Star Wolves (The Tribes of Yggdrasil Book 1)

by Hugh B. Long

  Hal looked up. “Nope, not much of a view at all.” He stared back out the window anyway.

  “I just wanted to let you know I’m at a standstill on our murder investigation. I need an Alfar Lie Detector machine to take this any further. Do you think they would have one on any of their warships?” Gina asked.

  “I wouldn’t think so,” Hal shook head, “the Alfar rarely have need for them.”

  “Well, I’ll check with them once we get back to Epsilon Eridani anyway. You never know.”

  “Indeed,” Hal agreed, nodding, “there are a lot of things going on these days I wouldn’t have predicted. I guess I should consult the runes more,” he said with a smile.

  Gina looked amused. “Do you really use them?”

  “I do, actually,” Hal said, “not as much for divination, as for meditation, or I’ll focus on a particular rune when I have a problem. My ancestors used them as part of a whole magickal tradition. And don’t forget, your Roman ancestors read the future in entrails and bird flight.”

  “They did, didn’t they? It’s not something I’ve studied. After the Religious Singularity in 2018, most of my ancestors re-adopted Roman Paganism, but they still had enough Catholic baggage to steer away from the mystical parts of the old ways. But in any case, I’m glad we reconnected with our old gods and goddesses.”

  “Indeed. I guess us barbaric Scandinavians and Germanic tribes were still in touch with our mystical side. The Alfar are a very mystical people; that’s something I really appreciated growing up. We lost much of our lore after the conversion to Christianity, but the Alfar have a huge treasure trove of tales of the gods, sagas, and esoteric knowledge. They’ve helped us Asatruar really round out our knowledge of our own mythology in the last century. It’s been a real renaissance.”

  “I wonder if we’ll ever get to meet the gods?” Gina mused.

  Hal shrugged.

  “I mean, think about it,” Gina said “if it’s true what the Alfar told us about the Norse Gods seeding humanity 180,000 years ago, they must be out there somewhere. And if they’re out there … what about the rest of the pantheons of gods?”

  “I think scholars have been discussing this for a thousand years. We’ll have to wait and see. This stellar bridge system is an incredible development. Maybe the gods are at the other end of one of those bridges?”

  “I hope so. I have lots of questions,” Gina winked and got up from the table, “G’night, Cap’n.”

  “Night, O-4," Hal replied.

  * * *

  The Sleipnir precipitated out of hyperspace and within a few minutes, was being hailed by a very large warship—seven very, large warships in fact. The Gungnir-class cruiser displaced 30,000 tonnes, and she was accompanied by six of the new 9,000 tonne Skofnung-class destroyers: the Skofnung, the Galatine, the Carnwennan, the Sharur, the Hrunting and the Naegling.

  In the Interstellar Fleet, size mattered; this meant the largest ship was usually commanded by the highest ranking officer—in other words, the big ship was in charge.

  “Comms, hail the Gungnir,” Hal ordered.

  “Aye, Captain,” replied O-1 Idwal.

  The Sleipnir’s view screen came to life with the image of a stout, muscular man with a shock of brown hair.

  “Captain Olsen, nice to see you in the flesh,” said O-5 Steffen Willms.

  “Likewise, Captain Willms. That’s a fine looking ship,” Hal said admiringly.

  “I would say the same of yours, sir. Smaller, but very sleek,” he said with a wry smile, “we’re detecting some damage to your ship, is everything ok?”

  “Yeah, under control. It’s been an interesting week.” Hal replied.

  “Where’s the other ship from?” Willms asked, noticing the Gursul behind the Sleipnir.

  “Ah, we made some friends with a Hrymar pirate. We had a scuffle with them, then escaped. Then the bastard tried to board us while we were making repairs planet-side.”

  “I look forward to hearing the whole story. All the ship’s Captains are meeting for a planning session over dinner at 18:00. Also, Fleet High Commander Artman is on board the Gungnir. She’s got operational control of our little flotilla.”

