by Hugh B. Long
“It would be nearly impossible,” Nila said.
“Right.” Hal turned back to Saeran. “Ok, I know the what. What about the how?”
Saeran wore a broad grin now. “Quantum entanglement and an object’s gravitic effect on space-time. Our engineers call it the QEGEST sensor—Quantum Entangled Gravitic Effect on Space Time—they love acronyms. The common term is just gravitic sensors. Much easier to say,” she smiled, “I am not able to explain it beyond that, but I am sure your team’s physicist, Talfryn, can explain it further. Needless to say, this technology is of the second most closely guarded secrets of our collective people next to the interstellar bridges.
But now, on to other matters. The first ship of the Sleipnir-class will, of course, be called the Sleipnir. Captain Haldor Olsen, we would like to offer the ship to you. We would like your team to be the first S3 crew. In time we’ll assign a High Commander to run the organization, but, as there is only one operational ship, you’ll be acting-High Commander until we deploy more ships and find someone to lead the group.”
There was a roar of acceptance from the marines.
Hal was stunned, but stood and bowed. “It would be an honor.”
“Hal, this is going to be a tough assignment,” Governor Zelinski added, “in addition to your immediate mission to locate the captives, we’re counting on you to help us define what it means to be a member of S3. You’ll make the rules, then probably break them too. And you’ll be away form home—a lot.”
“Understood,” Hal said.
“You have our thanks, and best wishes, all of you,” President Rukundo said.
* * *
Later that afternoon, Hilmir Andras took Hal to the orbital shipyard to give him a tour of his new ship. As their shuttle approached the shipyard, Hal could see a dozen of the Sleipnir class ships berthed, all in varying degrees of construction, except for the first one … she was ready.
The Sleipnir was nearly one-hundred meters long and fifty meters wide in the middle of her girth. She had a pop-up plasma-cannon turret with a three-hundred and sixty degree field of fire on top, and two hard-points on her bottom with a missile launcher and a drone launcher installed.
As they flew closer to the ship, he could see eight engine ports on her stern. Hilmir Andras saw him looking and smiled.
“I see you notice her eight engine ports. There are actually only four engine vents, but in keeping with Sleipnir’s eight legs, we made certain … cosmetic allowances,” he grinned broadly.
“She’s a beauty. I can’t wait to take her for a spin,” Hal said.
Andras pointed below the engine exhaust ports. “See there … that’s a pinnace launch bay. She’s equipped with a twenty-five person pinnace with cryo-capability and emergency hyper drive. It’s also intended to be used as a planetary interface. The pinnace is also well armed in case you’re landing marines under enemy fire. There are two lightly armored aircars, but we assume you would use them once already on a planetary body.” Andras pointed to a set of doors above the aft engine ports. “Over there is the aircar landing and retrieval bay.”
Hal marveled at Sleipnir. This was a magnificent piece of engineering. No, he thought, she was a work of art. Like his Viking ancestors and their longships, Sleipnir was a prize beyond reckoning, and she embodied many of the same qualities which made the Viking Longships a terror to all her enemies; she had speed, stealth, and could pack a punch. Any enemies who saw her would think twice about attacking the race of beings who built such a capable vessel. Walk softly and carry a big stick, or a smaller pointy one.
The shuttle docked on the starboard side of Sleipnir, in what Hal reckoned must be the central deck.
They heard the clunk of a docking ring engaging, then a hissing sound as an atmospheric seal was made between the two vessels. Once the green light indicated a proper seal, Hal opened the hatch and gestured for Hilmir Andras to proceed him. The Hilmir ducked and made his way through the docking tube to the Sleipnir’s hatch. It opened before he got there and an officer wearing the flat black uniform of the newly formed Stellar Scout Service, snapped to attention and saluted.
The Hilmir saluted in return. “Permission to come aboard,” Andras asked.
“Permission granted, sir,” he replied.
Hal saluted as well and was permitted to board.
They made their way first to the bridge, where an observant crewman barked, “Hilmir on the bridge!”
The three officers on duty assumed their most professional postures without leaving their terminal or duty station.
