First Admiral 01 First Admiral

by William J. Benning

  Teg Maggor, the last leader of the Garmaurians had bequeathed a vision of a Universal Alliance. They were based upon principles and high ideals the Garmaurians had never quite managed to achieve. There was a Constitution and also a Treaty of Alliance based upon these principles.

  “Say, in one hundred years time, when there are no external threats to the Alliance, and there is no threat to your planet, why would you need a self-defence force?” Billy explained falling into step beside Margallan.

  “I see your point, First Admiral,” Falkus Margallan conceded, “But, I think the Thexxian people would be happier to see their own green uniforms around them for a little while longer.”

  “Perfectly understandable, Praetor Maximus, at the moment our agreement is for five percent of your military capacity to transfer to Alliance control with a gradual increase as circumstances allow,” Billy mentioned, as the N.C.O. began shouting obscenities at one of the less intelligent working soldiers.

  “Yes,” responded Falkus “we have been swamped with volunteers from our military to sign up for the Alliance force.”

  “That is most gratifying to know, Praetor Maximus,” Billy responded, “So, can we say deployment based upon local needs to a minimum of five percent of military capacity?”

  “I think that would be acceptable First Admiral,” Falkus considered.

  There then followed several moments of awkward silence.

  “First Admiral, having imposed upon your generosity so much I am loathe to ask for you for one more favour,” Falkus began.

  “Praetor Maximus, New Thexxia is now part of the Universal Alliance, and there should be no awkwardness in our discussions,” Billy responded feeling decidedly awkward at the constant formality of Margallan’s conversation.

  “For many years the Thexxian people roamed the galaxy searching for a new home, and in that time many of our loved ones were lost to us,” Falkus began.

  As Billy and Margallan walked through the Recreation Grounds beyond the formal gardens, he noticed that the Praetor Maximus bodyguard consisted of twelve individuals rather than the usual two or three. Changed days, Billy thought to himself, as he watched a group of Thexxian children playing some strange ball game where the object of the activity appeared to be not to let the ball touch the ground. Yes, definitely changed days, Billy thought remembering the Thexxian child sleeping underneath the cot on the first day of their arrival on the planet. The brash childish shouting, squealing and laughter stood in stark contrast to the sullen silence and suspicion of their first encounters. The smiling faces stood in great contrast to the wary and terrified stares from near feral creatures that had lived from moment to moment in their struggle for survival.

  The Praetor Maximus was once again intoning the huge difference the new planet had made to his people, and Billy had slightly tuned out when he was jolted back to reality.

  “First Admiral, did you hear what I asked?” the Praetor Maximus questioned.

  “My apologies, sir,” Billy responded, flushing red with embarrassment, “I was just enjoying watching the children playing, they seem so different from when I first saw them,” Billy smiled apologetically.

  “Yes, children are so resilient, First Admiral,” the Praetor Maximus smiled appreciatively, “however, I was asking if you could help us track down the rest of our people?”

  “The rest of your people, Praetor Maximus?” Billy asked starting to tune in again to the conversation.

  “First Admiral, over the last twenty years, huge numbers of our people were separated from the main group. Maybe some of them are still alive,” the Praetor Maximus asked anxiously.

  The thought that perhaps there were Thexxians still alive out in the depths of space had preyed upon the Praetor Maximus’ mind since he had come to terms with the survival and future security of his people on New Thexxia. Part of him had always felt enormous guilt and shame at having had to abandon so many of his people to their fate in the running battles with the Bardomil. Another part of him simply held the genuine concern that filled good leaders for the future of their species. He wanted the entire Thexxian race here on New Thexxia.

  “So, you want to go out and search for them?” Billy questioned catching the meaning of Margallan’s request.

  “Yes, First Admiral, if you would be prepared to help us?” the Praetor Maximus responded nervously.

  To Billy it sounded like he had just been presented with a golden opportunity. The first Thexxian contingent was ready to move onto Garmaurian technology, and here was a great opportunity for them to practice their range of new skills on a very realistic mission.

