Ragnarok: The Fate of Gods

by Jake La Jeunesse

  “The strong, silent type,” he said, in answer to his own question. “I can respect that.”

  “Had to see my daughter off. She’s just been promoted to first-class citizen. Can you respect that, runt? Or we got a problem?” Arms still crossed, he puffed out his chest. It looked like he grew an extra half-meter taller. Jae-Ho stepped back. The black man chuckled to himself.

  “Of course not,” defended the small Korean. “I mean, of course. Er . . . yes on the respect. No on the problem. I’d never have a problem with anyone as . . . mountainous as yourself.”

  Charlie stared the little man down as though he could bury Jae-Ho with his eyes alone.

  Then the giant burst into a guffaw and slapped him hard on the back. “Ah, I’m just messin’ with you, runt. You’re okay.”

  Daniel leaned in to Zeke and asked, “Does he call everyone ‘runt’?”

  “When you’re as big as Charlie,” he explained quietly, “things tend to look smaller than they would to anyone else.”

  “Yo! Zeke!” called the black man. Zeke spun just in time to catch the assault rifle that had been hurled at his face.

  “This is Bill Smalls. He’s the equipment manager for our little vacation,” Daniel explained.

  “Modified SKS rifle with hollow-point ammo and attached grenade launcher. Flick the switch on the scope for night vision. Got some crates of high explosives in the jeep.”

  Zeke tossed the rifle back at Smalls. “No thanks. I’m packing my own.”

  Smalls noticed the sword on his belt “A sword? You sure that’s a good idea?”

  “Don’t see why not.”

  Smalls chuckled awkwardly. “Don’t know of any sword that can pack the punch a rifle has. ‘Specially these rifles.”

  “I used to think the same thing.” Zeke didn’t smile.

  By now, Charlie had found a rifle for himself and was examining it carefully. “Speaking of punch, what the hell they expect us to find out there?”

  “Pardon?” asked Jae-Ho.

  “Hollow-point ammo? Grenade launcher? Explosives? They expecting something bigger than draugr?”

  “Who knows what these guys are thinking,” said Smalls. “They just tell me what we’re using and where we’re going. My job is to drive it there.”

  “Last time I checked, penicillin don’t put up much of a fight. Don’t you think all these toys are just a little suspicious for a retrieval mission?” He handed the gun back to Smalls, who packed it carefully in a crate.

  “Sure we do,” said Jae-Ho as he helped load the box into the jeep. “But the city defense militia doesn’t pay us to ask questions. In fact, they highly discourage the practice.”

  “I heard of this guy who questioned his orders. His C.O. threw him in a ring with a live draugr. Made him fight his way out with his bare hands.”

  “You really believe all that talk?” said Daniel, tossing his guns into the jeep. “Come on. We’re packed. There’s no reason to stick around here.”

  The camera flashed.

  Micah dug out his wallet and paid the photographer.

  “So you mind explaining what we’re doing?” Zeke asked. “You’ve been awfully sentimental lately. You sure that’s good for a soldier?”

  “Of course it is,” he said, pulling Ariel close.

  “We’re fighting for a better future, but we can’t forget the good things we have now. Right?” She sounded as though she were repeating a lesson.

  Micah smiled at her. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

  She braced herself for what she knew would come next. “I’m sure you’ll try, though.” They sat on the hillside. They knew their captain was fond of teaching.

  “I want you two to be careful,” he told them. “War is dangerous, but bombs and bullets aren’t the only thing that can kill a man.”

  “Right,” Zeke affirmed. “We can’t rule out knives, axes, shrapnel, poison gas, stray pigeons or army food.”

  Micah was not feeling so aloof. “Could you please be serious for just a moment? This isn’t easy for me to say, but I . . . well, I worry about you. I can’t always protect you on the battlefield.”

  “We understand. It’s natural to get close to people during wartime, especially when we grew up together.”

  “I don’t think that was his point,” said Ariel disapprovingly. She turned to Micah and changed her tone. “Please, go on.”

