CHAPTER 3

The heavy stillness of the buzzing English atmosphere belied the tension in the air. Alexander was on Terra again for the first time since the Scythians abducted him and set into motion an epic saga of events which forever changed the face of the galaxy. It should have been a joyous homecoming for the newly married and widely adulated Terran Overlord, but the twisted consternation on his impassioned face gave evidence for a completely different state of mind. His eyes, glaring brightly as green jewels in the sunlight, wrapped within brows furrowed with forced concentration, followed their prey with trepidation, but then suddenly bloomed wide with hope. Alexander’s face lightened with the new evidence of some surprising deliverance, but just as suddenly the fiery stare was as filled with violence as determined as any during his time on Pantixnia. Alexander leapt as if shot, and instead of the relaxing whisper of the warm spring air amidst the grass the Overlord treated those within hearing to a half strangled series of vehement curses. After a moment his temper abated and he stood silently fuming. The realization that his chip had rolled to within feet of the pin only to stop and return to the “Valley of Sin” whence it came struck him as completely as if he’d been informed that the Alliance Fleets were now entering Terran orbit.

“I don’t believe it!” The knicker-clad Overlord told the assembled host. “I struck the blasted thing as hard as I dared! How many times did you mow this green this morning—twelve? That’s a fine way to treat the Overlord of the Terran Empire!”

“That’s what happens when you leave the ball below the pin,” the club professional told Alexander with a wry smile.

“There’s no way to get it within ten yards of the pin from here,” Alexander complained.

“Sure there is,” the golfer explained, “Rocca did it. You just need to pray and take your medicine!”

“Right,” Alexander grimaced, and then glancing at the golfer asked, “Mulligan?”

“Not a chance,” the professional told him pointing to where he began this latest adventure, “back down you go, Mr. Overlord.”

As Alexander trudged despondently into the depths of Saint Andrews famous, and treacherous, eighteenth greenside chasm, his spouse watched him with somewhat strained interest. At length she turned to Admiral Augesburcke, who, like herself, stood somewhat off to the side watching the spectacle of Alexander’s golf game. With raised brow the beautiful Chem Elder mentioned, “This custom of the Honeymoon is exceedingly strange, Admiral. Is there some significance to this ritual of male sport and female spectatorship? I cannot help but wonder if there is some innate meaning to this game of golf which I do not grasp. Does the witnessing of one’s male spouse struggling with this seemingly simple game normally produce a sexual arousal in Terran females? If so I fear I shall disappoint my husband tonight!”

“What, you mean you do not find this stimulating?” the Admiral asked in mock surprise. “Believe me, Nazeera, the bond between the Terran male and the game of golf is ancient in the extreme!”

“I am afraid I do not have the necessary emotions involved,” lamented Nazeera. “Maybe it is Alexander’s lack of success which contributes to my apathy. The other Terran is scoring considerably quicker than my Alexander, and with fewer strokes of his mace.”

“Ah, but that is superficial. The true art in the game, Elder, is how creatively you get your ball into the hole and how much of the course you use in the process,” Admiral Augesburcke told her. “In that greater aspect Alexander is showing his usual brilliance.”

“I see,” Nazeera replied, and then asking, “but is not the other Terran a professional at this game? He does not seem to be as adept at this, this creativity, as Alexander.”

“I’m certain he’s just being polite,” Augesburcke smiled.

“Ah, finally something about this that I understand,” Nazeera grimaced. Her joy swiftly turned to anger, however, as she bumped into the small Scythian who was part of Alexander’s entourage. The Scythian almost squealed in fright, scuttling away only to run up against one of Nazeera’s Chem officer’s. The warrior growled with distaste at the small being, who finally succeeded in retreating to the relative safety of its golf cart. The Chem Elder snorted in irritation at the very presence of what she and her people considered the weakest and most deceptive of the Galactics. The Scythian knew this quite well, though it could not read the Chem’s thoughts. Scythian’s shared a common telepathic link, and though this Scythian lived and breathed it had, in a sense, experienced in the most intimate manner the violent death of its two kinsmen at the hands of the Chem. Though the event was now distanced with the enormity of Galactic change the boarding of the Scythian experimentation ship, within which a previously unknown Terran named Alexander was captive, and the subsequent slaying of the crew by the Chem were foremost in the Scythian consciousness. An emotionally stable people they were unprepared for the wrenching repercussions of that moment, and the nature of it stayed with each Scythian as a fresh wound.

