“To that end you are correct, Admiral,” Doctor Koto agreed. “Our primary weapon is the psychosis of the Galactics. Fear is an age old weapon. The idea of the “paper tiger” has merit.”
“To that end we need a “paper fleet.” How is that part of our effort coming along?” Augesburcke asked, addressing General Sampson.
Sampson shrugged, “we’ve just started to tear into the Iowa, but beyond that I’m afraid this is Doctor Hashimoto’s territory.”
Hashimoto cleared his throat uncomfortably. He was the obvious choice as head of the science department, but as a native of Japan, there was an unspoken schism between him and the Admiral. Augesburcke’s father fought in the war against Japan, and scant months prior to “VE” day he’d been captured and executed in a prison camp.
“Well?” Augesburcke demanded.
“Thus far, I think we’ve done well,” the scientist told Augesburcke, bringing up a hologram of the Iowa in the center of the conference table. It was a piece of technology only days old to the Terrans at the table, but they already took it as a matter of course.
Harsh white lights illuminated the battleship against the black night; a bulbous Scythian tender floated overhead. Hashimoto continued, illuminating features of interest with a laser pointer as he talked. “Ingenuity has made a seemingly mad scheme, excuse me Admiral, annoyingly practical. While it is true the requisitioned hulls are not space faring ships but naval warships there is surprisingly little difficulty in adapting them for space flight using Galactic technology. In fact, the vessels of Terra’s blue water navies, which are of course ridiculously antiquated by Galactic standards, are strangely well suited to the task, with some slight modifications. In some instances our lack of advancement has actually proven to be an advantage. Galactic warships depend a great deal on structural integrity fields for their structural strength. Our navies, bereft of this advancement, are naturally designed to endure a constant and significant pounding at sea. They’re far superior in structural strength to any galactic space vessel.”
As they watched, a Scythian tender tried in vain to raise the Iowa with its blue anti-gravitational beam. The bow of the great ship began to rise, but the stern stayed firmly planted on the dry-dock. The Scythian ship started to wobble under the strain, and the Iowa started to shudder. Klaxons sounded all over the shipyard, and workers scurried away from the leviathan. The Iowa began to list to port and fall out of the air.
Augesburcke shot out of his chair. “Bloody Hell, we’re going to lose her!”
CHAPTER 18: The Trouble with Memories
Instinctively Alexander wrapped his legs around the rope bridge. His body swung wildly beneath the span and all he could see was the brown water below pocked with innumerable slimy boulders.
“Blast!” he cursed, trying to stem a rising tide of panic.
“Alexander are you trying to escape?” Nazeera asked, seemingly unconcerned. “I should tell you, I can shoot you just as easily in the river as from here.”
Alexander cursed again, crunching to get a grip on the rail rope. With a Herculean effort he pulled himself back onto the bridge and stood up, sweating and clutching the ropes.
“If that was an escape attempt it was clumsy.”
Alexander bit back an angry reply, and said, “Clumsy is the word for it, all right!” He stifled his racing heart, but he couldn’t do anything about the sweat streaming from his forehead—he could feel the beads of perspiration literally popping from his pores.
Nazeera turned around and danced the rest of the way to the cliff. She stepped light as a feather, unconcerned with the rickety bridge, the precipitous heights or the possible enemy at her back.
Alexander couldn’t have caught her if he wanted to. He labored the rest of the way, clutching tightly every step of the way. When he reached the cliff his worst fears were realized. There was no door. There was no stair. There was only a hundred meters of cracked, wet, vine-clad, black rock.
“I do hope you’ve no more displays of clumsiness, Alexander,” Nazeera smiled. “A fall from here would be truly damaging—even to a Terran’s physique. We might not be able to repair you, or think you worthy of the effort!”
She leapt up the cliff like a spider. She stopped ten meters above him and looked down at him. With a ferocious smile, Nazeera drew her gun. “Just in case you get any ideas, there’s no going back Alexander.”
Whoomph! Whoomph!
Each shot parted one of the cables that formed the hand rails. Alexander scrambled onto the cliff face before he fell again. He looked up to see Nazeera laughing.
She holstered her gun, and said, “You Terrans don’t scurry very well despite your brawn. I wonder if you can climb at all.” Without waiting for an answer she flew up the cliff as if it were a ladder.
Alexander glowered at her. At this moment, he truly hated her.
Alexander followed in a more sedate manner, but he kept climbing and he didn’t look down. He took some comfort in his Viking ancestry. Often as a child he climbed the cliffs of his family’s fjord. That is, he belatedly remembered, until he fell and broke his legs on the rocks below.
Perhaps that’s why he was afraid of heights. Yet in his last incarnations he’d attacked that fear by flying. He shook his head and grumbled, “How are the Chem supposed to understand me; I don’t understand me!”
By the time he’d finished his short psychoanalysis Alexander was at the top. He stepped onto a flat verdant mesa, trying to hide his immense relief of being on level ground again. To do this he turned and looked around at the vistas. What he saw caused his breath to stop in his lungs.