  “I hate to be pessimistic Praetor Maximus, but I can see very few of your people, if any, surviving the attentions of the Bardomil apart from your main group.” Billy sighed trying to be realistic and manage the Thexxian’s expectations, “however, it would be a good training opportunity for your people on the new Garmaurian technology.”

  “First Admiral, I thank you once again. One single, solitary Thexxian retrieved would be a major victory,” the Praetor Maximus intoned.

  “Well, they are now Alliance citizens after all,” Billy smiled, and began to formulate a plan in his mind.

  “Well, yes, First Admiral, there is always that aspect,” the Praetor Maximus nodded and smiled.

  “I’ll need to speak to your Chief Historian, and then draw up some initial plans,” Billy replied, “but for now, if you’ll excuse me, Praetor Maximus, there is somewhere else I need to be,” he pushed the small hidden button on the sleeve of his P.E.S. and teleported to the Black Rose in the customary flash of blinding white light.

  The Praetor Maximus stood, with his bodyguards, shaking his head in wonderment. He would never ever get used to someone travelling any great distance without walking or using a vehicle.

  However, that was the least important factor on the troubled mind of Praetor Maximus Falkus Margallan as he watched the Black Rose lift off from one of the distant Landing Towers. As he had walked with the First Admiral, Falkus had noticed that his reading device was displaying a constant stream of messages from the Civil Militia. Reading through those messages now, Falkus Margallan felt the heavy burden of Leadership drop back onto his weary shoulders. The unrest and disorder was spreading. The Civil Militia was making arrests and restoring order in the troubled areas. This was no hangover from an election defeat, Falkus thought to himself. Once an election is decided the people usually accepted the outcome and got on with living their lives. There had never been this level of disobedience after a vote, and it concerned Falkus.

  If the disobedience continued and expanded in scope then he would have to consider utilising the military to maintain order. The very thought of using Thexxian soldiers to maintain order made Margallan’s mind recoil with horror, yet now he must make that consideration. Surely, it could not have come to this, he thought to himself, what could the Separatists possibly find so objectionable about joining the Alliance? Surely, they could see that it was in their best interests, and their only hope of survival.

  Walking slowly back to his office, followed by the twelve bodyguards, Falkus Margallan was a very troubled individual indeed.

  Chapter 36

  The following morning Falkus Margallan’s mind was even more troubled as the High Council Meeting once again descended into near anarchy. Once again, Margallan was seated in the throne-like structure, in his formal robes in the harshly lit Council Chamber, amidst the arguing, bickering and haranguing Praetors. The first order of business was, of course, the unrest. The green uniformed Head of the Civil Militia, standing at the foot of the large rectangular black Council Table, had indicated that there had been a significant upsurge in violence through the night. There had been several serious assaults on Militia Officers, property had been damaged, and one hundred arrests made. The Head of the Civil Militia now asked for more resources, meaning the military, however, Falkus was still reluctant to turn Thexxian soldiers onto the Thexxian people. He was not about to
preside over Martial Law. Caught between a rock and a hard place Falkus Margallan tried desperately to find some solution to the sudden upsurge in violence.

  “What is it these people want?” one of the Praetors in the tense and silent room had asked.

  “They want to overturn the decision made in the Alliance vote,” the Head of the Civil Militia informed them, “When we questioned those arrested, they all said the same.”

  “But the vast majority voted in favour of the Alliance?” another Praetor questioned, “We cannot allow a violent minority to dictate to the majority.”

  “Then, perhaps we should allow this minority to leave,” indicated another Praetor, Gallus Bulbore, and the room fell into an uneasy silence.

  “What do you mean by that Praetor Bulbore?” Falkus asked pointedly.

  She is breaking cover, Falkus thought to himself, realising he would have to handle the situation very carefully indeed. There was complete silence, as all eyes in the room turned to Gallus Bulbore.

