by Ray O'Neil
Ashley looked down at her wrist screen, pressing on tabs to search the area. “There are a few Beowulfs from squad 34 that landed a level below us.”
Emich kept an eye on the corner, keeping behind the rocky wall. “How does our squad look?”
Ashley swiped on the screen to show a hologram of the spire, made out of a blue grid. She could see the green dots of their few remaining teammates moving quickly up the sloped path that circled the spire’s interior. “Looks like they are doing a dandy job clearing out the place.”
Turning on his COM unit to listen, Dracul could be heard shouting orders, the hollering of Berserkers making it a jumbled mess. “Sounds like they’re having all of the fun down there.”
“You seemed bothered by it,” Ashley stated.
“I just hate being looked down upon, is all. That Old Blood would rather waste everyone’s supplies on taking out the Niflheim one by one instead of taking out the power core first. Once all of their ammo is used up, all they have left are their Saebos and their fists, which don’t match up well against plasma blasters and aesirium hide.”
Ashley scoffed. “Well, what do you expect? Berserkers are trained to live in battle and Old Bloods are born in search of it. I read the Niflheim are both, a physical embodiment of war, sent to us to punish us for our self-destructive ways.”
“Where the hell did you read that?”
Ashley hesitated, walking by him to lead the way. “Nowhere. I meant I think it that way myself. It’s all just part of my silly little imagination.”
Emich moved up to jog past her, taking point as they made their way to the lower levels of the Durathro Spire.
After a few skirmishes with small groups of Sliep and another pack of Wotan, they ended up near the middle of the spire, most of the Niflheim forces fighting the teams that struck down below. Packed together like a mighty fist, they were met with only a small amount of resistance. Outside of the Yggdrasil, the Merrow troops were slowly making their way up the mountain side, taking on the Niflheim between the trees, scattered about in small firefights and melee brawls. Frickas leaped from branch to branch, showering down yellow dots on the soldiers below. The ones that were spotted were shot out of the tree or had the trunk sliced in half with stray cannon fire.
Emich and Ashley veered around the corner of a wide opening, four crystal bridges connecting a large platform in the center of an area that took up most of the Durathro Spire’s inside. Everything inside was blue, the crystal surface glowing and pulsing with energy. Huge wires and tubes connected to the platform, some looped around the bridge they walked on, having to be climbed over. They came across an area that resembled a laboratory, filled with strange machines and unknown materials in crystal holders. The roof above had a perfect square cut out of the middle, a pointed spire charged with blue electricity buzzing loudly.
“You think that thing is a defense system?” Ashley asked, keeping her gun trained on the upside down spire after they got over the massive cable that blocked their path.
“If it was, it’s been doing a terrible job so far. I think it has something to do with that thing over there.”
Emich pointed at a pedestal located in the very center of the platform, a liquid orb floating above it. Something was inside the orb, fluid coursing around in a perfect circle as it bobbed up and down from whatever strange force kept it in the air. Symbols and swirls covered the machinery that continued to spin and glow, one of them near Emich boiling a purple fluid that moved through a crystal pipe into another machine. There was a strong pressure near the pedestal, the quiet sound of a gentle hum. The two of them checked down the other bridges, still sensing no activity.
“Do you think this is the power core?” Emich asked, confused.
Ashley looked up at the spire above them, small blue flakes known as aurora ice gently falling around the pedestal, hiding against the same colored crystal. “This thing is too small to be a power core. But I think I know what this is…”
Emich lowered his cannon, looking over at her in concern. “What is it then?”
Her ecstatic smile was hidden behind her helmet. Still, she couldn’t contain the escalating emotion in her voice. “It’s a relic! A special artifact created by Niflheim. This Durathro must hold one of the shrines I read about.”
He faced her, grabbing her arm to get her attention. “Hey, there’s something you are not telling me here. Where did you get all of this information?”
Even with her SL tugging at her, Ashley’s eyes danced back and forth, unable to look away from the pedestal. “The G-data. I was able to find a fragment of it on the deep web.”
