CHAPTER 4

The Overlord nodded to Augesburcke and told the assemblage, “If you will excuse me for a moment I have something to attend to.” Then without waiting for a response Alexander drew Admiral Augesburcke, Nazeera, an aide and the Scythian Ambassador off to the center of the green.

“Set up your screen Sergeant,” Augesburcke told the aide. The man manipulated the controls of a small grey box attached to his belt, and in a moment a transparent hemisphere shut out the world acoustically and electronically.

“Is it set up?” Alexander asked. Upon receiving affirmation from Augesburcke he continued, “I was afraid of this, but sailing into Syraptose and Quotterim space was not without risk. Let’s see how bad it is. Alright Ambassador please establish a link.”

“Very well,” the Scythian replied without emotion. As one of his taskings to the Scythians Alexander placed Scythian representatives on a number of his ships, as well as keeping the Scythian Ambassador to Terra close by. Out of earshot Alexander referred to the Scythian as “Ambassador Football,” in deference to the nuclear “football,” a small attaché case with communications gear and codes the President of the United States once carried with him. Just as a President could begin a war or launch a counterattack by using the codes and communications gear in the “football” Alexander could view a telepathic link between his Scythian “football” and any of its companions stationed on his far flung ships. It was a connection vastly more superior in every way than the ethernet.

The Ambassador held a small boxlike device which fit neatly into the slender palm of its four fingered hand. After a moment the box hummed, and then a small holographic image of a distinguished looking man in uniform appeared.

Alexander nodded, and addressed the image. “Admiral Cathcart, report please.”

“Hail Alexander!” The Admiral replied, and then informed his Overlord, “At 1732 hours we picked up a superluminal signature on our passive scanners. We received no hails and intercepted no ethernet messages, but the signature dropped out of superluminal shortly after contact. Its size was consistent with a squadron of warships. Fearing detection I dispatched two squadrons to intercept while the main body continued course and speed. We varied the formation as dictated by doctrine to set up a random fluctuation in our signature until I was informed by my Squadron Commander that all eleven enemy warships were destroyed. No messages were sent, and one relay probe was destroyed.”

“Were there any Syraptose survivors, Admiral?”

“None sir,” the Admiral replied evenly. “We caught them cleanly by surprise. There’s nothing out there but gas and dust.”

Alexander nodded gravely, finally asking “Are you on time?”

“Everything proceeding according to plan, Alexander,” the Admiral reported.

“Very well, Admiral, you and your crews are to be commended on the professionalism with which you accomplished a difficult mission,” Alexander said evenly.

“Thank you, hail Alexander!” the Admiral saluted, and Alexander cut the connection.

The Overlord turned to Augesburcke, a troubled look on his face. “I don’t know whether to be relieved or worried,” he confided. “It was a masterful stroke by Cathcart to get away without raising the alarm, but I’m not so certain about this no prisoners business. I know I left the details to the discretion of the Admirals on the scene, but my God, eleven ships gone like that, and with their entire crews. This can really be a dirty business.”

“Unavoidable, I would say,” Augesburcke said, “but if you’d like to issue further instructions,”

“No, that will not be necessary,” Alexander interjected. “Patton once said, and I believe I quote him, “Never tell people how to do things. Tell them what to do and they will surprise you with their ingenuity.” Besides, in his shoes, I would have done the same thing.” Alexander mulled over the present events in his head, finally saying, “A month has passed since the Ascension and the original Alliance target date. The rooting out of their Hrang operatives gave us at least three weeks time, but now it seems the Alliance is back on track. How many Alliance warships have massed thus far Admiral?”