A young Alfar male with pale blonde hair, and an O-2 uniform approached the men. “O-2 Glaw, at your service, sirs,” he nodded.
Hal reached into his breast pocket producing an envelope, then handed it to Glaw. “My orders, O-2, I’m here to take command of Sleipnir.”
“You have command, sir.”
“I have command,” Hal replied. And the Sleipnir was his.
* * *
Gina was very proud of her marines. Her team began as some of the best trained fighting men and women Earth could offer, and a few days of drilling together had proven to her this was going to be one bad-ass unit. The marines were standing in Sleipnir’s lower cargo bay in two rows, twenty feet apart, facing each other. Forming a cap to this column was O-4 Gina Russo, flanked by Corpsman William “Doc” McGregor, the medic.
“Atennnnnshun!” Gina barked
Hal sauntered into the cargo bay, looking at the precisely positioned marines. He remembered playing with toy soldiers as a kid, and how they looked nice and neat in lines, just like this—but these were no toys. These were highly trained killing machines, pledged to lay down their lives to protect this crew. Hal almost felt ashamed for his silly thought, and banished it.
He walked close to the lines of marines and saw they were fully outfitted in Recon Combat Armor. It was slightly less armed and armored than full Powered Battle Armor, but RCA suits gave the troops additional speed and surveillance capabilities, as well as an active camouflage system.
Hal stopped in front of the first Marine in the left column. She was a young asian woman with black hair tied in a tight bun, possessing dark, serious eyes and a perfect doll-shaped face. She was petite, and in different garb could have been mistaken for a Geisha girl. “E-4 Tameka Harris, sir. Leader, Fire-team Alpha.”
Hal nodded and moved on.
The second Marine, a young woman with short brown hair, dark green eyes, and toting a Laser Sniper Rifle, spoke up. “E-1 Corinne Thul, sir. Scout, Fire-Team Alpha”
The third Marine was a giant of a young man, at six foot five inches, and two-hundred and fifty pounds. “E-3 Kasper Vollan, sir. 2IC, Fire-Team Alpha.
The last Marine in Fire Team Alpha had a crop of blonde hair and a determined smile. He stood six foot two inches, and weighed in at two-hundred and thirty pounds. “E-1 Grigori Utkin, sir. Fire-Team Alpha.
Hal smiled and moved on to the second row of Marines.
“E-4 Jessie Vaughn, sir. Leader, Fire-Team Bravo.” Vaughn was another large young man. A couple of inches shorter than Vollan, but just as determined looking.
A couple of shades lighter than his black uniform, stood E-3 Jomo Maathai. “2IC, Fire-Team Bravo, sir.”
The third member of Fire-Team Bravo was a small red headed woman, E-1 Neva Coplin. “Sir, Scout, Fire-Team Bravo.”
The final Marine was a tall blonde with her hair also pulled back into a tight bun. “E-2 Mathilde Ingolfssdottir, sir.”
Hal was back at the beginning of the two columns and turned to face O-4 Russo.
“Captain, please let me introduce our medic, Corpsman William "Doc" McGregor, all the way from Alberta, Canada.”
“You have a fine looking team, O-4. Everyone, at ease,” Hal said.
The marines relaxed, as much as marines on parade ever relaxed, and looked toward their Captain. “I’m proud to have you all aboard my ship. I think you’ll find the accommodations aboard Sleipnir are somewhat better than
what you’re used to on larger vessels, but don’t get too spoiled.” Hal’s smile faded to a serious look. “We have an urgent, and critical mission ahead of us. Had we been ready sooner, we would have launched this rescue weeks ago, but we were unprepared. I assure you, that will not happen again. We are going to be penetrating deep into enemy territory, uncharted territory, with risks we can’t even begin to imagine, but I think if any group can do this, we can.”
The Marines broke into cheers. Hal and Gina smiled at each other. Gina shrugged.
“Dismissed,” Gina said, and with that, the Marines broke formation, and scattered about the ship.
Hal walked up to “Doc” McGregor. “Nice to meet you Doc.” He shook the Medic’s hand.
