CHAPTER 20

It was a bright day in St. Joseph, Kansas, when Alexander stepped out of the shuttle at the airport. The Golkos bombardment spared the small city, and by all indications the only scar of the previous afternoon was the grey pall overhead: the smoke fed by continental fires. The quiet victory of the day was unfortunately lost on him. A car took the grim Overlord of the Terran Empire to a place he’d been many times before.

Nazar looked around with interest. It was the Chem’s first time outside a major Terran city or military installation. The sight of the stately homes of the museum district overlooking the meandering river was quite enough for him to forget the luck of being plucked, Quotterim-like, from space by the inimitable but now one-armed Admiral Konstantinov of the Gagarin.

“I’m getting good at fishing for aliens!” The Admiral snapped when they brought Nazar aboard. The rupture of a plasma conduit on the bridge cost Konstantinov his left arm and left him with painful burns. He refused to leave the bridge to be tended to, and the surgeon cut off the tatters of the limb as Konstantinov ordered the Gagarin’s final salvo of torpedoes into the belly of the Nived Sheur. The torpedoes broke the Golkos flagship in two, after which Konstantinov fainted. When he came to he was still on the bridge and all that remained of the battle was the flotsam and jetsam of the fleets. He’d fired the final shot in the battle for Terra.

Alexander’s car stopped in front of an imposing brick edifice. Almost absently he said, “The last time I was at Corby Mansion was for dinner. Johnny bought this place twenty-years ago for a song. We all thought he was crazy. It was built last century, and was once a grand place, but when Johnny got it there was nothing left but the shell. He and Jeannie put ten years of blood and sweat into the place, room by room. He brought it back. Johnny always talked about retiring here . . .” Alexander’s voice trailed off as the car rolled to a stop. He got out heavily, climbing the steps like a condemned man. Halfway up the door opened. Jeannie and the kids appeared. The kids, oblivious to the meaning of Alexander’s visit rushed down the stair to meet their “Uncle Alexander.” Alexander picked them up, all three in a bundle, and carried them into the drawing room. Jeannie, knowing full well the look on Alexander’s face, let the children say their hellos. Finally she extricated Alexander from their embrace, and the kids promptly turned their attention to the strange figure of Nazar.

“You’re a Chem, aren’t you?” asked Jeanna, the eldest, but still only seven. “I know the Chem, the Scythians, the Golkos, all of them. You’re one of our friends aren’t you?”

“Yes I am,” Nazar smiled.

That was as much as Jeannie could take. She hustled the kids away. When they were out of the room she shut the door. Standing stock still, a graceful hand steadying her lips, Jeanie’s eyes started tearing. Slowly, painfully holding it in, she gazed about the room. Her voice quivered, at the verge of breaking, but she’d rehearsed this moment, these feelings a thousand nights before. Wistfully distracted with a facade of control she told them, “We had a dinner party here just last week. Everyone from Johnny’s squadron came, and old friends from the other squadrons. We traded stories, memories, hopes and fears. Johnny decided to have another party when it was all over, you know, in keeping with tradition. It was wonderful, but behind all the faces there was that same question: who would be at the next party? Johnny said it would be rough, but somehow I never thought he would be the one left out. I don’t suppose he would have stayed on Terra, even for me and the kids.”

“I couldn’t spare him Jeannie. I wish that I could have.”

“I know Alexander. Johnny was terribly afraid that you’d take him out before the fight. That worried him more than anything else.” She stopped at the fireplace mantle. Reaching up she cradled the family portrait, a ghostly smile paling her face. Her eyes flashed with angry fragility at the picture next to it: Johnny’s portrait in uniform. Her words were biting in that moment, but they trailed off into simple sadness. “I suppose I must be the commander’s wife one more time and host the damn party anyway. Put up a brave front for all to see and all that crap! Johnny would call it “therapy,” and, well, I suppose he’d be right. He’d be the first to tell me to think of my duty; to keep busy and be useful. God knows there must be others in the wing that’ve lost it all this day. I can’t let them down. Can you get me a list of names, Alexander? I’ll handle the rest.”

“That’s a very brave thing to do, Jeannie, but,”

“Alexander I need to do this, just give me the names and I’ll get a hold of the spouses. Please, Alexander.” She pleaded, as now it was her only thread to control, and her only shelter from unfettered grief.

Alexander stepped up to her and grasped her shoulders. He took her eyes. “There were a lot of good people under Johnnie’s command yesterday, Jeannie, and some very close friends. None of them came back.”

