CHAPTER 4: The Terran Gambit

The hologram in the central pit of the Senate panned down to the scene below the enormous crowd—it was a green field painted with parallel white lines. On one side of the field was a group of gladiators in purple, on the other side and equal group in white.

Mavec and She-Rok sighed with relief. The Kempec felt as if she could breathe again; indeed, so terrible was the moment of anticipation that her chest hurt with a sharp cramp.

“I invite you all to enjoy the first session of overtime warfare in the pinnacle of gladiatorial games: the Super Bowl!”

She-Rok cursed, “Damn him, I was going to watch this after today’s session—now it’ll be ruined for me! Minnesota and Pittsburgh are playing, the Vikings are my team and they’re going for their first Super Bowl since the days of Alexander the Great.”

Mavec looked at him in amazement.

“Not the true Alexander, of course,” She-Rok smiled. “This was a defensive tackle that played for the Vikings, I don’t know, maybe fifteen periums past. He was a joy to watch, absolutely ferocious to the core—but somehow honorable. He was the Most Valuable Gladiator in their only win. They haven’t been back to the Super Bowl since.”

“How ironic is it that we now find our entertainment amongst the very people we’re deathly afraid of,” Mavec sighed, watching the contest because no matter how terrible it was she was fascinated by it. Not only was she mesmerized by the spectacle, every member of the Senate put aside their business to watch the gladiators.

It was a damning sight. Mavec knew that her people, whether they be Chem, Golkos, or Kempec were not the people of an age past. They’d lost their edge, and it was obvious every time they beheld that most immature and fascinating species, the Terrans. True, Terrans were barbaric, single minded, and utterly without compassion, but there was a ferocious love of challenge which she could not help but admire. Terrans dared to live, always changing the rules by which they existed; Terrans challenged the very universe to keep up with them.

Mavec knew with a profound sense of loss that her people had no such aspirations. The Galactics discovered long ago that singular formula for living within the universe, and their intention was not to stray from it whatsoever.

“Damn!” She-Rok cursed, as one of the players in white kicked the football through the white uprights of the goal posts. “Lost again—they should really send the kicker for Minnesota to Pantrixnia! Ah well, at least they made a game of it this time. Unfortunately, I’m not nearly as adept at picking my gladiatorial teams as I am at political intrigue. The Vikings haven’t won since the days of Alexander. I wonder whatever happened to him.”

“I can’t imagine why I would care,” Mavec said. She couldn’t get away from the fascination of Terrans quickly enough. “Whatever became of that particular gladiator can’t be nearly as inauspicious as what’s going on in the pit below—look.”

The match was over, and business returned to normal.

The Scythian ambassador approached Nazeera of Chem. The Chem kept an ambassador in Rome. It was a traditional role, for the Chem as a rule offered little advice and asked for none at all. Recently, however, the Scythians had been pushing the Chem to open their borders. The people of Terumaz, the old galaxy’s proudest and sternest people, sent a member of their Triumvirate in response to the amazing solicitation. Nazeera of Chem, tall, powerful in mind and manner and honorable to the core of her being, answered only to the venerable Elder of Chem. She came to Rome to discover why the Scythians should make so bold a request, and then to issue a final inevitably negative response.

Mavec liked Nazeera, and admired her for her steadfast resolve. As she suspected, Nazeera’s review did not take long, and she rejected the Scythians’ out of hand. The Chem, she told them, had no need of Scythian trade and no desire to open Chem space to Scythian convoys. With that issue resolved Nazeera felt the subject was closed irrevocably, but the Scythians apparently thought otherwise. For the past several decands the Scythian ambassadors poked and prodded other Ambassadors, including Mavec, trying to gain support for their cause. The endorsements were half-hearted at best, but as Mavec told them in her steady diplomatic voice, “While we are sympathetic to your over all goals the Chem are, after all, the Chem, and my people are not willing to openly antagonize the people of Terumaz.”

It was a veiled reference to the Chem’s more militaristic but still recognizable past. Frustrated, the Scythians upped the ante, actually including the reminder of Terra in their dialogue with their fellow ambassadors. They did not use this tact directly with the Chem, for who could know how the Chem would react to such outright threats? The intent got to the Chem anyway, even as intended. The result was inconclusive, but it was obvious that the Chem did not like what the Scythians were saying at all.

This was the cause for Mavec’s concern. The slight Scythian in drab gray-green stood out in stark contrast to the exotic Nazeera, dressed as she was in her ceremonial armor. The Chem planted her long nailed fists on comely hips, daring the Scythian to interrupt her privacy, but the slight being approached nonetheless and addressed her. Mavec couldn’t hear the conversation itself, she didn’t need to. She shook her head in the universal gesture of disapproval, muttering, “Here we have a scenario which fleshes out the difficulties we have been speaking of She-Rok. The Scythians of pre-Alexander days would not consider breaching Chem isolation for any reason. Yet here they are, and quite sure of themselves, mind you. Nothing good can come of this.”

