by Hugh B. Long
“You are most welcome, Haldor. Where you will be traveling, you may need them. And I knew of your love of swords, and that you can wield one with great skill. Few humans still can. And just as our beloved Lord Freyr carried a great sword, we hope our friend Haldor will as well.” She handed him the case with the matched dagger in it.
“Thank you, Saeran.” And Hal meant it with all his heart. The faith and respect the Alfar had shown him was humbling.
“Well, I must not delay you. Farewell, Haldor Olsen. May we meet soon, and well,” she bowed and returned out the airlock.
* * *
The moment had arrived. Hal was nervous, although he knew he probably shouldn't be. He’d commanded ships before, but not one like this, or for a mission this important.
“Helm, take her out.”
And with those simple words Hal knew something had just begun that would change his life forever, and in ways he couldn’t possibly imagine.
Mixed in with his sense of excitement and anticipation, was a sense of dread he couldn’t quite account for, but long ago he’d learned to listen to these sorts of feelings. He prayed to his gods for guidance; perhaps these gentle nudges were their way of telling him to prepare.
He fingered his Mjollnir amulet and hoped the gods would be with him on this journey.
Once they were clear of the Moon, Hal instructed the Glaw to accelerate up to fifty percent, which was a whopping four-hundred and fifty times Earth gravity. Of course this would not be possible without the Alfar inertial dampening technology; it was one of many wonders they’d shared with humanity. Without inertial dampening, the crew would be rendered into flattened mush, and the ship would tear itself apart. With the inertial dampeners engaged, Hal didn’t even feel as much acceleration as he would in an old elevator. In fact the only time he felt anything was when the ship’s anti-matter reactor was being powered up, as it was done prior to the inertial dampeners coming online.
“Sir?”
Hal was awakened from his day dreaming to find his steward, E-3 Dana Hausler, holding a steaming cup of coffee.
“I thought you might like a brew to start the trip, Captain.”
He smiled up at her and carefully took the cup. “Thanks, Dana. I could use it.”
She nodded with a smile, and walked back to the galley to get ready for lunch.
With a crew of twenty and their own steward, this was going to be an excellent cruise, as far as meals went. Normally on warships there was one steward per hundred crew, and their time was stretched trying to get the basics done. None would have had time to bring their Captain a cup of coffee. Hal smiled to himself, and with a sip of hot, sweet coffee, his trepidations receded into the back of his mind.
He looked out onto his bridge, which was semi-circular, with a massive view-screen spanning the entire arc. Slightly below, and in front of him to the left, Nila was sitting at her station which controlled astrogation and sensors. Actually, any of the stations could be configured to do any of the jobs required by the crew; their surfaces were blank touch screens until initialized by their user.
Beside O-2 Nila Johar, and directly in front of Hal, was O-3 Eva Joubert on sensors and next to her was O-2 Glaw, at the helm. To Hal’s right, O-1 Idwal was sitting at his station, which was configured for communications. There were a couple of other consoles to the right and left of Hal, which were used by combatives and engineering respectively.
Overarching the ceiling of the bridge, was a dome projecting tactical information, or a real time view of the outside environment. Being on the bridge could be like standing on the top of the ship’s outer hull, staring into space, but with lots of extra data. The war room had an even larger version of this dome, and could seat dozens for planning sessions.
Piloting a starship in hyperspace was easy. You did nothing. Except in those rare instances where there was some catastrophic malfunction, then things could really get exciting. But for the most part, once the course was calculated, programmed, and set, nothing much happened until you precipitated back into normal space. So to give the ship and its crew a bit of a shakedown, and some practice, Hal was limiting their jumps to under six light-years, which was about a six hour jump. After each jump, the crew would check sensors, confirm they had arrived where they intended to, then proceed to the next waypoint.
Hal planned the trip so that each jump took them within hailing distance of another Alfar outpost, that way they could report in, and were close to help should the need arise. But so far everything was perfectly quiet.
