CHAPTER 9: Nazeera

Nazeera exited the Elder’s chambers exhausted. The meeting of the three Triumvirates of the Assemblage and the Elder of Chem took nearly a fifth of a decurn. The “Legend of Alexander” had everyone on edge, even the eldest members of the Assemblage, but the debate tried her patience.

Nazeera was a creature of action. The limited scope of Chem action thus far comprised only the boarding of the Scythian experimentation ship and the taking of Alexander. That took place only after the insistence of Nazeera. There had been a debate for some time in the Assemblage concerning the anticipated Scythian demands, which were as unacceptable in their hypothetical status as when Scythians made them formally. The nebulosity of the issue centered on the Terran question, and what the Scythian threat would eventually mean to Chem. Nazeera was vehemently against any concession to the Scythians, but she was also aware of their complete ignorance of the Terrans. True, they had many millennia worth of Scythian distributed data, all of which was authentic. Yet data could easily be edited to maintain a particular view, and Nazeera wasn’t willing to accept any Scythian authored viewpoint without contention.

If the Chem had an innate distrust for the Scythians then Nazeera personalized it. The visceral philosophies of the two peoples were diametrically opposed. Their relationship fell from the diplomatic pedestal of cordiality to open hostility in one fatal step. Unfortunately, from Nazeera’s point of view, what should have been a swift response to the Scythians dissolved into another quagmire of endless debate. Though they now had Alexander there were no plans for military action. The Chem Armada was to be mobilized, but beyond that there was only talk.

The dominant member of the Triumvirate stalked out of the council chamber to find Nazar waiting for her. She stopped next to him, taking a deep breath before she trusted herself to speak. Her shoulders rose as she slowly took in the moist heavy air of the Chem Homeworld. With excessive control she allowed her breath to whistle through her sharp teeth, releasing her tension and clearing her mind. Shaking her leonine mane she was now ready to address her closest confidant and friend. Nazar was dear to her, and all the more so since the death of their father, but she betrayed little warmth in her greeting.

“Waiting for news I suppose?”

“Waiting for you,” Nazar smiled, handing her a regenerative drink. “I owe you an apology. You have more than enough on your mind without my baiting Bureel. It was rather callous of me.”

Nazeera threw him a half hearted grin, “Yes it was callous, but more so for Bureel. Therefore, it was not without amusement. Your baiting of him, my dear Nazar, is somewhat of a tonic for me. As his wife,” she spat out the word as if the concept were pure poison, “I have no right to speak my mind in public, despite my repugnance of him. An arranged marriage has its elements of chance, but that I should mate with a dog such as Bureel is unthinkable! I wish I could forgive father for that.”

“He’s bringing up the subject of an heir is he?” Nazar asked cautiously.

“He is most insistent on it, and I have little recourse,” Nazeera admitted, tossing the drink down and stomping down the hall—her anger apparent. “It is not only time honored tradition, but it is in my marriage vows, and so it is law. I can delay, as I have, but I have no right to refuse.”

Nazar followed, staying close on her shoulder. His voice was insistent, but it sank to a harsh whisper.

“Maybe you can’t legally refuse him, but there may be another way, Nazeera.”

She glanced at him without stopping. “Go on.”

“It is somewhat eccentric, I admit, but then again we are approaching desperate straits aren’t we? Oh, I’ve seen that look of yours before, but hear me out. I propose we allow Bureel to make good on his boast to combat the Terran. He is a brawny fellow with pluck. I daresay he could solve the problem of Bureel quite permanently.”

Nazeera stopped quite suddenly, staring at the floor. The image of Alexander throttling Bureel brought a momentary smile to her lips. Then duty intervened, and she felt the responsibility of the Empire on her shoulders. “No, I can’t use this for personal gain, that’s going too far!” she thought, but to Nazar, she said, “You tempt me, brother, you sorely tempt me, but we have already decided the dispensation of the Terran.”

She started walked again, but at a more measured pace.

