CHAPTER 15

Alexander was three days enroute to the border of Terran-Chem space. He had a meeting planned with Admiral Augesburcke the next day. Apparently the Australian anticipated Alexander’s call four days prior and was eager for a face to face meeting. The Admiral was agitated, but he would not clarify over the visiplate. Alexander, for his own part, did not wish to air his thoughts openly either. Therefore, in this new age of technology both men were forced to wait until they could be brought together. In the mean time Alexander continued his studies. Nazar gave him leave to study the Chem military dossiers of the ten Galactic cultures which now openly called themselves the Alliance. Nazar also gave Alexander access to Chem intercepts of Terran and Alliance communiqués. Alexander watched with interest their blunt refusal to any and all overtures of the Terran Federation. Without Alexander’s face behind them these overtures meant absolutely nothing to the Alliance. Alexander pitied poor President Sadat, at least initially. As he saw more and more of her his pity turned first to wonderment, and then to contempt. The woman didn’t know what she was doing, and worse, she wasn’t learning. President Sadat was flamboyantly anti-Alexander. She seemed to be somewhat obsessed with him, and as a result there was very little direction from the executive of Terra. At the emergence of another Galactic crisis this was causing considerable confusion and agitation in the Senate. Staunch opposition to the President was forming alongside staunch opposition of an absent Alexander, whom Sadat was painting as a plotting Caesar intent on absolute power; and all at a time when it looked as though the Alliance was about to declare war.

Alexander saw Nazar often in private, and the Chem was an overflowing cup of honest answers. They routinely ate together, which Alexander learned, was a Chem custom they reserved only for the very closest of friends and family. Nazar was quick to admit to Alexander that he already considered the Human as his brother-in-law. All that remained was the formality of Alexander’s killing of Bureel. On that subject Nazar was more certain of Alexander’s victory than Alexander. The man only smiled at the Chem’s visualizations of the future combat. Alexander was confident that he could defeat Bureel in a fair fight. The concept of a fair fight, however, was as alien to Bureel as Alexander’s desire for dictatorship. Anything could happen. He familiarized himself with Chem weaponry, especially those of small and concealable nature. If Bureel was forced to fight him it would occur in the open, before his supporters in the Assemblage. If the Chem sunk to devious methods he would at least use traditional Chem means. An act with an ancient and accepted weapon could be justified under such circumstances and even condoned if one of the Chem’s many heroes had used the trick effectively.

Alexander discussed the possible duel with Nazar many times, but today his questions were pointed, and they considered the possibility of his failure. “Nazar, if Bureel ascends to the seat of the Elder and then declares war on the Terran Federation what will happen to the loyalists?”

“Nazeera and I shall obviously be dead, as will you.” Nazar pointed out. “Support for our cause will dissolve. With an ongoing war with an alien race, excuse the expression, whether it is a popular war or not, all differences between Chem factions will be forgotten. The war would be pursued with typical Chem exuberance, though not with any immediacy. The Chem Armada, as we have known it, has basically ceased to exist. The skeleton of our ancient armada will do no more than provide a basis for a new one. Construction of new armada will be the first order of business in Bureel’s Chem, and though it shall be some time before it is ready to sail, sail it will. The Chem can become quite single minded about such things. I know that is not what you wanted to hear.”

“Not at all, my friend,” Alexander smiled. “Sugar coated lies are deadlier in the end than hard truths. I had already guessed that was Bureel’s reasoning. It will cement his power. I congratulate him on a wise course of action. When you consider it, especially adding to it the threat of the Alliance against Terra, it is also the swiftest way back to the status quo. No more troublesome Terran Empire and Bureel will have a singular subject to base his power on. It is the Alliance I wonder about, though. They are certainly not as bold as the Chem. You were willing to attack the Terrans with only scanty information on who and what you faced. I don’t see such single minded courage or direction in the leaders of the Alliance. I see their defiance as more bluster than desire. They are not so sure of themselves. They must know, somehow, more about Terrans as a threat. How would they go about gaining such information, aside from the expected listening and watching that we all do?”

“Hrang spies,” Nazar told him without hesitation. “Those people have a damnable talent for mimicry, though they are hardly warlike in nature. They use it as more of a self-defense, but they are quite good at it. I would have a difficult time trying to tell whether you were a Hrang spy. Their artificial implants amplify their natural ability to change the tone and texture of their flesh. They are quite convincing.”

