Alexander Galaxus: The Complete Alexander Galaxus Trilogy

by Christopher L. Anderson

  “There will be nothing left of the fleet we have already defeated by then,” the Seer’koh observed.

  “Of what difference is that? They are a sacrificial force meant only for the purpose of bleeding us before the true engagement,” Khandar said firmly. “If there are any survivors Alexander will be well pleased, but he does not count on it. He means only to make us pay for every light year of Terran space we transgress. We must be ready for such sacrifice. Would we do any less if our space were invaded? See to it, commanders, and prepare for this war as a war. We will not win it in a decurn, and we dare not allow ourselves to think of anything but the final objective. Whatever trials we must overcome to get there we must overcome, but I will, before all is ended, see their sun set on Terra!” Grand Admiral Khandar left the mess, and after changing the sailing orders for the ships to make them lesser targets, he returned to his quarters. There he turned off the lights and lay in his bed. He did not try to sleep. He knew it would evade him. A single question would keep him from sleep, now until the answer was obvious. Would it be too late then? What if his greatest fears, his impossible fears were correct? What difference would that make in this, the greatest offensive since the Chem wars of expansion? Khandar gritted his teeth until they were about to crack. Where in all this space were the Terran fleets?

  #

  The Terran fleets in question sped silently, unsuspected, through the emptiness of space. Each found a similar void in their paths, as the systems outside the Homeworlds of the Syraptose and the Quotterim were barren of activity. Yet they listened intently to the galactic broadcasts over the ethernet. In these broadcasts were the vast majority of their news, and orders. For in each military news conference and in each statement released by Alexander were coded words and phrases encapsulating encrypted orders. Thus far the orders had been upgraded from the original plan of threat and confrontation to attack. All military targets were to be destroyed without warning until the recognized government surrendered unconditionally. There were higher levels slated for the attacks, but privately the crews hoped that could be avoided. They wanted victory, clean and final, not a bloodbath. Which way the battle would take was shortly to be written. The chronometers on the bridge of each ship now counted below fifty hours to destination.

  #

  Pro Consul Kvel Mavek didn’t appreciate the unavoidable meeting with the Master of the Hrang spies. It dampened the only sense of elation she’d had reason to find over the last decurns. The victory of Admiral Khandar lent a sudden air of confidence over the capital of Kempec, and even the peace loving people of that world were in a warlike mood. The arrival of the Master Hrang spy was a reminder of Mavek’s latest personal humiliation: her conference with Alexander after the failed second assassination attempt. The Hrang entered her office alone, without his aides this time. Mavek frowned.

  “What have you for me this time Master She-Rok? Do you wish me to converse with Alexander once more? Have you another assassination plot you wish to inform me of?”

  She-Rok smiled his thin Hrang smile, bowing politely to the Pro Consul. “I understand your frustration, Madame Pro Consul, but it is nothing of the sort.” He took a seat in his smooth Hrang manner, coiling into it rather than sitting. Joining the fingers of each hand together he said evenly, “I come merely to inform you that our participation in such events is finished, for the moment. You need not trouble yourself through any further involvement unless the death of Alexander is accomplished during the third opportunity foreseen by the Mystics. If that eventuality occurs we need merely fulfill our previous agreement with the Terrans.”

  “If I am not mistaken, Master She-Rok, if such a situation was to occur the Terrans would have a significantly greater hold over us, than we over them.” The Pro Consul replied. “Previously our agreement was initiated with the expectation that peace would be on our terms. How is that possible if Terran forces stand upon the surface of Golkos, and have already defeated the Alliance?”

  “Information is a more powerful tool than blasters in this case, Madame Pro Consul,” She-Rok said. “For instance, if the Terrans ever learned that Alexander’s successor was responsible for Alexander’s death they would exact their revenge, thereby nullifying the grasp for power. Silence in exchange for terms. It is an old bargain on Terra, Madame Pro Consul, and one which they will be all to happy to agree to. Might I add, as an extra bonus, that the entire affair is based upon a technology wholly under Scythian control. Therefore, when the distraught Terrans search for a scapegoat they will find it in the Scythians. We will dictate the peace, and be avenged for their fraud all at once.”