“We have a pretty good idea on their numbers and their complement,” Augesburcke told him. “Our subs have pinpointed the Alliance fleets on the Syraptose and Quotterim fronts, and we have detailed scans. The Golkos-Seer’koh front is somewhat more ambiguous. The Golkos are the only member of the five fleets on that front who share a frontier with us. Now the Golkos are jealous of their space so they’ve insisted on escorting their confederates to the rendezvous coordinates. That works to our advantage. It takes time to transit the entirety of Golkos space. They’ve been at it for over a month, but they should be reaching their rendezvous points within the next several days. We already have boats waiting for them. We can only estimate the numbers and complements of those forces still at superluminal speeds, but there’s an enormous amount of chatter on their subspace nets. Apparently the Alliance is somewhat out of practice at this sort of thing, and the fact that they are trying to coordinate between nine different fleets and ten cultures is aggravating the situation. Our listeners have been cataloguing the Alliance ships, by name, type, etc... The Alliance folks are fairly free on the net, and their media is as interested in their progress as we are. Between their chatter, their media, and our scouts we have as accurate a picture as we could expect.

Currently we have two hundred and seventy-three ships on the Quotterim/Bael/Fen-Dsi front; and two hundred and forty-seven ships on the Syraptose front already in position. By today’s count there are twenty-five hundred ships enroute to the Golkos-Seer’koh front. As I said the massing elements of the fleets are still enroute at superluminal, so scans are vague at best. However, from the ethernet traffic we estimate the Golkos-Seer’koh rendezvous will be complete within the next two days. The Quotterim and Syraptose seem a bit less enthusiastic even if theirs is the easiest logistically. They won’t be massed for a week, at least. The Golkos numbers are pretty firm. The Syraptose will contribute five hundred ships when their rendezvous is complete; the Quotterim/Bael/Fen-Dsi fleet will number almost eight hundred. Any way you look at it we’re going to be dealing with thirty-five hundred to four thousand ships.”

“They are not leaving themselves much of a Homeworld reserve,” noted Nazeera. “Those ship counts are consistent with the balance of their fleets. There are, of course, mothballed reserves but such ships are hardly suitable for the long journey to Terra. The Syraptose, Quotterim, Seer’koh and Golkos might muster several hundred of these ships for planetary defense. Many, however, would undoubtedly be impulse drive ships and so they would have limited firepower. The Alliance must not consider an offensive strike on your part possible, Alexander. “

“Why should they? That would leave our own defenses quite weak.” He folded his arms in thought and muttered as if to himself, “Interesting, though that they should be so bold; I wonder if it is coincidence or whether they really have someone over there who knows what they’re doing?”

“There’s quite a bit of jockeying going on,” Augesburcke added. “The Alliance has been offering to negotiate several times a day, probably to buy more time. They’re a week off, at least, from any form of coordinated assault, or at least a month behind their original timetable, and counting.”

“Excellent,” Alexander replied. “The Alliance and it’s dilly-dallying has given us much more flexibility. If they’d advanced on their original time schedule on or about the Chem Ascension our strike arms would have had to go in at emergency flank. That would have increased the risk significantly. Fortunately, that idea was no more than wishful thinking on their parts. By the afternoon of the Ascension our patrols still outnumbered their fleets! As it is we’ve been able to pick our way at cruise through the most sparsely populated regions of Syraptose and Quotterim space. Assuming no more misfortune we can expect to arrive at H-Hour with fresh ships. There is at least a week before the Alliance can even be in position for a strike. Set our new H-Hour accordingly, Admiral.”

“Consider it done,” Augesburcke replied.

“Admiral, I think it very likely the Alliance will not survive to fire a shot.” Alexander thought for a long moment. No one interrupted him; they were getting used to his mannerisms. Finally he said, “Has there been any indication that either of our forces have been discovered beyond Admiral Cathcart’s report?”

“None whatsoever,” Augesburcke told him. “We’ve been listening closely for any indications of suspicion. There’s been nothing thus far. Fortunately the idea of radio, or in this case ethernet silence is as natural to us as it appears to be alien to our counterparts.”

“That’s not what worries me,” Alexander mused. “I am confident that our crews are the utmost professionals, but in my experience, plans barely survive the implementation phase. The fortunes of war depend on how we react to changing situations, both fortunate and unfortunate. We’ve got over five hundred ships gallivanting across the galaxy, hopefully in secret. Currently we must depend on the innovations of our crews for the success of our plans. That’s the toughest thing about sitting here, Admiral. I’d rather be out there.”