“What are you saying? Alexander, some of them must have made it,” she whispered, the shell of control crumbling.

“Jeannie, no one made it back. We lost them all.”

It was then that grief finally hit her. Sobbing, she collapsed into Alexander’s arms.

#

Back aboard Thor, Alexander finished the last of the evening reports. The business of tallying the dead, the dying and the missing was all but over. It was grim reading. The Seventh Fleet was all but annihilated. The submarine “wolf pack” suffered ninety-five percent losses. Of the Terran Defense Forces none of the bombers or their crews survived. With the North American shields down and his bomber force down to thirty planes and no missiles, General Johnny Page led his tiny group on one last run. He plowed his crippled B-52 into the vulnerable bridge of a Golkos battleship as it pounded the Midwest. All of his remaining bombers, every one, followed his example. In all, the space borne forces of the Seventh Fleet and Terran Defense Force lost over ninety-eight percent of their ships. Of the one hundred and fifteen thousand soldiers and sailors that shipped out of Terra in the Seventh Fleet only one in ten survived. Fortunately, the casualties on Terra herself were significantly less, and wholly out of proportion with the damage inflicted. Due to timely evacuations and the Spartan defense Terran casualties were actually less than a tenth those of the fleet. Still, over two hundred million people were left homeless and under conditions of the most primitive services.

Alexander shut off the red numbers on his screen and shook his head. He turned to the intercom and asked he communications officer to establish a secure link to the Chem Elder. In short order Alexander had the beautiful face of Nazeera glowing at him.

“Good evening, my dear, and how is life in the quiet section of the galaxy?”

“Considerably better than you look, my love.”

“That is better than I feel.”

“Indeed, then it is a good thing you are victorious. I would not wish to look upon your defeated visage since victory is so grim.”

“Just reflections and regrets, my dear; I’m certain they’ll pass soon enough.”

“Perhaps, but I’m proud of you just the same.”

“And why is that?”

“You overcame the universe, my brave conqueror. You are a laurel to me and a legend to all others. You have returned glory to our galaxy.”

“Funny, it doesn’t feel so glorious at the moment. Actually, I could use a good dose of advice right now, my dear. I have now come to the most difficult part of this whole unlikely saga. Wars are easy to wage but it’s the living with the aftermath that’s trying. Even victory is little balm. Now is the time for politicians. Is there room for warriors such as you and I, or we now superfluous? Chem has a system and a tradition of warrior-rulers. Terra’s tradition is much less kind on beings like us, and much more damning for those of us who wear out our welcome. Yet what of it, am I to rest on the laurels of my victories then for the rest of my years? Or are those days beyond need? Perhaps, my dear, this is the last act in the violent scene of this drama. It could be said that this is the beginning of a new era of peace in the known galaxy. It is to be hoped it will be filled with more vibrancy and growth than the past thirteen millennia, but with the same luxury of peaceful coexistence nonetheless. That shall have to be my hope.”

“The Chem would celebrate that, Alexander, and seek to promote it with all our strength.”

“We all depend upon the Chem for such an age,” Alexander told her, as a Galactic, “for the Chem are the moral standard by which honor and courage are measured. Terrans are still too young and inconsistent to be held as a measure of merit and other peoples are too self indulgent. If the Galactics are to grow and enjoy true prosperity and trusting peace, we shall need the constancy of the Chem as a guide.”

“That the Galactics have, Alexander, yet what of the Golkos?” Nazeera asked. “The Galactics are now aware of the volcanic expectations of the Terrans, and may well follow into the frontiers the Terrans and the Chem open to them. Yet behind all will be the ancient and vindictive Golkos. Will they be humiliated, if not trodden upon, and thus be the mold which grows within the fabric we weave? A new and more far sighted Galactic community is a bold goal for a conqueror, even an Alexander, but to leave a malignant and vengeful foe out of the foundation of such a structure is to leave it open to rot and eventual decay. Do not doubt that a vengeful Golkos will remind Alexander’s newfound friends in the galaxy that this friendship was coerced. At length benevolence and a magnanimous heart can seem vain and glorious to those who lost even a tithing of sovereignty in the issue.”

“That is why I open my mind to you, my dear. You stir the voice of reason which the clouds of war too quickly mask. I had similar intentions, but could not quite get myself decided as to which way or how far to go. You have clarified the matter appropriately. Very well then, I suppose I must address the Grand Admiral, and take advantage of the opportunity providence provides us. It will not be the easiest task I have accomplished. I must persuade him with words over his natural resentment, but it may be possible. I think. It is necessary if we are to have a Golkos with whom we can work.”