  Pro Consul Kvel Mavek smiled, and her enthusiasm for the day returned. She hoped now that the foreseen day upon Golkos would never happen, and that soon Alexander would ask for terms himself. Grand Admiral Khandar was making good on his boasts, but in case that newly hopeful path failed Mavek had a backup which seemed almost as workable. She said good-bye to Master She-Rok in a much better mood than when she greeted him.

  CHAPTER 26

  Admiral Augesburcke entered the conference room almost fifteen minutes late, which was extraordinary for him, and alone. For some reason or another he left his aides outside the room. He apologized, laying his small laptop on the table and plugging it in to the viewer. The Admiral seemed quite agitated, but Alexander let him finish setting up. If something was going to excite the normally unflappable Augesburcke only fifteen hours prior to the great Terran surprise on the Syraptose and the Quotterim Alexander didn’t wish to rush him. Nazar prodded him, but he merely shrugged.

  Augesburcke punched a few keys on his computer and sighed as he got a responding image on the viewer. He smiled with relief and held up a finger.

  “One more thing!”

  He brought out a small grey box. It was a shield generator. In a moment the grey hemisphere of a security screen blanketed all the room but the table and its viewer. Augesburcke sat down and took a deep breath, looking at Alexander and Nazar with an air of gravity.

  “I’ve got a strange story to tell, and you are not going to like it, Alexander. Bear with me, though, it will make sense in the end.” He took another deep breath and began his story.

  “In 1948, in Roswell, New Mexico, the United States, a Scythian spaceship ran into severe turbulence due to a thunderstorm and crashed. As strange as it may seem the Scythian ships had a difficult time flying in the Terran atmosphere. Scythian planets all have weather control, so the highly dynamic nature of our atmosphere caught an inexperienced crew of five researchers by surprise. They crashed. Four Scythians died, and one survived. The survivor was spirited away and kept alive for many years, while his ship and all of its equipment was salvaged and studied. Enter the Scythians, who then make contact with the United States government for the first time, specifically with the military. Their purpose was to find survivors of the crash, which they believed they sensed through their psionic net. They admitted losing contact with the survivor at such-and-such a time and requested its whereabouts. They were told that all five bodies had been burned for fear of disease, and the Earth representatives apologized profusely for the undesirable but understandable treatment of the crew. The Scythians, who as we know had studied Terran for millennia, apparently overlooked the Terran tendency to lie, and instead developed a relationship with Terrans. The relationship was secretive in the extreme, and in simplified form it was a agreement to allow Scythian experimentation of Terrans in exchange for technology. This agreement prospered for twenty-five years and was common knowledge to all in the highest levels of all the world’s significant governments. In the United States a special group was formed called the “Magnificent Thirteen” which coordinated all of the national and international efforts with the Scythians. This was a worldwide business with its hands in everything. The “Magnificent Thirteen” controlled the introduction of Scythian technology into the military industrial complex, and the testing of this technology in places like Vietnam. You can imagine how rich and pow
erful these individuals were, but it was only a shadow of what was to come. In 1973 there was to be a great coming out, and the Scythians were going to be recognized formally. We would enter the Galactic’s culture with Scythian help, and those involved in this would have the strings of power and the purse to all Terran endeavors in the cosmos. It was an awesome prospect both personally for the few involved and for Terrans. Then came the “accident.” A Scythian was killed in the area fifty-one complex, and the remaining Scythians panicked and fled, but not without a swift and deadly reprisal. All plans for joint cooperation dissolved. The Scythians left and they would not return until this last year.

