra, and also the most vulnerable.

  “What I fail to understand, Grand Admiral, is why after such a vast defeat we have yet to seek terms from Alexander?” Admiral Chenn observed. His chunky Syraptose frame was resplendent in a bright red and white medal riddled uniform. The Admiral, whose medals were won by maintaining the peace of Syraptose space, and not by winning battles, voiced the common dread of the council. “How can we, even with our superiority in numbers, overcome such a determined enemy? The Terrans had no trepidation whatsoever in attacking a force five times their number and defeating it soundly. The Golkos-Seer’koh fleet, our strongest force by far, is driven from their own frontier in what I politely term a rout. How, Grand Admiral, are the brave but less powerful forces of the Syraptose and Quotterim to vie with the fleets of Alexander? Answer me that!”

  “We must all persevere, Admiral Chenn,” Khandar replied forcefully, “The Terran attack on the Golkos-Seer’koh fleets only strengthens my resolve in that regard.”

  Admiral Senn’tyr of the Quotterim interrupted the Golkos, exclaiming, “How can you say that with any sincerity, Grand Admiral? I appreciate that you are blameless in this defeat and were only carrying out the strategies of your predecessor. We might all be somewhat more confident at this point had you been in command at the time. However that may be, the Alliance has still suffered a great defeat. Defeat has many ways of affecting the course of a war beyond mere destruction of life and material. Defeat strengthens the resolve of the victor and weakens the spirit of the vanquished. That has happened. No doubt Alexander’s fleets have gained warranted confidence from this debacle, but I am here to say our own forces brave though they are have been shaken to the core. How do we address this Grand Admiral?”

  “I hear your words, fellow Admirals, and I must bear part of the blame for the straights we find ourselves in. I was present at the battle on the frontier, and realized too late the extent of Alexander’s treachery.” Khandar told the assembled council, and his manner was grave. Then he turned his eyes upon them all and spread his long arms wide, saying, “But what of it, where does that leave us? Since the defeat we have heard absolutely nothing from the Terrans. We know what they think of their victory from their broadcasts, and from the Chem broadcasts. We are painted as the aggressors to their populace, and Alexander is their defender. Their victory has emboldened them, and even the Chem find a glory in the Terran Overlord’s actions. What does that tell us of Alexander’s intentions? Do we really need to have Alexander tell us what his intentions are? I think not. He has his populace worked into a militant frenzy, and they will accept nothing less now than our ultimate defeat. Therefore let us cease this talk of dialogue with the Terrans. They have already spoken their mind.”

  “I am inclined to agree, Grand Admiral,” Admiral S’kreen said for the Seer’koh. The reptilian commander, only half the size of his lanky counterpart twitched her tail and bobbed her head in irritation. The iridescent feathers of her neck flared over the collar of her uniform; a beautiful but deadly addition to her manner. Claws clacking sharply on the table top, her voice punctuated by an excited rattle she addressed the council. “Motives, motives, have we not always had them? Have we not always known the mind and aims of Alexander? This is territory already covered, so let us not waste time with revisiting it.”

  “Alexander may be more reasonable than we are willing to accept, Admiral,” Chenn rebutted, “but how are we to know without a dialogue? We are far more likely to gain a more advantageous treaty with him as armed and sovereign states than we are as conquered states. Look at the Scythians. Alexander overran them in a matter of hours, but look at his terms of surrender: their Homeworlds remain inviolate; they’ve lost none of their personal property on the “Federation” worlds; there are no death camps, no mass executions. These, I would hazard, are the terms of a reasonable being, especially considering the crimes done to the Terrans by the Scythians. Why should we expect anything less?”

  “And give up our sovereignty for his mercy?” S’kreen spat angrily, “Are you willing to go so far for peace? How long have the noble Syraptose fought against nature and their neighbors for their empire? How many ages of toil did your civilization take to build? Will you cast all that toil and bloodshed away for the ease and comfort of one generation? Did your sires and grand sires take such a view? Bah! The Seer’koh will not take such a mean road. Alexander will take from us our kingdoms, or we shall crush him to utter ruin!”

