by Hugh B. Long
Hal looked out at the destruction spread out before him in all directions. Destruction was the wrong word. It didn’t look like anything had been destroyed. There was no evidence that anything had ever been here. There remained only a green, glassy depression with smoke around the periphery. He felt like he was standing in a crater on a moon.
He walked over to where the MAC building used to stand, and saw the ground littered with green glass; the same glass lined much of the crater. It was called Trinitite, after the Trinity nuclear tests carried out by the Americans a century and half ago. The ground for half a mile or more was littered with it. Some huge contiguous chunks, like the crater, other smaller pieces. It was macabrely beautiful. He picked up a small piece of the beautiful greenish stone. Ailan would have loved this … if not for the radioactivity, which would do him no good.
Beyond the MAC’s former location, Hal saw what looked like a picket fence made from black charcoal pencils—Iarn Forest, or a smoking shadow of what it once was.
The iarn trees, which had given Iarn Forest its name, had bark so tough it would have made great medieval armor, and it was that bark that enabled those slender charcoal staves to remain standing.
“Tony, I’m heading over to the edge of town,” Hal said
He got back into his pinnace and it accelerated smoothly skyward and made the short ten kilometer journey to where his farm used to be. He told the pilot not to land, just to hover for a minute.
There was nothing. Just scorched, blackened earth and melted lumps of other metals. His home, his family, everything … gone. How could someone grieve and recover from this? Surely this was too much for anyone to bear, but it wasn’t. He wasn’t the sole owner of such wholesale tragedy, there was plenty of it, just not in recent memory. Hal felt a new age dawning . The ancient Icelandic Eddas had foretold such an age:
Brothers will fight
and kill each other,
sisters' children
will defile kinship.
It is harsh in the world,
whoredom rife
—an axe age, a sword age
—shields are riven—
a wind age, a wolf age—
before the world goes headlong.
No man will have
mercy on another.
The Wolf Age was dawning, Hal thought.
“Back to the ship,” he said evenly.
* * *
Once back on the Sleipnir, Hal made his way to the multi-purpose room which was acting as a cell for Devrim. The marine guard stood at attention when he saw Hal approaching. Hal heard footsteps behind him and saw Cadena walking up to him.
“Hal, can we talk?”
“Not now, Tony. But you can listen. I’m going to have a little chat with our prisoner.”
Hal nodded to the marine to open the door, which he did immediately.
He stepped through to find Devrim laying on the bed with his hands locked behind his head.
“Get up,” Hal ordered.
Devrim looked surprised. The tone of Hal’s voice was level, even; there was no overt threat, but the implications of his tone and the look in his eyes were clear.
Cadena walked in behind Hal and shut the door to the stateroom.
“Your people have declared war on us. They have now nuked my home—erased it from existence.”
Devrim said nothing, he just stared in shock at Hal.
Hal stepped closer to Devrim with teeth clenched. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Yes,” Devrim replied.
“Why?” Hal pleaded, “Why would they do this? What have we ever done to your people?”
Devrim didn’t reply, but began trembling.
Cadena spoke up. “If your people are slavers, as you have said, why would they destroy a settlement beyond re-habitation? That’s a bit like sowing the fields with salt after you steal a crop, no? It does not make sense."
“I do not know,” Devrim replied.
Hal walked up to Devrim face to face, breathing down on him. “You are going to take us to your people, so I can get my family back. Understand?”
Devrim didn’t answer.
“Understand!” Hal yelled, spittle hitting Devrim’s face.
Cadena put his hand on Hal’s shoulder. “Hal.”
Hal shrugged it off and turned to Tony with a primal look. “Step off, Tony!”
Devrim sat back down on his bed to put some distance between himself and Hal’s fury.
“Your family should be fine. We have never bombed a city with people in it. That would be like burning money. They would have all been captured first.”
“Then why bomb it at all?” Hal asked.
“Maybe the commander felt threatened?” Devrim replied. “Perhaps your people resisted?”
“There was no military power on New Midgard at all, even the people had no weapons except rifles to hunt with.”
Then, it donned on Hal—the ERBT self-destruct. Maybe the Hrymar perceived that large explosion as a military response?
Hal slumped into a chair beside the door and hung his head.
Devrim spoke up. “I will help you find your people, Hal. I will help you get revenge. We can help each other as we agreed.”
Hal looked up at him. “If you cross me, Devrim, I’ll kill you slowly. I might take weeks. You’ll beg for death.”
Devrim just stared at him.
“Do you understand me?” Hal asked. Hal would do it.
Devrim nodded.
Hal got up, opened the door and left.
* * *
Hal sat at a large circular table in Sleipnir’s War Room—which was literally that. It was designed to enable the crew to do their tactical and strategic planning. It had a huge six-meter diameter holo projector in the center of the room. This could call up star charts, battle formations, or any data required.
Sitting around the table was the entire crew of the Sleipnir, including the steward. Hal treated everyone on his team with equal respect and deference. There was no special social deference shown to officers, certainly, he expected orders to be obeyed in the chain of command, but otherwise, they were all human beings first; or Alfar, as they case might be.