  Technically, Hal didn’t report directly to Interstellar Fleet High Commander Clare Artman. He reported to her boss, Interstellar Armed Forces Prime Commander Archibald Lowe. But as far as this mission was concerned, she would be calling the shots. Hal had no misgivings, he’d heard great things about her; she was a real tigress apparently. He was glad the IAF was unleashing her on the Hrymar.

  “Sound great, Captain. See you then.”

  Willms nodded and the display screen went blank

  * * *

  Willms greeted Hal in person when he arrived on the Gungnir for dinner. Hal was shocked to find Willms was no taller than five-feet, zero-inches. He wasn’t dwarf-like, just very, very short. Hal was a well composed man, and no hint of surprise crept on his face, but as if he could read Hal’s mind…

  “Don’t let my size fool you, I really am thirty-two!” Willms said with a wry smile and extending a hand.

  Hal just smiled, shook his hand and said nothing. He was sure Willms had a lifetime of dealing with his height, and Hal didn’t want to be unprofessional. Besides, at the helm of a thirty-thousand tonne warship, it didn’t matter the Captain was 5’ 0”.

  “This really is a beautiful ship, Captain,” Hal remarked.

  “Call me Steffen, please.”

  Hal nodded. “Fair enough, then I’m Hal to you.”

  “Let’s head down to the war room.”

  The Gungnir’s war room was necessarily larger than the Sleipnir’s, as the Gungnir was a ship of war, but it was appointed in much the same way; there was a long table with chairs to hold twenty people, and a large holographic projector in the center of the table.

  By the time Hal and Willms arrived, the other captains were seated around the table. Hal made his way around the table and introduced himself to a couple of men and women he didn’t know; a few he had served with or had met before.

  “We’re waiting for the senior leadership, they should be here in a few minutes,” Willms told them.

  Hal heard a multitude of footsteps coming down the hall, and in walked a procession of serious looking folk. At the head of the procession was Interstellar Fleet High Commander Clare Artman. Hal had never seen her in person. She was a serious looking middle-aged woman, auburn hair tied in a bun, and maybe five-feet, eight-inches tall. She ushered the four members of the Alfar fleet, all wearing red capes, into the war room. The junior officers all stood in respect as Artman entered the room.

  Artman took her seat at the head of the table and made introductions.

  “I’d like to first thank our Alfar allies for supporting us in this conflict,” Artman began, to a round of applause, “Earth and her colonies were not prepared for this war—and yes, we are now officially on a wartime footing. We’ve had nearly a century of global peace and prosperity, which had been almost unprecedented in the history of human civilization. I find it ironic that just as we mended our fences on Earth, we now meet a new enemy. But, we should be under no illusions. Life is conflict. Life is a battle between entropy and order, this is just the way of the universe. Our role in the military, and as private citizens, is to battle entropy and disorder on a daily basis. Just as Odin gathers his armies to battle at Surt and the Jotuns at Ragnarok. Odin knows Ragnarok will come to pass, but it’s his duty to struggle against it, to provide order for as long as possible. I tell you this so you can tell your crews. Let them not despair at what’s ahead. We’ll face it with courage and the knowledge we have staunch allies to help us, such as our Alfar cousins here,” she motioned to the four Alfar dignitaries, “let us view this as an opportunity to exercise our courage and valor. We did not seek war with these Hrymar, but by the Gods we’ll ensure that if they have an appetite for it, we’ll fill their bellies!”

  The men and women in the war room clapped and cheered, morphing into
a standing ovation.

  This is a woman I could follow into battle, Hal thought, a real leader.

  Artman gestured for the room to calm. “I’m glad to see such enthusiasm. Let me introduce you to our noble Alfar representatives,” she pointed to the first Alfar, “this is Councilor Iforr, he is the Rhyfelwyr’s representative on the Alfar White Council.” The grey-haired Alfar nodded, “beside him we have three other members of the Rhyfelwyr class: Councilors Bleddyn, Macsen, and Rhonwen. Three additional members of the Rhyfelwyr—or warrior class—are added to the White Council in times of war; then the nine become twelve, and are known as the Red Council until war concludes.”

  Interesting, Hal thought.

