Alexander Galaxus: The Complete Alexander Galaxus Trilogy

by Christopher L. Anderson

  “No, looks like a damn fine record,” Augesburcke said. “Typical military; kick out the good people to make room for the ass kissers. Well, what’s our boy up to now? Has the dinosaur eaten him yet? I haven’t been watching.”

  The television showed nothing but the Tyrannosaurus standing under the waterfall. “No, as far as I can tell he’s still under there.”

  “What’s he doing, taking a shower with it?” Augesburcke remarked as if there was nothing whatsoever which could surprise him.

  CHAPTER 32: Playing Daniel Boone

  Alexander watched the massive head thrust under the waterfall, scarcely a meter above him. The Tyrannosaurus turned its head this way and that, allowing the rushing water to douse its considerable skull. The huge mouth yawned open and the head tilted upwards. The Tyrannosaurus messily drank from the descending fountain. The backwash from its effort drenched a patient but disconcerted Alexander with the remains of its most recent meal. It drank and drank with the man standing directly beneath it. He was so close he could’ve touched the greenish-purple scales of the neck.

  Alexander found it easy to resist the temptation to do so.

  After what seemed an eternity the Tyrannosaurus, its thirst sated, simply stopped drinking and allowed the water to cleanse its mouth. The water gathered inside the Tyrannosaur’s maw before overflowing onto the stone and Alexander. This continued for quite some time, and the Tyrannosaurus appeared in no hurry to stop its hygienic exercise. Evidently this was a habitual routine for the dinosaur, and Alexander was in no mood to interrupt it.

  He wasn’t certain whether it was sight, sound or a combination of both by which the Tyrannosaurus hunted. Earlier it discovered the tiny automaton, which was obviously the automaton’s intent. The automaton, he figured was quieter as well as smaller than he, so he doubted whether he could successfully skulk away, even with the Tyrannosaurus in its present relaxed state. He decided to continue to wait. It proved to be an excellent decision. A moment later the Tyrannosaurus backed out of the waterfall. It shook itself free of excess water and stepped gingerly to a smooth expanse of rock that was warming in the sun. After an enormous yawn it settled itself down on its bed. For an hour or so it basked, blinking its eyes every so often or swishing its tail. Finally the unmistakable sound of a snore rumbled through the canyon.

  Alexander waited another half an hour before he ventured from behind the waterfall. The dinosaur’s snoring was comfortable and rhythmic, signaling a deep sleep, or so he hoped. Carefully he made his way along the opposite side of the canyon, a watchful eye on the Tyrannosaurus. It continued to sleep. Then a sudden growl startled Alexander. He froze, but the Tyrannosaurus didn’t rouse.

  It continued to growl, and he could see spasms flexing the arms and legs. The tail swished back and forth in quick tense jerks. Alexander wondered what it was all about, thinking perhaps the Tyrannosaurus could sense him even in its sleep. Eventually he realized that it must be dreaming. He shook his head, thinking maybe now he’d truly seen everything.

  Alexander worked his way to the canyon’s end and turned towards the river. A familiar whirring alerted him to the presence of the automaton.

  He ignored it.

  The terrain became more chaotic the closer to the river he got. The cliff walls grew more and more broken, and he was able to find some cracks and tracks by which he could make his way to the top of the cliff again without climbing. This gave him a better vantage point for the river and the lands below. The sun was at its zenith and burned off all the morning mists. Below he could see the river winding through the jungle, brown waters glittering in the sunlight. Five kilometers distant there was a vast flood plain, previously hidden in the morning fogs. Even at this distance he could see enormous herds of animals wandering across the green grasses.

  Herd animals. Herbivores! Of course, the planet must operate on an ecological balance. That required a greater number of herbivores than carnivores, but his experiences hadn’t highlighted this. As if in answer there was a great thundering in the jungle behind him, and Alexander had just enough time to scramble behind some rocks. Peering through a gap in the stones he watched an enormous shape trot out of the trees. It looked vaguely like a long legged rhino, excepting that the bone upon its nose and brow was blunt and it stood a full six meters high at the shoulder. It crashed through the foliage; a pack of Banthror’s nipping at its heels, and looking incredibly small beside its bulk.

