No Man's Land (Defending The Future)

by Jennifer Brozek

  “Valkyrie One, checking in,” she said.

  “Affirmative, Valkyrie One, hearing you loud and clear,” said control.

  “Sound off, Valkyries,” she said, checking suit air pressure, meds, and gravity adjustment to make sure everything was green.

  “Kara checking in.”

  “Eir here. Good to go, Captain.”

  “Gudrun here.”

  “Mist. All good.“

  “Hruna. Green and mean, Captain,” she said with a laugh.

  “Brynhild ready to go.”

  “Gudrun checking in.”

  “All present and correct, control,” Sigrun said, reaching out to pick up her helmet. She sucked in a breath as she did. Even after so many years, she still felt a thrill when she picked it up.

  The silver helmet alone set the Valkyries’ armor apart from any other. Designed like a helm from the early medieval period, it had small, laid back silver feather-etched wings set on either side. The wing shape was echoed in black on the back of their white armor. She picked up her folder in her free hand.

  “Captain Sigrun, can I have a word?”

  The male voice broke into her reverie, dispelling her almost mystical mood.

  Blinking, she looked up at him.

  “You don’t approach the Valkyries,” snapped Tyra, pushing him aside. “They come to you, if they want to speak to you!”

  “Now just a minute . . .” he began, staggering back slightly.

  “It’s all right, Tyra,” she said, reaching out to touch her adjutant’s arm reassuringly. “He doesn’t know our ways.”

  “He shouldn’t even be here!” the older woman muttered as Sigrun tucked her helm under her right arm.

  “What is it, Mr. Jordan?” she asked.

  “I just want to be sure we’re on the same page,” he said. “You’re taking me to the 5th, where I’ll presumably pick up the real search party, not to mention some protective armor. I can’t possibly go outside dressed like this.”

  Sigrun’s polite expression faded. “I’m afraid you’ve got it wrong, Mr. Jordan. We are, as you put it, the real search party. And your lack of armor is intentional. You will be remaining in the scouter at all times.”

  “What? Now look here, young lady, I made it quite clear that I intended to be outside with the search party!”

  “We’re in a war zone, Mr. Jordan, only three miles from the frontline. The rules of engagement count for more out here than the Company.”

  Jordan’s face darkened in anger. “You forget you’re an employee of Krafla Mining like everyone else on Valhalla! I’m going to take this up with your commander!”

  “By all means, do that. But we’re loading up now, and taking off within ten minutes, whether or not you’re on board. If we delay any longer, we might not find your sister alive. Civilian armor isn’t constructed like our military issue. They have to be recharged every twenty-four hours.”

  “Then I’ll take it up with the commander of the 5th! He, at least, should be aware of where his loyalties lie!”

  Sigrun shrugged and signaled to the MPs to take charge of him before she turned away to follow her troop out of the ready room to the launch bay. Jordan would get even shorter shrift from Ryan of the 5th, but he wouldn’t be as nice about it as she’d been.

  Kara was waiting for her at the door and fell into step beside her as she walked down the center of the echoing cavern that was the launch bay.

  “I can see he’s going to be a bundle of laughs,” she said quietly. “And to think I thought he looked cute!”

  Sigrun laughed. “Cute? Him? He’s nothing but a Company suit on legs. I want you to keep a close eye on him, Kara. Make sure he stays in the ship once we’re out in No Man’s Land.”

  “Why can’t we just leave him with the 5th?”

  “He pulled strings with the Company, we have to take him with us. Just keep an eye on him, please.”

  “Will do. What other Intel did they give you?”

  “Don’t know, I haven’t the time to look at it yet. I’ll go through it while Mist preps for takeoff. Get our passenger stowed in the guest quarters, I want him as far away from us and sick bay as possible.”

  “And the fact you can remotely lock that cabin has nothing to do with it, huh?” Kara‘s eyebrow disappeared under her light brown bangs.

  “There is that,” she agreed as they veered off toward where the Sleipnir was berthed against the starboard hull.