  “After a year the “Magnificent Thirteen” disbanded, no longer having a purpose. They had their contacts in the world and their investments in the companies to which they supplied extra terrestrial technology, but their dreams of something greater were gone. Their influence dwindled even as they grew rich beyond the dreams of avarice. Slowly they faded from the view of governments, and power. Then came Alexander. In an incredibly short time Alexander suddenly sprang onto the scene and brought together all the reins of power the “Magnificent Thirteen” had dreamed was theirs thirty-five years ago. Still, there was nothing they could do, until the roundup of the suddenly discovered Alliance spies. Not all those spies went to our prisons, Alexander, because there was one of the original “Magnificent Thirteen” still around, still in a position to watch, wait and seize the opportunity.”

  “Crandal!” Alexander breathed.

  “Perceptive,” Augesburcke smiled, “Yes, it was Crandal. He took in eight of the Hrang spies, and as a condition for their safety had them make contact with their masters. Crandal worked out a deal with the Alliance: your life in exchange for recognition from the Alliance of Crandal and the “Magnificent Thirteen” as the sole representatives to the galaxy for Terra. A deal was agreed upon and the “Magnificent Thirteen” were reunited. Using their old contacts they got their assassination network moving again. It had been a while since they’d operated, but they had the greatest resources of industry in their pockets and some significant experience behind them. Presidents, dictators, civil rights leaders, you name them, they did them. What was one more world leader? In order to do it, though, they needed operatives who were experts and couldn’t be traced back to them. They found them in old Russia. One of the “Magnificent Thirteen” was responsible for the international trade of information and policy formation. His counterpart in the old Soviet Union was the Chief of SPETZNAZ, their Special Operations people. The relationship was reignited, promises and payments were made and five operatives made their way overseas. Two went to Lake Pend Oreille in Idaho, and three, by Crandal’s own transfer, were placed on the Iowa as marines.”

  Alexander grasped his temple. “Special forces personnel, but not SEALS!”

  “That’s what started the ball rolling,” Augesburcke admitted. “You were incredulous that these were SEALS, so we dug. The first thing that tipped me off was the dental work. No way it was American. It was Eastern Europe or Soviet. With that to go on it was relatively simple to go through our Cold War dossiers and identify them.”

  “That still doesn’t tie them to Crandal, or the rest of the story,” Alexander observed.

  “No, the Scythians did some, the Hrang did the rest,” Augesburcke told him.

  “The Hrang?” Alexander exclaimed.

  “That’s where it gets interesting, but I’m getting ahead of myself,” Augesburcke told him. “At this point we knew we had SPETZNAZ, but where do we go from there? You mentioned that you thought the Alliance was involved. Logical, otherwise what was the motive for assassination? I went to the Scythians and asked who they might have dealt with on Terra before their open arrival. We’ve all heard the stories of secret government dealings with aliens, but why not ask the Scythians? We’d been too busy to deal with the question previously, and the Scythians were loathe to talk about it. When I assured them of your protection they opened up and I got a list, a very short list, of people they dealt with openly on Terra. On the list, along with Crandal and about two dozen others, was General Yvgeny Bellatov, the former Chief of Soviet Special Operations, SPETZNAZ. Our operatives paid a little visit to the General and it didn’t take long for him to finger his contact, and then identify Crandal as the man’s superior. We set up shop on Crandal. It didn’t take long to finger the Hrang. We set up a remote X-ray camera and we had him. It was an easy thing to cut a deal with him: death or cooperation. He’s been a veritable fountain of information since. Included in his testimony are all the specifics on a proposed third assassination attempt which is supposed to take place on Golkos.”

  “Golkos? They’re looking fairly far into the future aren’t they?”

  “It’s even more interesting than that, Alexander,” Augesburcke told him, filling him in on all the particulars of Crandal’s plot.

  Alexander shook his head. “I’ll give this to him, it’s deviously elegant. In one fell swoop they cut the head off Terra and blame it on the Scythians. A marvelous if twisted idea. You know it’s a pity, Admiral, that we couldn’t turn Crandal’s energy into something more constructive.”

