Chapter 3: The Legacy of Alexander

Sixty-seven parsecs away Ambassador Kvel Mavec of the Kempec Empire entered the marble halls of the Galactic Senate on the neutral planet Roma. Mavec, as she always did when first arriving in the Senate, toured the upper galleries before descending into the pit of the Senate chamber. There, looking down from niches in the gallery, were the marble statues of figures renowned throughout the known galaxy. They were the builders of Roma; beings of nobility, destiny, peace, war, and even betrayal. Not all the beings were glorious in their lives, and some recalled the darkest failures of a civilized galaxy, but they earned a place on the gallery overlooking the Senate, nonetheless. Their unseeing eyes gazed down upon the rulers of the galaxy so that the lessons they taught in history might never be forgotten.

Mavec could recite the particulars for each of the statues in the gallery, and she stopped for some time beneath the noble artifice of Novus Novek, the Conciliator, of her Homeworld, Kempec. She was tall and spare, as were most of her people, being of the same galactic family as the Chem and the Golkos, but the marble did not reveal the dusky glisten to her flesh or the luminous eyes. Still, Mavec was impressed with the likeness, and reveled in the honor of having one of her people in the gallery.

Novek’s inclusion with the famous of history was no mistake. She mediated the final peace between the Golkos and the Chem, ending the millennium of brutality known as the Chem Wars of Expansion. That was thirteen millennia past, and since then peace reigned in the civilized galaxy beneath Novek’s gaze. Next to the Kempec was the likeness of Terumaz of Chem herself, the great lady with whom Novek brokered the lasting peace. It was a triumph of memory that warmed the heart of Mavec.

Yet even as she enjoyed the flush of satisfaction she felt a burning gaze on her temple. Involuntarily she cast her glance across the gallery to the most infamous of the Roma’s builders.

There, set aside from his peers in a solitary niche at the end of the gallery was the most disquieting being in the galactic company. It was not that the figure was malevolent in form or composure, quite the opposite. The statue initially recalled glory in its most basic form. Heavy musculature characterized the being as a Terran warrior, but from the gilded cuirass to the flowing shock of marble hair the being was still beautiful and awe inspiring. Such was its peril; for the genius of the artisan revealed the true character of the man. He was a conqueror.

The blank stare of the far seeing eyes looked up to the heavens, caring not for policy, advancement or benevolent prosperity, only conquest. Mavec walked over to the statue, even as she had every time since, as a young woman, she entered these hallowed halls. She stood beneath the powerful being; her breath caught in her lungs.

“Alexander the Great,” announced a silken voice behind her, startling even the composed Kempec. The announcement came from the Hrang ambassador, a tail-less saurian of stout frame, whose people were remarkably adept at galactic intrigue. Mavec knew the Hrang over many periums, and though she respected her peer, there was always a level of suspicion to be dealt with. The Hrang were master spies, using dermal implants to amplify their native chameleon-like attributes, and they normally knew quite a bit more than was good for them.

Ambassador She-Rok bowed stiffly in apology, and told her, “This has always been one of my favorite places. I suppose I am fascinated by the dreadful. I can never ignore Alexander when I come here. Almost as a punishment I peruse his words and imagine their ultimate effect on our civilization.”

He pressed a switch at the base of the statue. A golden glow enveloped the effigy, and suddenly the marble took on the olive tone of flesh, and the harsh gleam of bronze beneath ruddy gold. The eyes took on life and looked out to a darkening landscape from the vantage of a high mountain pass. Beyond the stars shone fitfully over a slumbering world. A strong magical voice cried out to them.

“How may I look to the horizon and be satisfied with past victories? The conquests of the past matter not; it is the striving forward which feeds our restless hearts. So it is that we must move onward, never ceasing, lest we stagnate and grow rank in spirit. To that end shall I seek that which lies beyond, and verily shall I have it, then on to the next. Behold the vistas of the universe! In it there is enough to sate even my yearning spirit, aye, even to the spirits of my descendants. From this pinnacle I look afar and I see countless worlds to conquer, even to the everlasting and innumerable stars.”

The monologue ended, and the statue’s newfound life returned to cold distant marble. The Hrang smiled nervously. “No words ever spoken in this galaxy of ours have ever borne so much weight, or ever entailed so much dread. Is it not strange that Roma should play host to a being who could not imagine its existence? Certainly even Alexander could not have foreseen how far his words would carry, or how many empires would tremble at his name. Yet it is always the same, no matter the number of times I listen. I cannot rid myself of the oppression which hangs over me, or the thrill which courses my limbs when faced with the semblance of Alexander. The terrible and yet awe inspiring Alexander! Is the sensation similar for you, Mavec, or do the Kempec have a lesser opinion of Terra’s God-king?”

