by Hugh B. Long
“Enter,” she said.
Captain Willms stepped through into her stateroom.
“Commander, all ships report ready for departure,” he said.
“Good … good. Are we really ready, O-5?”
“M’am?” he said, not understanding her question.
“Are we really ready, I mean to fight a war out in interstellar space?”
“Yes, m’am. I think we are. We may not have the biggest fleet, or as much intel on enemy locations as we would like, but we have something better,” he said smiling at her.
Artman raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to finish.
“We have you, m’am,” Willms said.
Artman gave him a puzzled look.
“M’am, I don’t know if you realize it or not, but you are probably the most respected military leader in decades.”
“Bucking for a promotion, O-5?” Artman replied with a wry smile. Artman motioned for him to sit down, which he did, in a chair opposite the desk she was sitting behind.
“No, m’am. I mean- yes m’am, always, but that’s not why I’m telling you this. Throughout history men and women have gone to war following some general or some commander. The forces that were successful were almost always the ones with great leaders. Even if that force was outnumbered, or had other factors not in their favor, leadership and morale won the day. I think I speak for everyone in this little fleet when I say, we would follow you to Ragnarok and back,” Willms continued.
“Good. Because, O-5, I think that’s where we’re heading,” she said.
* * *
Hal sat in his chair on the Sleipnir’s bridge, expressionless and numb. The bridge crew was clearly uncomfortable, as they kept glancing, one to another, looking for some support. Hal was normally a touchstone of confidence and serenity, but now he was tainted by a darkness, infinitely cold, and it was leeching the life out of his crew.
Idwal turned back to face the Captain. “Sir, incoming fleet-wide broadcast from High Commander Artman.”
“On screen,” Hal said.
“Good afternoon Captains and crew. Our flotilla is just about ready to leave the Epsilon Eridani system and head toward Hrymar territory. We’re waiting for our engineering and maintenance ship, the Good Wrench, which should arrive within the hour. Once she arrives, expect to jump to hyperspace within fifteen-minutes. Time to earn our pay people. Artman out.”
The screen went blank
“Helm,” the Captain asked, “are the jump points plotted?”
“Yes, sir,” answered O-2 Glaw, “it took me twice the time it would have for a proper Astrogator, but I believe everything is in order.”
That reminder of Nila’s absence and betrayal scraped at his soul, as with a dull knife.
“Very well,” Hal replied. He got up from his chair and through his office to his private quarters. His office had three doors, one to the bridge, one to the hallway outside, and one directly to his stateroom. One of the benefits of being Captain was having large chambers, well, at least much larger than standard crew quarters. His stateroom was only as big as a very small bachelor apartment back on Earth, but he did have a window curving around the entire suite, and was only a few meters from the bridge.
He lay on his bed, fingers interlocked behind his head, staring up through the ceiling and into space beyond; his mind wandering the stars toward Hrymar territory. Their plan was loose and vague: proceed toward Niflheim, search for slave depots and trading posts, make raids and gather intel. Nobody expected to get any of the hostages back; based on what they were told by Devrim and the other Hrymar hostages, the slaves would be disposed of as quickly as possible. They would be sold first to a broker on one of the trading posts and then on to whatever masters purchased them. In a way, he was glad to hear his wife and son were dead. The thought of them in the hands of some sick bastard terrified him; better a hard truth than a lingering, gnawing uncertainty.
As there was no direct door to his cabin, only the one in his private office, would be visitors had to announce themselves via wristcom—his beeped.
“Yes?” he said.
“Captain, it’s Eva. I just wanted to see how you were doing.”
His heart fluttered and he felt dizzy, even lying down on his bed.
“C’mon in,” he replied.
He heard the door in his office whisk open, and then the door to his chambers slid open.
She was painfully beautiful, Hal thought. He loved her dark-black hair—like a silky frame to a work of art.
She smiled at him, a small, worried smile with emerald-green eyes that wanted to take his pain away. That was one of the reasons he had loved her. She was the girl who would bring the bird with a broken wing home to tend to it. She would have made an amazing Physician, but then again, maybe not. She may have been too sensitive to handle the suffering on a daily basis. Siobhan’s eyes had been green too. That thought crushed him.