“Likewise, sir.”
“So in addition to patching up that rowdy bunch, you get to play nursemaid for my ship’s crew as well.”
“I’m happy to do it, sir. I was honored to be chosen for this mission.”
Hal patted him on the shoulder. “Glad to have you, Doc.”
* * *
Hal was dreading this call, but it had to be made. He knew how badly Siobhan was going to take this, not to mention Ailan. He loved his job, yet every minute away from his wife and son were purchased with terrible longing. But they had a two-year plan; at the end of which, their little hobby-farm should generate enough surplus income to allow him to leave the Colonial Survey Service. Now he’d have to tell her that plan was defunct.
Surely she’d understand. This was war?
He slumped into the deep chair in the one-person booth at the stellarcom building. They’d pre-arranged this call, so he knew she’d be there. But he almost wished she wouldn’t pick up, then he wouldn’t have to break the news to her. He would have preferred to do this in person, where a nice dinner followed by some great sex, might have softened the blow. Probably not.
“Connecting now.” The computerized voice said.
The meter-wide screen in front of his chair filled with Siobhan’s stunning smile, framed by her long, red corkscrew curls. Gods she was beautiful. Even after years of marriage, she took his breath away. He could wander for weeks in those forest-green eyes.
“Hi, darlin,” she said. Such a simple phrase, yet delivered in her lyrical Dubliner lilt, she had him hooked.
“What’s up, beautiful?”
“Just waiting for you to get home. We miss ye.” She affected a pout. “How’s the mission? Never mind, I suppose you can’t talk about it, right? Ailan’s been askin after ye.”
Ouch, he thought. “Well … actually … we do need to talk about it.” He saw the playfulness fade from her eyes.
“Darlin, don’t tell me you’ll be there much longer? Ailan’s been acting the wee maggot while ye’ve been away.”
That made Hal smile. “You know how much I love you?”
“Haldor … don’t be coy. Just tell me what’s going on.”
Busted. He filled her in on everything but the classified bits. And she was not happy. But she understood. That’s why he loved her. Many spouses didn’t understand duty—Siobhan did. She didn’t take Hal’s acceptance of the position as a personal slight. She got that there were more important things in the universe than her, and sometimes they’d impinge on her desires. That didn’t mean she liked it any, but she accepted it.
Chapter 9
The door opened and light flooded the cell. Devrim covered his eyes and tried to curl up in a ball to escape the torment day brought.
“Good morning, Devrim,” Hal said.
Devrim made a crack in between his arms to peek at Hal.
“How are they treating you?”
Devrim relaxed a little.
“I have a proposition for you Devrim. Interested?”
He said nothing.
“We would like to get our people back,” Hal continued, “and to do that, we need a guide. In return, we would be willing to release you back to your sire in exchange for our people. What say you?”
“My sire will not want me back.” Devrim curled back up.
“Ok, well if it means you’ll be staying with us, then I’m sure your cooperation would go a long way to affording you luxuries, and maybe even an early release. Would you be interested in that?”
Devrim looked back at him, seemingly considering the proposal. “Perhaps.”
Hal crouched in front of Devrim. “Look, we’re going, with or without you, but if you help then that shows us who’s side you’re on now. If you plan on staying that is. We need someone like you who knows the Hrymar. You could be an ambassador of sorts.” Hal knew he was stretching the truth, but needed some leverage. Hal stood up. “But if you’d rather just sit in this cell day after day … then I’ll be on my way.”
“Wait,” Devrim stood, “I will help.”
* * *
Hal slept very little, and woke up tired, but forced himself out of bed. He remembered a verse from the Havamal which his grandfather had taught him when Hal was a small boy.
"It does no good to lie awake all night, ruminating on your problems. You wake up tired, and your troubles are still there."
The Havamal was a collection of Old Icelandic wisdom poems attributed to Odin, and it was the closest thing to a Bible his people had, though it was not prescriptive. The Asatruar had taken up the faith of their pre-Christian ancestors, and once again worshipped the old gods and goddesses. Hal proudly wore a gold pendant of Mjolnir, Thor's hammer, about his neck; the hammer was said to be the mightiest weapon ever devised, which Thor used to battle the Giants and protect mankind. It proclaimed him as a modern Heathen, although few understood what the term really meant.