The rolling plains and ancient mountains of Chem stretched out to a distant line of green capped peaks. It was a dryad carpet of emerald forests and misty rivers under a pale blue sky. From every pocket Chem skyscrapers lunged for the sky like living things. It was awe inspiring and breathtakingly beautiful.
“Well, that was a proper work out! I’ve not climbed like that in years. We Terrans aren’t spiders you know!”
Nazeera looked at him with a strange expression, as if she knew his thoughts were along a different line, but she couldn’t guess what. At length she beckoned him, and he followed her into what appeared to be a park.
Alexander was about to question her about this newer and safer turn of events when they happened upon a Chem mother walking with a small boy and pushing the Chem version of a stroller.
Alexander stopped suddenly, no less surprised than the Chem woman. That Chem security should allow such an unwarranted meeting was unthinkable, but the expression on the woman’s face was unmistakable. At first all she saw was an alien, and the unusual occurrence registered only slightly. Then the process of identification went further, and in a moment there was no mistaking just what alien was on the path with her and her children. She reacted with shock and dismay, pulling the interested young boy next to her and standing between the hulking Terran and her infant.
Her expression struck Alexander forcibly. He remembered coming home a fugitive in his life as a pirate. Unannounced, dressed in his barbaric garb, he snuck onto the grounds of his house and surprised his sister as she took a walk with her children—in almost exactly the same circumstances. She didn’t recognize him at first and was equally as concerned over her children’s safety.
Alexander raised a hand up, palm outward, instinctively. Giving the woman a sheepish smile he assured her of his harmlessness. The woman was unconvinced, and Alexander turned to Nazeera and said, “This is the real tragedy in of all this. On Terra, at this moment, are millions of children just like these. They are as ignorant of evil and prejudice as is this little boy. They don’t care about the political boundaries of Terra, or the presumptuous military conquests of Alexander. They are innocent.
“It may be fitting for adults to reap what they sow, but that our children should suffer for it is perhaps the greatest crime in all our history. If we could learn to see our actions in that light maybe Terra could overcome her ado
lescence and make a positive contribution to the galaxy. Certainly we have that potential. Beyond all the glory and horror of our past we always had the choice of which way to go. I want to think that somehow Terra’s children will still have that choice.”
Nazeera touched the screen at her wrist.
A silver automaton appeared out of the sky and shrouded Alexander in a blue beam. It sped back over the river, dragging a helpless Alexander away.
#
A day later Nazeera was in her holographic lounge. A holographic data tape was playing, but Nazeera wasn’t watching it. She was in the middle of it.
She was dressed as Alexander was in a purple uniform with a pair of horns painted on the purple helm, and she mimicked his actions. Standing stolidly, hands on hips, her breath steamed from her lips as the line of white-clad warriors with the hated star on their silver helms approached. Alexander lowered himself into a three point stance, and Nazeera did likewise.
The warrior in front of Nazeera launched the dark spheroid to the Captain behind him and Alexander rushed forward like a charging bull. Nazeera launched herself into the melee. Instantly she was in the midst of thrashing, crushing, whirling behemoths. She fought, writhed, wriggled and thrust but she was crushed under the mountainous men.
Then it was over. The warriors stopped suddenly and left for their own sides of the field; they prepared to start it all over again. A programmed Alexander helped her up.
“Don’t think about the man in front of you,” he said, voicing a relevant point gleaned from the data tapes. “You goal is to get the ball carrier—not beat your opponent.”
Nazeera shook her head in frustration. “Computer, lower the size and mass of the players another ten percent.”
The door to the lounge slid open and Nazar sauntered in. His usual bright smile gleamed as he said hello to his sister and surveyed the scene.
“Playing with the gladiators are we?” he said, cocking his head to the side with interest. “I can’t say whether I enjoy their modern games more than the more fatal games of the last periums, but they are definitely entertaining. What are we doing, trying to delve deeper into our inimitable Alexander? I can’t say you’ll get much out of this. Terrans enjoy violence for violence’s sake. There’s not much mystery in that.”
“Actually, this is from a special program on Alexander. He was a football gladiator, you know.”
“No, I didn’t, but I’m not surprised. What else is he suitable for? He’s a warrior and intelligent. He may even be the Alexander we’ve all been anticipating, or dreading, depending on your point of view. I’ve already conceded my admiration for him.”
“Yes, he is admirable as a warrior,” Nazeera agreed, taking off her helmet and walking toward Nazar.
“Nazeera!” Alexander called, “Are you in or what?”
“Go on without me for a few plays, Alexander,” Nazeera told him.
“I’m already double teamed!” Alexander complained with a huff, but it didn’t stop him. It seemed to motivate him even further.
Nazeera punched up a regenerative drink from the server. She sipped it, and said, “I don’t really need to watch the games to know that, but this was in the Scythian data files we captured. It is a summary of his short, but noteworthy career. Alexander was in the arena for five periums before becoming a military officer. Injury may have played a part in his transition as much as reward for his performance. I’ve asked Alexander his version of his career. It is fairly consistent with what I’ve seen here.”