  She was an older female, her hair long black tinged with flecks of grey that crowned a shrewd and cunning rat-like face. For many years she had been an ‘also ran’ in the world of Thexxian politics. She had stood against Margallan twice for the Praetor Maximus role, and also against his predecessor. She had never managed to succeed, mainly because her views were too insular. She was one of the hawks on the High Council, who had advocated standing and fighting on Thexxia rather than fleeing.

  “Obviously, these people do not wish to become slaves to this Universal Alliance, and seek to make their own way,” she said softly.

  “Slaves? Praetor Bulbore, I see no clauses in the Treaty of Alliance that would make our people slaves,” Falkus probed.

  “Of course not, Praetor Maximus, but give it time, and when our military is weak and the people are dependent upon this new Alliance, then see how this Treaty will protect their rights as free Thexxians,” Bulbore sneered.

  “Praetor Bulbore, the Treaty of Alliance actually guarantees those rights, we have debated the clauses and agreed in this very Council that we could not ask for more favourable terms,” Falkus challenged in frustration.

  “Yes, it is too good to be true isn’t it, Praetor Maximus?” Bulbore responded, “This creature called First Admiral Caudwell, how much do you trust this alien?”

  “He saved us all from the Bardomil fleet, Bulbore, and from starving to death. He is a good friend to the Thexxian people!” another of the Praetors slammed the table in outrage.

  “Yes, it was rather convenient of him to appear at just that moment, wasn’t it?” Bulbore said smoothly, “and yet, with all that technology at his disposal he never appeared before. Can anyone explain why he wouldn’t allow our troops to fire on the Bardomil when they were helpless?”

  “Perhaps because they were helpless, Praetor Bulbore,” Margallan snapped icily, “I know First Admiral Caudwell, and he is not the kind of creature who kills unless he has to,” he added, “The Thexxians are not cold-blooded, mindless killers like the Bardomil, that is what sets us apart from them.”

  “Which is why we were driven from our homes and are now skulking under the spurious protection of this alien,” Bulbore raised her voice.

  “Thexxia was indefensible, Bulbore,” another Praetor piped up, “we would have been massacred by the Bardomil.”

  “Maybe, but we’ll never know shall we, as our Praetor Maximus, decided that we should slink away like thieves in the night from our own homes,” Bulbore sneered.

  “The High Council voted on, and agreed upon, that decision Praetor Bulbore, that was over twenty years ago,” Falkus responded.

  “Yes, but the people did not vote on it!” Bulbore crowed triumphantly.

  “There was no time, as you well know, Praetor Bulbore, the Bardomil were already breaking through our final defence screens” Falkus argued, “and those who wanted to stay behind were allowed to make that choice, it was constitutionally legal!”

  “Yes, I notice you didn’t stay behind with them Bulbore,” another Praetor barbed her.

  “How dare you!” Bulbore bristled, “I had to consider the needs of my constituents, or I would have stayed!” she snapped.

  “Well, you’re not the only Praetor on Thexxia, Bulbore, your constituents could easily have elected someone else!” the barbing Praetor added.

  “Praetors!” Falkus banged the table with his hand before the insulted Bulbore could respond, “We have to consider what action to take to bring this situation under control!”

  “Well whatever we do,” Bulbore responded “unless we address the requests of those disaffected, we can only assume that we can expect more violence and disobedience.”

  Falkus looked at her with a stare of combined shock and abject horror, here it was, a veiled threat of further violence unless the decision of a democratic vote was overturned. Falkus knew that Gallus Bulbore’s greed for power knew no boundaries, and that she would turn Thexxian against Thexxian for her own devices.

  “Can we really assume that, Praetor Bulbore?” Falkus asked looking directly at her.

  “Well, Praetor Maximus, we can hardly assume that it will stop,” she replied.

  In that moment his heart sank into his boots.

  Falkus Margallan knew that he could never hold the Thexxian people together as a unified body. In his own mind, Falkus felt that he had failed in his duty as Praetor Maximus. The question was; how far would Bulbore be prepared to go to achieve whatever agenda she was now following?