“Indeed, Kvel Mavec, you appear struck with apprehension at the sight of our Chem and Scythian friends in parley. The Kempec are well renowned for their skill in diplomacy. Why would you be dissatisfied with dialogue?”

“No doubt you already know the answer to your query, She-Rok,” she chuckled nervously. “Should I disappoint you with the truth or allow you to gauge my opinion with your misconceptions. What do you think?”

“The truth is always more fascinating than the most fanciful supposition, my friend, and I hope you will not rob me of the pleasure. In this case, however, your distress is not unique, either to the Kempec or to yourself, Mavec. I would not be surprised if we shared many of the same concerns regarding the Scythians. Therefore, I have no objection to opening my mind to you, in exchange for your honest opinion, if such is the price.”

“You need not buy my honesty, She-Rok. I will tell you plainly and bluntly my opinion: the Scythians are overplaying their hand. I can see nothing good coming of this.”

“Have you informed the Scythians of your opinion? After all, you know the mind of Nazeera of Chem perhaps better than any other politician, or have I been misinformed? Rumor has it that you’ve been heavily tasked these last decurns to ease the growing tensions between the two states.”

“Your information is quite correct, as usual, She-Rok. Unfortunately, the facade which you see before us—the Chem and the Scythians in rational dialogue—is just that: a facade and nothing more. The Scythians have told me repeatedly that although they appreciate my efforts they are their own best counselors. I was cautioned in the most strenuous way not to interfere with their negotiations and especially not to build a consensus decrying the Scythian attempts in Chem.”

“Indeed? I assume that the Kempec government conveniently found itself content to be of any use it could for the Scythians. After all, when seventy-five percent of your trade and sixty-three percent of your financial institutions are controlled by the Scythians you must take care not to tread on their all too delicate toes.”

“Your data and your assertions are unfortunately accurate, She-Rok. It is all the more distressing when we represent the status quo as far as Scythian influence is concerned. It presents us with a very difficult problem, and we have precious little capacity to affect the outcome. On one hand the Scythians are steadfast in their contention that Chem must at the very least open routes through their space for Scythian traders, if not open up their empire to free trade. That the Chem shall never do, they prize their privacy most jealously.”

“There is no compulsion whatsoever for the Chem to deal with the Scythians,” She-Rok added. “They are unique among the civilized cultures in that they have no need of the Scythians. They did not need Scythian aide to rebuild after the wars and are thus completely autonomous. The Scythians, of course, would like to change that slight oversight. There are vast markets in Chem, or at the very least, if they win free passage that would improve the efficiency of their freighter traffic by approximately thirty-five percent. That would be pure profit.”

“Profit—one hundred and thirty-five percent of infinity is still infinity! The fools are risking another galactic war based on incalculable profit! They have no idea who they are dealing with.”

“Do you really think the Chem will go so far?” She-Rok asked, showing surprise at the level of Mavec’s concern.

“My dear She-Rok, we have here a classic example of two bulls going up against one another. That in itself wouldn’t trouble me so much. If this were a Chem-Golkos problem neither I nor any of our galactic cousins would care one way or another. The general peace would continue, and the two parties could quarrel amongst themselves. Our particular problem is that the Scythians, unlike the Golkos, have neither the inclination nor the capability of defending themselves. Yet they don’t need a military when they can coerce support from the rest of us. The Scythians have established an economic hegemony over most of the civilized galaxy. This economic power directly translates into political power, of course, and it doesn’t take many whispered threats for even the Golkos to be cowed. Balk at Scythian leadership and Golkos would be without power, food and money in a decand! A galactic civilization with roots a ki-millenium past would be back to barbarism.”

“We’ve all received communiqués from the Scythians expressing their desire for political support, Mavec, and we have all acquiesced. Why shouldn’t we? Certainly the Chem are not going to launch another war of expansion over this issue. The Chem wars were long ago, and I cannot think that even Nazeera, despite her well established image as a soldier, would be so keen as to begin a war over trade routes.”

“Do you actually expect Nazeera to accept Scythian demands?”

“Of course not, and the matter will end there. The Scythians will be disgruntled, but unlike the rest of us they have nothing to hold over the Chem. Despite thirteen millennia of peace the tradition of Chem militarism is still too vaunted to illicit any aggressive response on our part. Even the Scythians cannot expect that level of cooperation.”

“I do not think that will be the end of it,” Mavec told him sternly.

