CHAPTER 33: Behind the Trappings of Rome

The known galaxy boiled with anticipation and fascination. The galaxy depended upon official Chem releases for Chem intentions, but like the Chem they watched the ethernet transmissions from Pantrixnia with a growing sense of admiration and trepidation. Alexander’s exploits were at once marvelous entertainment and a cold slap of reality. To watch Terran gladiatorial games was one thing; they were remote, even alien, quarantined from the known galaxy as they were. Now, however, they watched a man who journalistic rumor built into Alexander of Alexander’s lineage run amuck in their own Galactic forum. It was an ascendancy of Terrans to a level closer to the Galactic hearth, which was frightening, but it was also the first opportunity of the Galactics to watch an individual Terran with any sense of intimacy, which was enlightening.

Journalists, being who they were, took great leniency on filling the gaps in actual knowledge, and rumors flowered into accepted fact with great rapidity. The Chem were becoming remarkably tight lipped and grim concerning their intentions towards Terra, and that was a bad sign. Galactic journalists correctly interpreted this as a mood of extreme disquiet amongst the normally decisive Chem. To spice the drama were the reports of the Chem Armada massing for the first time in thirteen millennia, and Scythian hints that the Terrans were far more capable of defending themselves, and Scythia, than the Galactics believed.

Nothing like this had happened in the known galaxy since the last of the Chem Wars of Expansion. The populace of the known galaxy waited, not able to come to any conclusion on either the Chem threat of genocide or Alexander’s place in their universe.

During this agonizing time the ten civilized cultures outside Scythia, Chem and Terra met routinely on Rome. The gleaming marble of the city lost its luster in the gloom of the times, and the Galactic politicians lost their nobility to their fears. Still, there were some who were more confident about the coming war than others. The Golkos saw advantage in the clash of the titans. They bore little love and much jealousy for the Chem, their historic rivals. Now they faced the prospect of being bettered by the Terran mercenaries as well. Like the other Galactics, however, the Golkos were cautious. It was a far cry from their wilder days. The ancient reputation of the Golkos was as a warrior race, and they still bore the appellation with pride. But the Golkos were not as old as the Chem, and had expanded into empty space for several millennia before coming into contact with the Seer’koh, the Kempec and finally the rest of the civilized galaxy. Their immediate reactions were militaristic, at least until they met the Chem. The Chem were far older, more honorable and deadly. It was probably the best thing that could have happened to the Golkos, to be put in their place by their cousins, but not stripped of their empire.

The resultant peace, maintained by an ever watchful Chem, allowed the Golkos to mellow somewhat. They were still petty, ruthless and antagonistic, but they were a marked improvement over their ancestors. In their hearts, however, the lesser cousins of the Chem continued to dream of being the Galactics dominant warrior race, and with this in mind, they saw the coming war between Terra and Chem in a greedy light. To this end, Grand Admiral Koor accosted She-Rok after the Galactics daily conferences.

“Tell me, She-Rok; is it difficult for the Hrang to be so wholly dependent upon Chem and Scythian information?” She asked the Hrang, joining him as they walked a back corridor. It was gloomy and dark, meant to allow dignitaries to traverse back and forth between meetings without having to deal with the press. Her manner more leading than her words and she smoked a long black cigarette, punctuating her words with streams of green smoke. “The rumors of Terran preparedness are certainly revelations of the most trying sort. I do not doubt that had the Hrang known of them they would have reported the details to the Senate. I cannot help wondering why, however, we have so little information from your people in this crisis. It is in all of our best interests to pull together in whatever way we can. The times are too dangerous for selfish actions.”

“I don’t understand your accusation, Grand Admiral,” She-Rok answered, perturbed. “We have been most forthright in all of our intelligence gathering. Everything that is known about this crisis we volunteered to the Galactic Senate, and confirmed the veracity through Scythian and Chem channels. We cannot gather that which does not yet exist.”

“Please don’t consider this an accusation, She-Rok,” Koor assured her compatriot smoothly. “I am simply surprised at the passive manner in which the information is collected. After all, we can all listen to the ethernet. If the Hrang are more adept at breaking Chem and Scythian code, well that is to our advantage. Yet the Hrang are remarkably suited for more energetic methods of obtaining information as well. Your reputation is greater amongst the Golkos even than our cousins, as we have had the opportunity to use your special talents on more occasions.”

“Such occasions as these are extraordinarily dangerous,” She-Rok informed Koor.

“And they deserve special reward,” Koor assured him. “The price is yours to name.”

She-Rok’s brows knit with doubt, but he told her, “The price would depend on the specifics of your need.”

“Our need,” corrected Koor. “The Golkos are willing to be the leaders in this, and to pay the price for it. Our need is similar to that of Chem, but I think on an amplified scale. We do not necessarily need Terrans in the flesh, but Galactics among the Terrans to ascertain just what we face.”

“It is possible, though difficult. The Scythians use a number of Galactic underlings on their freighters and in their depots for engineering functions; especially people from the wandering races. I might have trouble finding operatives with the required motivation, however. As Alexander wins galactic renown for his exploits on Pantrixnia there is as much admiration of Terrans as there is fear. My people are not in any way excited about the prospect of conflict with Terra.”

“Do you propose to sit by-and-by and hope to win the conqueror’s friendship when he comes to your Homeworld, Master She-Rok?”

“I stated that we’re not excited about the idea of conflict, Grand Admiral, I did not say passivity was a viable option. We are taking this development very seriously, and we shall proceed very carefully. That said your request is not the first time we’ve discussed the subject.” She-Rok stopped and checked the security display on his sleeve. Someone was listening, or was trying to. He activated a security screen on his belt. A hum surrounded them, and Admiral Koor’s smoke drifted through the field with a slight crackle. “That’s just the screen re-phasing the molecules of the air and your smoke; otherwise audio sensors could decipher our conversation through the molecular vibrations. Now, Admiral, in our opinion, it’s possible to infiltrate Terra, but it will have to wait until the Chem-Terran conflict is decided. The Terrans are dangerous, and we’re willing to accept that risk, but that is all. I will not put my people on a planet that is about to be destroyed.”

“Certainly not,” Koor agreed. “Regardless, we will not need them until that time. If the Chem take care of the Terran problem then so much the better. Yet if the Terrans triumph, or if the Chem-Terran conflict becomes a stalemate then we must make it a priority to get a clear picture of events on Terra.”

“It will still entail some expense to preposition operatives, in case the latter scenario becomes necessary.”

“Of course,” Koor smiled. “You will be reimbursed for your labors.”

“Very well, we will make everything ready,” She-Rok bowed stiffly in agreement and cut off the security screen. Admiral Koor left the hall, apparently satisfied with the arrangement.

She-Rok smiled, knowing full well that Hrang operatives were even now trickling into the Terran system despite the peril.

The Hrang turned back the way he came. He stopped abruptly. Perowsk, the Syraptose Ambassador, barred his path. He held a blaster in his pallid, soft, shaking hand.