Alexander Galaxus: The Complete Alexander Galaxus Trilogy

by Christopher L. Anderson

  He would have to be as sharp as he was back on Chem, ready to react and interpret the Chem’s replies and demands. This would not be a game of diplomacy. It would be a game of nerve and patience. It was strange how little that bothered him. His greatest concern was of Nazeera, for Nazeera? In some ways she would be the most difficult of the Chem to face, especially if her opinion of him differed from before. She would be shocked to see him. No doubt this would be a difficult thing to explain. When she saw him on the bridge of the Iowa there could be only one answer in her mind: Alexander the Conqueror, himself journeyed to the Chem Empire to study his adversaries, and then submitted himself to their greatest tests.

  That’s how the Chem would see it, that is how she would see it, and that had its advantages. It would also make it very clear that he had consciously betrayed her. He hoped she would understand the need as a commander in her own right. If she viewed him otherwise, however, his deception might drive her to fury. She would be more dangerous than ever. If roused, she was capable of cold, heartless and thorough actions.

  He looked up, finally aware that the sounds of the ship were different. On the front screens, the stars coalesced into a dim blue tinted ball. Single stars separated from the center and slowly floated by the ship. The cruisers and destroyers sailed overhead, to the sides, and underneath. They advanced slightly staggered, above and to the left the Wisconsin and her screen, below and to the right the Rodney and hers. It was remarkably quiet and peaceful. The bridge was a wonderful place to be when sailing through space, he thought to himself, but it was lonely. He was as lonely now as he had ever been in that cell on the Chem Homeworld.

  #

  Nazeera was all but unapproachable. Even Nazar could scarcely communicate with her. Almost one thousand Chem warships spread out across space with deadly intent, every warship in the Chem Armada including the two hundred and fifty ships of the Guardian Armada. She’d taken them across the Scythian frontier with no more opposition than the crackling ethernet. The news spread swiftly across the galaxy. The time of rumor and innuendo was over. The Chem Fleet departed Chem space with hostile design for the first time in over thirteen millennia.

  There was giddiness in the ranks that Nazeera found unpleasant. The ill fated scout ship reported a Terran Fleet of scarcely squadron strength. If logic followed, those ships sighted comprised a significant portion of the Terran fleet. Conservatively then the Chem should outnumber the Terrans at least ten-to-one. That numerical superiority, taken as truth, had the crews singing in the mess halls, and eager to be on the first watch that sighted the Terrans. That glut for battle did not affect the Armada Commander though, and the bridge of the battleship Kuntok was a somber place.

  She accepted that the Scythians and the Terran’s altered Alexander’s memory, and he’d been left by his planet, as much as the Chem, on Pantrixnia as a sacrifice to strategic policy. She wondered if the loss of memories affected the man. Nazar didn’t seem to think so. He thought that only those memories recent enough to be of particular value to the Chem changed. To completely reprogram a being and expect them to be sane was beyond any race’s medical skill.

  Nazeera confided to herself that once this distasteful business was over she’d take the Kuntok to Pantrixnia. If Alexander was still alive she’d bring him back to Chem, the last of his people. Bureel’s feelings about the matter never entered the picture for her. He would die soon after this was over, either by Alexander’s hand or hers. Perhaps she would leave him on Pantrixnia in Alexander’s place. The thought brought the only glimmer of joy to her this entire voyage.

  Nazar approached her. He did not look pleased. It couldn’t be about Bureel. Nazeera had him confined to quarters as soon as he set foot on the ship, quietly, of course. Her brother stepped up to the command dais and whispered, “Armada Commander, we have just received scans of the main body the Terran Fleet.”

  “Very well, and how close were our estimates?”

  “Scans pick up over five hundred ships, Armada Commander!” he said as if it caused him great pain, “Once again it appears we underestimated the Terrans.”

  The news didn’t surprise Nazeera, and she sighed, “Certainly if the Terrans fight as did Alexander we have reason for concern. The Terrans are honed for war, Nazar. They toughen their brows by beating upon each other. Yet what of the Chem, does fortune desert us Nazar? Even now when we are at our zenith, something reaches out to strike the Chem. Why? Have we been too bold, or have we been soft for too long? We depend on ourselves to be the warriors our grandsires were, but we learn too late that we must fight with rusty swords and weakened thews.”