She-Rok shook his bullet head, unfazed. “Mavec, you read too much into this. Even the Golkos, whom I admit may be tempted by the idea, would not go to war with Chem over such an insubstantial issue in their interests. Despite their bluster they remember all too well their disaster at Koor-tum, where the Chem destroyed half their fleet. The Chem are their betters, and they know it. They will not support such a scheme, no matter the Scythian threats, and without the Golkos there is no chance of militarily competing with the Chem. There the matter will end. Our states shall perhaps disappoint the Scythians, but no more.”

“You do not understand the Scythian mindset, She-Rok. They consider the Chem their last great challenge to uncontested power in the galaxy. Remind yourself why we as advanced cultures have allowed such growth and influence within the Scythian Empire at the expense of our pride and sovereignty? The Golkos and the Chem are not the only military states in the galaxy, and they may not be the most dangerous.”

“Alexander? Do you really believe the Scythians would consider threatening the Chem with Terra?”

“Yes, haven’t we been talking of this very thing? Whether they know it or not the Terrans are no less than Scythian mercenaries. For two millennia, She-Rok, the Terrans have fought the galaxy’s bloodiest wars amongst themselves for dominion. They search for that singular being that will fill Alexander the Great’s glorious throne, and lead the Terrans to the stars in search of endless glory and conquest. The “Legend of Alexander” is studied in every school, college and university. We know their motives, and by constant report we know the veracity of their barbarism. Yet as we all know the Scythians, and the Scythians alone, hold the key to Terra. We dare not make a move without fear of a Terran legion landing on our Homeworld; a legion transported by the fastest ships in the galaxy and armed with the most modern weaponry. I shudder to think what would occur if Terrans ever set foot on Kempec! After witnessing the slaughter they impose on themselves imagine what they would do to another race! The thought is too terrible to comprehend!”

She-Rok sighed, nodding, “In the last centellium alone they’ve killed over one hundred million of their own brethren. I do not think even the Chem would wish to face such barbarity.”

“That is the central question in my mind, She-Rok. What will the Chem do if the Scythians openly threaten them with Terra? We have always backed down in the past, but the Chem, who knows what they will do?”

“They may well call the Scythians’ bluff. The Chem prize honor above all. Yet were I to wager between a Terran warrior and a Chem I would call it no contest. Could you see it any other way? Terrans are the pinnacle of the sentient warrior. A Chem may be quicker, but Terrans are half again as large, hardier and far, far stronger than any other sentient. That does not even consider the fact that Terrans are born and bred in a warrior society. What the Chem recall as a distant memory Terrans experience in everyday life. Normally, nothing, not even death, would cause the Chem to give in; but who can say what a race will do when their empire is at stake?”

“It depends entirely on just how great the Scythian offense is,” Mavec answered. “This is Nazeera of Chem we speak of, probably the most prideful Chem since Terumaz herself, and by all accounts her equal. Nazeera will not take well any amount of Scythian meddling, and I can only imagine her reaction if the Scythians threaten Chem with Terran legions.”

“I am of like mind, Mavec, but there is only one way to find out,” the Hrang told her, and he dialed in a setting on his disk. A red light flashed on the circumference. She-Rok pressed it with his thumb and another hologram materialized above the disk. The hologram featured Nazeera of Chem and the Scythian ambassador. She-Rok cut off Mavec’s protest with a wave of his stubby hand, “This situation is far too important for Kempec prudence, now listen!”

Even in miniature they could see the luminous blue orbs of Nazeera flicker with concentration as the tiny Scythian waited upon her. The eavesdropping Kempec and Hrang missed little of the confrontation; however, as Nazeera was wholly absorbed in an incoming communiqué on her secure etherlink. When the link was complete, she gave a short, wry smile and tucked the comm-pad into her belt. Glancing up, she found the Scythian still there, patiently awaiting its audience. A flush of anger raced across her darkling chiseled cheeks. Placing her hands on her armored hips only served to expand the perilous nature of the Scythian incursion, but if the being took the hint there was no sign of it. The volume of She-Rok’s hologram was low, but the perturbation in Nazeera’s voice was unmistakable.

“What is it now, Scythian? You have my answer, and that of the Elder of Chem. There is nothing to debate. We will not, now or ever, allow you access to our space. Nor will we allow Scythian freighters passage through Chem space. What could be clearer? I see no reason for continued discourse, and as such you should do well to avoid trying my patience!”

“We are painfully aware of the jealousy to which the Chem regard their territory, Nazeera of the Triumvirate,” the Scythian answered in its high sing-song voice. “Yet I think you still mistake our intentions, and that, more than all else, demands our attention.” It cocked its over-large head, as if giving a lecture and began a litany all too obviously rehearsed. “The rest of the galaxy is indelibly connected by the bonds of economic dependency. This interdependency has created a peace too final to be broken. The Galactics have finally turned to the answers which drove Terumaz the Great to end the hostilities perpetrated by the noble Chem. You have grown and blossomed for it. Do you feel no desire to share your experience with your brethren? Certainly the Galactics, and the galaxy as a whole, cannot but help to build upon the structure of civilization with the Chem as their guides. How can self imposed isolation further either the cause of Chem or her Galactic cousins?”