“I hope you weren’t serious about executing him,” Nazar said. “I realize Terrans are a possible danger to the Empire, but I’m not certain executing their warlord is the best idea. I wouldn’t deal so ignobly with even a Scythian without due cause. At least allow him to die in battle. Terrans could understand that without enmity. My advice is for you to allow Bureel’s challenge. This would be to our advantage.”

Nazeera laughed, “You are a simple schemer, sweet Nazar. You are right, it would be to our advantage but it would not be to the advantage of the Empire. What if Bureel killed the Terran? We would have lost a wonderful opportunity to study a potential adversary. There isn’t time enough to return to Terra and abduct another. No, we can’t use him to our own advantage, but we won’t dishonor him with execution or Scythian style experimentation either. That avenue was taken out of our hands with the discovery of his unique status. We will send him to Pantrixnia, as I suggested. There I believe we will find out much more about our adversary than any battery of tests, or even a combat with Bureel. He does have pluck. I think he might survive quite a while longer than many envision.”

“Pantrixnia, I thought you were jesting at the Assemblage!” Nazar replied. “I can’t think of what you can learn of him there. The most pernicious Chem villains don’t last a full decand, and I can’t imagine the Terran doing that well. Terrans may be the most physically powerful Galactic sentient, but there’s more to Pantrixnia than brawn. He didn’t look particularly swift and his strength will not help him against the beasts of that planet!”

“Nonetheless, that is what we decided. His cunning interests me more than his physical prowess. I studied the information our scouts retrieved from the Scythian data banks thoroughly while the Terran was enroute. Thus, I knew a great deal more about him than he could have guessed during our tête-à-tête in the Assemblage. The Scythian tapes contained a great deal of piquant information, including past life memories. He’s a warrior that one, always has been. There are indications of an extremely savage past, and much of that in positions of power. This being is hungry for notoriety, and his past lives indicate a willingness to take great risks to accomplish his goals. This particular life cycle is remarkably devoid of any great accomplishment, and it galls him. It is somewhat remarkable, as his accomplishments in this life cycle are considerable when projected against the norm. He was a gladiator, Nazar, rewarded for his exploits in the arena of football. He was promoted from the pit of Terra’s most savage game to full citizenship and the post of a military officer in one of the premier factions on the planet. There he became a field commander and an expert at unarmed and mechanized combat, but somehow failed to advance any further. Politics seemed to play a part. In that respect, at least, Terrans may not be much different than us. He left that faction embittered. It was a mistake.”

Nazeera led Nazar outside the building, past the guard, and into the forest surrounding the Assemblage compound. No other buildings were apparent. She took a path that wound through the jungle.

“Considering the Terran caste system and its volatility I’m surprised he was allowed the freedom of departing his faction, I would certainly never have allowed such a defection! Alexander is frustrated with his position in life, and considering his past he may have reason for it.”

“Then what is this about his status as Warlord of Terra?”

“I’m getting to that. Alexander is one of those rare figures that are dangerous if left uncontrolled, and true to form his aspirations did not die after his dismissal. It’s difficult to sort out fact from fantasy when dealing with memory, but we know for a fact that the Scythians had multiple contacts with him. It’s obvious now why. Alexander had the aspiration and the ability, and the Scythians were intent on tackling the Chem problem. They found the heir to Alexander.”

They walked for a while, listening to the birds in the jungle. After about five minutes they came to a waterfall. Brown foamy water slipped over an outcropping of black rock to fill a muddy pool. It began to rain.

Nazeera stooped to wash her hands, fully aware of tenseness in the jungle. This pool was set apart from the Assemblage compound. It was the perfect place for an assassination, or an ambush—she heard the parting of undergrowth and instantly leapt aside. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Nazar leap the other way.

A vibrant green body several times her size landed on the mud where she’d stood. It was a small carnivore, a purla, and it scrambled at the bank, its six legs trying to keep it from toppling into the muddy water after missing Nazeera.

She laughed, drew her pistol and shot it.

The purla jumped into the air, flipped around, and landed with a heavy plop on the muddy bank—dead.

“Nice shot,” Nazar smiled, holstering his own gun.

“He’ll make a nice business suit,” Nazeera said, holstering her gun and pulling out a long knife. She squatted over the dead animal and began to skin him.