  He stood. The others remained seated. It seemed routine to listen as if they were students instead of friends. Zeke’s attention began to wander.

  “The Norse god Baldr had a dream in which he died,” Micah began. A slight breeze ruffled his white hair.

  “Another fairy tale,” groaned Zeke. Ariel hit him gently, like a responsible sister.

  “His mother, Frigg, was worried about this dream. She went through the land and made every creature, every plant, and every rock swear an oath that they would not harm her son. She would have nothing in the world take him from her. The other gods, though, thought this was the greatest thing they had ever seen. They amused themselves by hurling things at him, just to watch it bounce off harmlessly.”

  “I think I might take up that hobby myself, actually,” chimed Zeke.

  “Be quiet,” Ariel interjected, with another gentle slap.

  Micah continued, as if there had been no interruption. “The trickster god, Loki, discovered that Frigg had not received an oath from the mistletoe plant. She thought it was weak. Harmless. So Loki made a spear out of it and gave it to Hod. See, Hod was blind, so he couldn’t join the fun of hurling things at Baldr. But Loki helped him with the spear, and when Baldr came by, Hod hit him with the mistletoe, striking him dead.”

  Zeke stood up. “Very nice. That’s a wonderful story, but what’s the point?”

  Micah lowered his head, slightly upset. “I’m telling you to be careful. Don’t write off anything as being harmless. Even the least powerful things can be capable of destroying a man.”

  Ariel beamed at him. “You’re always full of wonderful stories.”

  “I’d like to think so. Everyone needs a hobby, I guess.”

  “But why fairy tales?” asked Zeke, who had watched this hobby develop over the years.

  “I like to think that studying what people wrote hundreds of years ago will help me understand them,” Micah explained, once again resuming the persona of the teacher. “Take this war for example. It’s being fought by those who believe religion is necessary to govern people, and those who don’t want beliefs, which should be discovered inherently, to be forced upon them. Can either of you honestly say you’ve never questioned which side you’re on?”

  Ariel thought. “So many people have died for their religion. It would be a shame if they wasted their lives for something they didn’t believe in.”

  “It’s a shame they wasted their lives at all. But most of them were all too willing to do so, and it’s all because they didn’t understand the past.”

  Zeke and Ariel settled in for a long lecture.

  “Take the Christian notion of Jesus, for example,” Micah continued. “The idea that the only thing needed to achieve salvation is believing in him. Having faith. Christians believe their God wants unconditional love, but never stop to think of how human that desire actually is. We all want someone to believe in us.” He shot a pointed glance at Zeke. Then he looked at Ariel. “Or to love us. People say God made man in his own image. I suspect it was the other way around.”

  Ariel looked confused. She hadn’t known them very long, and it was difficult to tell how religious any given member of the rebellion might be. “So you fight because you don’t believe in God?”

  “Not quite. Just like you, I fight because we should not submit to a theocracy. God has a place, but not in politics. Every time someone helps starving children because of a belief in God, something good happens. Every time someone dresses the naked or gives solace and comfort to the ill because of religion, it asserts God’s existence. Whether he created u
s or we created him, it doesn’t matter. Just as long as the belief makes the world a kind, peaceful place.”

  Zeke watched an ant crawl over his hand. He turned his hand over, causing the ant to frantically run for the upper-side. He knew these philosophies well. These lessons were just to impress Ariel. His only purpose was a sounding board to keep the conversation going. “And you’re fighting because the High Theocrat is betraying your belief of God,” he said with no enthusiasm. He regretted asking about Micah’s hobby.

  “In a sense, yes,” exclaimed Micah, oblivious to the lukewarm interest. “Though I wish it didn’t have to come to that. No good ever came of . . .”

  Ariel woke up.

  Unlike Zeke, she hadn’t felt that her dream was a vision, shown to her by some unseen force. It was a powerful dream, yes. An emotional dream. A hopeful dream. But just a normal dream.

  She wished she could go back to it. To fall asleep and pick up where she left off. But she couldn’t, so instead, she woke up.