“What about internal structure?” Alexander asked. “Certainly they have no such control over their organs or skeletal structure.”

“True, but the implants have a dual purpose. They are programmed to react to scans,” Nazar said. “Short of cutting someone open it would be very difficult to tell.”

“I assume it’s not impossible,” Alexander said. “If you suspected me of being a Hrang spy how would you test your theory?”

“I would subject them to a sudden change in temperature,” Nazar told him, “but you, as a Hrang spy would take care to avoid such a situation. Sudden changes in temperature affect their skin color and texture too quickly for them to react. A Hrang will invariably find a way to avoid such a test. They are quite careful.”

“You said they can fool scanners,” Alexander noted. “What about x-rays? They don’t scan, they radiate on photographic film.”

“Why would you use radiation on a sentient being; pardon me but that sounds extraordinarily dangerous. I can’t even think what you would use such a thing for,” Nazar said truthfully.

“Really, that is heartening,” Alexander smiled, and then he explained what an x-ray machine was used for on Terra, with extremely low doses of radiation. Nazar was surprised, and reiterated that he couldn’t even guess when, if at all, such a technique had ever been used in the known galaxy. Alexander thanked him for the information. He now knew why the Alliance could appear so cocky in their responses to the Terran threat which had just backed down the vaunted Chem. Terra was extremely susceptible to spies, especially ones with the skill of the Hrang. He had no doubt that the Terran government was inundated with them, and that every Terran move would be well guessed at in advance. This made his meeting with Augesburcke all that much more vital.

The discussion explained the Alliance to him, but the toughest problem was still one of Terran making. Much like the Terra’s early twenty-first century appeasement of Islam led to emboldened terrorists and jihadists so too did President Sadat’s molly coddling of the Alliance lead to their warlike overtures. What was the President’s game? President Sadat, for whatever reason, was precipitating Terra towards another war, and splintering Terran unity at the same time. Alexander was immediately suspicious, but his firsthand knowledge of the Human potential for selfishness and incompetence tempered his judgment. Whatever the President’s game, she forced Alexander to assert himself, and that could only lead to a coup, which was not what he wanted to have happen.

Alexander went to sleep that night knowing that once again opportunity was coming his way, but this time there seemed to be no painless avenue. The showdown with the Chem occurred without bloodshed. This time there would be no such option, and indeed he feared that terrible things had already happened to an unsuspecting Human race.

The following day the Kun-Gha, Nazar’s battleship, and its squadron pulled alongside the Iowa and her squadron. Shortly thereafter Alexander, Nazar and several of Nazar’s officer’s flew over in a shuttle. The Iowa had part of her aft smokestack converted into a shuttle tower. The shuttles actually flew into the smokestack which was rather disconcerting to Alexander. He hid it well though, and instead enjoyed the fascination of his Chem allies in seeing the mighty Iowa up close and personal.

Chem warships were built along Galactic standard adopted thousands of years before civilization sprouted on Terra. They were long shark-like vessels with blaster projectors and laser turrets built into lateral trenches. Tubes for matter-anti-matter torpedoes lurked on the undersides and within the flank trenches. The sublight engines were built into the aft structure while the superluminal engines ran on graceful pods alongside the hull. They were elegant vessels. The Chem had a flair for fantastic architecture’s on their planet bound buildings, and this carried over into their starships. The ships were ornamented to a state of magnificence which many of the other cultures copied, but none mastered. The Chem warships were also unique in their coloration; geometric splashes of metallic purple, red, blue, gold and silver distinguished each ship in color as well as name.

The Terran vessels, by contrast, carried no beauty with them apart from their strict practicality. That practicality was meant for the deep blue water oceans of Earth and not the cold trackless void of space. The Chem were familiar with the unorthodox Terran design, but only remotely. As their shuttle pulled alongside the Iowa they were greeted with a close up inspection of the Terran flagship. In length the battleship was the equal to any in the known galaxy, but in volume only a Scythian freighter outclassed it. The main hull was close to the depth and breadth of the Galactic counterpart, but the superstructures and the massive turrets made the difference. Alexander was an interested bystander as the Chem warriors discussed the odd Terran vessel. The rotating weapons, especially the main blaster batteries impressed them. The asymmetry of the ships they found inexplicably odd and menacing. They assumed it proved advantageous in battle, therefore, and since Alexander would not discuss the subject voluntarily it was impolite to pursue it further. The Chem were all in agreement on one thing, the very look and feel of these ships was intimidating. They were impressed.