* * *
After the third jump back down to normal space, Hal walked back to the crew common area to grab another cup of coffee and saw the marines socializing. Apparently Kasper Vollan had offered to give Neva Coplin a massage, and when he’d put his hands on her shoulders, she’d put him down like a sack of potatoes and had him in an arm bar and wrist lock when Hal arrived. It looked very painful. And no easy feat given Vollan’s size.
“You looked tense! I’m sorry,” Vollan pleaded.
“Damn right you’re sorry, Jackass. When I want your hands on me I’ll tell you when and where to put them. Got it?” Coplin demanded
“Yes, ok.”
“Yes what?” Coplin asked.
“Yes, m’am,” Vollan squeaked”
The other marines burst out laughing—Vollan was actually senior to Coplin.
“And don’t you forget it,” she smiled up at the other marines and winked.
Hal cleared his voice. “Am I interrupting anything? I can come back? If I have to go through Neva to get a cup of coffee, I’m not sure I want it that bad.”
“No sir, I was just teaching E-3 Vollan how to treat a lady—a lady that can kick his ass,” she said as she eyed him menacingly.
Vollan was rubbing his shoulder, but wasn’t upset. He knew it was all in good fun. They were marines, trained and ready to fight. These little spats were a harmless way to let off a little steam and build morale.
“Anyone else want a massage?” Vollan asked seriously.
Mathilde Ingolfsdittir looked at him with her eyebrows cocked. “What’s up with you always offering massages to everyone? It’s kinda creepy.”
“Hey, I wanna be a masseuse when I muster out. My mom said I could do real well. I just need some practice.”
“Hey, don’t give Vollan a hard time,” said Doc McGregor, “massage is excellent therapy. After our next ground mission, Vollan’s gonna be everyone’s best friend, trust me.”
“Over here big fella,” Tameka Harris said, “my feet could use a rub.”
“Sure, I do feet,” Vollan said.
“Good to know,” Hal said, with a semi-disgusted look on his face, and walked over to the coffee machine.
Harris was taking off her boots and socks, and Vollan was kneeling, ready for his next client.
Grigori Utkin spoke up. “You never offer to massage my feet.”
“Because I know what your boots smell like, Utkin. No damn way I’m gonna let you take off your socks near me!” Vollan said.
The revery was broken by a message broadcast over the ship-wide intercom system. “Captain, please report to the bridge immediately, there’s an emergency message for you,” said Idwal.
Hal look surprised, but tapped his wristcom. “Be right there.”
* * *
Hall arrived on the bridge and saw Idwal looking nervous.
“Whats up O-1?” Hal asked
“Priority message, your eyes only, sir,” Idwal replied
“Ok, I’ll take it in my office.”
Hal hurried over to his office, which was through a hatch on the right hand side of the bridge. The iris opened as he approached, and closed once he was through. Hal sat down in front of his desk and looked at the message on his screen:
Priority 1 - Captain’s Eyes Only
--------------------------------
From: Ambassador Saeran
Subject: Attack on New Midgard
Hal, there was an attack
on New Midgard a few hours ago. We don’t know much. Governor Zelinksi activated the stellarcomm and was talking to me. He said perhaps a dozen ships had landed and were gathering people up.
Neither the Earth or Alfar warships had arrived yet to provide any defense, so there was no fight. We talked for a few minutes until the first floor of the MAC was breached. Then the Governor had to implement the security protocols related to the ERBT. Earth, New Midgard and Alfar have all got self destruct mechanisms in place so no enemy can ever take control of a stellarcom.
A few seconds after they breached the building, the ERBT self destructed. It’s not physically in the MAC as you know, so I’m sure Governor Zelinksi wasn't hurt in the self-destruct, but we have no idea what happened to him afterwards, or anyone else for that matter.
Our warship was two days away from New Midgard when this happened, and even when they arrive, the ERBT is gone so they’ll have no way to contact us—the self destruct is very thorough—it’s irreparable. We’ll have to send a new one via ship, but that’s going to take three weeks.