  “Thank you for your kind introduction, High Commander Artman,” Iforr said, “it has been almost a hundred years since the Red Council was last formed. That was against a race called the Ysgar. I was a younger man then, and fought in that war, which we won—barely— and contained the Ysgar in their region of space. Peace has reigned since, and although it saddens me to see the Red Council formed, we are glad to stand beside our human cousins in this battle with our old nemesis, the Hrymar.”

  Another round of applause echoed in the room.

  Hal learned the Alfar had summoned three of their 90,000 tonne Gullinbursti-class battleships to Epsilon Eridani. That was a huge contribution in firepower to this initial foray into Hrymar territory. Maybe this would be easier than expected, Hal thought.

  * * *

  There was an almost palpable sense of victory in the air after the meeting. The captains and senior leadership were excited. Hal was amazed at how Artman had motivated everyone. He imagined her commanding a squad of men to walk into a burning house and all of them rushing to be first; she had that kind of charisma.

  Hal was standing in the corridor outside the Gungnir’s war room, talking with Willms and Cadena. It was a pleasant change to be able to speak with his peers; he had to maintain distance with his crew, although that wasn’t his forte, so the chance to open up and have an honest laugh was a welcome change of pace. As they talked, Hal’s wristcom beeped.

  “Yes?”

  “Captain,” it was his helmsman, Glaw, “we have an unauthorized launch of the Sleipnir’s pinnace. I just wanted to confirm you authorized it.”

  “No, I didn’t. Who’s piloting it?”

  “Uncertain. I have hailed it, but I am getting no response. It appears to be heading down to New Midgard, hold on sir…it has landed. It is about six-hundred kilometers from Norvik, or...where Norvik was.”

  Hal had a sinking feeling—the Hrymar prisoners! He tapped his wristcom again. “Gina?”

  “Yes, sir?” Gina replied.

  “Check our cryo-berths to see if our six guests are accounted for, and hustle!”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” she replied.

  “Is everything ok, Hal?” Cadena asked.

  “I sure hope so,” he said.

  Within two minutes Gina was back on comms. “They’re all here sir. I have visually identified each and every one of them.”

  Hal was confused. “What the heck? Gina, do a quick head count of our crew”

  In under five minutes Gina was back. “All accounted for except Nila Johar.”

  The name slammed into his mind like sledge hammer; he was dazed.

  “Sir, I’m pretty sure I know what’s going on.” Gina said.

  “Well for fuck sake, fill me in!” Hal snapped.

  “Sir, I contacted the Alfar vessels about the lie detector, and they did have one. I was having it shipped over.”

  Hal looked at Willms. “Can I borrow a pinnace Steffen? I need to go planet-side.”

  Chapter 15

  Hal’s mind raced as he piloted the Gungnir’s pinnace out of her docking bay. He couldn’t process the fact Nila might be the murderer. He was just jumping to wild conclusions, wasn't he? There had to be some explanation for her taking the shuttle. Nila was like family, like a little sister. He cared about her. Hal could feel his eyes burning as he pointed the pinnace toward New Midgard.

  He was going to have a bumpy ride in through the atmosphere as he didn’t want to slow down—he was pushing the pinnace to its performance limits. The buffeting and yawing slammed the pinnace when it pierced New Midgard’s atmosphere, which was just as thick as Earth’s.

  Six-hundred kilometers north-west of Norvik, Hal spotted the Sleipnir’s pinnace on the ground by a grassy hill. He circled around a couple of times to get a view before landing. Everything seemed ok. On his third pass, he touched down ten-meters from the other pinnace.

  It occurred to Hal he had no armor or weapons. Why would he need them? Why were these thoughts intruding—this was Nila for gods’ sake. Hal kept berating himself for allowing these ridiculous ideas to intrude. He had to reserve judgement. Maybe Nila was in trouble?

  Hal stepped out of the airlock on the port side of the pinnace and onto a grassy field. It was a beautiful day—the sun was shining, the sky was clear—it was a day for quiet walks, not trouble.

  There was a rectangular, grassy hill with a door on the south-side of it. Not a hill, Hal thought. He approached cautiously. The door was open and he could see into a corridor that went a few meters then angled ninety-degrees to the left. As Hal stepped across the threshold of the door, he felt a rumbling—the dust on the sill of the door danced to the tune of the harmonic vibration. The rumbling was followed by a whine and Hal ran back outside.