  “At their present course and speed we will engage them in slightly over one twelfth of a decurn,” Nazar told her.

  “Very well, I shall inform the Armada. It’s better that they hear it from their commander than through rumor,” she said. She flipped a switch on her panel, “To all warriors of Chem, this is the Armada Commander. Brave news of the Terran Fleet; they come to honor us with battle, instead of denying us glory. Our scans show five hundred of their number enroute to battle. We shall engage them shortly. This will be a glorious chapter in the history of Chem. Rejoice that you can now speak to your ancestors with pride of the coming day!”

  She clicked off her mike and felt the mood of the Armada shift unmistakably into a grim pessimism. Turning to Nazar she patted his hand. “I am glad you are here with me brother.”

  “Glory has many faces, Armada Commander,” he told her, his voice carrying an uncharacteristically serious timber. “So long as Nazar is considered worthy enough to be at your side he has gained glory for a lifetime. I am satisfied whatever the outcome.”

  #

  The members of the Scythian High Council met on their primary Homeworld. The five sat around a low table of gray metal. There was silence in the room, but not between the minds. Indeed, though these five beings sat alone in their chamber all Scythians were with them in thought. It was the way of their people that at momentous occasions such as this that all Scythians shared their thoughts simultaneously. So it was that when the Chem boarded the Scythian experimentation ship all of Scythia heard, felt, and saw the outrage. Now their revenge was at hand.

  The first of the five to transmit a thought was the Council who dealt with the Terran Liaison. “Liaison has accomplished its task well. The two fleets shall meet with equivalent strength. Everything is proceeding according to plan. The results have a ninety-three percent chance of falling within the desired categories.”

  “The Chem disregard for our need of efficient trade routes should disappear along with their power and influence in this sector.”

  “I foresee even greater benefit; there are over four million Terran troops and ten million civilians on the four Homeworlds at this time. After the fall of their world to whom can they turn but us? With careful consideration and patience we may well be able to manipulate them into the mercenaries we have envisioned all along—obedient and self sacrificing to the greater good of Scythia.”

  “Indeed, whatever the outcome I see profit in this for us, and the triumph of the superior intellect over the violent savage.”

  “True, but I will allow myself the thalamic enjoyment of watching them destroy each other. Especially since the Terrans, conscious of their promise to protect us, have placed themselves only light hours from our systems. They mean to ensure that no Chem renegades engage us. They have as a result given us a wonderful seat from which to watch them.”

  “Long will this day be remembered by the Scythian Empire, and the galaxy. Let them tremble at the power which will awaken this day, renewed and terrible to behold! Then let the new age of the Galactics begin!”

  CHAPTER 42: Titans Clash

  The Terran Fleet slowed as they came into communications range. Alexander watched from the bridge as the sensors picked up the Armada. He wore a specially crafted uniform of purple, gold, and black made from the Chem cuirass and armor; it gave him a distant resemblance to his forefath
er, Alexander; which struck at the heart of their intent.

  His Chem knife hung from his belt, blade naked for all to see, as a reminder that he still had an outstanding challenge with a member of the Assemblage. It was a point he would remind the Chem. He also had the Banthror pelt properly tanned. He wore this as a sash across his chest, as another reminder to the Chem of his exploits on Pantrixnia. It was the uniform of an Overlord, and he was prepared to play the part. When the two fleets stopped and arrayed in battle order, Alexander rose from his seat.

  “Wait for them to call us first,” he said, and turned his back on the main viewers, expectant.

  Captain Thomas announced, “Admiral, Alexander, a ship is detaching itself from the Chem Armada. Its course is directly towards us, and it is not slowing!”

  “Shields up,” the Admiral ordered.

  “Hold position Captain, order the Fleet to hold their fire unless fired upon,” Alexander said.

  “Sir,” Thomas queried.

  “Follow his orders Captain,” the Admiral said.

  The Captain nodded as the smaller ship barreled in on the Iowa. Alexander didn’t look up. The bridge crew clung tensely to their seats until the Chem ship suddenly pulled up and around and headed back to its Fleet.