  That question settled he turned back to the river. It wound down the uplands to the sea in long lazy loops, but not a kilometer away he heard the rush of a waterfall. That was his target.

  It took two hours to get within fifty meters of a raging cataract. His languid pace was not due to distance, but rather to the ridge trail being a well used avenue to the water. Twice, curious carnivores forced him to seek cover in the rocks at the cliff base. On the second occasion one of the green-black lion creatures actually stopped and sniffed him out. It lost interest, however, when Alexander slashed it heavily across the nose. Coughing and sneezing it loped towards the river, shaking the sting off as it ran.

  When he finally reached the water Alexander saw the cataract plunge from the mountains over a wide notch in the cliff. The river dropped twenty meters in a luminescent green curtain forming a small lake in its shadow. Below the lake the land fell away to the flood plain. The lake emptied through a notch in the shoreline and through a short stretch of rapids before becoming a wide meandering ribbon of brown water. The chute of these rapids sprouted innumerable sharp black teeth; numerous rocky projections and boulders interrupted the normal flow beneath the lake, sending frothing fountains of white water exploding over the landscape. Amidst the boulders shaggy bear-like shapes crouched on the rocks and snagged fish with their paws. Next to them, in the midst of the torrent, two reptiles that looked very much like plesiosaurs planted their round bodies in the waters as if they were huge stones. Their whip like necks propelled bullet heads to snatch fish out of the air. The carnivores seemed content to ignore each other so long as the fish were plentiful.

  Making his way upstream Alexander explored the enormous waterfall. It was like a jade wall a hundred feet long. Perhaps, there was a cutout behind the water that would be dry enough to serve him as a shelter.

  First he had to bypass a plethora of enormous herbivores, and some additional fish catching plesiosaurs. Alexander gave them a wide berth. It took some time to get around the lake and he had two encounters, neither of which he thought much of. One was a dinosaur, an ankylosaur that he surprised coming out of the tangle of foliage. It was a quadruped slightly shorter than he was at the shoulder, but very heavily armored with bone scales and spikes. It stumped around on short thick legs that despite their stoutness still looked too small to carry its weight. They looked at one another for a moment, and then in one motion the beast swung its tail around and bolted into the trees. Alexander ducked as a slab of bone and spikes whistled over his head. Then it was off, bowling over small trees and shrubs in its haste.

  “I must be gaining a reputation,” Alexander said to himself. His second encounter was with a log; or rather, what he thought was a log. He’d set his foot on a fallen log when suddenly it took off under him. He never did find out whether it was a tail, torso, or neck he’d trodden on. Regardless, he made his way without further adventure to the falls.

  After poking around for a while he found a small cleft that led beneath the falls. Behind the cataract was a grotto that wormed back into the rock at least thirty feet in places—enough to keep him dry. A verdant light filtered through the cascade giving the grotto an eerie look.

  It was too much to ask that the cave be deserted, and indeed it wasn’t. Inside, Alexander found a fascinating species of spider. They were roughly the size of large dogs. The spiders were busy spinning nets and casting them into the falls. Dark shadows in the green wall betrayed the fish that, every few minutes, would mistakenly stumble into a net. The webs caught the fish, which the spiders withdrew, s
tung, and wrapped up for further disposal. It all seemed very innocent, except that some of the fish were as big as Alexander. Knowing the planet as he did he had no desire to cohabitate with anything.

  He used the low setting on his gun to wound the spiders, and then he dispatched them with the sword. He discarded their bodies, and their prey, into the river. Then he gathered some dry wood and made torches by splitting and feathering the ends. Using his gun to light the torches, Alexander burned every inch of the cave. This got rid of the webs and hopefully any eggs the spiders might have lain.

  He was just starting to feel content with himself when the automaton appeared from the shadows. He pretended to ignore it, but as soon as it was in range he lashed at it with his sword. There was a sharp clang as metal rang on metal and the ball spun back a few meters, momentarily wavering in the air.