  The council turned into a rabble of arguing factions which Grand Admiral Khandar could only watch with frustration. It was a problem he expected, but one which nevertheless was disheartening in that it struck to the very core of the Alliances weakness: its separate parts. He growled to himself in undesired admiration, certain that this present cacophony would not only please Alexander of Terra, but was part of his plans. An aide interrupted his melancholy thoughts, handing the Grand Admiral a transmission card. Khandar took the card, which was simply a slim flat plate hardly larger than the Grand Admiral’s hand. A square red light blinked in the center of the grey card, and when Khandar touched it the light disappeared and card transmitted a recorded image of Pro Consul Mavek. Khandar watched and listened to the Pro Consul’s message with intense interest. The message was short, and to the point, but it gave the Grand Admiral exactly what he needed. The Grand Admiral interrupted the debate, which was rapidly turning into a free for all. His peers reluctantly settled into an uncomfortable silence.

  Khandar allowed the silence to settle. Finally he told them, “That was well said, Admiral S’kreen. Yours is a point we should all take. Alexander is not interested in our lives, but in our civilizations. Already he wears the badges of Scythia, the rebel Chem, and Terra on his Banthror cloak. Who will be his next trophy? Understand that desire in him, a desire which he has transmitted to his people. We have debated whether or not Alexander’s intentions are truly belligerent, or whether he is merely protecting his new empire. I have just received a transmission from our Pro Consul, who has been in contact with the Overlord of the Terran Empire. Alexander himself answers our questions with an ultimatum. In three Terran days, approximately three decurns, the Terran Empire will declare war upon the Alliance.” The council erupted into a momentary clamor, but it died down quickly as the gathered Alliance commanders awaited Khandar’s explanation. “Apparently, Alexander’s patience with our politicians has worn thin. The conditions of his ultimatum are simple, and cunning. He demands the return of the Terrans replaced by the Hrang spies, an obvious impossibility but a noble purpose on the surface. Our political representatives have been stringing the Terrans along as our fleets mass, but I think Alexander now feels the threat of our forces; therefore the ultimatum. Alexander is, as I said, cunning. This allows him to go to war with a positive public opinion in his own worlds, as well as many of our own. But go to war he shall. Therefore, let us cease debate over whether to parley or to fight. Alexander has made that decision. We must now get on with the business of this galactic war.”

  “Which leaves us no closer to a solution of this problem than before,” reiterated Admiral Chenn. “If we are left with no other recourse but
to resist, which is what I am hearing, than how may we accomplish that? All of our plans have gone awry!”

  “I take exception to that, Admiral,” Khandar said pointedly. “In all actuality our position is not bad. Alexander’s fleet inflicted serious casualties on the Golkos-Seer’koh fleet considering the size of the forces he employed, but that is only in relative terms. Our losses amounted to approximately fifteen percent, enough for us to take notice, but not enough to cripple us, or to prevent us from continuing to pursue our objectives. Take into account also that the Syraptose and Quotterim-Bael fleets are untouched. We are therefore at nearly full strength and rapidly approaching our timeline for invasion.”

  “Alexander has already shown that he can deal with our numbers, Grand Admiral,” Admiral Senn’tyr reminded him. “What is to say we will have any more success now than you did before?”

  “Alexander will not be able to employ his deathships against us with success again, it was a one time ploy,” Khandar told the council. “He will be forced to engage us ship to ship, as he did against the Chem,”

  “Whom he defeated decisively!” Chenn reminded the council, interrupting the Grand Admiral.

  “And if you keep thinking of defeat that is exactly what you shall face Admiral!” Khandar snapped. “Remember that, all of you! You are the commanders of the Alliance fleets, and if you allow such opinions to filter back to your fleets Alexander will have already won! Is that what you wish? You are military commanders, not politicians, therefore as Grand Admiral I expect you to think as such! Now, if there are any of you who would like to be relieved of your command speak up and I will ask your governments for replacements!” There was complete silence. Khandar glared about the room, resting especially on the Syraptose and Quotterim. The Admirals looked uncomfortable in the extreme, and Admiral Chenn refused to make eye contact with his superior. When Khandar’s gaze rested on Senn’tyr, however, the Quotterim crossed her upper arms and glared back.