“That is the toughest thing about command,” Augesburcke agreed. “I miss not being there myself, but Sampson and Cathcart are quite capable. They’ll handle everything.”

“I trust their judgment, Admiral, but I’m tired of inactivity. Push the reconnaissance patrols beyond the frontiers. Let’s have a look their disposition. I’m especially interested in the Golkos-Seer’koh fleet. What do they plan on doing on our frontier until the rest of the Alliance is ready? If they think we’ll just sit and wait for them to bring the war to us then they’re in for a surprise.” Augesburcke smiled in response and Alexander gave the order to cut the screen, returning them to the English daylight.

Somewhat grimmer of aspect and no less resolved Alexander changed his mind set and approached the Pontiff again. “My apologies, ladies and gentlemen, Galactic affairs have a priority on my time these days. Where were we?”

The Pope’s steely eyed visage was not welcoming, but he said, “I suppose we could not hope for a less prejudiced response, Alexander, considering your position and your responsibilities. However, we must confer further on the details of the matter. In that sense, at least, we must work together. We have provided a united front against an uncontrolled emigration thus far, but maybe it is time to turn that unity to more constructive purposes.” The Pope suddenly smiled at Alexander’s expression of surprise, and he said, “Yes, Alexander, religious and ethnic leaders can be reasonable as well as you. In that territory you do not hold a higher ground than does God. We shall consider your offer and continue our talks through Doctor Koto. In other words you shall be able to begin moving our people tomorrow, as you desire. Our best wishes on the remainder of your day and our combined prayers on the outcome of the war.”

Alexander sighed as if a great weight lifted from his shoulders. “Alexander of Terra thanks you and your compatriots Holy Father,” he said, and then he leaned closer to the Pontiff and lowered his voice so that only the Pope could hear. “That is what Alexander of Terra requires Holy Father, but Alexander Thorsson has a request, if I may.”

The Pontiff nodded, “My son, I have already set aside time to celebrate mass with you, but what else can I do?”

“Thank you Holy Father, but if it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” Alexander asked, almost sheepishly, “I need Confession, and—well—if you have time to pray a Rosary with me—well, I need all the help and guidance I can get now.”

“I understand my son,” the Pontiff smiled, laying a hand on his head. “Bless you for thinking of the Lord at this time. I am at your disposal.”

“Thank you Holy Father,” Alexander sighed. He straightened and joined Nazeera and Augesburcke. Breathing a heavy sigh of relief, he said, “Well that went about as well as I could expect.

Augesburcke nodded, saying, “I’m not sure how you did it, but it looks like that problem is defused.”

“At least for the moment,” Alexander said, “Although who knows what will happen when they’re out there on their own. Still, nothing would have happened without the Alliance. I thank them for that.”

“So the Alliance turns out to be useful for you again, Alexander?” Nazeera smiled.

“Thus far, my dear, the Alliance has at least allowed me to avoid a political quagmire. I could win a thousand battles, Nazeera, but if I tried to tackle this issue without the threat of the Alliance I’d not gain an inch; and I’d probably go down in history as equally ineffective as was the First Federation Senate!” Alexander started to walk towards the clubhouse. He shook his head, “Hopefully now all I have to deal with is the four thousand Alliance ships waiting to invade. That seems the easier task.”

“There is glory awaiting you under the guise of Alliance fleets, my love,” Nazeera grinned, clenching her sharp nailed fists. “Oh, to be a part of it,” she said jubilantly, but then she sighed. “I am somewhat unaccustomed to sitting on the sidelines of battle, my love, but you play an interesting game. Indeed, I wish I were not returning to Chem so soon. Yet I, as you, have an empire to run. There is no small amount of work for me to do. The civil war has left me challenges which will span many of your years.”

“No one laments your departure more than I, my dear. I have grown quite used to having your opinion, and your person, only an arm’s length away.”

“I appreciate your candor, on both issues,” Nazeera smirked. “I shall leave Nazar with you in my place. There is too much to be learned in this adventure of yours to be dismissed.”

