“That’s a powerful tool for an old commander like me who has to motivate an entirely green fleet. We know next to nothing about space warfare, but suddenly we have a fleet and we must fight with it.”
“You want me to try to talk the Chem out of the fight?” Alexander mused, going further in thought along Augesburcke’s line of reasoning. “That’s what I’ve been trying to do all along. It’s possible. They’re already halfway there, and I’ll wager the sight of the Terran Fleet surprised the hell out of them, but they’re proud. They’ll not back down just because it’s a tough fight.”
“That’s your ballgame, Alexander,” Augesburcke told him. “That’s the real power that comes from your position. You’ll be on the bridge of the Iowa parleying for the Terran race. You’ve done it once before. They broadcast your inquisition before their Assemblage, as an opening to their special. You put on quite a show then. We want you to repeat it, with free reign to do what you will, short of surrender. If it goes badly we’ll fight, but if we can we’d like to avoid showing just how green we are to all this.”
“Understood,” Alexander told him.
“The other portion of your real influence is in the CODOTS working group. Twenty-two of us answer for and advise the entire council. You make twenty-three, with full voting rights and privileges. In one respect you may be a figurehead, but you are also one of the twenty-three most powerful people on the planet, more so in fact, because of all of us, only you have the power to think on your feet when dealing with the Chem. Well, what do you think?”
“Agreed, Admiral,” Alexander told him, and they shook hands on the bargain.
It took four days before they were out of Chem space. The Iowa with her full squadron met them on the border of Scythian space. Alexander transferred to the battleship, and the Captain met him at the airlock and had him piped aboard as a dignitary. As he walked down the corridor the crew lined up against the walls in salute. The reception surprised him.
“You’ve given us a measure of credibility in the galaxy, Alexander, everyone knows that much,” the Admiral told him.
Alexander must have looked the part, for though shaved and washed his still wore the purple-black Chem armor and weapons. He refused to part with them while on the Scythian ship. Indeed he’d had as little contact with the Scythians as possible. Alexander did not illuminate his motives, and Augesburcke didn’t ask.
The Admiral escorted him through the “Iowa’s” labyrinths to the main conference room. Five members of the CODOTS group and the ship’s senior officers attended. The rest of CODOTS attended via Ethernet secure links. After the introductions Alexander asked, “Are there any Scythians on board the ship?”
When Captain Thomas shook his head he sighed with relief. “Ladies and gentlemen excuse me, for not being absolutely candid with you aboard the Scythian ship. I was afraid of Scythian surveillance, so I was not thorough in my story to you, Admiral, but if we have a moment let me fill in the gaps.”
“By all means Alexander,” the Admiral nodded. He referenced Alexander not by his familiar name, but by his new title. They’d debated whether some grandiose title such as Field Marshal or the like would be appropriate, but Koto advised the simple name association of “Alexander.” That, more than any title, would convey the message they wanted to send.
“Everything you’ve said to me about the Scythians makes me nervous,” he told them. “From my personal experiences I think I’ve built a fairly good picture of their character, and I learned more from the Chem. The Scythians convinced me that benevolence is not an often used term word in their vocabulary. Let us take my experiences on the Scythian ship’s first.”
He went on to describe in detail everything he remembered about his abductions. Most of those present knew the general nature of Scythian incursions in Terra, but Alexander’s knowledge was firsthand and specific. He went into his account on Chem again, in full, including the Chem accusations of collusion with the Scythians, and especially the Scythian use of the Terrans and the “Legend of Alexander.”
“We had our suspicions, but now the pieces are beginning to fall into place,” the Admiral said soberly.
“This is how things stand, as I see them,” Alexander told them. “The Scythians have been amplifying the legend of Terran ferocity, using Alexander as a focus, throughout the galaxy for the last two thousand years. It worked until they used it on the Chem. They called the Scythian bluff and made a great deal of noise in stating their intentions to settle the “Legend of Alexander” conclusively. I don’t believe it was their intention to exterminate us, unless we proved to be the mindless savages the Scythians portrayed us as. It was their intention, however, to ensure that we were not a threat to them. The Scythians would pay a very high price for their lies, though not as high as price as Terra. The Scythians didn’t take these threats seriously until the Chem attacked their science vessel and captured a living Terran. Then they panicked.
“Their only recourse was to make the threat of Terran mercenaries into a reality. Even in that it seems they didn’t learn much from their experimentation. They grossly underestimated the Terran reaction. They could not very well tell us that they would only arm us to a certain extent, that would be too blatant a lie, and they needed our friendship, because they desperately needed Terran troops who would fight for them. Originally they’d thought of arming Terra as a deterrent, and importing enough Terran troops to make Scythia too difficult a target. Even the Chem in their anger would not wish to bombard Scythian cities to dust, and that meant a planetary engagement, and required an army of Terrans. The Scythian strategy of containing our expansion failed, so they’ve done the next best thing. They’ve fed it.”
“Why would that gain them anything,” Hashimoto asked.