  “Very well,” the Quotterim admiral replied, “I grant your observation and will embrace it. Yet that leaves a very real military question in my mind: how are we to react to Alexander’s next moves? Will we change our strategy against him, and if so to what?”

  “An intelligent question Admiral Senn’tyr,” Khandar admitted, pacing the floor and ending up at the enormous hologram that dominated the center of the room. It hung within the curving flanks of the council desks, like an enormous sphere filled with multi-colored diamonds. At a wave of Khandar’s hand the Alliance fleets were highlighted in color and intensity, poised around the amorphous, but somehow threatening blob of the Terran Empire. Scattered opposite the massing Alliance fleets were bright white lights, but they were very few in number. “Here, my fellow Admirals is our disposition. As you see we are still in an advantageous position despite our setbacks. We surround the Terran Empire on three fronts and are but four decurns from the onset of our invasion. We have thirty-five hundred ships still at our disposal. Yet I see a problem. What of the Terran fleets? By all accounts the Terrans have at least seven hundred and fifty ships, not inclusive of their “deathships,” but where are they? Our scouts have seen their scouts, and we therefore know of some two hundred ships of the line which escorted Alexander’s “deathships,” but there is nothing else. By our account there could be five hundred warships out there somewhere. Where are these lost fleets? They have disappeared. Again I ask, where are the other fleets?” There was a nervous rumble in the assembled audience. All had more or less assumed that the Terrans were waiting behind their borders to spring upon the invaders. Grand Admiral Khandar’s question raised a sudden very unpleasant possibility. Khandar smiled, his point being taken, and said, “Don’t worry, for Alexander has already told us where their main bodies are. I say bodies because there are at least two large forces now in Alliance space.”

  The rumbling grew louder, but Khandar held up his hand. nt>. It is our job, you must remember, never to be surprised; and if perchance we are the astute general will fold it into their plans. Think back to Alexander’s initial confrontation with the Chem, and to his response. In each case the Overlord’s fleet suddenly appeared from the depths of space onto his enemy’s rear. The flanking attack is ancient, and by all rational has no place in modern galactic warfare. Alexander, however, probably never read our doctrine, or if he has he discarded it. That flanking maneuver is exactly what he is up to now, and he has left his trail, so to speak. You recall that we issued orders to report any event, no matter its significance, which occurred in Alliance space. We have two instances which we consider of interest, one in Syraptose space and one in Quotterim space. The first was the disappearance of a Syraptose squadron. The Syraptose command, with its usual thoroughness, instituted a reporting policy for each element of its fleet. Five decurns past a Syraptose squadron of twelve warships failed to report. Their location at the time of their disappearance should have been right about here,” he pointed to a pulsing sphere several decurns at flank within Syraptose space. “Now it is true that in the rush of things a gross navigational error could have resulted in the lead ship flying through a star, with the rest of the squadron following, but I don’t think so. I think the Syraptose squadron ran into one of the Terran fleets.” The disturbance in the chamber was intense now, but again the Grand Admiral silenced the throng with an upraised hand. “That is not the only occurrence I have to report. The other involves the Quotterim world of Altamira, a region again well within Alliance space.” Altamira correspondingly pulsed red. “Two decurns ago Altamira transmitted a broken quarantine message for unscheduled solar activity. This in itself is not so unusual, but for the timing. We thereby requested that the Quotterim Astronomical Ministry take passive optical readings on Altamira’s star. The readings, in all spectrums, were quite normal. I think Altamira is where the second Terran fleet is massing. What we have, my fellow commanders, is Alexander’s classic flank attack in the formation. His forces are poised to attack, but not before us as we might expect. Rather he shall wait until we are ready to begin our assault on Terran space. He sees our battle plan, and astutely takes advantage of it. He shall wait for our order to advance. Then when we are arrayed to invade Terran space, with all of our sensors sweeping to our bow and flanks; then he shall attack from the rear. His assault would have been swift and furious, and with complete surprise. It is Alexander’s plan to drive the Syraptose and Quotterim from the war, and thereby bring the balance of his fleets against the Golkos-Seer’koh.