A sliding hanger door opened within the aft stack revealing a lighted landing bay. The Chem pilot expertly guided the shuttle to a lighted circle and gently set it down. The occupants then listened to the clang of the hanger doors and the rumble of air as the bay pressurized. After a moment the Chem’s panel registered the air as pressurized and heated. The Chem opened the hatch and extended their gangway. Alexander, as prompted by Nazar, was the first to exit. Admiral Augesburcke stood at the bottom of the gangway flanked by Captain Thomas, Admiral Sampson and Admiral Chennebruk. Behind them and to either side were two rows of sailors in their dress whites. The first thing Alexander noticed was the seeming bulkiness of the uniforms. The navy dress whites were followed for form, but after initial inspection Alexander recognized that they were actually fully functional, but markedly compact, space suits. The uniforms of the officer’s were similar. Alexander couldn’t help but smile at the progress. Humans were adapting.

The age old naval tradition of being piped aboard was strictly followed, and then Admiral Augesburcke struck his chest with his fist and bellowed, “Hail Alexander!” The Roman salute was repeated by the sailors. Alexander remained impassive. He expected some kind of display, and though he personally thought it unnecessary he gave no such indication to his Chem guests.

“Good to see you again Admiral, Captain Thomas,” Alexander smiled and extended his hand.

“You honor us, Alexander,” the Admiral replied formally, and he took the hand warmly. The Captain followed suit.

Alexander then introduced the Chem. “Admiral, it is my distinct honor and pleasure to introduce to you Nazar of the Chem Assemblage, a noble warrior and admirable dignitary, and his officers.”

The Chem bowed and recognized their hosts. After pleasantries were exchanged, including an introduction of his two Admirals, Augesburcke motioned for Alexander to follow him out of the hanger. Alexander fell into stride alongside the Admiral and the sailors snapped to attention. The severity of the sailor’s expressions impressed Alexander. He was a former military officer and understood the subtleties of ritual from the soldier’s point of view. A soldier stood at attention for a superior regardless of their personal views. It was merely a requirement of etiquette not a valuation of worth. The eyes and the expression revealed whatever personal regard the soldier had for the officer. The difference between disdain and respect was invisible in a formation, but enormous when studying the individual. Soldiers, on the whole, hated formations such as this. It was pure ceremony and no substance. It was one of the innumerable petty rituals which seemingly bore no purpose. An underlying current of irritation and impatience normally hung over these occasions like a pall.

The mood of the sailors in the hanger was different, however, and this was not lost on Alexander. There was uniformity in them that surprised him. Eyes followed him. He dared not guess their meaning, simple curiosity perhaps, but he was relieved somehow that it was not malicious or contemptible in nature.

Alexander was somewhat heartened by this, and it was in a lighter mood that he followed Augesburcke through the labyrinth to the bridge. The bridge welcomed Alexander at attention. His nod to the Admiral allowed the Australian to restart the ships routine. The Admiral then welcomed the Chem to the bridge of the Iowa. If he’d meant to make an impression he did well. Every movement by the crew seemed choreographed to portray a definitive demonstration of efficiency. The huge visiplates were set to show what would be the natural view from the bridge’s windows. Against the vast star field the sharp bow of the battleship sliced through the seas of stars and space, the two huge gun turrets prepared to open a path to any destination.

“Welcome to the bridge of the Iowa, Nazar of the Assemblage, and you, noble Chem. You are the first of any culture but our own to walk our decks. I hope it is a sign of friendship and cooperation which will last in each of our civilizations,” Augesburcke said graciously.

“Thank you, Admiral, that is my hope as well,” Nazar bowed. “This is indeed an interesting experience. I would welcome a tour, if such a thing were possible within the bounds of courtesy. I am certain that the Chem have monopolized much of Alexander’s time as of late. As he knows my mind, and more importantly that of Nazeera, fully, I shall not wait upon his presence.”