“Why ask when you know the answer?” Mavec replied. “Who of the Galactics may ignore Alexander’s boast, or the burden which it delivers? Not the Kempec, at least. Not the prideful Golkos. Not even the vaunted Chem. Alexander affects us all, even to the ideal of this city, this world, and the Galactic seat of government.”

Mavec turned away from Alexander and walked to the gallery rail. Below was the pit of the Senate where the twelve civilized cultures of the known galaxy labored at the mechanization of coexistence. It had worked for thirteen millennia, but ever since the rise of the Terran God-king there was a pall cast over the gleaming marble city. Mavec addressed that very thought and wondered aloud whether Roma of the Galactics would ever bear the same fate as its progeny: the Eternal City on Terra, Rome.

Mavec shook her head, and said, “Two millennia past, shortly after the death of Alexander, we covertly founded the city of Rome. The city prospered; growing upon a political model we formulated to encourage coexistence as the overpowering goal. Secretly we molded the philosophy of the city, stressing service over ambition, citizenship over discrimination, prosperity over luxurious sloth.”

Mavec left the rail and walked back to Alexander. “Surprisingly, there were many completely Terran ideals to draw from, not the least of which was Alexander’s example of a true multicultural empire. We ensured that Greek and Egyptian philosophers, magistrates and artisans found their way into Rome. An empire grew from Roman ingenuity and their extreme desire for order. In the span of a few centuries it encompassed most of Alexander’s former empire.”

Mavec sighed and returned to the rail. “There was a time when it seemed we achieved what we sought. Yet despite the massive Galactic effort Rome was a completely Terran city, and a Terran empire. Terrans are an adolescent race. While the ideals of Rome drew them, their attention was soon diverted to the possibility of using Rome’s power for gain. The security provided by Rome’s legions became a tool for expansion, glory and conquest. New names arose amongst histories generals, all vying to be the heir of Alexander. For a time, even in its distinctly Terran flavor Rome was a stabilizing factor in Terra’s progression.”

“Yet then Rome slipped into sloth and greed,” She-Rok said. “The Empire fell, and it took Terra into darkness and barbarism.”

“We failed,” Mavec admitted. “When the Roman Empire was no more, we accepted our defeat, and relegated the uncontrollable, unalterable Terrans to strict Scythian quarantine.” Mavec turned her luminous eyes on the Hrang, and added, “Yet like the Roman experiment, the quarantine of Terra was not handled exactly as we envisioned.”

“Rome was not such a failure as you might think, Mavec,” She-Rok said, joining Mavec at the rail. Less morose and more practical than his counterpart he could conjecture dispassionately. “Even the Terrans, from Scythian report, glorify their version of our city. I do not think it was a mistake for us to found it. It was a risk, but not so much of one. The Terrans had already proven themselves capable of prolonged empires by that point in their development, and even of idealism. Rome was meant to harness the constructive energies of a potentially dangerous race within a carefully constructed framework which would promote order, prosperity and mutual respect. In many ways it was successful.”

“Rome still failed, She-Rok,” Mavec said sternly. “It was successful so long as it followed the Galactic model and was not too Terran. That was our mistake. We did not realize that so far as the Terrans are concerned the legacy of Alexander is all consuming. Alexander touched a nerve in their psyche; his philosophy still resonates after two millennia.

“How long did Rome last before a warlord seized power intent on following in Alexander’s footsteps, two, maybe three centellia? In the end Alexander’s will held sway. Despite all the advantages we offered the Terrans turned Rome into a more efficient and vastly more superior destructive power. We would have been better served to leave well enough alone.”

“Perhaps, but I still do not accept our complete failure,” She-Rok replied. “In many ways Rome has served to mentor the Terrans into our systems of law, citizenship and morality. These are apparent, even if they are not dominant. We have, I admit, failed to change the core Terran philosophy of cosmic domination. That may be too much to expect, however. Alexander is as much a legend to his own folk as he is to us. It is difficult to change the words of your once and future lord. The Terran situation, for better or worse, is set. The Terrans have their dreams of galactic conquest, but they cannot reach us, yet. The Scythians still hold the keys to Terra’s shackles. Without the ability to leave their planetary system the Terrans are dangerous only to themselves, and they may very well succeed where we fear to tread. The last centellium has been very encouraging!”