  “That is Alexander’s response to our envelopment. He attacks to gain back the initiative. He attacks from within our own space to gain surprise, as he knows that if does not gain surprise our strategy of refused engagement will defeat him. Only in this way can Alexander ensure himself that he will engage us, but that is exactly how we shall defeat him. We shall advance our time schedule, as he certainly knows it already. Our answer? An immediate attack. All three of our attacking arms shall advance on Terra immediately, but with a close eye upon our flanks and rear. We shall catch Alexander’s fleets by surprise. He is taking a gigantic risk, allowing our fleets between his own forces and Terra, but he counts on our slow methodical advance and his fleet’s surprise attack. We shall foil him on both counts by rushing directly to Terra with all speed! We shall not advance in classic terms and secure star systems one sector at a time, fighting pitched battles along the way. We shall advance upon Alexander’s Homeworld. Then we shall dictate the peace to the Terrans when we bring Alexander to Golkos in chains!”

  The response to the Grand Admiral’s plan was as exuberant as he could have hoped. The military council stamped their approval on his orders, even though significant portions of the Syraptose and Quotterim fleets had not yet arrived at the rendezvous points and therefore would not make the initial jumps. Khandar refused any delay. “The stragglers will be used as a reserve, and a reconnaissance screen against attack from the rear. Let them catch up to the main bodies as best they can!” The Grand Admiral gained the approval
of his peers and the order for attack went out.

  Admiral Khandar left the council with a feeling of satisfaction and elation. There was a very real possibility of victory now, but something nagged at him, as if he saw the saw through the glass a future that was somehow wrong. He went about his duties, detailing the movements and deployments of the fleets. When all was underway, he left his headquarters. Aides and guards followed him to his shuttle, and within the decant Khandar was in space again.

  The long mottled green torpedo that was the Nived Sheur, the greatest of the Golkos battleships, grew amidst the hundreds of ships in the fleet. Almost three hundred meters long with a hundred kicellia of service she was a ship of tradition for the generations. Khandar looked at her with a melancholy pride. After his shuttle landed he released his aides and guard, going alone to the ships main hanger bay. The bay was a long high vault, dimly lit. At one end were the sliding doors which released the captive ships to space, at the other a small control room. Khandar entered the bay through the control room. It was dark. Only a single bank of three lights was on, illuminating a small patch in the center of the hanger floor. In the light was a raised dais with a body laid atop it. Two Golkos in full dress uniform guarded the body. Khandar approached them, and they saluted. He dismissed them silently. After they departed Khandar approached the body.

  Grand Admiral Koor looked peaceful, as if she slept. The hand which still grasped the ceremonial knife standing from her breast gave a different testament to her slumber, however. Khandar shook his head, and said, “I am sorry I miscalculated you, Grand Admiral. I took you to be nothing but a political warrior who would find a way to turn your military failure into a political gain. I have wronged you. I shall avenge your wrongful disgrace by winning this war for you, and for Golkos. Then your name can stand gloriously next to the heroes of our world, I promise it.” He began to turn away, having said what he came to say, but he stopped for a moment. Softly he said, “No doubt you see clearer with Death’s eyes than I this moment. Maybe you can even read the minds of the living. Can you read Alexander? That is the mind I most wish to see clearly, and indeed I have tried. I immerse myself in him. I know every movement of his trials on Pantrixnia. I know his past lives. I know the battles he has fought, and the battles he has avoided. Now I think I know the battle he is about to fight, but I cannot know, I cannot be certain. If I am wrong then I cannot see any great harm to us, we have too many advantages. So long as we persevere and hold together he must fall, but does a conqueror such as this ever fall upon the field of battle, or do they only fall to inevitable fate? Is there enough within me, within Golkos or the Alliance, to cause the downfall of the mighty Alexander, or must we all await that time when fate decides his time on this world’s stage is come to an end?”