  Sleipnir was designed to support Sigrun and her troop of seven for up to two weeks in the field in Valhalla’s harsh perma-winter conditions. It was roomy, with a little more than the regulation standard space per person. Cabins were double occupancy with their own tiny bathroom. Sigrun, as Captain, and her second in command, had their own cabins. There was one at the rear, complete with its own small lounge area, reserved for the occasional time, like this, that they carried a passenger to and from the frontline and their base. There was a sick bay, a combined galley and mess, and a common area that included a briefing table and TAC screen. The small deck below, accessed via a floor iris and ladder, had their morgue where the storage and recharging cubicles for their armor were, and in the main cargo area, an all-terrain surface vehicle. To the left of the morgue was a small room with two cryo units, and in the main cargo area, a rack of eight more.

  Sigrun settled herself at her console on the bridge and finally opened up the folder. Around her, Eir was settling in at her sensors and nav. station, pulling up the latest weather reports, while Brynhild stowed her helm in the locker for her gunnery station. Though non-combatants, it made sense to be armed and have the stations manned since friendly fire situations did happen. Sleipnir, and her sister scouters, fully capable of interplanetary flight, had been relocated to Valhalla by the Company when it became necessary to implement the Valkyrie units.

  The file told her that Kate Jordan was a highly popular news journalist and host, whose style of journalism had her seeking out the hard facts in controversial stories. She believed in getting to the heart of a matter by going there herself and speaking to those involved, thus her two-month stint being embedded with the 5th to find out more about the War, and the aliens dubbed the Ymir by Krafla Mining Corp. The attached photo was obviously a press one, showing a well-manicured woman in her mid-thirties, shoulder length fair hair dressed in neat waves, with perfect make up. Intelligent brown eyes stared up at her from the glossy image.

  “She looks nice enough,” said Kara, resting her hand on her couch chair as she passed by her to reach her own communications console.

  “She does,” said Sigrun. “But I’ll wager she’s as much a handful as he is. I doubt either of them understands the words National Security, or even just No.”

  “That’s good sometimes, when it exposes crimes and sleaze.”

  “But not when she’s breathing down our necks,” Sigrun said, closing the file and leaning sideways to place it in her locker, under her helm. “What we do here isn’t wrong, it’s vital to our war effort.”

  Kara nodded. “The MPs delivered Jordan to his room. I checked he was settled and locked him in.”

  “Thanks,” she said, sitting up, and toggling the ship’s comm as Kara went to her post. “Hruna and Gudrun to the bridge, please.”

  “Yes, Captain?” said Hruna, saluting her when she arrived.

  “I want the iris down to the lower deck security keyed, please. Usual key. I want to be sure our passenger can’t get down there. I also want you armed at all times, and keeping a watchful eye on our passenger along with Kara. Gudrun, if we need to use the sick bay, call for Hruna to guard the door outside. Again, I’m taking no chances that anything can go wrong. See to it now, ladies.”

  “Aye, ma’am,” said Hruna and Gudrun, saluting before leaving.

  “You’re that worried?” asked Kara quietly, turning round to glance at her.

  “Yeah, I am.”

  “Ship prepped for takeoff, ma’am,” said Mist. “Coordinates for the 5th entere
d. Transit time fifteen minutes. Ready when you are.”

  “Acknowledged. Sound the warning and wait for Hruna and Gudrun to check in. Kara, tell Jordan to get to his acceleration couch and fasten in.“ Sigrun began her pre-flight routine.

  “Aye, Captain.”

  The two-tone warning sounded throughout the ship, alerting the crew that take-off was imminent.

  Mist let it run for thirty seconds then switched it off. Moments later, Hruna and Gudrun reported in as ready.

  “Valhalla Base, Sleipnir 1 requesting permission to take off,” said Kara.

  “Valhalla Base to Slepnir 1. Permission granted. Clear skies and safe journey to you. Base out.”

  “Thank you, Base,” said Kara.

  Sigrun eased Sleipnir out of her bay and began to taxi toward the actinic force field that covered the entrance. She stopped at the mark on the runway and began the power-up sequence for takeoff.

  “Takeoff in ten, nine . . . ,” began Kara as the engines rose in pitch, sounding like the howling of banshees.

  Sigrun could almost feel the ship straining against her control, as if it was a living entity, then as the pitch reached the right note, she released the breaks. Sleipnir seemed to leap forward and, in an instant, had left the base and was climbing into the cold, blue, cloudless skies of Valhalla. There was a slight thrust of gees pushing her into the padded acceleration seat, but it was familiar, and she welcomed it. Flying made her feel alive like nothing else could.