My suggestion to you is to plot a course to New Midgard immediately. Earth and Alfar warships will be on the scene when you arrive, and we’ll dispatch more from both ends as well.
I know how you must feel, but be strong. I know the gods are looking out for you and your family.
- Saeran.
Hal felt like every drop of blood had drained out of his body. He was ice cold. He deliberately didn’t think about his family. He couldn’t. Not if we wanted to keep functioning. And he needed to keep functioning.
Hal got up and stumbled back to the bridge almost on autopilot. He slumped in his chair and just stared at the view screen and the planet and stars in front of him.
“Anything important, Captain?” Idwal asked.
Hal looked down at him with a blank stare. No emotion, his face was like a mannequin. Idwal looked back, but didn’t ask him again.
Hal keyed the intercom button on the arm of his chair. “Crew, this is the Captain. A few hours ago, New Midgard was attacked.”
Gina was in her stateroom reading a book when the message came over the intercom. “Dear Diana, not again,” she whispered.
“We know little,” Hal continued, “except perhaps a dozen ships of unknown origin landed and started gathering up our people. The Hrymar are suspected of course, but I have no more information, so don’t ask,” the Captain continued, “we have fourteen days to get ready. Use that time well. Someone has picked a fight with us twice now, and I intend to finish it. Captain out.”
There was an icy fire to his words. Words that would paralyze any man standing toe to toe with him. He pushed thoughts of Siobhan and Ailan to the farthest corner of his mind; he had to plan for war now. There was no time for love and sentimentality, that would get him killed. If something happened to them, he would mourn later, if they were safe he would celebrate, but now, with the flick of a switch, he was a cold killing machine. His mind was filling with stratagems, tactics and a cold lust for death.
* * *
Later, Hal lay in his quarters with the lights off. The black of hyperspace as seen through his window offered no illumination for his room. To say a darkness filled Hal’s soul would have been a pitiful description; it was so much more, pervasive, almost an abstraction. It was suffering on a level not easily imagined or defined. Were his family dead? Captured? If captured, were they in some slaver’s pen suffering? No definition of the situation would bring him comfort, only pain and agony in different forms.
This was not the first time Hal was faced with such tragedy; at fifteen years old, Hal had been at his home in Lillestrøm, a town to the East of Oslo, when a policeman and policewoman had come knocking at the door of his home. He wasn’t sure why. He was a good kid, and he knew he’d done nothing to warrant a visit from the police. Maybe there were looking for someone else? They had asked to come in, and of course Hal had allowed them to enter. When they’d told him to sit down, he’d immediately known something bad had happened. And it had.
His parents, Birger and Karin, had both been professors at the University of Oslo, and commuted everyday into the city, then back into the suburb of Lillestrøm via the Strømsveien Road, crossing the Nitelva River.
Apparently on that October morning, their car had hit a patch of black ice just as they’d begun their westward journey across the river and the car had veered out of control, then dove into the Nitelva’s freezing water. The shock of the freezing water had likely paralyzed their limbs in seconds as they tried to escape, Hal had been told. They had drowned in the car—together at least. Had they not been driving Birger’s fifty year old ground car, they might have lived; the new contragrav cars would have floated on the water, but the old Volvo convertible, which he’d refused to put out to pasture, had sunk like brick.
His grandfather, Magnus Olsen, named after the famous Magnus Olsen, was his only living relative, and so Hal had gone to live with him, leaving behind the comforts of the city, for the wild beauty of the West Coast, and the town of Stavanger. His grandfather was a kind old man, and had treated Haldor well.
Old Magnus was still building wooden rowboats back then. Just like his ancestors had, hundreds of years before. Mostly he’d sold them to rich tourists who were unlikely ever to dip an oar in the water, but they paid him well and he could continue to work with his hands as his forefathers had. It was a tradition in the Olsen family, at least for men to take it up as a hobby. Magnus had been a Nautical Engineer before he retired, and had designed some of the very last seafaring vessels on Earth. Now with contragrav, Ocean going vessels were redundant.