“It’s intriguing that we found Alexander in a state of communion, possibly with the Scythian Council, when we boarded their ship. I can’t say what their negotiations were about, but it seems clear that the Scythians identified him as the heir to Alexander, possibly even the genetic descendant of Alexander himself! The Scythians needs fit Alexander’s desires perfectly.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Nazar asked, cutting several long strips of flank meat and roasting them on branches with his gun. “I mean, if we know who he is, and we know what the Scythians want to do then what’s the mystery?” He handed her some roasted meat.

“We know so little about Terrans in the flesh,” she said, squatting like some primeval cavewoman and ripping at the roasted meat while she talked Galactic politics. “We’ve known what the Scythians were up to all along, but now that it’s happening we need to know more. I’m not convinced Alexander is the only warlord of Terra, there’s too much dissatisfaction with this life cycle. For a being like that anything but the pinnacle is empty. Whatever his motivations were on Terra he now has his opportunity at notoriety as the de facto representative of his race. This is what he’s been waiting for. I want to see how he uses it.”

“Remind me never to perplex you. I don’t want you trying to find out what makes me tick.”

Nazeera just smiled and finished her snack.

“I wouldn’t want the fate of Chem resting on my performance on Pantrixnia,” Nazar grunted, finishing his meal. He wiped his greasy lips on his sleeve. “I’d give myself two decurns. The second night would find me with no luck left to draw on.”

“We’ll see,” she nodded, as she finished skinning the purla. She rolled up the pelt, washed her hands and tucked it under her arm. “Ah, now that was a refreshing lunch. Now back to business.” She headed back down the forest path. A scavenger was already pulling at the purla’s carcass. “The challenge on Pantrixnia will answer many of our questions concerning Terrans, but I have many more I want to pose to Alexander in particular.”

“Such as whether or not the Terrans are massing even as we speak?”

“Amongst others,” she said. “The spy ship didn’t see any signs of that when they took Alexander, but what they may have in mind I don’t know. We’re finally mobilizing our Armada, and I can’t imagine the Scythians being able to transport millions of Terran warriors into our space before we’re ready. We’re not as lax as our brethren, though we’re not as strong as our ancestors. It takes a lot to motivate us out of the Empire, Nazar. I spent the last hours persuading the Elder to take even these meager steps. We’ve become a contented people. Our empire building days are in the past, and now we sit and enjoy the luxury of our ancestor’s gains. We’re proud and haughty, but we’re slow to anger. Perceived threats don’t concern us, at least they didn’t concern us, until now. The Scythians’ affronts finally pushed us to action, but there is a great amount of inertia in the Chem.”

They reached the compound. A door slid open and they entered the corridor. Nazeera led Nazar into an elevator. She pressed the button for the lowest level. There was a slight bump, and then the lift whirred as it took them deep into the bowels of the compound. “We can and will deal with Scythia, but we know so little of Terrans. Have we finally met our match in this galaxy? Can Terrans actually defeat us? Do they even wish to? We don’t risk the Empire of our ancestors without careful consideration.”

Nazar shook his head, saying, “I can’t argue against your logic. You’ve won the point, dear sister; very well, but what do you wish to accomplish concerning this particular Terran? Pantrixnia may well settle issues of cunning and mettle, but it does nothing to answer questions of motive.”

“You’re quite right, Nazar, and maybe we can expect nothing more than dissuading some of the myths. Whatever we find out will be more useful than the whisperings of the Scythians which like as not, make the Terrans more than they are. We shall not let all our information be dependent on Pantrixnia, however. On that point you demonstrate remarkable foresight. The Elder agrees with you, Nazar, and has therefore assigned me to interrogate the Terran before his departure. He’s given me three decurns within which to form a personality portrait of the Terran independent of Scythian data. I don’t know that I expect to find anything special, but perhaps he’ll let down his guard more so with me, than he would before the entire Assemblage.”

“The plan has merit. Beautiful women have historically been more successful at wheedling secrets out of men, and this fellow doesn’t look as he’ll be intimidated. You mean to see him alone then?”

“I do. Now is the best time, as Pantrixnia will forever prevent any further interrogation.”