“Such as,” Alexander asked.

“Such as why you keep the scurrilous Scythians dangling at your side,” Nazeera admitted. “I don’t think I could have borne their presence, even out of military necessity. They have not paid enough for their threats and duplicity!”

“Certainly not in the balance of things, though did I not tell you once that with Scythia conquered my revenge died with their empire?” Alexander replied. Seeing this did not in the least satisfy his consort he explained, “The realities of the galaxy demand a more pragmatic solution than the scouring of Scythia. Of course they had a right to expect it, if not from the Terrans then from the Chem. The Scythians duplicity of Chem, and their other Galactic neighbors, warranted just such an action, but you above all people, my dearest Elder of Chem, should understand the recognizance of practicality. Was it not Nazeera of Chem who was originally intent upon the destruction of the Terran threat? And was it not the same Nazeera of Chem, to the fortune of both our peoples, who found the courage to accept a diplomatic solution to the Chem-Terran dilemma over the all too easy military conflict? I account your decision to avoid hostility with Terra as one of the most difficult and courageous political decisions in history, my dear and I mean that sincerely.”

“Such a charmer, my husband Overlord,” Nazeera smiled, her sharp canines glinting in the sunlight. “You disarm my ardor with words yet again, though as usual you sidestep my questions deftly. I correct myself, however. It is true you did tell me that you no longer sought revenge upon Scythia, but I must say that I did not expect that to lead to trust or companionship.”

“A point well taken,” Alexander nodded, turning half to the Scythian, who was still following, and smiling. “Politics being what they are we’ve been forced to come to an understanding. The Scythian’s need me. I am the only thing which stands between them and the rest of the Galactic community, which is somewhat perturbed with them. On the other hand I can use the Scythians. Therefore, instead of persecuting them for their past transgressions I work with them. We both benefit.”

“I would consider myself enormously fortunate that Alexander holds such a practical opinion if I were a Scythian,” Nazeera replied, eyeing the Scythian with narrowed brows. “They need such a protector. Should they stray from the path of honest service to Alexander let them be warned: the Chem are not so noble in thought or deed! Nor are Scythia’s other Galactic neighbors!”

The Scythian shrank away from Nazeera. “We do indeed value the Overlordship of Alexander of Terra, Noble Elder of Chem; and one day we hope to win his trust as well. Scythia is, we well know, in a precarious situation. We are diminished in our Galactic standing through our own devices, however, and as civilized beings we accept our accountability. That our empire of a thousand generations is lost is grievous to us. That our civilization continues is fortunate, even under the current restraints.” Though Alexander’s policy towards its people was apathetically benevolent the Scythian’s had no doubts over Alexander’s well restrained personal animosity. In his negotiations with them he’d asked pointed questions concerning the Scythian practice of abduction. His own involvement in the issue brought to light a number of Terrans who’d been captive under Scythian control for many years. The Scythians, shocked and amazed that the Terran Overlord would have any such knowledge, immediately released their subjects. They feared their eventual discovery under the Terran occupation, as they termed the times, and a further arousal of Alexander’s temper. Alexander, upon learning the veracity of his suspicions stood upon the edge of reprisal, but the Scythian’s were learning his character and defused the situation with a piece of knowledge more disturbing to the Terran Overlord than their own actions.

The Scythian alluded to this mysterious piece of information when it added, “We are reduced to subservience by our past miscalculations, for which Scythia has formally apologized to Alexander, Overlord of the Terran Empire, and to all Terrans. Certainly an apology for such transgressions of personal freedom and dignity are small in comparison to the hardships endured by the Terran victims, but they are sincere, nonetheless. Scythia regrets its part in the process known as “Abduction,” to Terrans; and to the part which we were involved in abductions we recognize our error as civilized beings. Unfortunately, we can only speak for ourselves and not for the Terrans who profited by our nefarious practices.”

Alexander understood implicitly. It reminded the Terran Overlord, as it was meant to, of a more sinister side to the tragedies. It was a side which brought a withering glare from Alexander, but bit his words at his tongue.