CHAPTER 26

Admiral Augesburcke entered the conference room almost fifteen minutes late, which was extraordinary for him, and alone. For some reason or another he left his aides outside the room. He apologized, laying his small laptop on the table and plugging it in to the viewer. The Admiral seemed quite agitated, but Alexander let him finish setting up. If something was going to excite the normally unflappable Augesburcke only fifteen hours prior to the great Terran surprise on the Syraptose and the Quotterim Alexander didn’t wish to rush him. Nazar prodded him, but he merely shrugged.

Augesburcke punched a few keys on his computer and sighed as he got a responding image on the viewer. He smiled with relief and held up a finger.

“One more thing!”

He brought out a small grey box. It was a shield generator. In a moment the grey hemisphere of a security screen blanketed all the room but the table and its viewer. Augesburcke sat down and took a deep breath, looking at Alexander and Nazar with an air of gravity.

“I’ve got a strange story to tell, and you are not going to like it, Alexander. Bear with me, though, it will make sense in the end.” He took another deep breath and began his story.

“In 1948, in Roswell, New Mexico, the United States, a Scythian spaceship ran into severe turbulence due to a thunderstorm and crashed. As strange as it may seem the Scythian ships had a difficult time flying in the Terran atmosphere. Scythian planets all have weather control, so the highly dynamic nature of our atmosphere caught an inexperienced crew of five researchers by surprise. They crashed. Four Scythians died, and one survived. The survivor was spirited away and kept alive for many years, while his ship and all of its equipment was salvaged and studied. Enter the Scythians, who then make contact with the United States government for the first time, specifically with the military. Their purpose was to find survivors of the crash, which they believed they sensed through their psionic net. They admitted losing contact with the survivor at such-and-such a time and requested its whereabouts. They were told that all five bodies had been burned for fear of disease, and the Earth representatives apologized profusely for the undesirable but understandable treatment of the crew. The Scythians, who as we know had studied Terran for millennia, apparently overlooked the Terran tendency to lie, and instead developed a relationship with Terrans. The relationship was secretive in the extreme, and in simplified form it was a agreement to allow Scythian experimentation of Terrans in exchange for technology. This agreement prospered for twenty-five years and was common knowledge to all in the highest levels of all the world’s significant governments. In the United States a special group was formed called the “Magnificent Thirteen” which coordinated all of the national and international efforts with the Scythians. This was a worldwide business with its hands in everything. The “Magnificent Thirteen” controlled the introduction of Scythian technology into the military industrial complex, and the testing of this technology in places like Vietnam. You can imagine how rich and powerful these individuals were, but it was only a shadow of what was to come. In 1973 there was to be a great coming out, and the Scythians were going to be recognized formally. We would enter the Galactic’s culture with Scythian help, and those involved in this would have the strings of power and the purse to all Terran endeavors in the cosmos. It was an awesome prospect both personally for the few involved and for Terrans. Then came the “accident.” A Scythian was killed in the area fifty-one complex, and the remaining Scythians panicked and fled, but not without a swift and deadly reprisal. All plans for joint cooperation dissolved. The Scythians left and they would not return until this last year.

“After a year the “Magnificent Thirteen” disbanded, no longer having a purpose. They had their contacts in the world and their investments in the companies to which they supplied extra terrestrial technology, but their dreams of something greater were gone. Their influence dwindled even as they grew rich beyond the dreams of avarice. Slowly they faded from the view of governments, and power. Then came Alexander. In an incredibly short time Alexander suddenly sprang onto the scene and brought together all the reins of power the “Magnificent Thirteen” had dreamed was theirs thirty-five years ago. Still, there was nothing they could do, until the roundup of the suddenly discovered Alliance spies. Not all those spies went to our prisons, Alexander, because there was one of the original “Magnificent Thirteen” still around, still in a position to watch, wait and seize the opportunity.”

“Crandal!” Alexander breathed.