  She made a mental note to find the photograph they took that day, and went to look for Zeke. On his bed was a note:

  Ariel-

  Gone training. Be back in a few days. Be careful when I’m gone. I made pancakes with some honey I found on the mountain. You’ll find them in the kitchen.

  -Zeke

  p. s. I left your derringers by your bed. They’re not much, but keep them with you in case of trouble.

  She winced. Ingredients in the lower city were hard to come by. Flour, eggs and honey did not tend to make the best meal, especially with Zeke at the stove.

  She looked at the note again. Gone training. She thought back to Micah’s words from her dream. Even the least powerful things can be capable of destroying a man.

  “Be careful,” she said to herself.

  The militia transport sparked to life. Jae-Ho radioed a small guard post for clearance to open the gate.

  The city’s outer defenses opened, one by one.

  First was the thick plexiglass door. Part of a ten-meter high wall surrounding the entire city, this was more for the defenses of careless citizens who might wander too close to the perimeter.

  Next came their most intense defense—three layers of electrified fence, each one with the power of 10,000 Volts. These fences also surrounded the entire city, stretching on for miles. The engineers who built the fences had a difficult time keeping them up—with so much power running through them they had a tendency to melt under the heat generated by the electrical resistance.

  But no one wanted to risk lowering the voltage. Not with the draugr running around outside.

  The fence, like everything else in the city, was nuclear powered. Tiny nuclear reactors ran through the upper city, with electrical lines and steam tunnels built into the plate, connecting them all. At the center of it all was the main reactor, the largest generator in the city and the main control board for all the others.

  It was another reason Zeke didn’t like living under the plate. The power of the atom ran through the entire city. If anything damaged this network . . .

  The guards radioed back. “Second defense south gate service entrance deactivated. You have a three minute window.” The mechanical gate in the fence slid open. The car sped through. Zeke shuddered at the thought of passing through such an intense electrical field. He knew it was harmless, but it still disturbed him.

  Next came the first defense perimeter, a forest of razor wire, ten meters thick.

  Draugr were difficult to keep out.

  Gates began to pop open one by one, allowing the car to pass. Leaving the city seemed to take ages, but finally Smalls called out, “We’re clear of that hell-hole! Let’s hit the open road.”

  The open road, of course, was the reason for the tank treads on the jeep. Until the draugr appeared, plenty of people lived normally in towns and villages, far from the sight of any plate city. Malak attacks were rare, so people were generally happy. When the draugr appeared, that all changed. The plate cities became the only places capable of defending the population, so outside establishments were abandoned seemingly overnight.

  Nothing had been maintained in the past eight years. By now, the roads were nothing but a long expanse of broken rocks.

  Zeke, not as enthusiastic as Smalls, quietly turned back to watch the fortress of Nifelheim slowly grow smaller. It took a long time. Something as frightening as a plate city doesn’t vanish in a few moments.

  Charlie, on the other hand, was being a bit more social. He noticed Jae-Ho clicking buttons on the transport’s navigation display and leaned forward to talk about it. “Ain’t that jazzy? You get TV on this thing?”

  The small man laughed quietly. “Well, not officially. The militia likes to keep its members in the dark ages as much as possible. We get some privileges, but we’re still essentially second-class citizens.”

  “Jae-Ho’s all-business here,” chimed in Smalls. “He’s actually pretty good with rigging these suckers. I had a date once and I managed to squeeze one of these babies from the auto-pool. Jae-Ho tapped into the upper city’s satellite network and set us up with some prime entertainment for the evening.”

  Charlie snickered.

  “Only saw about a half hour of it, though,” Smalls added.

  Charlie broke into a full laugh. “Good for you! I gotta hand it to you, sticking in to the government like that.”

  “It wasn’t the government I was interested in sticking.”

  The giant guffawed loudly and slapped Smalls on the back.

  Zeke stayed quiet. “Calm down. We’re here on a job, not a social event.”

  “Come on,” he pleaded. “These guys are all right.”

  “They’re still G-men in my book.”