“You’ve estimated our Fleet at about seven hundred ships by the time we meet the Chem, who have around seven hundred and fifty by Scythian report, and another two hundred and fifty in reserve as Homeworld defense. The Scythians have been very careful to control the propaganda coming into the Terran system. They’ve tried their best to make us hate the Chem. They are counting on this upcoming battle.
“This will be the largest space battle in this age, if it takes place, and the Scythian hope is that we will both emerge weakened and relatively helpless.” Alexander paused to let this sink in. “Afterward they, with the help of their neighbors, will feast on the scraps. It rids the galaxy of potentially tyrannical Terrans. It rids Scythia of the Chem, the single race that doesn’t wear a set of Scythian made economic thumbscrews.”
“What do you intend to do to stop the battle?” Augesburcke asked.
“Any sign of backing down, or weakness is out of the question,” he told them. “Much will depend on the Chem Fleet commander. If it is indeed Nazeera, as I would expect, we will at least have a fair minded, but tough individual to deal with. Her level of trust in me may be small, especially after your encounter with the scout ship. It took some time convincing her that Terra was ignorant of all of this. However, no one expects a completely new fleet to be built in such a short time. I must assume that she thinks I lied to her, and I can’t tell her the truth of the matter. If any commander found out what these ships really are they’d attack without a second thought, no matter how effective they might be.
“It’ll be difficult, but not impossible. Nazeera understands command. She’s astute, so I think I can tell you what her perception of me shall be when I appear on the bridge of the Iowa. Could the Chem have possibly been lucky enough to capture Alexander in the midst of his negotiations with the Scythians? No. The only logical conclusion would be that I intended myself to be captured for the express purpose of studying the Chem, my greatest possible adversaries, just as she stooped to kidnapping to study Terrans.
“That, at least, will be a palatable reason for my perceived deception, and hopefully defuse her anger enough so that she will see reason. There’s another possibility. If Bureel is in control he will have no thoughts other than
attacking us. If I can avert an attack in that instance it will be by pressing my challenge. I will decry his cowardice and challenge him to formal combat. If he is pushed into it by his officers, as very well might happen, then I’ll kill him and that will be that.”
The group pricked their brows at Alexander’s blatant manner. To threaten war and mean it was not an unnatural abstraction for them. The act of the duel, where one of the participants would surely die, that was a dim concept in the group’s minds. What was unthinkable for the group, though, was now very natural for Alexander. A paradigm shift, partially caused by events themselves and partially formed by his perceived needs, sent Alexander back into time.
His concerns were amazingly different now compared to just a few month’s past. Personal comfort, financial security and affability were all concepts that meant close to nothing to him now. His situations demanded that he thrust an image of courage and honor over any personal desires. In the social melting pot of invisibility Alexander was strikingly apparent. A fortress of self assurance, originally built by necessity but constantly added to by his successful adventures, cast a different light on events. Alexander’s perception of the world, and the universe, was much different perception than that of the group. His mortal challenge to Bureel caused an instant assessment of the possible repercussions amongst the group, and instant concern. In Alexander the same event caused no emotional response whatsoever. It was required. It would happen. That was enough.
“Nazeera is married to Bureel we understand.” Koto mentioned.
“Yes, the intrigue of Chem is somewhat of a soap opera,” Alexander replied. “But we have bargaining power with this fleet. It is impressive in size and capability. It is a ghost fleet in that it should not exist, but it does. In history disinformation or simple lack of knowledge has proven to be a decisive player. I expect it will be so again. Now there are some specific military options I would like to discuss, they may be useful bargaining chips.”
The discussion went on for some time, and many of the non-military members were obviously nervous, but Alexander was proving to be as dominant a figure in his people’s councils as he was in alien councils. Augesburcke agreed to back his proposals with military might if it came to that, and they all agreed on a set of parameters within which Alexander could operate freely.
When Alexander went to bed that night it was with a different kind of exhaustion than that he faced on Pantrixnia. The dangers of that world were less harrowing than the power struggles in this. Still, he was satisfied with the day’s progress. He’d time to think of the tactical situation ahead, and he brought facets of it to the CODOTS table that no one had considered. The options he presented were not easy ones for everyone to swallow, but in the end he was able to force them to accept their necessity. It was a hard won victory, but an important one to Alexander, and his future.
Alexander recognized he was at the crossroads of the future. The course of the galaxy was being decided here and now. He could remember his own past, where had once seen such opportunities, and where he had also missed them. The Alexander of by-gone days had just enough self doubt to have prevented his asserting himself. This new Alexander, borne of the trials of Pantrixnia and guided by the experience of centuries, cast aside all self doubt. Victory and defeat, errors of judgment and miscalculation were all a part of life. The real mistakes were in succumbing to such fears before they were manifested.