  He watched as the top of the hill opened up. Two large rectangular doors parted, dust flying, and he could see a small starship rising from inside the hill. It was much bigger than a pinnace. It looked like a hundred-tonne scout ship.

  Hal ran back to the pinnace and scrambled through the airlock. He jumped into his seat and put on a headset.

  “Nila, is that you in the scout ship?”

  Nothing.

  “Nila, this is Hal do you read?” No reply. Maybe comms are out, Hal thought.

  And then…

  “Hal? What are you doing?” came Nila’s voice through his headset.

  “Nila. What am I doing? What in Odin's name are you doing? Why did you take the pinnace?”

  “I’m sorry, Hal.”

  “Sorry for what? What did you do? Get your ass back down here now, that's an order!”

  “I wish things had turned out differently,” she said gently, “I’m so sorry about Siobhan and Ailan. I loved them too, Hal.”

  “Captain -" another voice interjected on the comm.

  “Get off the gods’ damn comm, now!” Hal ordered.

  “What are you sorry for? Nila, please … talk to me …” he pleaded.

  “Let me at least do one thing for you before I go, Hal. Let me give you some closure.”

  Hal’s mind was going numb—the whole situation was unreal, it was like he was watching a vid or reading a book about someone else, this wasn't happening to him … was it?

  He nearly choked on the words. “What do you mean, closure?”

  “They’re dead, Hal. I’m sorry.”

  “How could you know that? You weren’t there!” There was a growing desperation in his voice. He tried to keep calm and controlled in all situations—the better to handle them, and come out on top. But not this time. He could feel himself slipping; back into the dark place he’d lived for so long after his parents died. He thought that place was long behind him. They couldn’t be dead. But why would she say that? Was it a last kindness from an old friend?

  Nila continued, “But I know the people who were there, Hal. I work for people who want to see a different future. I didn’t know Norvik would get bombed. I’m truly sorry. I grieved for them when I heard. Now you must do the same. Grieve, Hal. Then move on with your life. Goodbye.”

  “Nila?”

  There was no reply

  “Captain?” came the other voice

  Antonio Cadena spoke up, “Captain Olsen, this is Captain Cadena. We have a ship breaking orbit and heading out of the system. What’s goi
ng on? Should we try to stop it?”

  Silence.

  “Hal, this is Antonio … what’s going on?”

  “Just leave it,” Hal said, “let her go.”

  * * *

  Clare Artman was in her stateroom aboard the Gungnir. Normally an officer of her rank would have had a much larger ship acting as her flagship, but as the fledgling SID Fleet was under construction, the Gungnir would do. Nothing about this war was normal. Her most senior officers were back on Earth or Mars, overseeing the construction of their ships, which were at least several months from completion. While the most senior people sat idle, her junior officers with the smaller ships were here, and about to be the vanguard for the SID’s retaliation on the Hrymar.

  Commander Zhang Mei Xue, who was in charge of Interstellar Fleet actions, was also without a flagship. For security purposes they decided it would be best not to both be on the Gungnir should something happen to that ship, which was their single large ship, and therefore the most likely target in a battle. Commander Xue was ensconced over on the Skofnung, which was under the command of O-4 Antonio Cadena.

  Artman realized this small flotilla was very heavy on senior management, and very light on middle management. All the senior people were over on Alfar ships. Oh well, she thought, nothing in war is ever perfect. She recalled the great Prussian General Carl Von Clausewitz

  “It is even better to act quickly and err than to hesitate until the time of action is past.”

  Now was the time for imperfect action, she mused.

  Clare was also concerned about her acting Director of the Stellar Scout Service, Haldor Olsen. She had planned to rely on him for intelligence on the Hrymar, and she knew Olsen was a good man, but the confirmation his wife and son were dead, and the betrayal by a friend, had him badly shaken. The simple truth was there was nobody to replace him. A man partly broken would be better than no man at all—he hoped.

  There was a knock on her door.