“Well you’d best think fast, my love. If you mean to have dealings with him you’d best consult him. When he realizes he is captive by Alexander he will have little thought other than the swiftest and most assured way to suicide.”

“He has seen no one other than our own Chem physicians.”

“That will buy you time, my love, but I would not count on it. They are intelligent and suspicious. It will not take him long to ascertain his position, and when he does he will be swift in his self judgment.”

“Then I will see him presently,” Alexander told her.

#

Khandar’s first waking thoughts were of intense dismay. The very fact that he was alive was a severe blow. His last memory was of the battle-bridge of the Nived Sheur where he’d retreated after the destruction of the main bridge. The cave-like chamber offered no reprieve, however. Though the Terrans disdained to board the Nived Sheur and the bombardment continued unabated. Soon the metal walls shook so terribly about him that he was certain the ship would fly apart at the seams. A final cataclysmic concussion of sound signaled the end of the Golkos flagship, and Khandar’s consciousness faded into darkness. He could not know that he alone of the command staff survived when a Terran rescue team breached the hard kernel of the battle-bridge.

His next recollection was of a Chem attending to him, then more darkness. When his senses finally returned to him fully it was within a white room. He was held within a restraining field, and the tingling sensations over much of his body told him that he’d indeed been tended to.

“Probably for burns, and broken ribs,” he surmised aloud from the feeling. The vocalization triggered the opening of the single bulkhead door and a Chem promptly entered. The presence of the Chem confused Khandar, but the fashion of the door made his predicament quite apparent. No Galactic spaceship had doors contrived on primitive hinges.

“So I am on a Terran ship and you are my keeper?”

The Chem cocked her head without concern and placed a chair next to Khandar’s bed. She did not, however, sit in it. Instead she ran a small scanner over him, glancing at the resulting displays on the wall mounted visiplate.

“You are mending tolerably well, Grand Admiral, I think you may take a visitor. The restraining field should no longer be necessary.” She punched a switch on her scanner. A barely audible hum disappeared in Khandar’s ears. Then, moving to the door she nodded and left.

The door remained open and empty for a moment, prompting Khandar to involuntarily move towards a sitting position, a half lucid idea of escape on his mind. Then a broad figure filled the doorway, a figure not only taller but much more powerfully built than the Chem. Green gem-like eyes stared out from under stern brows, and across the powerful shoulder and chest of the man was a Banthror sash. Alexander! The intake of Khandar’s breath was a sharp hiss, but the Overlord of the Terran Empire deigned not to notice it. Alexander closed the door and walked without concern to the chair. He carried a dark bottle of ruby liquid and two crystal glasses in his hand. Alexander stood at the bedside for a moment, studying his foe, his head slightly cocked to the side in interest.

“It’s amazing how little even a hologram captures a person. Though I recognize you, Grand Admiral, I must say the image is little like the man.”

“Indeed? Your holograms must be of surpassing low quality, Alexander, if you mistake me for Khandar. I do not mean to disappoint you, but your prize is somewhat less lofty than your aim. I watched Khandar die on the bridge of the Nived Sheur. You used yourself as bait and so allowed your battleship to cross our bows. A risky tactic, but you must have known Khandar well. His madness clouded his judgment, and ours.”

“An understandable ploy, Khandar, but quite unnecessary mind you.” He paused a moment to allow the Grand Admiral to register the meaning. “Don’t worry, it’s not my intention to lash you to my chariot and parade you before the citizens of Terra. You are of far more use to Terra and Golkos than the object of hatred and ridicule. You fought well, and Alexander recognizes the glory that brings us both. I would trade that glory to have my Terra whole again, but some things are beyond my power. Other things are not, but the manner in which I accomplish them depends on others. That is why I am here.”

Khandar grunted involuntarily. His first thought had been to leap upon the Terran Overlord and grapple with him. From what he knew of Alexander from Pantrixnia and what he now saw there was no illusion as to the outcome of such an adventure, but it would be a glorious death indeed! Somehow, though Alexander’s manner disarmed him. He reconsidered, partially through unquenched curiosity, and decided to pursue the present encounter somewhat further before irrevocably terminating it.

Alexander acted quite unaware of Khandar’s murderous intentions, instead seating himself and proceeding to pour wine into the two glasses. “My Chem surgeons tell me that wine is quite healthy for your physiology. Besides, death by poison is a poor death indeed for a warrior.”