“That is, unfortunately true,” Nazar agreed. “It’s a pity though. He impressed me. Yanked from his Homeworld to the Assemblage, that’s not the way I’d like to be introduced to interstellar travel.”

“Why Nazar, you speak of him as if you thought him ignorant of the Scythians and the galaxy at large!” The lift stopped and the door slid open. They were in a metal corridor. Luminescent panels on the ceiling were the only thing breaking up the monotony of metal. “Galactic history has always placed the Terrans firmly in the Scythian camp, waiting only the time when they acquire the means to reach the stars and begin their conquests.”

“I didn’t get that sense from him,” Nazar told her. “He’s intelligent, more so than I expected. He chose his words very carefully before the Assemblage, and as you so deftly pointed out he deflected our questions with his own demands. That tells me two things. If he’s a Scythian mercenary he’s intelligent enough to avoid problematic questions. If he isn’t, if he is indeed ignorant of all that’s going on out here in the cosmos, then there was no answer for him to give, and he thought quickly on his feet. If Terrans are that intelligent, and they’ve known about space travel for two thousand of their years, then I defy the Scythians to keep them planet bound. I am, therefore, undecided. It seems then, somehow wrong of us to send him to place where we put criminals to die.”

“You are growing an appallingly large conscience, my dear brother. I’d agree with you if the stakes weren’t so high.” They came to a blank wall at the end of the corridor. A small panel slid open. A silver baseball sized sphere with a single red lens floated out. It took their retinal scans and disappeared back into its hole. The wall opened onto another metal corridor.

“Isn’t this the time we fall back upon our principles?” Nazar asked. “Aren’t times of doubt and decision when we define ourselves as a culture and a people?”

“You raise difficult points, Nazar, and there are truths in them, but we’re running out of time. The Armada will take at least six decands to mass. It is enough time for us to launch the invasion of Terra and the Scythian Homeworlds, but hopefully not enough time for the Scythians to arm the Terrans to any great degree. We face a difficult task ahead, and the future of our civilization may depend on the smallest scrap of insight we can gain from this Terran. It’s not at all a desirable situation; compromises are inevitable.”

“What are you going to ask him?”

“I haven’t gotten that far. Maybe there is no right question. He is alien, and I do not know how he thinks. We’ll sit down and hopefully have a nice little chat.”

Nazar smiled that evil grin unique to the Chem. “You’re going to have a nice chat, maybe a cup of tea, and then you’re sending him to the most infamous planet in the galaxy, specifically cultivated over millennia to affect the honorable execution of all who enter its confines. My beloved sister sometimes you can be deliciously cruel.”

“Spare me the observations, brother, are you coming or not?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t miss this, except possibly for Bureel’s hanging. Lead on,” Nazar told her, an unsettling laugh erupting from his thin lips.

They came to another set of security doors. This time there was a vibrant red band coursing across the floor, walls, and ceiling. Nazeera stepped through it, and it scanned her. As the crimson band of light passed over her body a tiny object leapt out from beneath her armor. It was metallic, hardly the size of a pea, and it intelligently avoided discovery. Silently it swirled into the air behind them and sped, unseen, down the hallway.

CHAPTER 10: Bureel

In his personal office high in the central spire of the Assemblage Bureel pushed away from his desk, growling. “Damn them! I’d like to hear the interrogation of that accursed Terran.”

“Unwise, my lord,” Gurthur, Bureel’s lieutenant, told his master. “The security screens would pick up the bug.”

“True enough,” Bureel frowned in an unpleasant way and moved over to the window. It commanded a sweeping view of Cherumaz, the capital of the Empire. The city was as much jungle as it was structure, and even then the buildings were of shades of jade, purple and ochre according to the colors of the Chem landscape. The beauty was lost on Bureel. His conniving mind was scheming.

“The Terran’s trials on Pantrixnia will give us a wonderfully humiliating death to watch, though unfortunately too quick. I would that he could die slowly, preferably in the company of my brother-in-law! That grace! Bait me will he? Well, I am a patient Chem. There is always opportunity awaiting those who look for it.”

