CHAPTER 23

“I haven’t commanded a ship this small for some time,” Nazeera said, shaking her head. Her bridge on the scout ship was markedly cramped compared to the great hall on the Kuntok, but this ship was well suited to its purpose. It was small, carrying only a thirty member crew, and was built around two powerful superluminal engines which powered the defense screens and sensor arrays at sub-light speeds. The defense screens were specially designed to deflect scanners as well as energy weapons. These screens minimized the risk of detection, especially when the scout ship did not use its own scanners. This fit Nazeera’s need perfectly. She didn’t care about what was out there; she merely wanted to get to Chem as quickly and as secretly as possible. At this task the ship, and Nazeera, were each very capable. She had extraordinary patience, a quality required in any stealthy operation. She also had a keen insight into the actions of others. Alexander, almost always present on the bridge when Nazeera was there, watched numerous times as she unerringly predicted what rebel patrols would do. Space was a vast place, but it seemed amazingly crowded around Chem. The diminishing of the rebel armada not withstanding there were still more than enough rebel ships to make her task demanding. Nazeera picked her way carefully through the formations in abrupt hops. Her dashes at light speed were seldom over a few seconds in length and often depended on her instinctive calculations as to what three or four formations of rebels vessels were doing at any time.

Alexander sat by, unconcerned, while she worked. At times he went aft with Nazar, or Nazeera when she left the helm to Nazar and took one of her few breaks. The Chem taught him their martial arts. He found it relaxing. Alexander also worked with both of them on his knife and sword techniques. His use of these weapons was largely instinctive, and he continued along these lines, honing his reactions until he fought without thinking. This was a concern of his, though he did not voice it. Up until now situations forced him into instinctual reactions, but now he could very well face a more structured ritual in his challenge to Bureel. He did not want to be caught thinking too much.

Alexander yawned. He’d suffered through three decurns of this. It was old. Finally the Chem home world was in view. Nazeera was watching, calculating the final dash that would bring them to the planet proper. It was all out of his hands. Without success he tried to maintain his interest, and absorb the sense of tension which gripped the Chem crew. Instead the thought that came to mind was the realization that they had seven more decurns of hiding to accomplish prior to the Ascension. The expected boredom dampened any thought of excitement. He slipped off to sleep.

Nazeera’s intense concentration was interrupted by a soft snore. Amazed she turned from her command seat to find Alexander, boots thrust out into the aisle, sleeping. She looked around the bridge at the incredulous faces of her crew, and smiled. “I suppose things can’t be that bad,” she told them. “It is time for the last leg. Engage the engines on my mark!”

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Bureel was suspicious. He heard nothing of Alexander or of Nazeera. True, the Terran Senate was now involved in a bitter debate concerning the direction their Federation was taking, and Alexander’s name was right in the middle of it, but he heard nothing from the man. There was a growing call for the resignation of President Sadat, and the return of Alexander. The Terrans were enamored with him, that was apparent, but where was he? Bureel expected him to accede to the wishes of his people and return, or at least make a speech, but there was nothing. His absence, and the mounting chaos in the visual branches of the Terran government heartened the Alliance. They renewed their vocal threats on the Terran Empire and finally began aggressive patrols on the Terran-Seer’koh/Golkos frontier. This increased the ardor of the Senatorial debates, and the pressure on President Sadat, who still concentrated her energies on attacking Alexander and placating their potential adversaries. Still, there was no sign of Alexander.

Nazeera’s remaining forces stepped up their pressure. To all observers it looked as though the loyalist raids were an all out desperate attempt to somehow open a path to the Homeworld before the Ascension. But as with Alexander there were no reports of her whereabouts. The Kuntok was accounted for, but there were no hails from Nazeera to her own ships, or to those she engaged. There was no report of Nazar either.

Bureel was not stupid, nor was he secure in his power. The fact that Alexander, Nazeera and Nazar were all absent from the limelight was too meaningful to be ignored. It all pointed to a plot. Once he was certain something was afoot it was a simple task to guess the intent. That purpose, and the possibility that the three were already on Chem, caused him palpable discomfort. Still, there was no reason to panic. Bureel didn’t have to worry about a knife in the dark. Although he would easily stoop to heinous acts at need, Alexander had thus far never acted disgracefully, and certainly such a thought would never occur to Nazeera or Nazar. He smiled at the scruples that protected him, as well as gave him advantage. He had nothing to fear from assassins, but they certainly must! He already had a dozen Chem desperate for advancement and ready to compromise their honor.

Gurthur began a planet wide search for the fugitives, secretly of course. When they were found they were to be quietly eliminated. Bureel laughed at his own cleverness. Catch him napping would they? As with everything each misfortune could be turned to advantage. With those three out of the way Bureel would be left quite alone on the pinnacle of power.