“He’s forthcoming then in your interrogations?”
“He is.”
“Yes, but?”
“Things have grown interesting in the last few days.”
“Do tell!”
“Don’t get your hopes up, Nazar! I mean something entirely different—I’ve been running Alexander through the trials.”
“At what level?” Nazar asked, obviously surprised.
“My own—the levels required for the Triumvirate and the seat of the Elder.”
“That’s classified—how has he performed?”
“He’s done well, Nazar, he’s done very well,” she said. She stretched her arms as if they pained her. “It’s been all I could do to endure the same trials—I spent all of last night in a recuperation chamber. Alexander was no worse for wear this morning.”
“What about the mental aspects?”
“Impressive.”
Nazar whistled.
“And the time spent outside the compound is, well, unexpectedly intriguing.”
“Indeed and where did you go today?”
“I took him to the historic district of the city,” she said, and she ordered the hologram to show the recording of their visit. It showed Alexander and Nazeera walking the streets. The throngs parted as they noticed him, but then they grew curious and approached him.
“That created a stir.”
“Yes, it did. The people were almost as interested in Alexander as he was in them. I could read the surprise in their faces when they spoke to him, finding out he wasn’t just a mindless barbarian. You know some people even remembered him from his career in the games.”
Nazar gasped in surprise. “Good grief, they’re having their holograms taken with him! He seems quite gracious in answering their questions and granting their requests. He’s working the crowds. That sounds dangerous.”
“Alexander is not a politician, but he is genuine. The people see that, and are surprised by it.”
“Are you? That seems to me to be the primary question. Alexander may be admirable to the people, but how does he seem to you? You’ve had three decurns of interrogation with him, and I note that these last sessions were of a more personable manner than I would expect. What is your opinion of him? Do you believe his story?”
“I have come to think of Alexander as a genuine being,” Nazeera said carefully.
“Really, Nazeera,” Nazar said, and his smile grew conspiratorial. He nudged her in the ribs. “That is as guarded an opinion as I’ve ever heard from you.”
“I’ve grown to respect him, Nazar,” she said, and then she hesitated, adding somewhat thoughtfully, “I must admit, though, that I look forward to our sessions.”
Nazar’s eyes brightened with interest, but he avoided the obvious question. Instead, he announced, “Alexander is on one hand a stereotypical Terran: strong, fast, large, and as the files show, ferocious. On the other hand he’s a disturbingly charming individual. Alexander is more of a paradox than ever. We need to be very careful how we use him, or abuse him.”
Nazeera switched off the tape and left the room, Nazar in tow. She went into her private office and poured drinks. Handing one to Nazar, she said, “I spoke with the Elder this evening. He wants you to command the cruiser which will take Alexander to Pantrixnia. Congratulations.”
“That will be a dubious honor,” Nazar replied, raising his glass to hers. “Whatever his position with the Terrans I cannot bring myself to dislike this fellow. If Alexander is truly representative of his race it seems to me that we should take a less fatal tact. Duty is binding, however. When am I to leave?”
“Tomorrow evening.”
“Indeed, he’s going that quickly. Does Alexander know?”
“Not yet. I shall tell him tomorrow.”
“You are comfortable with the Pantrixnia decision?”
“The decision is final, Nazar. Watching Terran games is satisfying, but it is a field of play which we cannot compare ourselves. Pantrixnia has had many Chem combatants, now it shall have a Terran combatant. We will compare the data.”
“You are trying to justify your decision, Nazeera.”
“There is nothing I could do about it even if I would.”
“Would you, though, if you could?”
Nazeera opened her mouth as if to answer, but stopped. Without a word she got up and left the room.
CHAPTER 19: Paper Tigers
A Scythian voice came over the feed, saying excitedly, “We have t
o cut the anti-gravitational beam or we’ll risk losing the ship.”
“Belay that!” roared an obviously Terran voice. “Scythian tender two and three get your asses over to the Iowa now and put your anit-grav beams on the Iowa. Stabilize the ship if you can’t hold her aloft. Do it now!”
Two Scythian tenders turned towards the Iowa and in a few seconds they surrounded the huge battleship. They added their anti-gravitational beams to the Iowa and the battleship stabilized. Slowly it floated into the air.
Augesburcke, who’d been holding his breath, let out a whistle. “It looks as though our ships are a helluva lot heavier than Galactic vessels—that was a close one.”
The Terran yard foreman agreed, and over the airwaves he was yelling, “Who do you people have doing your calculations? I thought you were advanced; that was just plain stupid! Don’t you ever put one of my ships at risk like that again!”
The Scythian’s reply was terse, which only prompted more yelling.
“At least our people aren’t intimidated by the Scythians or their technology,” Augesburcke smiled. “Go on Doctor.”
“Another advantage we have is our naval vessels were built to be sealed against the elements, specifically water. Their compartmentalized layout and limited necessity for having any crew topside makes the modifications relatively simple given the Scythian resources. The process has not been as labor intensive as might have been thought at first glance, but it is extensive, and time consuming.
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