  “I see you haven’t forgotten the Tyrannosaurus incident,” it said.

  “It’s not bad enough I have to listen to your squawking or have you watching my every move, but now you’re aiding the beasts of this planet!” He advanced on it. “What’s the matter, have I survived too long? It’s only the second day. I can’t be wounding your precious Chem pride yet!”

  “I had no choice,” the automaton told him. “The order came to me directly from the Assemblage. I’m not told why these things are done. I only follow my programming.”

  “Who gave you this order?”

  “I’m told it came from Nazeera of the Triumvirate,” the automaton answered.

  Alexander didn’t answer, but his rage abated when he saw the automaton wobble. It was only a few centimeters at the most, but his senses began to attune to the needs of this world. Without thinking about it he ducked and rolled to his right, but as he hit the rock floor something grabbed him by his armor and started to pull him toward the cataract.

  CHAPTER 33: Behind the Trappings of Rome

  The known galaxy boiled with anticipation and fascination. The galaxy depended upon official Chem releases for Chem intentions, but like the Chem they watched the ethernet transmissions from Pantrixnia with a growing sense of admiration and trepidation. Alexander’s exploits were at once marvelous entertainment and a cold slap of reality. To watch Terran gladiatorial games was one thing; they were remote, even alien, quarantined from the known galaxy as they were. Now, however, they watched a man who journalistic rumor built into Alexander of Alexander’s lineage run amuck in their own Galactic forum. It was an ascendancy of Terrans to a level closer to the Galactic hearth, which was frightening, but it was also the first opportunity of the Galactics to watch an individual Terran with any sense of intimacy, which was enlightening.

  Journalists, being who they were, took great leniency on filling the gaps in actual knowledge, and rumors flowered into accepted fact with great rapidity. The Chem were becoming remarkably tight lipped and grim concerning their intentions towards Terra, and that was a bad sign. Galactic journalists correctly interpreted this as a mood of extreme disquiet amongst the normally decisive Chem. To spice the drama were the reports of the Chem Armada massing for the first time in thirteen millennia, and Scythian hints that the Terrans were far more capable of defending themselves, and Scythia, than the Galactics believed.

  Nothing like this had happened in the known galaxy since the last of the Chem Wars of Expansion. The populace of the known galaxy waited, not able to come to any conclusion on either the Chem threat of genocide or Alexander’s place in their universe.

  During this agonizing time the ten civilized cultures outside Scythia, Chem and Terra met routinely on Rome. The gleaming marble of the city lost its luster in the gloom of the times, and the Galactic politicians lost their nobility to their fears. Still, there were some who were more confident about the coming war than others. The Golkos saw advantage in the clash of the titans. They bore little love and much jealousy for the Chem, their historic rivals. Now they faced the prospect of being bettered by the Terran mercenaries as well. Like the other Galactics, however, the Golkos were cautious. It was a far cry from their wilder days. The ancient reputation of the Golkos was as a warrior race, and they still bore the appellation with pride. But the Golkos were not as old as the Chem, and had expanded into empty space for several millennia before coming into contact with the Seer’koh, the Kempec and finally the rest of the civilized galaxy. Their immediate reactions were militaristic, at least until they met the Chem. The Chem were far older, more honorable and deadly. It was probably the best thing that could have happened to the Golkos, to be put in their place by their cousins, but not stripped of their empire.

  The resultant peace, maintained by an ever watchful Chem, allowed the Golkos to mellow somewhat. They were still petty, ruthless and antagonistic, but they were a marked improvement over their ancestors. In their hearts, however, the lesser cousins of the Chem continued to dream of being the Galactics dominant warrior race, and with this in mind, they saw the coming war between Terra and Chem in a greedy light. To this end, Grand Admiral Koor accosted She-Rok after the Galactics daily conferences.