“Really, I cannot imagine why Alexander allows a Scythian to dangle at his side like this,” Nazeera growled aloud with unabashed repugnance. “I could never forgive the affront, to myself or my people, for the kicellia of medical experimentation. Can the dismantling of their empire be repayment enough?”

Nazeera turned her attention back to Alexander, attempting to control her Chem temper. She watched Alexander pitch another delicate shot to the green, allowing the ball to roll to a stop just beyond the pin this time, and then put it in. All in all her husband seemed satisfied with the play, despite his prior protestations. He shook hands with his playing partners, thanking them for their patience and sportsmanship, and he gave her a kiss as they finally made their way off the course.

The strained expression on Nazeera’s beautiful features was not lost on Alexander. “Never fear, my dear, we’re done for the day! All that remains is the traditional pint in the clubhouse. That, I think you’ll enjoy somewhat more. I am sorry about this trip, but I’m told that Alexander is a necessary part of the government. Still, I need a change of pace. That’s why this conference is being held here on the course.” Alexander’s attention was suddenly drawn from the Chem Elder by a tap on the arm. The professional drew the Overlord’s gaze to the throng of national, ethnic and religious leaders who in an attempt to follow Alexander to the clubhouse were now walking across the fabled green.

“Ladies and gentlemen if you please!” Alexander erupted, rushing towards the two score persons who now stopped in a muddle of confusion. “Off the green! Off the green! Have you no respect? Now, please keep to the gallery path, it is clearly marked!”

The Pope, riding in an electric cart addressed the Overlord with hardly to be restrained testiness. “My dear Alexander, I am reputed to be a patient man, but tromping around a golf course for an afternoon without resolution to the issues for which we came here is, frankly, trying that patience. My time is not my own. I assume I speak for my colleagues as well as myself when I say that we expected something somewhat different in our audience from you. I should also say that we are unaccustomed to waiting upon a dignitary in such an unassuming position, especially with such weighty issues upon our shoulders. We recognize the brevity for which you have to address our concerns, but let me remind you of the gravity of the issue. Once begun the emigration of humanity to the stars cannot be recalled. We have one chance, and one opportunity to make a choice concerning the future course of humanity. I suggest we treat it with the requisite gravity.”

Alexander leaned upon his putter. The image of the Terran Overlord in such a casual position, garbed in knickers no less, was almost comical; but the expression on the Overlord’s brow dared any of the attending dignitaries to find humor in it. “Holy Father, I can empathize with you and your colleagues in your concern over the emigration issue. I assure you it is an important issue in my mind as well. There is, however, something of prime importance which you must understand, and that is why we are here today, at Royal Saint Andrews, and not in New York, Geneva, Jerusalem or another more politically correct locale. We are here because I have had a rather taxing agenda as of late, what with saving the world and all, and I need a short vacation. I have desired throughout all of my adult days to play this course, and now I have the power, if not the skill, to do so. Is that selfish, to put you out of a comfortable conference room with the dignity and reverence befitting your petitions? Maybe, but I wanted to see Saint Andrews, and I wanted you to see Saint Andrews, a storied site of peaceful Terran competition, one last time because it may not be here for much longer. That in itself would be a tragedy, but what is worse, in my mind, is the possibility that it may survive but with no free Terrans to play it.

“That morbid possibility, ladies and gentlemen, is what keeps me awake at night. Let me give you a swift breakdown on the situation as I see it. Currently we are in a state of undeclared war with a Galactic Alliance of over one hundred billion beings. They have three fleets comprising almost four thousand warships massing on three separate fronts. Their purpose is to invade our space within the week. I remind you that these are the very same people who infiltrated the highest levels of our government, and, I fear, have already executed the Terrans they replaced. To make matters even more interesting humanity is currently trapped upon a single planet, making it extraordinarily vulnerable to extermination or enslavement. Although this diverts valuable military resources I think the crisis is grave enough to warrant an immediate emigration of over two hundred million Terrans to planets throughout the Federation.