  “No Chem would commit suicide before battle.”

  The Admiral leaned over to Captain Thomas, “It’s his show now. Unless the shooting starts, Alexander is in command of this whole damn Fleet.”

  “Aye, aye, Admiral,” the Captain replied nervously.

  “Don’t worry, Captain,” the Admiral smiled, “I’ve learned quite a bit about Alexander over the last few days. Besides, at one time or another in his past he’s commanded more men and ships than this. If nothing else he’s a ruthless bastard. I think we’re in pretty good hands.”

  “I hope you are right, sir,” the Captain nodded.

  “Communications coming in, sir,” a sailor informed them.

  “Put it on the screen,” Alexander told her without turning around.

  The picture of an aristocratic woman with shining blue eyes appeared on the main viewer. “This is Armada Commander Nazeera of Chem. I address whosoever commands the Terran Fleet before me to identify yourself, and prepare for subjugation!”

  Alexander turned around, a grim smile upon his lips. “Hello Nazeera, it’s good to see you again.”

  “A-lex-ander!” She breathed venomously, spitting out each syllable as if it were a delicious poison. Nazeera had no reason to be anything other than shocked at the sudden appearance of Alexander, but he was impressed with the speed at which she composed herself.

  She put on a haughty mask of indifference, but her words carried more emotion and meaning to Alexander than any other being there could recognize. “I see Pantrixnia was no more a prison to you than Chem. This was a wonderful play, to be sure, Alexander. What part are you playing at now? Is this the real Alexander, the Overlord at the head of his Fleet, or have you another mask to wear before me? It’s a pity, in truth; for I came to respect the Alexander I met on Chem. I suppose I should have known, but my you are a good actor!”

  “Quite the contrary, Nazeera, I’m good only at playing myself,” he told her. “Certainly you couldn’t expect to see me again, and my return can only pique your suspicions. Then again, why should I be anywhere else? I’m Alexander of Terra. Where should I be but in the center of the maelstrom? That’s where Overlords tread, Nazeera, you no less than I. Events cannot avoid us. You are as central to this, Nazeera, as I, and so here we are again, at a critical point and time in the histories of our two peoples. Two peoples who are very similar, almost kindred. Speaking of kindred, is Nazar with you?”

  “Of course, but do not try to twist this into a personal discussion, Alexander,” she cautioned him, “Such tactics will not work again. We have business to attend to. Do you wish to hear my terms?”

  “Not in the least, but offer my greetings to Nazar anyway will you?” He turned and paced, in this instance he was controlling the conversation and Nazeera was still trying to piece events together. It was a reverse of their last such encounter, but now they were both of equal strength.

  “To business then, I know why you’re here, Nazeera, and you know why I’m here. In space we sit, glaring across the battlefield; the two greatest fleets in the galaxy. Does honor dictate we fight, and if so, what are our reasons? Even honor must have an argument.

  “Is this war over territory? Terra does not wish territory from Chem, and what would Chem do with one star system? Do we then fight for glory alone, to beat each other to a pulp so that we may sing our own praises to our grandchildren, what of that? I’m not ignorant of the valor or prowess of the Chem, Nazeera and you should not doubt the resolve of the Terrans. What is there to be gained then from a pitched battle where the conclusion leaves us each the weaker?

  “Shall we fight for glory, only to diminish in stature and power, allowing the lesser cultures of the galaxy, such as the Golkos or the Scythians, to clean up the scraps? Ah, the Scythians, I had almost forgotten them.”

  Alexander walked to the front of the bridge and looked into Nazeera’s eyes. He planted himself firmly on the tritanium alloy deck and clasped his hands behind his back. Cocking his head to the side as if he’d struck an interesting thought, he said, “Isn’t it interesting how the Scythians always find a way to bring us together?”

  “What is your point, Alexander?” Nazeera asked.

  “I have a very simple point, one which you of all people should remember. I once told you I harbored no ill will towards Chem. I spoke the truth. I don’t see why we should be angry with each other. It’s the Scythians, who manipulated us both. I’m not overly fond of being used, Nazeera, and I’ve had my fill of it lately. I’m also not fond of destroying that which I respect and admire. I say again, I’m not angry with you, though from some viewpoints I should be.