“The G-data? I thought thing that was just a myth.”
Ashley wasn’t paying attention. Reaching out to the orb, she stuck her fingers inside, moving slowly.
Emich reached out a hand to stop her. “No, don’t!”
“It’s water,” Ashley said calmly. “Don’t get your knickers in a bunch, now. The water is protecting something inside.”
Its surface rippled from her presence, lines forming around its axis as it rotated. Emich watched in silence as she leaned in, holding his breath since he has no idea what would happen. As soon as she pulled out a solid object, the water collapsed to the floor, dripping off of the pedestals jagged edges. The small glowing orb was able to fit in her palm, its outer skin covered in hexagonal crystals. The entire room lost its blue glow, the light in the room slowly fading away.
The visor on Emich’s helmet flashed for a second as it switched to black and white night vision. “I thought that thing wasn’t the power core?”
Ashley shook her head. “It’s not. I’m sure of it. The thing above us is what was sending power into the relic to create it.”
“Well then what took it out?”
“I did.”
Both of them looked across the platform to see Dracul approaching them, his suit covered in bright stains and dents. The left eye to his visor was cracked, showing the white dot of his pupil. He had his cannon in one and with a Saebo Sword in the other, its thick blade shining white — in what could easily be assumed was Niflheim blood. Even though his screen was damaged, the night vision was still working for his right eye. He didn’t need it to see the glowing relic in Ashley’s hands.
“Give me that. In your hands. It’s to be returned to HQ at once.”
“Where are the others?” Emich questioned.
“They’re finishing up downstairs. Now that the power core is taken out, thanks to me, we can make this spire into a rest station for when those useless marines come in from the mountains. Now, give me what you’re holding, private.”
Emich stood between them. “She doesn’t have to follow your command. I’m still the SL.”
Dracul tilted his head, a lock of blond hair falling through the hole in his visor. “Then you should know that any Niflheim relics found in battle are to be returned to base as first priority, by order of VALKYRIE. Anyone unwilling to do so is to be executed on sight by a superior. That means me. Now, I’m not asking again. Hand it to me.”
Ashley hesitated, standing there motionless for a second too long. Running up to her, Dracul shoved Emich aside, bashing him in the head with the side of his cannon. The swing of his sword was fast enough to waver the air, Ashley having little time to react. Leaning back, the tip of the sword sliced across her visor, the bottom of the face plate falling off. She fell on her back, blood dripping from the bridge of her nose.
Standing over her, Dracul lifted his Saebo high, flipping it in his hand to aim it downward. On his back, Emich lifted his MBC3, its red dot going up Dracul’s side. A single shot flew over his head as he lunged downward, the round contacting with the bend of his left arm. Metal plating exploded with a shower of blood, his entire arm obliterated up to the shoulder. Flaps of skin hung loose from the wound, blood dripping against the side of his Exoframe.
Dropping to his knees and huffing from the intense pain, he covered his destroyed shoulder with a hand. Ashle
y got up and scurried out of there, putting the relic into one of her empty ammo packs as she ran as fast as her Exoframe allowed. Emich got off of the floor, ready to finish the job. Glancing over at him, Dracul reached under his war skirt and tossed a volt disc — a weapon that wasn’t issued during Niflheim operations. Spinning through the air, it clamped onto Emich’s chest, sending a constant stream of electricity through his suit and his body.
He crumbled back onto the ground, his muscles stiff and jittering. The system of his suit shut down, his night vision fading away to darkness. Dracul grabbed for his gun, landing on his side as he did. By the time he could lift the cannon up to fire, Ashley was already climbing over the cable. He shot as fast as he could emptying his magazine.
MBC3 rounds plowed into the cable’s side, but it was as strong as the crystal and walls of the Yggdrasil, making it just chip up a little. Ashley ducked her head down, cannon fire passing over her and from the sides. The sides of the exit burst with gunfire impacts, crystal shards flying at her. Shielding her helmet from the shards, she disappeared into the cavern and out of Dracul’s line of sight.