Hal gestured to the sofa and he sat down. Eva walked over to him but did not sit down, instead she reached out with her hands and placed one on each cheek, and caressed his face, ever so gently.
“Haldor, let me help you,” she whispered. She sat down close to him putting her milk-white hand on the back of his neck, followed by a gently caress. “I know you’re hurting, Haldor.”
Hal just closed his eyes and let the warmth of her touch wash over him. It was nothing sexual, just then, only the comfort of another human being, someone in front of whom he could let his facade slip, if only a little. Hal was about to start chastising himself mentally for embracing this moment, this pleasure, guilt welling up over the death of his wife and son, and his betrayal by being here with Eva. But it was no betrayal. He loved them fiercely. He loved them like no human had ever loved another—he knew that. And that was the crux of it. He was just a human, just a man. He needed to be strong for his crew, for his planet, and to do that, he needed this comfort just now, he needed to heal, if just a little. There was no shame in that need, no betrayal.
“Thank you, Eva.” Hal said.
* * *
She could see tears welling in his eyes, silently mirroring the tears in her own. She pulled him gently to her and embraced him, stroking his hair, each sharing in Hal’s pain. They sat in the still, warm embrace, for at least an hour until Haldor drifted off to sleep in her arms.
Carefully, Eva got up and retrieved a pillow from Haldor’s bed, and returned, laying it under his head. She stood for a moment and watched him, tears in her eyes coming anew. She still loved him. She had never stopped loving him. She kissed her first two fingers and placed them gently on his lips, then left the room.
* * *
Hal woke up on the sofa in his state room, Eva was gone and he noticed a pillow where his head had been, the one she must have placed when he was sleeping; he smiled.
He stared out into space, into the Epsilon Eridani system which had once been his home—but no longer. A home was where your family was. Hal had no family now, therefore, he had no home. He didn’t want to wallow in self pity, but hadn’t he given enough?
He recalled an Anglo-Saxon phrase his grandfather had taught him:
Wyrd bith ful araed - fate remains wholly inexorable.
No man could escape his Wyrd. The Norns weaved the fates of all men, not even the gods could escape it; and so his ancestors were taught to face their Wyrd with courage and resolve.
Hal got up off his sofa and left his stateroom. He had come to a decision—in a few minutes he was at his ship’s chapel. It was a neutral environment, as there were many faiths aboard the Sleipnir. It was a quiet place set aside for prayer, worship, and contemplation. It was also soundproofed to give devotees the privacy to pray as they would, without being overheard. A red light over the outside of the chapel door indicated it was in use. The light was green now, and Hal entered.
There was a table at the end of the room which could act as an altar. Hal stepped up to the altar and stopped. He bowed his head momentarily and gathered h
is thoughts. He looked up, as if to the Asgard, and opened his arms wide.
“Odin! Thor! Tyr! Heimdall, Freyr and Freya, and all the holy Gods and Goddesses, I hail you! Hear me now,” Hal then tore his shirt open, buttons popping, and bared his left breast.
“A gift for a gift!” He pulled the Alfar cledyff-dagger from his belt and began carving deep into his skin. Blood began oozing out of the wound, which was in the shape of the Valknut—three interlocking triangles—the sign of Odin’s chosen, the Einherjar. In ancient times, men would mark themselves with the Valknut as a dedication to Odin, hoping if they were slain in battle they would be chosen by the Valkyries, and so, join Odin’s host in Valhalla to aid in the battle at Ragnarok.
“Odin! A gift for a gift! I offer myself to you! Give me strength, let me destroy my enemy and hear their children weep. Grant me victory until the debt the Hrymar owe me is repaid. I name them—Hrymar! Nithings! Not worthy to walk the Nine Worlds.”
Hal wiped the knife off on his torn shirt and placed it back on his belt. He abruptly left the chapel and entered the hall where one of his marines, Tameka Harris was walking by. She saw his wound and drew in a sharp breath.