  “If Pantrixnia was not a luxury hotel I’m willing to forgive that. If being pulled naked before your Assemblage and sentenced to exile and death was an injustice then I am prone to forgive that as well. I will not, however, forgive or forget my duty to defend my planet, and my people. I will forgive the threat made upon the belief of false accusations, but I will not forgive the cause. That cause was unique and well thought out, and greed was its fuel.

  “It should be as apparent to you as it is to me, Nazeera; this is a Scythian war: staged and promoted by the Scythians. We are here because the Scythians cause us to fear each other. This is not a war over the grievances of Chem and Terra. This is not our war. This is not necessary, Nazeera.”

  “Your words are hollow, Alexander,” she said gravely. “You plead an eloquent case, but you are a conqueror. I can see it in your eyes. You will not add Chem to your list of glories.”

  “If I wanted Chem, it would be mine, Nazeera! You know this better than anyone. Chem would fall to me, not due to weakness or lack of honor, but to destiny. Whether it’s in this lifetime or the next, if I wanted the Chem Empire I could have it!”

  Alexander paused, and there was not a sound on the bridge. He let the moment draw out and fade from the threat it was to a more subtle and diplomatic point in time. He spread his hands out wide. “The Chem are a people of honor whom I have come to respect and admire. A people whose dedication to honor can soothe the terrible wrath of my own unrequited people. I don’t wish the Chem Empire as conquered adversaries, but as allies, friends and teachers.”

  “I listened to your lies in the Assemblage, Alexander,” Nazeera told him. “I have no need to listen to them now. You are bold, to allow yourself to endure capture and exile thus, but I finally see through you. You are here, even as the legends said you would be, but I will stop you if I can.”

  Alexander walked to the rear of the bridge and sank into his seat, a grim look coming over his strong features. “Very well, I expected some stubbornness; let me give you some truths to consider. Listen to your communications channels. I would like to demonstrate something to yo
u.”

  He turned to Augesburcke, and said, “Admiral put me on all assigned Fleet frequencies.”

  “You’re hooked up Alexander,” Augesburcke answered.

  “To all Terran ships and troops outside the Fleet of Alexander, you may proceed according to plan with the following restriction: no Terran warship shall violate Chem space except under my expressed orders. Proceed with operation “Overlord.” You may commence to subjugate the Scythian Empire!”

  “You have no right to interfere with our quarrel with the Scythians!” Nazeera protested.

  “I have every right!” Alexander thundered, bolting upright and catching everyone off guard, including his own crew. “I have the right after two thousand years of having my name bandied about the galaxy as a murderer and a conqueror! I have the right after ten thousand years of experimentation on my people! I have the right after having my civilization constrained and manipulated!

  “I speak for Terra, Nazeera, because I am Terra, and I seethe with the dishonor heaped upon me! The Scythians wanted me as a conqueror and I’m giving them what they wished for! Yet I am no chattel to do their bidding. I am Terra, and equally as proud as Chem! Does your complaint for a single snub carry more dishonor than the millennia Terra endured under an unseen puppeteer? The Scythians hid in the shadows poking and prodding us, pruning the branches by which we might grow, and all the while sowing lies about us to our cousins in space. Do you have the right to interfere with our vengeance? Answer me honestly Nazeera!”

  “In that you have struck a chord of logic,” she said, in a more diplomatic tone. Then her demeanor took on a renewed air of gravity and she asked, “But should I not now fear you more? Whether the Terrans attack from under the Scythians wing or on their own makes no difference to Chem, even if I do not fight for revenge upon Scythia my primary care is the protection of Chem.”

  “Well said, Nazeera, but there is a difference between Chem and Scythia. The Scythians wronged us. They wronged me. The Chem, thus far, have not. I’ve had the opportunity to learn of you, under dire circumstances, and still I came away with admiration, no, much more so than that. Earlier I said we were almost kindred, and I stand by that. We are so very much alike. We will go to enormous extremes and great personal risk to ensure the safety of our civilizations. If we insure that safety, you and I, then our people are capable of respect for each other and perhaps eventually trust.