Hal rolled out of bed and placed the hammer between his thumb and forefinger. Today he would need such strength.
Hal walked over to his shelf and picked up a bottle of mead and opened it. Beside it was a small silver cup into which he poured a little of the mead. He replaced the bottle and took the silver cup outdoors. Once outside on the grass in front of his apartment, he turned and faced north, looked to the heavens, raised the silver cup, and said, “Odin counsel me, Heimdall guide me, Thor protect me, and Freya comfort me. Hail the Aesir. Hail the Vanir, and all my ancestors. I honor you. I remember you. Be with me always.” Hal took a sip of the mead and carefully poured the rest on the ground as an offering. He inhaled deeply, and returned to his apartment.
* * *
Hal was sitting in his chair, working with his bridge crew on final checks before launch, when Eva Joubert walked onto the bridge. She gave Hal a warm smile, and stared at him with those deep blue eyes of hers. “Good morning, Captain,” she said.
“Morning, Eva. It’s really great to see you again. It’s been too long.”
“It has indeed. I hear you are married now? And have a son?”
“I do. Ailan is five years old, and a chip off the old block.”
“You?” he asked.
“Married only to my work, I’m afraid.”
Hal chuckled. “That’s someone’s loss. Well, I’m glad to have you onboard. We’ll have to have dinner together and catch up on old times.”
“I would like that, very much. With your permission, sir, I will take my station.”
“Granted.”
As Eva took her station, his comms officer, O-1 Idwal, spoke up, “Captain, Ambassador Saeran is requesting to come aboard. She’s on the other side of the airlock.”
Hal looked shocked. “Saeran? What’s she doing here at the last minute? Of course, O-1, let her in. I’ll meet her at the airlock.” Hal leapt out of his chair and made his way to the airlock.
A green light pulsed and Sleipnir’s inner hatch hissed open. Saeran was standing before him in a wispy green dress, flowing like it was windblown, even in still air. She was carrying a small, dark-brown wooden case.
“Permission to come aboard, Captain?” she said with a devious smile.
“Permission granted. What are you up to?” Hal asked with a cocked eyebrow.
“Oh, just
a little parting gift for our new Captain," she said as she stepped over the threshold onto the Sleipnir. “As I’m certain you know, your Naval officers historically carried swords. Nowadays they are rarely worn, usually only with a dress uniform. The Alfar have a similar tradition, but our warriors and ship’s Captains carry them at all times. To make it more convenient to do so, our engineers, with a little help from the Dvergar, crafted these…” she opened the case to reveal two wooden batons, the larger, maybe ten inches long, and an inch in diameter. The smaller was about five inches long. The batons lay on a bed of wood shavings, and Hal could smell the deep musky aroma.
“They’re mighty short.” Hal said, deadpan.
Saeran picked up the larger baton and held it out to her side. Suddenly a meter-long, double edged sword blade extruded from the baton, which was now clearly the weapon’s handle. A simple cross guard was now also visible.
Hal looked at the sword with awe and appreciation. “I thought those things on Cadfael's belt were tools of some sort.”
“Impressed? I thought you might be. They are made from our cledyff trees. The blades are actually hollow, and retreat into the handles when not in use. They sense the electrical signal and heat in your hand, and the blades solidify. The edge of this blade is so thin—the makers claim its monomolecular— yet so hard, there is almost nothing it won’t cut through—including Powered Battle Armor. They do break, but rarely. The smaller one is a dagger.”
The sword reminded Hal of a telescoping police baton, and despite knowing it was wooden, Hal could have sworn it was steel; the grey wood had a metallic luster.
With both hands, Saeran presented the sword to him. “Look at the runes carved on the blade.”
Hal turned the sword to the flat of the blade, and looked down to read the runes. “Ovindrepr. Foe Slayer,” Hal translated and looked back up. “I am honored, Ambassador.”