“Have a care though, my lord,” Gurthur cautioned. “Do not wear your intentions in public lest they undo you. Nazeera has powerful allies who love her as much for herself as for her father’s memory. The people love Nazar as well. He is a young lion who recalls the memory of his noble father.”

“That noble father paid his debts to my own with this hellish marriage!” Bureel reminded his companion angrily, but then he thought better of it complaint. “Still, I have wealth, a title, and a seat on the council; none of which my lesser father could have left me. Miserable favor though it is I shall work it to my likes in the end.”

“Then have patience,” Gurthur advised him. “Wear a mask of long suffering and noble silence in public while we work your future plans in private.”

“An intelligent approach, certainly,” Bureel replied. He returned to his chair and leaned back, popping a live beruba into his mouth. The beruba was a frowned upon worm-like delicacy with subtle hallucinogenic powers. The drug enhanced Bureel’s daydreams as he ticked off the possible scenarios that might result in his continuing fortune and increased power.

He laughed.

“You know, Gurthur, this Terran may have more use for us than I originally anticipated. Certainly he will play his part cooperatively and die swiftly on Pantrixnia. That should settle the doubts of the Council and encourage them to push on with the plans to make war on the Terrans and Scythia. Now if the Terrans prove to be stubborn enough to put up some semblance of a fight, well, the safety of my wife and brother-in-law would concern me greatly. Nazar, unfortunately, cannot be dissuaded from rushing headlong in search of glory in battle. There are many strange fortunes in war not the least of which is a knife in the back.”

He chuckled greedily, slurping up another of the worms which chirped in distress as it slid through his lips.

“My noble Nazeera is of similar mind. I shall curtail her adventurous nature, though, until she produces me an heir. I must press that suit quick and hard. Once we settle that issue I shall have no right to keep her from her destiny. She is a reckless one, if only she was more domesticated! It would be unthinkable if I should become an aggrieved widower due to her insatiable quest for glory. Alas, it’s unthinkable that I should be left alone with my heir, her lands, her wealth and her title to carry on as best I can.”

“Unthinkable, my lord, absolutely unthinkable,” Gurthur smiled evilly, knowing his master’s mind as completely as his own. “Might I suggest, as an initial step, that we inform the networks of the coming spectacle on Pantrixnia? I’m certain that they could ensure a live broadcast of the Terran’s adventures, with some help from your influence, of course.”

“A subtly ingenious idea, Gurthur,” Bureel agreed. “We can have the most positive effect on the Council if we pre-empt their policy and sway the people’s desire to war and expansion over these upstarts. A live broadcast should keep everyone on the edge of their seats, for a limited time. Meanwhile we shall loudly proclaim a strategy of renewed expansion, first Terra and the Scythian Empire, and then those interloping cultures who sought to shield them!”

“And as the author of this policy the laurels will fall upon your shoulders, my lord,” Gurthur reminded him.

“Possibly, though it would be a mantle of popularity that would need a pulpit. As a Fifth Level Member of the Assemblage my voice would be too silent, considering the import of my words.”

“Should an unlooked for vacancy at a more powerful level occur, however, what option would the Elder have but to appoint you even if it were to the First Level itself?”

Bureel paced in mock agitation, “The Triumvirate! For instance, if my beloved wife were to fall in battle what better tribute to her could I make than to continue her work in her seat?”

“A noble sacrifice, my lord,” Gurthur said. “Although you would of course initially wish to retire to private life . . .”

“. . . In my grief at such a sudden, but not unforeseen tragedy.”

“It would be a short retirement, as you could not ignore your call to duty from the people, and the legacy of your wife’s unfinished work.”

“Just so, my selfless devotion to my duty would break my grief. The avenging Chem, I would continue our conquests to their logical completion, as a tribute to her. Should I succeed then there would be nothing in the Empire outside my reach.”

Satanic glee clouded Bureel’s face. He laid a nailed hand on his lieutenant’s shoulder. “Let us begin. Go to the networks and advise them of the coming attraction. I will publish my position on galactic expansion. With luck I shall beat the Terran into the evening broadcasts, but either way I shall certainly outlast him!”