Augesburcke nodded and turned to the Captain. “Captain, would you be kind enough to show our guests your ship?”

“Certainly, sir,” the Captain smiled. The Captain led them down into the bridge, and the Chem followed with considerable interest.

Augesburcke, followed by his fellow Admiral’s led Alexander to the conference room. The room was empty but for the four men. The Admiral took a seat, but reserved the head of the long table for Alexander.

“Really Admiral, I think we can dispense with the pleasantries, that is unless we are being filmed,” Alexander said.

“No we’re not being filmed,” Augesburcke smiled. “It is not wholly without reason that I’ve subjected you to this Alexander. You play it out very naturally I must say.”

“Not due to delusions of grandeur, however, as our President seems to think,” Alexander replied. “I wonder if I might trouble you, Admiral, for a cup of coffee. I think, in fact, we could all use one.”

“I’ll ring the steward,” Augesburcke said.

A few moments later a steward exited the galley bearing a tray, jug and four mugs. He carried it up the stairs towards the conference room, but he had to flatten himself against the bulkhead to let the Captain and the Chem dignitaries by. The Captain asked the steward where he was going and the sailor replied that he was taking coffee to Alexander and the Admiralty party in the conference room. Nazar stepped up.

“What is this coffee?”

“Coffee is a heated drink made from ground beans, which we normally have in the morning, or during lengthy meetings. I could have some brought to you if you would like to try it,” the Captain answered.

“Certainly, but not right now, I do not wish to delay Alexander’s service,” Nazar said, adding, “He is a wise and cautious man.”

The steward entered the conference room with his tray. He quickly laid it on the table and began filling the four mugs. Admiral Chennebruk stopped him at three, saying, “No need, I’m not a coffee drinker.”

“That’s alright Steward, go ahead and fill all four,” Alexander told him. When the steward finished Alexander thanked him, and the man left the room. When the door closed Alexander took hold of a mug, not by the handle, but by the body. It was satisfactorily hot. He met the questioning glances around the room by telling the military men, “I designed a curious custom while enroute to this meeting. I hope it shall become a useful in our new Galactic Federation, because I am definitely certain that it is required. Now I know you are not a coffee drinker, Admiral Sampson, but indulge me. Will each one of you gentlemen hold up your cup of coffee as I am, not by the handle, but by the mug?”

With slightly perplexed looks the Admirals each did as Alexander asked. After a moment he nodded for them to put them back down. Augesburcke looked a trifle ruffled.

“I am quite sure I didn’t like that, Alexander, but not for personal reasons.” He said evenly. “You were testing us weren’t you? Testing our Human-ness, I suppose. I can’t think of any other way to put it.”

“You are unfortunately correct, Admiral,” Alexander told him. “I wish I could say I was done, but there is one more thing I wish to test. I want us to all pay a visit to the infirmary. Until we are finished there I ask that we all refrain from sensitive issues.” The three officers accepted Alexander’s precautions and within the hour there were four x-ray photographs of four very human skulls. When that was done they returned to the conference room. Alexander told them, “Gentlemen we are in a new and dangerous phase of our expansion into space. This little exercise of mine was not without reason. I will tell you why, and in full, but I want you to realize the dire position we are now in. In my opinion we are in greater difficulty than our previous circumstance.”

“We’ve begun to see glimmerings of that very possibility, Alexander, which is why I have Admiral Chennebruk and Admiral Sampson with me.” Augesburcke said. “I don’t know how close you’ve been keeping track, though by the sound of it you’re ahead of us again, but let me fill you in on some strictly internal affairs.” Augesburcke sighed as if the subject was distasteful, and then continued, “CODOTS, which gave you your charter is dissolved. The central powers of that council are now in the legislative body of the Federation Senate, and the executive office of the Federation President. I am the Chief of Staff of the Admiralty, the ranking body of the Federation Fleet, of which Admiral Chennebruk and Admiral Sampson are also part. We are three of the five members of the Admiralty, which makes us a controlling block in the military. As Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff I still have tremendous power, but it is strictly military in nature and I am answerable to the President. The President, in case you’ve been under a very large rock, has no liking for you. She sees you, as she says, as some kind of Caesar, which I don’t regard as all bad or unnecessary at this time. Obviously, she does not share my opinion. In contrast to her previous conduct on my staff, President Sadat has since developed a deathly fear of a dictatorship on your part. That in itself might not be a huge problem, but our President is ignoring the realities of our situation in space in order to destroy any political career you might have.