“Perceptive,” Augesburcke smiled, “Yes, it was Crandal. He took in eight of the Hrang spies, and as a condition for their safety had them make contact with their masters. Crandal worked out a deal with the Alliance: your life in exchange for recognition from the Alliance of Crandal and the “Magnificent Thirteen” as the sole representatives to the galaxy for Terra. A deal was agreed upon and the “Magnificent Thirteen” were reunited. Using their old contacts they got their assassination network moving again. It had been a while since they’d operated, but they had the greatest resources of industry in their pockets and some significant experience behind them. Presidents, dictators, civil rights leaders, you name them, they did them. What was one more world leader? In order to do it, though, they needed operatives who were experts and couldn’t be traced back to them. They found them in old Russia. One of the “Magnificent Thirteen” was responsible for the international trade of information and policy formation. His counterpart in the old Soviet Union was the Chief of SPETZNAZ, their Special Operations people. The relationship was reignited, promises and payments were made and five operatives made their way overseas. Two went to Lake Pend Oreille in Idaho, and three, by Crandal’s own transfer, were placed on the Iowa as marines.”

Alexander grasped his temple. “Special forces personnel, but not SEALS!”

“That’s what started the ball rolling,” Augesburcke admitted. “You were incredulous that these were SEALS, so we dug. The first thing that tipped me off was the dental work. No way it was American. It was Eastern Europe or Soviet. With that to go on it was relatively simple to go through our Cold War dossiers and identify them.”

“That still doesn’t tie them to Crandal, or the rest of the story,” Alexander observed.

“No, the Scythians did some, the Hrang did the rest,” Augesburcke told him.

“The Hrang?” Alexander exclaimed.

“That’s where it gets interesting, but I’m getting ahead of myself,” Augesburcke told him. “At this point we knew we had SPETZNAZ, but where do we go from there? You mentioned that you thought the Alliance was involved. Logical, otherwise what was the motive for assassination? I went to the Scythians and asked who they might have dealt with on Terra before their open arrival. We’ve all heard the stories of secret government dealings with aliens, but why not ask the Scythians? We’d been too busy to deal with the question previously, and the Scythians were loathe to talk about it. When I assured them of your protection they opened up and I got a list, a very short list, of people they dealt with openly on Terra. On the list, along with Crandal and about two dozen others, was General Yvgeny Bellatov, the former Chief of Soviet Special Operations, SPETZNAZ. Our operatives paid a little visit to the General and it didn’t take long for him to finger his contact, and then identify Crandal as the man’s superior. We set up shop on Crandal. It didn’t take long to finger the Hrang. We set up a remote X-ray camera and we had him. It was an easy thing to cut a deal with him: death or cooperation. He’s been a veritable fountain of information since. Included in his testimony are all the specifics on a proposed third assassination attempt which is supposed to take place on Golkos.”

“Golkos? They’re looking fairly far into the future aren’t they?”

“It’s even more interesting than that, Alexander,” Augesburcke told him, filling him in on all the particulars of Crandal’s plot.

Alexander shook his head. “I’ll give this to him, it’s deviously elegant. In one fell swoop they cut the head off Terra and blame it on the Scythians. A marvelous if twisted idea. You know it’s a pity, Admiral, that we couldn’t turn Crandal’s energy into something more constructive.”

“We’ll be privy to everything on Crandal’s mind from now on, Alexander. On his last visit to the “Magnificent Thirteen” we wired our Hrang and had him go in under the guise of one of our operatives. We’ll be attending the meetings from now on.”

“Impressive, Admiral, very impressive,” Alexander told him. “You’ve done an outstanding job of sleuthing, Admiral, Sherlock Holmes would be proud. I’m in your debt. A toast is in order. Then I’m going to get some sleep. I think we’ll leave Crandal and the “Magnificent Thirteen” to their own devices for the time being. Let them think I’m winning the war for them. Besides, I’m too busy to give him the amount of attention he truly deserves. In a little over fourteen hours we have a show to watch!”