Alexander, for more than any other reason, saw himself with the opportunity to continue to affect and even direct the course of future events. To ignore such a chance would undo all he’d accomplished. He was determined not to let go the reins of life ever again. Alexander had a destiny to fulfill, and he forged ahead in this new arena with all the bravado and bluster he used on Pantrixnia to meet it. He had a clear vision of what was possible in the coming days, and he wanted to take full advantage of it. His motives were more than glory, or personal satisfaction, for this was the stuff of dreams, and such opportunities were extraordinarily rare. Having come so far he was not bashful about asserting his thoughts, and he used every inch the council gave him.
In Alexander’s mind he had a vague position of power, and an enormous opportunity for the betterment of the Terran position in the galaxy. His task was daunting, but it didn’t disturb him. The Chem didn’t disturb him. The galactic situation, he was certain, would work itself out as he foresaw. Yet even with this self assurance of a great threat overcome he could not work himself out of a deepening mood. It was not a question of power, or of destiny. It was Nazeera.
With all the momentous events surrounding him it was the Chem woman who held the thought’s of Alexander even after the head of the Terran Fleet drifted off to sleep.
CHAPTER 41: The Pieces are Set
Two light years from the border of Chem-Scythian space the Iowa hung like an apparition with five hundred ships at her heel.
Admiral Augesburcke paced the bridge like a Tasmanian devil, ceasing his endless roving only when the long expected message arrived. He dove for the communications console and read the message over the operator’s shoulder, “Alexander, the latest intelligence reports show the Chem Fleet massing upon contact with our reconnaissance screen. That puts them roughly eight hours ahead of us, and seven days flight from Terra at flank.”
The Admiral straightened with a concerned shake of the head, thinking.
Alexander nodded. It was as he expected, and the reality that the most powerful military man on Terra was briefing the explanation to him—who two weeks ago was foraging for food and wearing animal skins—didn’t affect Alexander in the slightest. That Augesburcke, of all people, accepted the change in stature was possibly the most amazing event in the entire unlikely adventure.
Alexander showed himself as a shrewd leader, and the Admiral’s equal in military strategy. To be certain Augesburcke molded the fleet, but the stratagem they took into this crisis was uniquely Alexander’s. It hadn’t begun that way, but over the last two weeks days the logic and ingenuity of Alexander completely transformed the Terran plans. As the Admiral’s respect for Alexander’s capacity to contribute in their present situation rose, so did his respect for Alexander’s position. Subconsciously, almost without his knowledge, the Admiral was viewing Alexander’s position as less and less that of a figurehead.
When he turned to Alexander, the latest data on the Chem flashing upon his console, he addressed man as his equal. Gravely he told Alexander, “There are one thousand Chem warships waiting for us. You were right: they’ve committed their Homeworld Fleet. Our sub screens have moved off to their flanks, and they’re maintaining their position outside weapons range. When we join them we’ll have five hundred odd ships arrayed against them. That’s not great odds, considering our experience in this arena. I wouldn’t mind having the hundred ships that have been built this last week, but not with enough time to make it here.”
“One hundred ships,” Alexander mused, “They’ll be all that stands between Terra and oblivion if we fail. I expect they know that, though, and if it comes down to it they’ll put up a fight worth remembering. At the very least we’ll whittle the Chem down so the odds aren’t so bad.”
“That we will,” Augesburcke said. “Besides the backbone of that force are the carriers. They’re loaded with all the nuclear warheads we could scrounge up. People have wanted them off Terra for a long time, and now they’ve gotten their wish. The carriers can launch hundreds of them in salvos. That’s the last ditch plan.”
“We still have the Scythian gambit, Admiral, and that at the very least will bear some positive dividends. We’ve done what we can to prepare. It looks as though that’s about it then,” Alexander sighed. “Shall we invite the Chem to the dance?”
“The best of luck to us, then,” Augesburcke said. They shook hands and the Admiral gave the order.
Captain Thomas of the Iowa stepped up to the operations console. It was a broad graphite and metal construction. Its curving board encompassed nearl
y three quarters of the circumference of the bridge, and had a dozen stations. Above the board there were six large displays. Currently they emulated windows looking out into space. The Fleet sailed with them in every direction.
Close by was the Wisconsin squadron of three battleships, seven cruisers, and fifteen destroyers. On the other side the Rodney and her squadron floated. The ships were close enough for every detail to stand out sharply in space. The metal gleamed silver-white and the shadows were a deep impenetrable black. It made the ships appear even more strange and menacing. Other squadrons stood further out, like distant constellations, over five hundred ships. A hum rumbled through the Iowa as the engines engaged. The ships of the squadron started to move back in the screens as Iowa took the lead.
“Prepare for superluminal speed,” the Captain ordered.
Alexander sat in his designated chair, a high backed seat behind and above the Captain’s chair. From there he had a perfect view over the bridge. It was an imposing position, especially considering he had no real decision making capability for the ship. His time would come, however, and unlike the crew he had nothing to do to take his mind off the waiting. It would take eight hours or so to intercept the Chem Fleet, and then what? There was no way he could prepare for the coming trial.
The words would either come, or they would not.
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