“We have a deserter!” Dracul coughed, his voice harsh in agony and anger. “Ashley Webber! Find her and eliminate her!”
Arcs of electricity zapped across Emich’s Exoframe, keeping him immobile and in pain as long as the volt disc had power. Lying face down, he was kicked from the side, rolling over limp. He couldn’t see who was looming over him, but he could feel the dripping of blood on his helmet. The end of a cannon slammed into the back of his head, hard enough to make his skull bounce around inside it. He could hear Dracul’s heavy breathing grow into a furious shiver.
“I could kill you... but where’s the fun in that? You know how they do it now. Live in the big screen. Right there for the whole world to see. They’re going to execute you in front of the entire world. Everyone will know you are nothing but a dirty traitor!”
The heavy pounding of Beowulf Exoframes traveled through the ground, more soldiers coming in. Dracul’s screaming while his wound was cauterized could be heard down the caverns, following Ashley as she ran back to her strike casket. Turning it on and sending it into reverse, the casket spiraled downward until the rockets roared to life. Skimming over the trees, she flew through the fog. They continued to search for her within the spire, oblivious that she was on her way across the North Sea.
Emich was taken away from the Yggdrasil and taken to a MP escort ship to fly him back to base. They gave the prisoner a choice: execution on live television or hidden away in a military project. They never told him the project would involve experiments deemed crimes against humanity. They never told him he would be stripped of all human rights.
Some days he wished they stuck to the old ways of doing things.
Chapter 8
“What can I get you, hon?”
The southern drawl of the waitress reminded him that he wasn’t in Europe anymore. Stuck in thought of how he got to where he was, he didn’t realize she was talking to him until she repeated herself. He quickly learned that southern girls were common in UMA outposts, no matter who the locals were. Back when Spencer was alive, he would talk about how they were the most adamant to leave their backwater towns and explore the world. He compared it to how the first thing a caged animal does is sprint out at full speed when you open the door for them.
Emich knew that feeling all too well.
“You falling asleep with your eyes open, sweet thing?”
He looked up at her, quickly returning his eyes to the table. Her incredibly tight camo shorts and tied front shirt barely held anything inside them. Another thing that was common in the UA: body enhancements. The jug of moonshine sat empty on his table, a sight he wasn’t used to since he was a teenager. It didn’t do anything for him, but that didn’t stop him from trying.
His body absorbed the alcohol like it was water — whatever they did to him in the project making it impossible to get drunk.
He handed her the empty jug. “Bring me back two more of these, if you can.”
The waitress raised an eyebrow, chewing her gum with a little snap. “With the way you drink, hon, I might have to bring you a garden hose.”
Mitchell walked up to the table as the waitress left, almost bumping into her in the crowded bar. Jackson was behind him, stopping for a second to look back at the girl as she strutted away. Forgetting that his chest was covered in bandages, he hissed from his sudden glance to the side. Holding his aching ribs, he smiled at Emich and shook him back the shoulder. Emich was able to fake a smile for a little bit; it just meant increasing the amount of acting a little more than he already was.
“Hey, my man,” Jackson greeted happily. “The sarge has a surprise for you.”
Mitchell pulled up a small case, setting it on the table in front of Emich. “You did good back there. A medal is the least I can do.”
Jackson leaned his body on top of Emich, his broad shoulder able to hold all of his weight with no problem. “Taking out that Niflheim all on your own. Man that was sick! I’ve never seen a rookie do anything like that in my life.”
Emich opened the case, revealing a golden shield attached to a ribbon. It was strange for him, since the ERA discontinued awards when VALKYRIE was put into effect. To him, the award was nothing but a piece of metal that looked pretty. But, he knew it meant more than that to his teammates. His fake smile turned real as he stared at the medal in his hands.
“Thanks, guys,” Emich said sincerely. “This means a lot to me.”