Hal spoke, “For those of you who just moved to New Midgard to join this mission, this event, is troubling. For those who made their homes on New Midgard and have missing loved ones … my heart aches with you.”
Hal paused and made eye contact with each person around the table. “But now is not the time to mourn or grieve. We can’t be certain who is dead or alive at this point, and if we understand the Hrymar like we think we do, most of them should have been captured as slaves. That’s good news. It means there’s a good chance they’re alive, and we can rescue them, or even ransom them—whatever it takes.”
He paused again.
“I make an oath to you here,” he said, again looking at each of his people, “I pledge my life to find our loved ones … though I’ll spend it wisely.” Hal stood up and paced. “It’s taking every ounce of my self control not to rage, and try to find the first Hrymar I can, and kill them with my bare hands. But I must retain control. We must. This is the greatest test you have ever faced. It certainly is for me. And I won’t fail it. I prayed to Odin to counsel me, for he’s the wisest of my gods. I’ve asked Heimdall to guide me to my foes, and to Tyr for justice. And when I’m done, I’ll ask Freya and Hlin for comfort. For those of you who are spiritual, I suggest you do the same; ask your God, gods or goddesses to intervene—we can use all the help we can get.”
The crew mumbled agreements and encouragement, and Hal sat back down.
“The Eddas, epic stories of my ancestors, foretell of a Wolf Age. I believe it has arrived. For hundreds of years men lived in the Sword Age—consider my Viking ancestors, or the Anglo Saxons, or even the Spanish, Portuguese, French and British Empires, or American military domination. But that Sword Age is over. Once we left our small planet, I suppose, it was inevitable we would meet the wolves, a
nd so we have. The Norns who weave the web of our existence don’t give a damn about our suffering, but don’t lose faith; we can choose which threads pluck. We can face our challenges with determination and courage, as our ancestors did. In the old days of sail, a captain couldn't control the wind but he could adjust the sails, and make the best of what he could control, and that's all we can do.”
The crew nodded and Hal could see their spirits lifting, if only slightly. That was one thing aliens might not understand about humans—their resilience and steadfastness, traits they shared with their Alfar cousins. The Hrymar were bullies, which was usually a sign of inherent cowardice and moral weakness. That might be the enemy’s downfall.
* * *
“No matter what your specific job,” Hal said, “I want you thinking about the big picture. If you have an idea that’s outside your normal area of expertise—share it.”
There was general consensus around the table.
“We have a few weeks until reinforcements from Earth and Alfheim get here and as much as I would like to leave now and find our people, I won’t. We’ll get one shot at this, and I intend to do it right. So let’s make good use of this time. S3’s mission is to do reconnaissance and gather intel. I want to have a plan in place before reinforcements arrive so we don’t lose any time. Our respective leaders have given me operational control over this mission, so put on your thinking caps.”
E-4 Tameka Harris spoke up, “Sir, how reliable is the intel we’ve gotten from this Hrymar Devrim?”
“Good question, Harris. I would say….above average. Like any prisoner, he’s probably got his own agenda. But remember, his people left him. Also, from what we gather, he’s the chieftains’s son, and his whipping boy. So I think he has an axe to grind.”
Harris nodded. “Makes sense, sir.”
“Captain, I am quite concerned about leading other ships deeper into Hrymar territory without a prior assessment,” Cadfael added.
“What do you suggest?” Hal asked.
“Well, sir, if we have three weeks, why not start probing a little farther into their territory as we continued operational planning. Given our stealth capability, we should be able to gather some intelligence and have a better lay of the land before reinforcements arrive.”
Gina Russo nodded. “Captain, I think that’s a great idea. I don’t like the idea of leading a large force into unknown space—not one little bit.”
This was perfect—Hal needed to do something, he dreaded the thought of waiting in his grief stricken state for weeks with nothing to distract him.
“Haldor- Captain,” Eva Joubert corrected herself, “I could also make good use of that time to take astronomical observations. Perhaps there are local phenomena we could use to our advantage? Gas clouds for example, or asteroids perhaps?”
Hal suppressed a smile at Eva’s use of his first name. Years before, they had been lovers for a few months while he was working in London and she was attending Cambridge, and he’d almost proposed to her. Hal’s work took him away and their relationship ended, but if he hadn’t met Siobhan, he may very well have reconnected with her. It'd been over long enough that he didn’t feel any conflict of interest having her under his command; although he chided himself for drifting back and remembering some very pleasant times they’d shared. He chalked it up to a coping mechanism.
“Good, anyone else?” Hal asked.
Nobody answered.
“Ok, then here’s a few things I want done…”
Chapter 11
The matte black predator soared silently and steadily on a ink-black sea; an outside observer would have seen nothing. Even with highly advanced sensors, the Sleipnir was nigh undetectable; thermally shielded, with dampened electro-magnetic emissions, and a light absorbing coating on the hull. These advantages all conspired to hide the very existence of the Sleipnir. But she was there ... on the move, and ready.