Nazeera was in a towering rage, but the decorum of the Galactics oldest establishment restrained her. In a tightly controlled voice she told the Scythian, “You may dispense with such fantastic inventions of idealism, ambassador. There is no Scythian altruism behind your facade; there is only your search for increased profit and power. I find both motives irritating in the extreme. Chem does not need you, Ambassador, nor does Chem desire your presence in her space. Understand this, ambassador: we will not subjugate our sovereignty in any manner to Scythian desire for profit. Do you understand? There is no other purpose for continuing this discussion. Good day, Ambassador!”

“I had hoped for a more rational approach to the problem, Nazeera of the Triumvirate. At the very least let me apply to you again for license to run our freighters through a limited number of corridors across Chem space. The galaxy is a vast place, and even a small number of these corridors would bring our cultures closer together. Though you disdain profit I am certain that we could come to some agreement whereby the compensation would be equitable. It is not just for Scythia that I ask this. Your galactic cousins support us fervently on this particular issue.”

“Once again you dissect the meaning of dialect with a cut of your own flavor, Ambassador. I have indeed received position papers from your fellow Ambassadors, all lauding the possibilities. Hear you nothing of what I say, or are you deaf to all that does not meet with your approval? We do not care. Send all the leaders of all the cultures to Nazeera’s doorstep and have them plead on your behalf, it will fail to alter my mind. Chem will do as Chem sees fit. The hand of Scythia may be heavy without our borders, Ambassador, but in the empire of the Elder of Chem it is inconsequential at best.”

“The policy of Scythia is many things, Nazeera of the Triumvirate, but it is never to be ignored,” the Ambassador told her. The Scythian stood stock still, and though its voice was constantly pleasant, anything but threatening, there was exactness to its words, which made it more keen and dangerous than a lion’s roar. Nazeera’s eyes took on a deep purple burn, but the Scythian pressed on. “We have explained the advantages of our offer numerous times. Our patience wears thin. Perhaps it is time to consider other options. If the Chem are unwilling or unable to grasp the opportunity Scythia and her galactic companions offer, then she must be left behind. We can no longer afford to slow our evolution as a galactic community because Chem prizes the ancient ways. We would, of course, rather have the Chem as willing companions, and cherished protectors of our traditions, rather than leaving our brethren behind to dwindle and fade into insignificance. Yet if we must leave you behind, then that shall be a loss, and a lesson, to our community.”

“Very well,” Nazeera smiled, “if that is all to your offer then by all means leave Chem behind. Why should we desire your company? Chem has kept a representative in the Senate since the days of Terumaz, and despite our well guarded sovereignty we have attempted to be a calm steady influence on galactic growth. If, however, the galactic community is so devoutly supportive of Scythian jealousy and desires our advice no longer then so be it. We shall withdraw today, this moment!”

“Believe me, Nazeera of Chem, nothing would so pain Scythia, but for one distressing eventuality. For our community is growing, and needs space. Peace! I speak not of our established community, for who among us would be so bold, and foolish, as to have designs on Chem territory? We have too much respect for Chem to wish it as a possibility. Yet we are not alone, and of this we poor Scythians know too much. For two millennia, we have borne the hardest tasking: to maintain the incarceration of Terra and the heirs of Alexander. Unfortunately, the Terrans are far too potent a species to keep isolated for all time. When presented with a difficulty they have the unnerving habit of stubbornly seeking for a solution until the problem is solved. This is the eventuality we feared, and the reality we now face. The Terrans are on the verge of breaking out of their system despite Scythian efforts to prevent this possibility. Once they are out we have no way of controlling them, unless it is to present a constant front to them. The Galactics must speak as one voice, Nazeera of Chem, for only in that manner may we turn the legions of Alexander into the empty cosmos and away from our homes. Do you then still wish to stand alone? With the Galactics Chem may grow and prosper, as Terumaz the thrice renowned no doubt intended. Without us you stand alone against the legions of Alexander. Which way shall Chem go?”

“You dare to threaten the Chem with your Terran mercenaries! You worms! You have not the courage to openly challenge your betters, but rather use a mythical confederacy to justify your endless greed. That is subterfuge too deep, Scythian, even for your people! I shall not stand by and hear more of it! Prepare yourself, Scythian. If you can truly commune with all of your folk during times of import then do it now! For the next time you see Nazeera of Chem it shall be after she has settled with Alexander once and for all time. Then, my treacherous friend, you shall see me on the smoking husk of your Homeworld, where I shall sentence you to Circus Pantrixnia for your crimes!”

Nazeera promptly left the field of the hologram. She-Rok turned the image of the lone Scythian off and said, “Dear me, that did not go well at all!”