He wished there were four people congratulating him, but two was as good as it could get. He didn’t let them know that, hiding any thoughts from showing on his face. Thankfully, the bar lights were kept low, powered by the mobile generator until they could get the town back on the power grid. That was another mission for another day. Emich still couldn’t remember how many days it’s been since he last slept, but he knew it was right before he escaped the facility.
Nearly four months without sleep… and not in the slightest bit tired.
Jackson pushed off of him, walking over to Mitchell to lean on him instead. He walked with a limp, his foot in a metal brace. “Me and the Sarge are gonna to do a little VR for some R&R before we get sent out tomorrow. You wanna join, cuz?”
Emich closed the case and put the medal away, tucking it into his cargo pants. “I’ll join you guys another time. But you two have fun.”
“Okay, whatever you say.”
Mitchell gave him a pat on the shoulder as the two passed by on their way out. “You take care of yourself, kid.”
Jackson saw a woman enter the bar, his eyes trained on her as he limped up to her. “Whoo-wee, I’m starting to think we should stay here the night.”
Mitchell pulled him away from the woman in a business suit, handing him his jacket while putting on his own. “Come on, you. It’s getting too late to start any of that. Who knows? Maybe when we get the town reconnected, they’ll start up the strip club.”
“Hey now! I like the way you think, man!”
Waiting for them to pass by, Demeitri entered, closing the door behind him. It was cold, but both of them had thermal under-lining hidden beneath their suits. Their under-lining self adjusted to the much warmer bar, making their chests feel a sudden chill. While Demeitri fixed his hair from it being blown around by the wind, Valerie had her head on a swivel, scanning all of the patrons for a familiar face. A man sat alone; his shaggy blonde hair and beard hiding most of his facial features.
He could hide distinguishing cleft chin and cheek scar, but he couldn’t hide his eyes. His absent green eyes that looked in the past more than they looked ahead.
Checking her wrist screen, she looked at the mug shot. He had his head shaved back then, but there was no doubt it was him. “Good news, sir. He’s here.”
Demeitri flipped his head up. “Oh, he is?”
Valerie licked her thumb to press down a loose hair hanging too close to his eye. Even when she was sticki
ng her tounge out, the sides of her curvy lips didn’t budge. “Go get him tiger,” she said flatly, grabbing his hand to hold it.
“I’m glad we found him right away,” Demeitri commented as they walked to the table. “Whoever mapped out this place had no clue about navigational design.”
The two stood above Emich, their shadows casted over him, getting his attention. “May I help you?”
Demeitri tilted his head, the front of his hair moving near his chin. “Yes, you may. May we sit down?”
Emich motioned a hand at them.
“Thank you.”
Demeitri sat directly across the table from him, spreading his left leg out to the side. Emich pulled out another chair for Valaire to sit in. She leaned back and set herself down on Demeitri’s lap, crossing her legs firmly. The waitress came back, two jugs of moonshine in her tray. Once they were set down, Emich grabbed for one, guzzling it down right away.
Lowering it back down, he saw his two visitors staring at him in silence. “Would you like some?”
Demeitri took the other jug and passed it over to Valaire. “Alcohol fogs the mind and hinders thought. A man of my position would be useless if that happened.”
Valaire took a small sip, holding it with both hands. Setting the jug back down, she pressed the back of her hand on her lips, unaffected by its strong taste. Not even a blink showed on her still face.
“How is it?” Demeitri asked.
“I prefer mead,” She replied quickly. Taking her hand away, her high cheeks were a slight red.
Emich crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. “So, what are you two here for? If you’re from a PMC, it’s an automatic no from me.”
Private military companies were all of the place in the UA. Their recruiting agents weren’t allowed to be on base, but that didn’t stop them from pitching to soldiers. Usually they went after anyone who was seen as a big deal in combat and the combat medal Emich just received was a sure way to tell. Added with the UAM marines being full of non citizens and ex convicts, it was a goldmine for anyone looking for a heartless killer. There was always a market for private soldiers and there was plenty of money to throw at them.