Hal rested in his command-chair in a state of zen-like alertness. The bridge was dimly lit under third-shift lighting, and Hal recalled a passage from 'The Havamal' which his grandfather had taught him years before:
Within the gates, ere a man shall go,
Full warily let him watch,
Full long let him look about him;
For little he knows, where a foe may lurk,
And sit in the seats within.
Hal’s mind was full of questions, endless questions: What lay ahead? What plans should they make? How would they deal with potential conflict? So many unknowns and risks. A century of peace and prosperity had left Earth quite unprepared for a conflict on this broad a landscape. The countries of Earth had united, which had assuaged people's fears over most internal security issues. And apparently, the Alfar hadn't really prepared humanity for what they might encounter beyond the Solar system. In fairness to the Alfar, the SID knew there were other civilizations out in the beyond, but had never travelled far enough to encounter one.
The SID had been conducting very localized exploration until they could build an appropriate interstellar military force, which was in the planning and design stages, but would now have to be greatly accelerated. What was planned to be accomplished in decades, would have to be achieved in a couple of years, but until then ...
For now, Hal had to focus on the mission at hand, which seemed to keep changing by the minute. The SID was playing defense, and allowing the Hrymar to set the tempo; this was a bad situation to be in. He hoped to find some way to regain the initiative, but had to reconcile himself with the fact the Sleipnir was not going to exact vengeance all by itself. It had a pivotal role to play, but Hal was used to being in control of a problem and its solution. Being part of a much larger operation was something he left behind with his military career several years before. But here he was again, in uniform—although this time with a more critical role, and a much more influential mandate.
The journey, so far, had been uneventful. They’d jumped from system to system inhabited by Alfar colonists or their allies. The present jump, which was near completion, would take them beyond friendly territory for the first time.
Cadfael was at his combatives station, and like Hal, seemed highly alert but relaxed, which was Cadfael's default state of being. Now that there was imminent danger in the galaxy, Cadfael's life made sense. He'd trained for decades to combat threats and enemies that no Alfar had seen in centuries ... until now. Hal had initially met a man who was tightly wound and anxious, but now that Cadfael was fully engaged in his life's purpose, he was a paragon of confidence and focus.
"Whad'ya say, Cadfael?" Hal inquired.
Cadfael responded with a cocked eyebrow and a look of puzzlement. "Excuse me?"
Hal smiled at his friend's confusion. "It's just an expression, more like a question. As in, what are you thinking, how are you feeling, etc."
"I see. I was evaluating potential tactical responses to a series of possible hostile encounters."
"Good. And how are you feeling about our chances?" Hal asked.
Cadfael stood up from his combatives station and stretched his arms high above his head, culminating in a low grunt. "Our chances of survival are highly variable, depending of course, on what we encounter.” Cadfael sat back down, “I’ve been making assumptions based on our knowledge of Hrymar technology, but that knowledge is centuries old. The last war we fought was close to a century ago, with a race called the Ysgar. But their technology was vastly different from ours, or what we predict that Hrymar may have now.“
Hal squinted his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose. "Haven't you heard reports from your trading partner- these Dvergar?"
"Reports, yes, but nothing overly specific. We have a general idea of their number of ships and types of armaments. We believe we have made advances in the areas of propulsion, weapons and armor, while they have not. Their strategic efforts seem to have been focused on numbers, and picking their engagements carefully. The Hrymar spent centuries building a slave empire. Individual achievements seem to ha
ve been limited to personal hand-to-hand combat and their proficiency trading slaves."
"That's good for us. Them sitting on their technological laurels could be a great strategic advantage. I would really like to start hitting them first for a change. We didn't start this, but I'm happy to help finish it."
Cadfael looked at Hal with a somber expression. "Being a warrior is a bittersweet calling. On one hand, we do not want the pain and suffering war brings our people, yet we train for it, yearn for it ... relish it," he said, with a conflicted passion.
Hal nodded in agreement. "Indeed, I think - "
Helmsman Glaw interrupted the discussion. "Captain, exiting hyperspace in 1 ... 2 ... 3."
The Sleipnir shuddered slightly as her inertial dampeners tried to compensate for the change in the ship's place in space-time.
"All stations report," Hal said.
* * *
“Captain,” Eva reported, “I am seeing a Class K star on sensors. It is about five light-hours away. It has three planets and seven moons total among them.”
“Idwal, anything on comms?” Hal asked.
“No, Captain. Nothing to report.”
“Ok, Glaw, take us in closer to the star and let’s poke around a bit—slowly please. This is our first stop in non-allied space. I’d like to be cautious.”
Glaw nodded and the Sleipnir began creeping slowly and stealthily closer to the star; slow was a relative term of course, she was accelerating at five hundred gravities—about half her maximum military acceleration.
“Captain!” Mared from Engineering burst onto the bridge, “It’s Adrianna. She’s dead!”
Hal might have looked shocked, if not for recent events. Little could match having your home-town nuked.
“Cadfael, grab Gina and investigate immediately. The rest of you, put it out of your minds and focus on your jobs. That's an order!”
* * *