This is an issue of survival for our civilization, and in my simple mind the concept of emigration it is not a difficult one or a pressing one considering our military necessity. It should be a straightforward and logical solution. Yet while I wrack my all too Terran brain for a way to preserve you and your way of life you come to me and demand a present emigration policy which for all intents and purposes segregates the Terran species. Forgive me if I do not give that concept its due reverence in light of my other problems.” The expressions of the gathered throng were positively hostile, and Alexander addressed this promptly, “Now I realize that my comments are blunt, and some might even say inflammatory. Forgive me if I am not an orator with diplomacy for a language, but I believe it is more important to understand one another without interpretative vagueness, than to coddle. We simply do not have the luxury of time. I want you to understand two things about myself, and about this situation. First, as Overlord Alexander is not a Catholic; he is not a Protestant; he is not a Buddhist; he is not American, British or Russian; he is not of the Western Hemisphere; he is not even of Terra. Alexander is of the Terran Empire, and the President of a Federation comprising over two hundred star systems. That is my viewpoint. It must be. Therefore, your Holiness, when I consider your petition for a Catholic planet for settlement I must consider it against what is best for the Empire and the Federation, not for yourself or your constituents. My second point is this: we live under the threat of invasion from superior forces. My primary responsibility is the preservation of our civilization, not the purity of your institutions. I will do whatever I deem necessary to preserve our civilization in this crisis.”

“We have every confidence in your ability to defend our civilization, Alexander,” the Pope replied. “However, since an immediate emigration is part of your design why not fulfill both of our desires? You wish for a quick emigration to disperse our species. We understand and condone that. We wish for planets of our own where we can “purify” our beliefs, nothing more. To that end we can quickly mobilize our emigrants, which simplify your requirement.” The Pope went on about the plans for the future they would build on secularized and ethicized planets; each free for trade, of course, but glorious in their Terran difference.

Alexander listened to the Pontiff’s offer in stony silence. When he finally held up a hand to stop the Pope an expectancy filled the air. Alexander’s voice was grave as he told them, “I celebrate your desire for the betterment of our people but I fail to find a single time in the course of Terran existence when avoiding a problem through segregation worked. It is a policy doomed to failure, and I for one cannot be party to it. This is a glorious opportunity provided at a dire time for our species, and one of my concerns is what this opportunity presents. If just one of these planets we are to colonize survives I would like to find upon it a cross section of the full range of the Terran condition, not just a single slice. Our civilization, ladies and gentlemen, is not based upon a single religion, ethnicity, or belief, but a conglomeration of them. I want to preserve that. Now, for my part I could order a military evacuation. You know this. I would much rather have your cooperation. For this cooperation I want to offer you a standard emigration policy. There are roughly two hundred odd planets upon which I want to place one million Terran settlers each. Unfortunately, we do not have the time to measure out exact quotas, and all encompassing representation to these planets. Neither do we have time to move two hundred million people. Initially, at least, we must compromise. Our Scythian friends tell me we have only about five hundred ships available to transport up to five thousand colonists each with a minimum of supplies. We have selected two hundred planets for the initial wave of colonization, and assigned specific planets for each ship. The average round trip time for these vessels is four days, two out and two back. Under a worst case scenario the Alliance fleets will converge on Terra sometime in the next twenty three days. The math is simple, ladies and gentlemen. With the full cooperation of yourselves we can move only about fourteen million people in the allotted time. True we can set up viable colonies, but can we preserve our diversity? There is also the problem of embarkation. It is one thing to volunteer to emigrate, and quite another to get the five thousand people together at the same place and same time; especially if you attempt to get a cross section of people. The latter constraint is quite frankly impossible. We need to move people quickly, and under conditions where not all are volunteers. That is where your help is essential. The quickest way to accomplish our goal is to target small towns throughout the world. The people are already gathered in requisite numbers, there is a political hierarchy already established and the people know each other. In the coming phases of emigration we can address the multiplicity of representation to each planet. For the moment, however, we need to move people. Sociologists from the Federation Senate have supplied you with a breakdown for the locales targeted for emigration. We do not have the luxury of extended debate on this; I need your support now. You have my assurance that each colony will be held under strict conditions of freedom of religion, speech, etc. If you will lend your support to this effort I will provide the transportation. That is the gist of my offer.

Please remember that we have the entirety of our civilization to protect, not just one facet. No plan is perfect, but this is as fair as I can be to all of you. Doctor Koto, my Minister of Terran Development will work out the details. I want to start moving people by tomorrow, voluntarily. I will start moving people by the end of this week, whether you like it or not. What do you say?”

Before the Pontiff could answer Admiral Augesburcke stepped up to Alexander and whispered something in his ear. No one around them could hear what was said but Alexander’s face suddenly went ashen. It was enough of a change to immediately silence the crowd.