“This political situation is not unexpected, nor can it be termed abnormal, but as a military man it has me concerned. This newly formed Alliance is becoming increasingly belligerent. Our President’s responses are to issue assurances of our non-aggression, and at the same time single handedly tear down the facade of Human military prowess upon which the “Legend of Alexander" built. We are at risk of losing a very powerful weapon: your name and fear of our fleet. We are also finding out what it’s like to try and reverse engineer a technology we didn’t know existed until several months ago. The Scythian’s are staging what amounts to a sit down strike. I can’t say as I blame them, but its left us completely to our own devices. That in itself shouldn’t be such a dilemma, excepting of course for the possibility of war on the horizon.

“Time or the lack thereof makes the task colossal. Out of the seven hundred odd ships of our fleet we have a good forty percent which have major problems, and we can’t even begin to guess how to repair them. We are out in space alright, and patrolling our borders, but we’re not even sure where our space ends and Chem-Alliance space begins. My God, we don’t even have any accurate star maps of the regions to tell us where an attack might come from! I have brought these issues up to President Sadat, but the subject always turns back to you. Everything else is superfluous to her. She thinks you are after her job, and she suspects we are under your thumb. The avenue of the Presidency is blocked for us, at least at the moment. The Senate is no better. It is a legislative branch which by definition cannot reach decisions. They control our purse strings, resources and personnel. We don’t have a problem with that, but here again we are in a deteriorating situation militarily and politically. They see the crisis as over. Military affairs are on the back burner, but that doesn’t matter anyway. They still think in nationalistic terms. They haven’t even agreed on a procedural policy for introducing a bill as of yet!

“What this all boils down to, Alexander, is a very tenuous position for Terra. I say Terra because there is no Federation as of yet. We have yet to settle on a single planet outside the troops and families placed on the Scythian Homeworlds and those that went out on the initial exodus—seven million or so. The Senate had to call off a debate on emigration policy because every damned country, religion and philosophy wanted its own planet to colonize. They’ve brought our ship building to a complete halt because the politicians are now concerned with diverting resources to the betterment of everyone’s standard of living. Don’t mistake me, it is a noble and genuine cause and God knows no one on Terra should go hungry now. Unfortunately, it has put every other issue on hold. We are now completely on our own technologically. The Scythian’s refuse to deal with anyone but you and President Sadat will not allow them to deal with anyone but her. It’s a fine Catch-22.

“We are in the dark, but we are not blind,” Augesburcke told Alexander. “The Alliance is licking its chops at our chaos. By your suspicions I suppose they have a pretty sophisticated spy network. They are coming, I can feel it. The Chem, I hope, will be willing to sit on the sideline, but who knows what comes out of a civil war? I want your thoughts; it’s as simple as that. Lay every instinct you have on the table. Our time is running out.”

Alexander sipped his coffee and waited until the silence became unnerving. Then he glanced up from the steam. The Admiral’s words had a telling effect on him. They changed his purpose. There was a greater need. When he entered this room it was still as Alexander of Terra, the man who sought the glory invoked with the name but still avoided the seedy trappings of power that went along with the Galactic image he himself built out of a dusty legend. He sought to portray the legend of Alexander as the galaxy knew him, but without the actuality, the harsh underbelly of power. He could no longer afford such luxury. Everything Augesburcke said, and everything he witnessed from Chem was clear to him. He had the answers. He knew the way. He needed the reins of power, but to control events, as he realized he must do, he had to pay the price of innocence lost. He must become what he most detested. All through his Terran existence he hated those who thought they knew what was best for the rest of Humankind. Now he was about to join those ranks. True, his scorn was normally reserved for those who spoke on moral grounds. Politics was somehow so contemptible a passion that such a small defect of character could easily be forgiven. This was taking it to extremes, however. Alexander’s previous ambition to become a rallying point for Humankind, some sort a savior/mercenary was his own creation for his self deception. Humankind didn’t need Alexander the General. Like America needed Lincoln during their Civil War; like England needed Cromwell; like the Huns needed Attila; Terra needed Alexander, the King, the Tyrant, the Overlord.