Not an hour later the door to his chambers opened and Gurthur stepped in, there was an agitated expression on his face and his steps were unusually quick. “What is it Gurthur, you’ve not located them already have you?”

“Yes, my lord they have been found,” he blurted, shock clearly written on his face.

“Excellent!” Bureel was genuinely pleased. “I could not have hoped for such an easy victory, but I shall take what opportunity grants me. They must be very sloppy spies to get themselves caught so quickly. Where did you find them?”

“My lord, you misunderstand, we did not find them, they came out openly and are currently at the ancient circle of the Plebiscite!” Gurthur told his lord, bowing his head in apology.

Bureel’s face fell. The Plebiscite was an ancient custom. Every decurn a citizen could enter the ancient stone amphitheater of their ancestors and mount the central stage. There they could speak their mind without fear of retribution. Nothing they said there could be used against them. No troops were allowed in the amphitheater. It was tradition so old that even Bureel would not think of violating it.

“What are they doing there?” Bureel’s voice was weak and unsteady—he knew the answer.

Gurthur turned on Bureel’s visiplate. The media was carrying the event live. There was Nazeera on the stage of the Plebiscite. Already there were thousands of Chem citizens gathered to hear her. She spoke of tradition, and honor; how these beloved values were twisted to serve the ambition of one Chem: Bureel. She demanded, as the chosen heir to the seat of the Elder, an audience before the full Assemblage prior to the Ascension. There was a roar of approval from the crowd. Nazeera had always been popular amongst the masses, and Bureel had but recently come into the picture. Then Alexander stepped upon the stage. The immediate effect he had upon the Chem was nothing less than enthralling. He wore his purple and black armored uniform, which made him appear even larger and stronger than his stout frame. Across his breast and over his shoulder he wore the orange and black Banthror pelt as a sash. Pinned to the sash were the symbols of Terra and the extinct Scythian Empire. The sword and knife of Pantrixnia were girt on his belt. It was a very wild and commanding appearance. His piercing eyes searched the crowd silently. He did not speak for a long minute. The crowd grew restless.

“You know me,” he said quietly and with gravity. The people hushed to hear him. “You know me, perhaps better than I know you. My opinions on the Chem, such as they are, come from associations with individuals, not from long experience. Yet we Terrans have much in common with the Chem in concepts such as honor, honesty, loyalty and respectability. We feel them; we value them even as you do. It is our shared value of those qualities that affect my outlook on the Chem. Some of my impressions are favorable, even to the extreme, as with the noble Nazeera whom you now call an exile. Some of my impressions are unfavorable, even to the extreme. Let me explain myself more fully,” and Alexander went into an account of his grievances against Bureel, the sources of his personal challenge, and the reiteration of it in the public eye.

Bureel listened, and he watched it grow into an empire-wide event in the space of an afternoon. His counselors and cronies waited upon him, but they all ended up watching the visiplates in stupefied silence. It was becoming increasingly apparent that the masses and the media were sympathetic to Alexander’s plea for the challenge, and enraptured with Nazeera. As his anger mounted Bureel took it out on his own supporters, “What are you carrion doing here, watching, waiting, accomplishing nothing? Are you toads that you will let them harangue my cause, your cause, with no intervention? I cannot confiscate their voices, but I refuse to allow them to go uncontested! Make some use for yourselves and get you down to the Plebiscite. Recant these scurrilous accusations and make our own case known to the people!”

The Chem, wounded in their pride, but mindful of their oaths, obeyed, but without the fervor that Bureel would have wished.

“Fools, am I to be served by such?” He asked himself. At length he gained control of himself. He turned to Gurthur, who alone remained, “They shall not kick this dog to death, not yet! Broadcast my official policy on the subject of Alexander! Tell the masses that he is welcome to my Ascension, but that I entertain no challenges with a convicted criminal! He was sentenced to death on Pantrixnia, lawfully. Now that he is in our jurisdiction again it is my responsibility to carry out that sentence. I will not threaten his person while in the confines of the Plebiscite, but as soon as he sets foot without he is to be arrested and brought before the Assemblage. There shall the sentence be carried out. Alexander has given up his right for an honorable death. It shall be death by execution.

“As for Nazeera we shall let her talk! Her collaboration with this alien is enough to taint her message. If the multitude still wants her audience at the Ascension then let it be. I shall not prevent the orderly ritual of my Ascension from becoming a spectacle to my glory, and that of Chem. We shall turn this into an event of historical proportions. A new dynasty shall sprout from this Ascension! Mark my words, Gurthur; I shall bathe the mace of the Elder with the blood of Alexander at my Ascension. He aspired to take my head, did he? So shall the method of his execution be! We shall resurrect an ancient Terran custom. Alexander’s final act will be to bow his head before the Elder of Chem. Then shall I set my foot upon his tyrant’s pate and take my oath! Let all the galaxy watch and tremble!”