“Sir? Are you ok?” she asked.
“Carry on,” Hal barked.
Tameka watched as Hal walked away toward his stateroom.
Chapter 16
Their plan was relatively straightforward: the Sleipnir would jump up to twenty-four light years, which was about a twenty-four hour trip in hyperspace at their cruising speed of one light-year per hour. The Sleipnir was capable of more, at full military power, but at this speed she would keep pace with the rest of the flotilla, which would follow, but jump one hour short and wait for the Sleipnir to do reconnaissance, then jump back to meet them. This way they took sufficient precaution so they wouldn't jump unawares into a system full of Hrymar or other Pirates.
The first four jumps were relatively uneventful, in that there were no Pirates or aggressive species waiting to ambush them, but there were several astronomical phenomena which Eva and the other physicists studied and catalogued on the move. On the fifth day however, the Sleipnir precipitated out of hyperspace into an unoccupied red dwarf system.
“Captain, we have contact,” Eva reported, “I’m detecting a colony on the first planet. I’m also picking up signs of a nuclear fission reactor as well as several ships, all planet-side. I don’t see any ships in orbit or in the system.”
Eva and Hal both read over the detailed data on the star on the main view-screen:
Stellar Data:
Star Name: 4551 Arae
Type: M5 V Red Dwarf
Radius: 2.99 x 105 km (0.43 x sol)
Mass: 7.39 x 1029 kg (0.37 x sol)
Temperature: 2600 K
Luminosity 2.00 x 1025 W (0.05 x sol)
Planetary Data:
4551 Arae I
Type: Terrestrial World
Orbital Radius2.64 x 107 km (0.18 AU)
Period: 1.06 x 103 hours (0.12 earth years)
Physics: Standard iron/silicate
Gravity: 8.53 m/s2 (0.87 x earth)
Hydrosphere: 0 % water, 0 % ice
Atmosphere: Standard corrosive
Additional Data: 5 small moons, 1 colony on planet
4551 Arae II
Type: Rock Planet
Orbital Radius: 4.69 x 107 km (0.31 AU)
Period: 2.52 x 103 hours (0.29 earth years)
Gravity: 13.53 m/s2 (1.38 x earth)
Additional Data: 5 small moons
“Any laser detection grids? Or any other kinds of active sensor nets?” Hal asked.
“Nothing we have detected so far, Captain” Eva replied.
“Ok, take us toward 4551 Arae I. Maximum stealth.” Hal pressed the comm button on the arm of his chair. “Crew, this is the Captain speaking. We’re going to maximum stealth and heading into potentially hostile territory. All crew to their stations. Marines, make ready. I don’t plan on landing, just doing some quiet recon, but let’s be prepared for anything.”
The ship lit up in a purple lighting which indicated they were in stealth mode. Red lighting was used to indicate general quarters and battle conditions and white, full-spectrum lighting was used the bulk of the time during the day shift (first and second shifts), and was aligned to New Midgard’s time. Dim blue light was used to indicate night shift, or third-shift.
The Sleipnir’s one-thousand tonne form slipped through space like a stealthy eel in a deep river, moving toward its prey.
In two hours they were orbiting as close to the planet as they needed to take detailed images, video and sensor readings. This was indeed a Hrymar slave trading outpost.
“Helm, designate 4551 Arae I as Hrymar Slaver Outpost - 1.” Hal said.
“Aye, sir. Database updated,” Glaw reported. Helmsman Glaw was now doing double duty as astrogator since Nila’s departure.
It was an impressive facility, if not an impressive planet. The slaves couldn’t escape, as there was nowhere to go—unless they got lucky and stole a starship or shuttle. The planet, although terrestrial, was devoid of water or any other life. It wasn’t even a reasonable candidate for terraforming, in short—it was a hellhole.