“Welcome to the galaxy, gentlemen,” Alexander said finally. His voice slowed and dropped an octave into a dirge-like rumble. “Humankind has always aspired to the stars. We have always run faster than we ought. We have always gotten to places, and done things for which we were not prepared. We always seek that mantle just a few sizes too large. It is our nature. We pay the price for our impudence and move on. Gentlemen, this time the price is not a lost ship or a decimated colony; it is Humankind as we know it. I don’t mean to say that our race will be exterminated. No, that is unrealistic. We will become a race of thralls for alien cultures. That will last maybe two, three, four hundred years. Then Humankind will rise up against their masters and ravage the galaxy. We will conquer our conquerors, and fall ourselves into civil war. Maybe we will all fall back to barbarism then, and the cycle will begin all over again. That is the portrait I paint of the Terran Federation, and the galaxy. I will wager it to be all too accurate.

“You all know why it has come to this. It is not through any fault of idealism. Idealism is often correct, it just isn’t practical. The Terran Federation is a wonderful addition to the civilized galaxy, a new member for the Senate on Rome where they’ve kept the peace for thirteen thousand years. Its particular drawback, however, is that the cultures of the galaxy don’t believe a word of it. This is not the Terran Federation, but the Terran Empire. They are not about to let our empire into their club, and gentlemen, the people who believe in a Federation are not about to protect it. Their viewpoint has been that since they are technologically advanced civilizations they must, by definition, be benevolent. It is by such deluded views that we open ourselves for invasion. The ability to travel routinely through space does not in itself soften a people’s more malevolent traits. The ability to circumnavigate the globe didn’t make the early Earth empires any more worldly, it made them greedier. Each civilization matures at its own rate, gentleman. All peoples conduct themselves with their own best interests in mind. If we are determined to play in this game of Galactic empire than we had best be prepared for the intrigue that goes along with it. The first rule of intrigue is to survive. Sometimes to survive some ideals get placed along the side of the road. They are not discarded, but they are left behind. I cannot retrieve them once they are gone, nor can you, but hopefully someone who walks behind us will find them.

“That is what we are all up against gentlemen: survival. If we fail we pay the price of our civilization with all of its accomplishments and errors. We pay for the next twenty generations and their servitude. We pay for the billions of deaths that will inevitably follow, and just possibly the fall of Galactic civilization. If we succeed we can save our civilization and secure our empire for our descendants.”

“What is the price,” Augesburcke asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You knew that when you summoned me, Admiral,” Alexander told him. “You all knew it, but the concept of a military coup does not come easily to our democratized minds—nor should it. It is a detestable concept, for once the trappings of democracy are cast aside they can never be fully restored. It is reality, however. I have thrown my voice throughout the galaxy even as our President sought to push me aside. The galaxy sees the Terran Empire, not the Federation. So it must be. Federations are guided by presidents, empires are guided by conquerors.” Alexander lowered his eyes for a moment, and then he turned to Augesburcke. “I once told you, Admiral that I left Terra because I wanted to be remembered as a conquering hero and not as a despot. I did leave as a conqueror, but now I see no alternative than to return as a despot. Terra must have one voice, and one direction. Her goal must be to survive and plant the seeds for growth throughout our empire. Let the flowers of idealism bloom in the beds we make for them, but it is we, the plowman, who must soil ourselves to make that possible. The price is tyranny, gentlemen. I must be who the galaxy thinks I am; who I am expected to be, with all the rights and powers therein: Alexander, Overlord of the Terran Empire.”

“My God has it come to this?” Augesburcke whispered. A fog of depression swirled through the blanket of tension. Sweat stood on the brows of the three military men. For the longest moment they refused to look at each other, but the inevitability of the event drew them back. This was why they were here, but again this man had taken the initiative from them. They were going to offer him the Overlordship of Terra, but instead he demanded it. He knew everything they knew, but with greater depth and understanding. While they struggled to make sense of the galaxy around them, and the turmoil of their own world, he raced headlong with the surety of his instincts. There was a sense of destiny in that tritium-steel room, and not one of the three Admirals was willing to stand in its way. Finally, they glanced at one another and slowly nodded their assent. All three stood, and thumped their fists on their left breasts in the Roman salute.

“Hail Alexander!”

The words hung with deathly gravity over the table.