Hal’s consciousness faded back into the present morass and he confronted the weight of the multiverse pressing down on him; it was so visceral, he was panting, trying to catch his breath. He reached for a bottle of potent sleeping pills, which Doc McGregor had given him, just in case. He opened the small plastic bottle and took a few more pills than were required, and soon his mind and thoughts dissipated into nothingness.
Chapter 10
The journey to Epsilon Eridani took only twelve days instead of the planned fourteen; Hal had ordered the engines pushed to military acceleration for the entire journey, which was not good for the long term life of the engines, but he didn’t care.
Once in the Epsilon Eridani system, Hal contacted the warship he detected on long range sensors: The SSS Skofnung which was orbiting New Midgard. Given Sleipnir’s distance, he had to wait an hour for the reply.
There was a long message with details and condolences, but only one fact registered with Hal: New Midgard had been nuked.
As Sleipnir approached New Midgard he saw the planet on the view screen as he expected, green and blue, and alive. But as they got closer, and the resolution increased, and they could see down to Norvik…
Hal stood slowly out of his command-chair and ambled close to the view screen, reaching out and touching it. Where Norvik had been, there was now a crater and scorched earth for at least a one-hundred kilometer radius. Destruction out to a twelve kilometer radius was absolute. Everything in that circle was gone. Including his home. Hal could hear Ailan’s music box playing in his head, over and over.
Hal shook his head gently, took a deep breath and walked back to his command-chair and sat down.
“Comms, hail the Skofnung,” Hal said..
“Aye, sir,” O-1 Idwal replied.
The Skofnung was Earth’s new interstellar destroyer and was named after the sword of legendary Danish king Hrólf Kraki. She was the class’ namesake. She was a typical destroyer: with middling arms and armor, but fast and versatile, and although not atmosphere capable, she had pinnaces for that. Her nine-thousand tonne class was the workhorse of the new SID Stellar Fleet.
On the Sleipnir’s view screen appeared an image of a young Hispanic man in his thirties, sitting in the Captain’s chair of the bridge, O-4 Antonio Cadena, who happened to be an old friend of Hal’s
“Tony, good to see you o
ld friend.” Hal’s voice was flat and emotionless.
“Same here, Hal. Although I wish our reunion was under better circumstances,” he replied.
“What can you tell me?” Hal asked.
“Honestly, not much more than in Saeran’s message. There are no survivors, and of course we know they used a nuke. We’re estimating a one-hundred mega-ton yield. Seems they only used one, but a big one. Once we arrived, we stayed as picket and the LSS Llangernyw went back to Alfheim at max speed to pick up a new stellarcom array and to bring back reinforcements.”
Hal nodded. “Saeran contacted us twelve days ago. Governor Zelinski called her on the stellarcom as the attack happened. Apparently there were dozens of ships abducting our people; most likely those Hrymar bastards. Once they breached the MAC, the Governor set off the self destruct to the ERBT and they lost connection to Alfheim, so we don’t know what happened after that … until now. We made best speed here right after we talked with Saeran.”
“That’s good news, Hal. I mean, there’s hope your family is alive if they abducted people. The Hrymar are slavers, so they probably gathered up the local population, then dropped the bomb.”
“I can’t think about them right now, Tony.”
Tony nodded with understanding. “Well, apparently you and this new S3 outfit of yours outrank us fleet squids. Orders, sir?” Tony asked.
“I’m gonna go down to the planet.”
“Hal, there’s nothing within the ten clicks of Norvik, not a damn thing.”
“I know. I’m going anyway.”
* * *
Sleipnir’s pinnace touched down near ground zero in Norvik, followed by a pinnace dispatched from Skofnung.
Hal stepped out of the pinnace in his RCA suit, which also doubled as a vac suit, shielding him from radiation. He saw Antonio Cadena leaving his pinnace in a standard vac suit.