“Encouraging?” Mavec exclaimed. “She-Rok, what is encouraging about it? They’ve progressed from a planet bound people to the outer reaches of their solar system in less than half a centellium! When has another culture in the known galaxy presented us with such volcanic technological growth? Two centellia past they used beasts of burden for transport! Even given the technological capability to match such growth we could never adapt to it. Galactic culture and its technology are linear. We change with exquisite sloth. Our technology has remained at an equivalent level not only through the last age, but three hundred millennia prior to the Chem Wars of Expansion. I cannot even fathom such growth, such chaos. How can we know what to expect?”

“We do not need to know, so long as the Scythians’ keep the Terrans where they belong.”

“The Scythians, Terra’s ever-present keepers and protectors,” Mavec said, her angular face framing an expression as close to a smile as her demeanor would allow. “Whenever Scythia desires a new trade agreement, lower tariffs, or anytime there is a resolution in the Senate protesting Scythian ownership of extra-empire commercial interests the Scythians threaten us economically. With their vast holdings in financial institutions and their monopoly on trade we cannot answer their demands in an equivalent manner. The only recourse we have is military. We have a great stigma against using force as an instrument of policy, but even considering we deemed such a horrendous step necessary there is always Terra to stop us. In recent history both the Seer’koh and the Golkos threatened the Scythians only to retreat under threat of unleashing the Terrans. It is stupefying and simple: if any state threatens Scythia, they will unleash Alexander and his legions upon the galaxy. What recourse do we have then? We accede, and thereby feed the bloated Scythian juggernaut, making our position all that much more untenable.”

Mavec pounded her slight fist on the marble rail in a rare expression of emotion. Her voice was bitter. It was a marked departure from her diplomatic demeanor.

“They are remarkably adept at reminding us of that particular bit of blackmail. They have Terra, and the Terrans wait upon them for their opportunity. Terrans are nothing more than Scythian mercenaries, but even in that they present their keepers with a deadly danger. Though they prod us with a Terran threat, could the Scythians actually control the Terrans once they were loosed upon the galaxy?”

“Certainly not,” the Hrang said with steadfast certainty. “Greed and profit drive the Scythians, but they are not fools. They have a wonderfully developed sense of self protection. I would think, and all our observations support this theory, that the Scythians would do almost anything to avoid an actual relationship with Terrans which might lead to their expansion into the galaxy. They are far too dangerous.”

“I do not disagree with you, She-Rok, but still I wonder just how far they are willing to push that particular bluff. I wonder whether we have the strength and fortitude to actually answer such a possibility.”

Mavec sighed, gazing down into the pinnacle of galactic civilization: the pit of the Senate. Normally she would recall with pride their accomplishment of ordered civilization, for here even amongst the layer upon layer of galactic intrigue even age old enemies like the Chem and Golkos met with civility. Passions remained, but they didn’t interfere with the workings of the galactic bureaucracy. She looked about the Senate at members of the twelve civilized cultures, seeing in them a growing homogeneity. True, they still considered themselves members of twelve separate empires rather than citizens of a single galactic entity, but there were certain inarguable ideals which bound them all together.

“I wonder She-Rok, for all that Roma and our Galactic Senate have accomplished, have we succumbed to the inevitable apathy of success? For thirteen millennia we’ve been at peace. Precious little has changed in technology, customs or people.”

She-Rok shrugged, and joined her at the rail. “You’re right, of course. Peace on a galactic scale for such an extreme period of time allows for unprecedented prosperity, but there is always a price. Expansion and exploration ceased as our cultures recovered from the catastrophic wars. When normality returned stagnation came with it, and matters of debate are now relatively petty. No one is willing to risk war for pride or policy.”

A loud gong sounded in the cast chamber. All eyes turned to the center of the Senate pit where a huge holographic image brightened. It showed the graven features of the President of the Senate, a Golkos. His voice instantly commanded the attention of the audience.

“My fellow Senators an event is transpiring in our galaxy that has not happened in decands. Fate stands upon the knife’s edge. The next few moments will write history. Behold!”

Mavec moved to the rail, and She-Rok was right beside her. She waited impatiently for the face of the President to fade, and the follow on image to clear. There was some problem with the transmission, as if it were being beamed from some remote corner of the galaxy.

“What in the world can this be about, do you know anything She-Rok?”

“On my word, I’m as surprised as you Mavec.”

The image cleared to the view of a single planet, blue and white, floating like an iridescent marble in a sea of velvet.

“This day on Terra history is being made,” the President said gravely. The scene narrowed to a gathering of thousands of thousands of Terrans, their voices raised in a deafening roar. The Senate shook.

“By the stars, they’ve discovered the heir of Alexander!” Mavec breathed.