Khandar took the drink, suspiciously beetling his brows as he did so.

Alexander took no note, telling him, “I was fortunate to find this aboard. It’s a Beaujolais from France on the European continent, an area I was happy to find untouched by your bombardment.”

“I am sorry I couldn’t disappoint you there,” Khandar replied, being drawn involuntarily into the conversation.

Alexander’s brow rose, along with his glass, but with a frosty smile he toasted.

“To worthy adversaries!”

Alexander savored a slow sip of his wine, eyes piercing Khandar over the rim. Then he drained the glass in a single draught.

Khandar could find nothing to complain of by Alexander’s action, and on some gut level he actually approved of the Overlord’s manner. He followed Alexander’s example.

“Excellent!”

The Terran smiled, and after refilling his own glass he refilled Khandar’s. The Golkos, somewhat taken aback.

“Do you always treat your vanquished foes with such courtesy?”

“We are singular beings, Grand Admiral, each with our duty to our empires and our worlds. We seek glory and acclaim. We admire courage and steadfast determination. We would give all for our worlds. I can respect such an adversary, and yes, even share a drink with him. Beyond that, however, is a commonality. We would perhaps understand one another better than your politicians would understand me.”

“Is that why I am still alive?” Khandar asked, his eyes narrowing. “Am I to be Alexander’s emissary to Golkos now in exchange for my life? I do not know how Terrans view honor, but this seems to me inconsistent with our assumptions. Golkos warriors do not sell their souls so cheaply.”

“You misunderstand,” Alexander said gravely. “I do not ask you to sell out Golkos on my behalf, but to save it on your own behalf. Let me be blunt. Golkos, for its own reasons, has attempted to destroy Terra and the Terran Empire. I have defeated your fleet to the point of annihilation and now it is my intention, in due time, to proceed to Golkos and complete my conquest. However, despite your apparent information, Alexander never desired war with Golkos, yet when war came I pursued victory with the same relentless passion which you yourself have displayed. I shall finish what others started, for revenge, and for practicality.”

“Revenge? I suppose we have given you cause enough or that with the razing of your world. If that is so be content to take your vengeance out on my person, for it was my military policy to press the attack on Terra when the Alliance disintegrated. It was my inclination that the Golkos civilian government would possibly have settled the affair then and recalled the invasion. We refused their hails. Therefore, if it is revenge you desire, Alexander, take it out upon me. You have already completed half your revenge by taking me alive. I am quite certain your ingenuity can find a way to complete the task most admirably.”

Alexander stood as if irritated by Khandar’s remark, and he said sharply, “I do not ruin brave and competent people with insinuation and innuendo. I know all about your opinions, Grand Admiral. I do, in fact, know more about you than you can guess. You left thorough logs. I bear little love for you after your razing of my planet, but I do not blame you for what you did. That was Alexander’s failing. It was I who could not defend my world, and it is I who shall have to live with that inadequacy. That is not the revenge I spoke about, however. My revenge is harbored against the execution of Terran civilians in Golkos prisons, not against the unfortunate acts of war which ensued at a later time.”

“The replaced Terrans?” Khandar exclaimed. “Then you were serious all along!”

“Indeed I was,” Alexander said simply.

“Incredible!” Khandar breathed.

“I will not ask you who were responsible, like as not you’ll tell me as ranking commander you must bear the burden,” Alexander said, stopping to sip his wine. “Nor will I dishonor you, or myself, with interrogation. The responsibility for such a reprehensible act clearly lies in the upper echelons of government, which I will deal with when I come to Golkos. I do not ask you to understand.”

“That still does not explain what you want of me.”

Alexander’s tone was weary, and he sighed as if realizing his own shortcomings in this meeting. “I do not know that I want anything of you Grand Admiral Khandar. What I want is far beyond any individual’s ability or functions, even my own.”

Khandar recognized the impasse in Alexander’s mind, but for himself felt suddenly lifted. In a moment Alexander’s intentions towards Golkos crystallized. Far from the glory mongering conqueror Alexander had very specific, and what was most poignant to Khandar, limited objectives on Golkos. Let Alexander take his revenge out upon the civilian government! Khandar was just ruthless enough to relish the implications. He suddenly saw Alexander as a much more pragmatic conqueror than legend, and fear, reserved for him. He already succeeded in striking accords with empires his mighty fleet could have easily conquered given time, and why? The solution struck him smartly between the eyes: it was altogether one thing to conquer and another to administer. Even Alexander could not hope to keep the known galaxy under his sway through might alone. All of the Terran fleets could not hope to impose Terran rule on the galaxy. Even the breadth of the Golkos Empire would cause a drain on Terran power. Alexander, of course, knew all of this. The quintessential conqueror, he knew his limitations as well as his abilities, and his plans for the Galactics were based upon every bit of intuition and knowledge he possessed. Khandar now understood Alexander, the Alexander he thought he knew, quite well indeed. An astute general in his own right he also saw the advantage for himself without any loss of honor or face.