  “Here we go,” said Smalls, rolling his eyes.

  Zeke looked confused. Daniel leaned towards him and said, “I briefed them on you.”

  Jae-Ho started. “Just because we work for Dumah doesn’t mean we have any love for the Karellan. You’re not the only one who hates the guy.”

  Smalls was next. “Hell, I joined the militia hoping it would help get me promoted to first-class citizen—you know all the work the Supervisor does with the Church. But instead they got me doing grunt work for the last six years.”

  Jae-Ho’s turn again. “I can’t stand him for personal reasons. My family has lived in Seoul for thousands of years. Then the Karellan moves in, makes it his capital, and suddenly we’re all second-class citizens. Living in the slums. Then he goes and changes the name to that stupid jazz we call it now.”

  “So why you workin’ for him then?” asked Charlie.

  “We’re not,” stated Smalls.

  “We’re working for the Supervisor.”

  Zeke leaned back, bored with the conversation. “The lesser of two evils is still, by definition, evil.”

  Smalls’ cheery demeanor seemed to droop for a moment. “He’s not as bad a guy as you might think, you know?”

  “Not my concern. I’m here on a job. When it’s over, it’s over. I’ve got nothing more to do with the government after that.” He closed his eyes for a moment, but it wasn’t long before an earth-shaking noise woke him up. Everyone looked out at the source of the noise. The air above them was distorted with heat.

  A massive ship, the size of a small city, soared high above them.

  “The in God’s name is that thing?” asked Charlie.

  “The Muselheim,” said Daniel.

  “What?”

  “A carrier-class airship. Largest of its kind. The Karellan’s personal flagship. It’s outfitted with enough firepower to demolish an entire plate city. Fifty manual guns and six photon cannons, collectively known as ‘The Dragon’s Breath. ’”

  A few of them shot curious glances at Daniel, surprised at the sudden lesson on airships. He seemed to know what they were thinking because he said, “Kind of a hobby of mine,” and this seemed to satisfy them. They turned back to the ship, which was already disappearing beyond their sight. />
  “It’s huge,” said Charlie.

  Smalls seemed irritated. “The Karellan has enough power to raise an entire city into the air, and we gotta live in the dirt?”

  Zeke wasn’t listening to any of them. He was fascinated with the ship, now a mere speck in the sky. “The Karellan’s on that thing?” He said it to himself, but everyone heard it.

  “Probably not,” said Daniel. “He doesn’t leave Nifelheim that often. If he does, it’s usually by himself. He’s kind of reclusive.”

  Not that it mattered. The ship was already gone. It didn’t seem interested in the tiny jeep at all.

  Far ahead, the Muselheim picked up speed.

  Men worked at the bridge. “Mr. Hugin,” said one, “we’ve spotted the pirates, due south. Just off the coast.

  “Excellent,” said the ninja. He stood, gazing out the window at the ocean before him. He couldn’t see much. The ship was so big that the navigation instruments provided the only clear view.

  “We’ve caught a strong tail wind. It shouldn’t be long now.”

  I’m disappointed, Joel, thought Hugin. You’re making this far too easy.

  “Fire as soon as we’re in range,” he commanded.

  Wind blows across the deck of the ship. The man, Joel, waits with his crew.

  They watch the Muselheim approach. It appears out of nothingness and grows quickly to a formidable size.

  “Come on men!” the pirate lord shouts. “Let’s give them a good show!”

  They are sitting on the open ocean, what was once the Sea of Japan. Three small ships. It’s risky, but Joel relies on his agents. Men who intentionally leaked false information to the government.

  He personally attends to the decoy.

  Sailors run around the decks, doing busy work. They strain the cannons to point to the sky. They fire. Most shots fall short of the Muselheim, landing in the water. A few bounce harmlessly off the airship’s hull.

  “Come on, Hugin!” shouts Joel. “Take the damn bait!”

  A large photon cannon emerges from the bow of the airship. Its pistons begin to pump. The charging capacitors glow. The engines scream. Electricity cracks.