Gina was standing on the bridge reviewing all the data on Hrymar Slaver Outpost-1. “Captain, this camp reminds me of the Siberian gulags from back in Earth’s 19th and 20th century history. The Russians, and later Soviets, shipped their most hated criminals, social dissidents, or just educated agitators, to these prisons, thousands of miles north of Moscow, essentially into a frozen nowhere.”
“Indeed, just like summer in Oslo,” he said evenly. What might have been a joke last week, was said very matter-of-factly. “Have we got a count of ships on the ground?”
“Yes, Captain,” Cadfael replied, “there are twenty-three assorted vessels. None of them dedicated warships, but all armed and armored to some degree. Most of them are in the 1,000 to 3,000 tonne range. They appear to be armored merchants.”
“Merchants my ass,” Hal said with a venomous sneer.
“With regards to the vessels, sir.” Cadfael tried to explain.
“I understand what you meant, Cadfael.”
“Yes, sir.”
Things were tense on the bridge. The crew was used to Hal’s even temper and positivity. Now there was a dark cloud hanging over Haldor Olsen, and that meant it was hanging over his ship and crew as well. They were patient with him, and there was no gossip—that had got back to him, at least. None of them had lost loved ones in the attack or confrontation yet, but they seemed able to empathize with their Captain.
“Captain, I have detected more of the nuclear fission reactors. There are four spaced around the corners of the settlement,” Eva said.
“Weapons,” Cadfael said.
“That would be my guess,” Gina added.
“Anti-ship weapons?” Hal asked.
“I cannot imagine any other reason for them to be so equally spaced on the periphery of the camp,” Cadfael said. “Also, there are no other signs of life, so nothing to defend against on the planet.”
“Ok. Gina, I want you to put together a mission-plan to take out all those generators. Let’s head back to the rendezvous with the flotilla.”
* * *
Upon their arrival at the designated rendezvous with the flotilla, Hal took the Sleipnir’s pinnace over to the Gungnir to meet with High Commander Artman and her staff to coordinate their next actions.
Steffen Willms met Hal at the docking bay. “Good to see you again, Hal,” said the diminutive man.
“Thanks, Steffen, likewise. Is the High Commander ready to get started?”
“Indeed she is. She and Xue are in the war room, let’s head up now. The other captains are conferencing in by video.”
This time, it was Artman and Xue who stood when Hal entered the room.
“Captain, how was the recon?” Artman asked, sitting back down.
Hal joined her at a chair across the table.
<
br /> “Good, m’am. We’ve got our first contact. I’ve designated it Hrymar Slaver Outpost-1 in the tactical database.”
Hal presented the situation in broad strokes, as well as Gina’s detailed plan to take out the planet based defenses.
“Excellent,” Artman said, “once their defenses are down we’ll jump in and quarantine the whole system. I’ll have ships jump in from hyperspace at six points around the planet. I just hope your plan is executed on time. Too early, and we may get hammered by planet-side guns, too late and some of them may slip away to warn others. We need to get this right. I want to start setting the terms of our engagements. I want to take back the initiative at every opportunity.”
“Agreed, m’am. Gina’s team is top notch. They’re well trained, and have the best equipment we’ve ever fielded in a special operation. I realize I’ve not been on top of my game the last few days. I apologize for that- ”
“No need,” Artman interjected.
“Please, m’am, let me explain. I’m ready to do this. I’m focused. My team is ready. I’m ready. One-hundred-percent. I’ve grieved, and made peace with my loss in the best way I can. Now I want to make those bastards pay. I’m going to keep my cool until every one of them is dead.”
Artman seemed a bit shocked. She nodded. “Good hunting.”
* * *
The Sleipnir fell without a sound, barely disturbing the wind as she settled like a feather on the ground, three-kilometers distant from the Slaver outpost. The planet’s surface was dusty, rocky and brown. It was truly an ugly place. Most planets had a few redeeming features. Even the lifeless Mars had an alluring beauty—not 4551 Arae I.
They landed at what was timed to be pre-dawn, that magic hour when most species were at their lowest energy, and either sleeping, or as inattentive as could be expected. Given the physiological similarities between Human, Alfar and Hrymar, the team hoped these assumptions held true.