  It was a losing battle, but he knew he had to fight it. If a significant number of the Thexxian people did not wish to join the new Alliance, and were prepared to agitate, and attack Civil Militia Officers, for that choice, then Falkus knew it would be very difficult, if not impossible, to prevent them from leaving. Some fifteen percent had voted ‘No’ to the Alliance; that was five hundred and fifty thousand adult Thexxians, and some of them would have children, who would go with their parents. “Am I presiding over the demise of the Thexxian species?” he asked himself. The answer came back to him as a resounding, “Maybe!”

  Chapter 37

  High above the planet that the inhabitants were starting to call New Thexxia, a large Garmaurian Star-Cruiser hung silently in orbit. The Star-Cruiser Aquarius; the Flagship of the Universal Alliance Fleet, had arrived on station above the planet the previous day. She was too high up to be noticed by anyone on the planet surface at the request of Praetor Maximus Falkus Margallan. The political situation on the surface meant that Margallan did not want to provoke any unrest by a show of Alliance military strength. Billy Caudwell was happy to oblige. The first contingent of Thexxians to the Alliance military were being trained to use the Garmaurian technology, and the last thing any of them needed were prying eyes.

  Teleporting from the Black Rose directly to his Private Quarters, Billy Caudwell composed himself and prepared for the Briefing session for which he was already late. It had taken his mother almost half an hour to begin working on her next novel, allowing him to escape the house and to rejoin the secret double life that was becoming increasingly complex. It still struck him as ironic that he was now in command of a yet small military contingent, forming political alliances that shaped the destiny of entire species, but he still had to be home on time for dinner.

  “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, my apologies for being late,” Billy announced bursting into the pale grey Briefing Room.

  Greeted by a chorus of “Good Afternoons,” Billy noted that standing or sitting around the large Garmaurian light blue Conference table was a mixture of Alliance light-blue uniforms, Thexxian green military and black robed Thexxian civilians.

  “Can we be seated, please?” Billy asked cheerfully, “and, have we made introductions?” Billy added, sitting down on the comfortable high-backed, light-blue conference chair at the head of the table.

  “I don’t know you, sir,” Billy indicated to a Thexxian civilian as the Conference participants began to take their seats. />
  “Gundun Vaianen, sir, Chief Historian to the High Council of Thexxia, a pleasure to meet you, First Admiral,” the slightly shabby Thexxian announced himself proudly with a slight bow.

  “The honour is mine, sir,” Billy said, “please be seated,” he indicated the vacant chair next to Vaianen.

  This was the start of the Caudwell “Charm Offensive”. He needed to win the trust and support of the Thexxian civilian population if the Alliance was to succeed.

  “I trust you have all been briefed as to why I have called this Conference?” Billy began.

  The murmur of assent around the table indicated that everyone was aware of their common purpose.

  “Excellent,” Billy smiled, “As you know Praetor Maximus Margallan has asked me to locate and gather up any other survivors from your Exodus, and I need all of your help and input to try to make that happen. So, shall we start with setting out just how big a challenge this will be,” Billy continued.

  With no challenges or objections, Billy set the ball in motion.

  “Professor Vaianen, would you give us, well, especially me, some idea as to the history of the Exodus?” Billy invited.

  “Colleagues,” the black robed civilian rose to his feet, somewhat stiffly, “Just over twenty years ago, over thirty million Thexxians escaped from the final Bardomil onslaught on our old Home Planet on over ten thousand ships. Today, we stand on New Thexxia, thanks to First Admiral Caudwell, numbering barely five million,” Vaianen paused.

  For a moment there was a silence in the room, twenty-five million missing – probably dead – Thexxians, was a cause for great reflection amongst the survivors.

  “Having analysed the historical records, testimony from survivors and the various computer records I have developed this schematic,” Vaianen continued and activated the three-dimensional holographic projectors in the Conference Table.