  “Tell me, She-Rok; is it difficult for the Hrang to be so wholly dependent upon Chem and Scythian information?” She asked the Hrang, joining him as they walked a back corridor. It was gloomy and dark, meant to allow dignitaries to traverse back and forth between meetings without having to deal with the press. Her manner more leading than her words and she smoked a long black cigarette, punctuating her words with streams of green smoke. “The rumors of Terran preparedness are certainly revelations of the most trying sort. I do not doubt that had the Hrang known of them they would have reported the details to the Senate. I cannot help wondering why, however, we have so little information from your people in this crisis. It is in all of our best interests to pull together in whatever way we can. The times are too dangerous for selfish actions.”

  “I don’t understand your accusation, Grand Admiral,” She-Rok answered, perturbed. “We have been most forthright in all of our intelligence gathering. Everything that is known about this crisis we volunteered to the Galactic Senate, and confirmed the veracity through Scythian and Chem channels. We cannot gather that which does not yet exist.”

  “Please don’t consider this an accusation, She-Rok,” Koor assured her compatriot smoothly. “I am simply surprised at the passive manner in which the information is collected. After all, we can all listen to the ethernet. If the Hrang are more adept at breaking Chem and Scythian code, well that is to our advantage. Yet the Hrang are remarkably suited for more energetic methods of obtaining information as well. Your reputation is greater amongst the Golkos even than our cousins, as we have had the opportunity to use your special talents on more occasions.”

  “Such occasions as these are extraordinarily dangerous,” She-Rok informed Koor.

  “And they deserve special reward,” Koor assured him. “The price is yours to name.”

  She-Rok’s brows knit with doubt, but he told her, “The price would depend on the specifics of your need.”

  “Our need,” corrected Koor. “The Golkos are willing to be the leaders in this, and to pay the price for it. Our need is similar to that of Chem, but I think on an amplified scale. We do not necessarily need Terrans in the flesh, but Galactics among the Terrans to ascertain just what we face.”

  “It is possible, though difficult. The Scythians use a number of Galactic underlings on their freighters and in their depots for engineering functions; especially people from the wandering races. I might have trouble finding operatives with the required motivation, however. As Alexander wins galactic renown for his exploits on Pantrixnia there is as much admiration of Terrans as there is fear. My people are not in any way excited about the prospect of conflict with Terra.”

  “Do you propose to sit by-and-by and hope to win the conqueror’s friendship when he comes to your Homeworld, Master She-Rok?”

  “I stated that we’re not excited about the idea of conflict, Grand Admiral, I did not say passivity was a viable option. We are t
aking this development very seriously, and we shall proceed very carefully. That said your request is not the first time we’ve discussed the subject.” She-Rok stopped and checked the security display on his sleeve. Someone was listening, or was trying to. He activated a security screen on his belt. A hum surrounded them, and Admiral Koor’s smoke drifted through the field with a slight crackle. “That’s just the screen re-phasing the molecules of the air and your smoke; otherwise audio sensors could decipher our conversation through the molecular vibrations. Now, Admiral, in our opinion, it’s possible to infiltrate Terra, but it will have to wait until the Chem-Terran conflict is decided. The Terrans are dangerous, and we’re willing to accept that risk, but that is all. I will not put my people on a planet that is about to be destroyed.”

  “Certainly not,” Koor agreed. “Regardless, we will not need them until that time. If the Chem take care of the Terran problem then so much the better. Yet if the Terrans triumph, or if the Chem-Terran conflict becomes a stalemate then we must make it a priority to get a clear picture of events on Terra.”

  “It will still entail some expense to preposition operatives, in case the latter scenario becomes necessary.”

  “Of course,” Koor smiled. “You will be reimbursed for your labors.”

  “Very well, we will make everything ready,” She-Rok bowed stiffly in agreement and cut off the security screen. Admiral Koor left the hall, apparently satisfied with the arrangement.

  She-Rok smiled, knowing full well that Hrang operatives were even now trickling into the Terran system despite the peril.

  The Hrang turned back the way he came. He stopped abruptly. Perowsk, the Syraptose Ambassador, barred his path. He held a blaster in his pallid, soft, shaking hand.

  CHAPTER 34: Getting Old