“You mentioned a practicality to the conclusion of this war,” Khandar said, as Alexander had momentarily withdrawn from the conversation. As he hoped it drew Alexander back to the subject.

“Yes, a practicality beyond the present day structure of the known galaxy,” he explained, almost as an afterthought. It was a concept so basic to his thinking he shouldn’t need to clarify it. “There is no advantage to constant warfare amidst the empires, and there is even less advantage in supreme power. The fabric of the known Galactic empires must change with the entry of Terra, but it need not change radically. Accords need to be bilaterally advantageous in the long run, even if military coercion is their original witness. This I have accomplished with the exception of Golkos. Golkos is the only empire which as of yet may face true conquest. The power of Terra was so far beyond the Syraptose, the Quotterim and their peers that they are satisfied to have resisted as they could and come away with their sovereignty. The Seer’koh, well they are a matter of reason I admit I did not count on. Golkos, however, is an entirely different matter. The Golkos are strong and proud minded, but like Terrans they are controlled by their emotions. Should I raze the Golkos Homeworld, even in response to your initiation I should build the coals of resentment for the next twenty generations. Golkos will harbor its hate and betrayal for Terra and all her neighbors, spending her energies to destabilize and cause mischief. Then one day when Terra’s glance is not so strong she will rise again. The wheel of vengeance will repeat itself. This wasteful calamity I must prevent here and now. I need a strong Golkos, but I also need a reasonable Golkos. Golkos trodden upon and humiliated serves me no purpose whatsoever.”

“Though you may not realize it, Alexander, Golkos is not so set in its ways. You seek revenge and reason. Both may be practically acquired through honorable means without a great deal of effort on your part. It is quite likely, Alexander that your vengeance will not be waiting for you”

“Why do you say that?”

“The Golkos are indeed a proud and passionate people, and they hold their representatives to a stern accounting for failure. Undoubtedly, when the Terran fleets enter Golkos space they will recognize the folly of the current government. They will renounce the August Body and take their own accounting in a strictly Golkos manner. The new government will then prepare to meet you when you land. With the correct amount of persuasion they could be guided to seek similar terms to those already offered to the remainder of the Alliance. Such will be their hope, but not their expectation. Should you deal with them rationally, and in a manner consistent with the rest of the Alliance, then no doubt there will be much relief and little resentment. Future relations with Golkos will, of course, depend on Terran consistency.”

“What of you, Khandar? Won’t your reception be chilly? Will you be considered part of the problem and not part of the solution?”

“In all actuality, no. To the Golkos I am by definition the instrument of policy, not the maker of policy. If I fought well then I will be acclaimed for a courageous struggle against overwhelming odds.”

Alexander smiled, pouring the remainder of the wine in their glasses. “Grand Admiral Khandar I believe you have a long and fruitful career ahead of you. I don’t believe we shall ever trust each other fully, but respect goes a long way towards peaceful coexistence. I will set foot on Golkos this once, but even then I shall not trod on Golkos sovereignty. There shall be other issues, I am sure, which are best handled by the Golkos themselves. If your vision is near to the mark then we are at an understanding.”

“It is to be hoped that my people will recognize my efforts for what they were,” Khandar said evenly.

“That will not be difficult, Khandar,” Alexander told him. “There is nothing on the Galactic ethernet but the war and its climactic conflict about Terra. It was a terrible battle, Grand Admiral a horrifying, terrible, glorious battle. I hope I never see it’s like again.”

“You honor me, Alexander,” Khandar said sincerely, bowing his head.

“It was an honor to fight you, Khandar; pray don’t let it happen again.”

“I think, Overlord that war with Terra in the future would not be to our advantage. I think our energies would be more constructively used elsewhere.”

“That would be mutually beneficial. I’ll be in touch, Khandar. I’ll wager this is not the last time we share a glass of wine. Good night!” Alexander told him, and then the Terran Overlord left the room. Khandar laid back in is bed and fell into the first restful slumber he’d had since they entered Terran space.