  “We’ll be privy to everything on Crandal’s mind from now on, Alexander. On his last visit to the “Magnificent Thirteen” we wired our Hrang and had him go in under the guise of one of our operatives. We’ll be attending the meetings from now on.”

  “Impressive, Admiral, very impressive,” Alexander told him. “You’ve done an outstanding job of sleuthing, Admiral, Sherlock Holmes would be proud. I’m in your debt. A toast is in order. Then I’m going to get some sleep. I think we’ll leave Crandal and the “Magnificent Thirteen” to their own devices for the time being. Let them think I’m winning the war for them. Besides, I’m too busy to give him the amount of attention he truly deserves. In a little over fourteen hours we have a show to watch!”

  CHAPTER 27

  Grand Admiral Khandar frowned. Though he’d just given the Terrans a severe beating the impression seemed to be fleeting. Twice more in the last decurn the blaze of blaster plasma streams crossed the path of his fleet. Each time he wheeled only to find a growing number of stricken ships unable to continue the invasion, but no Terrans. This despite his ordering changes in course at random intervals. “We are both learning it seems,” he mused to his commanders. “Blast it, this necessity of running at superluminal with shield strength at minimum is costing us dearly. The greater the power of the defense screens the lower the efficiency of the superluminal field, and so goes our speed! We can crawl to Terra under an effective shield strength, which should give them ample time to engage each invasion fleet separately, or we can speed through their nets and hope they don’t hit us! Not much of a choice! They don’t even have to hit us that hard. A glancing blaster shot on a ship’s superluminal field will drop it out of superluminal through the disruption alone. That in itself can cause a considerable amount of damage; these superluminal field generators are delicate beyond reckoning. The field generators are more than likely to be burned out by the absorption of blaster energy, and the resulting overload. That leaves a ship dead in space. We are, I am afraid, not very suitable for war at superluminal velocities. Why haven’t our scientists addressed this problem before now?” Then turning irritably to his aide he asked, “How many did we lose in that last attack?”

  “Thirteen warships were damaged and unable to continue, Grand Admiral,” Admiral S’kreen reported. “That is consistent with the previous attack in which we lost eleven warships. Obviously our strike weakened their forces considerably. The damage the Terrans are able to inflict is considerably less now than their first attacks.”

  “Considerably less, yes, but significant!” Khandar reminded her. “We have lost ninety-one ships in these attacks, and another one hundred at Thermopylae. Even considering our attrition rate to be one half of one percent, which is consistent with the last two attacks, we cannot allow this to continue. The Terrans are attacking two ti
mes per decurn, disabling one percent of our ships per decurn. It does not take a genius to calculate where we will be in the twenty-three decurns it shall take to get to Terra! We can no longer afford the luxury of formation. The security it offers at superluminal is tactically non-existent. Alexander has made that clear and I do not need to be bludgeoned over the head by it to react. The fleet is to break up into its component squadrons and proceed at flank speed to the Terran system by separate routes. That should make the Terran’s job more difficult.”

  “They will be able to concentrate their forces on the squadrons, Grand Admiral,” the Seer’koh reminded him.

  “At superluminal? No, part of the reasoning behind Alexander’s current success is our target density. The Terrans simply can’t miss us as tightly packed as we are. It was stupid of me not to suspect something like this before. What was I thinking? Certainly the Terrans were not going to let us walk into their Home system for a final confrontation! That was a blind assumption!”

  “But Grand Admiral, if the fleets take separate routes what of our coordinated attack on Terra?” S’kreen asked, pointing out, “If we arrive in their system piecemeal and uncoordinated we shall play directly into their hands. Their smaller force can then be used with great effectiveness.”

  “Your point is taken Admiral,” Khandar agreed. “We shall coordinate our time of arrival, and enroute we shall assign coordinated sectors for the attack. Every portion of the combined fleet will be expected to arrive at their predetermined coordinates at the appointed time. We shall have to trust our people with the great responsibility we give them. There is no other way. We cannot allow Alexander to chop our fleet little by little to the size of his liking. Do you agree?”