  Reports from Kara and Mist came in, and Sigrun heard them with half an ear, not detecting anything that sounded like a warning. Her boards were clean and green as she leveled out at cruising height.

  “Jordan’s complaining in back, Captain,” said Kara‘s quiet voice. “What shall I tell him?”

  “That we’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” she said.

  HQ at the 5th was the usual muddle of prefab huts hidden under nets camouflaged to look like dappled snow. Sigrun brought the scouter down to hover above the hastily laid large red cross symbol, then slowly lowered it till it was resting on the ground.

  “Power down to standby mode, Mist, but keep her running. We won’t be long here,” she said, shutting down her board. “ Kara, you’re with me.”

  Flicking a switch she called for Hruna to meet her at the airlock with their visitor, then pulled her helmet out of the locker and lowered it over her head, sealing it with a quick twist. She felt the instant rush of cool air around her face before she called up the monitors on her HUD. “Switch to 5th ’s frequency, ladies,” she said over her suit comm.

  As she emerged from the airlock, an armored marine ran over to the bottom of their ramp. He slid to a halt in the snow, sketching a salute to the side of his full-face helmet.

  “Captain Sigrun, ma’am. Commander Ryan welcomes you to the 5th Battalion. Please accompany me to his office.“

  “And you are?” she asked as she began to walk down the ramp.

  “Lieutenant Dalton, ma’am,” he said. “Commander Ryan‘s office is over there.“ He waved in the general direction of one of the larger white buildings.

  “We have a passenger,” said Sigrun, drawing level with him as she saw his head turning and eyes widening as Jordan came down behind her, dressed in his furs. “He’s the brother of your missing journalist.”

  “Uh, no one told us about him,” said Dalton as he led the way over to the building.

  “He’s to come with us, don’t worry,” she said, amused as the few soldiers that she passed outside stopped to stare at her and her two team members.

  “It’s not often that the Valkyries come to the base, ma’am,” Dalton said. “We’re honored to have you visit, even if the reason is a missing civilian”

  “The pleasure’s ours, Lieutenant,” she murmured as the young man opened the airlock entrance for them.

  They filed in, waiting while Dalton closed the ’lock behind them and began to cycle it to the habitat norm. Moments later, the inner iris opened to let them through.

  “You can take your helmets off, ma’am, we keep the temperature at the regulation 70 degrees in all the habitats on base,” he said, reaching up to unfasten his own helmet.

  “Thank you,” said Sigrun, doing the same.

  Dalton waited while the three women took off their helmets, and Jordan slipped back the fur hood and his goggles, then unwound the scarf from across his face.

  “Please, if you’ll head this way, ladies,” he said, gesturing down the corridor with a pleasant smile.

  Sigrun grinned back at him, nodding her thanks and headed down past the other doors to the one at the end. Dalton slipped in front of her with a murmured apology, knocked, then opened the door.

  “Captain Sigrun of Slepnir 1, Commander Ryan,” he said, saluting the commander sitting at the desk.

  “Captain, welcome to Fenris Base,” said Ryan, immediately getting to his feet and coming round to greet them. He held his hand out to her, and she took it in her gloved one. “It’s an honor to have you visit us. I just wish it could be in happier circumstances.”

  “Not your fault, Commander. There’s no accounting for stupidity,” she said, shaking his hand.

  “Now just a dammed minute,” said Jordan, pushing to the front and trying to elbow her out of the way. “It’s not stupidity to follow up a hot lead on the truth of what actually happens out here on Valhalla!”

  Ryan glanced from the angry civilian back to Sigrun, a questioning look on his pleasant features.

  Sigrun found herself mentally giving the commander the once-over and liking what she saw—good looking for a man in his early forties, blue, friendly eyes, smile creases at the side of his mouth.

  “He’s her brother,” she said, pulling her thoughts back to more mundane matters. “Krafla Mining sent him out here. He’s to accompany us on the search mission.”

  “You have my sympathy,” he murmured sotto voce, making Sigrun smile.

  “I demand that a professional search team be sent out for my sister, and I also demand to know why it hasn’t been done already!”

  Ryan turned to look at Jordan. “Your sister left the base in the dead of night, without telling anyone where she was going, Mr. Jordan. She did this because I refused to take her out into No Man’s Land. I have a war to fight here, I don’t have time to go chasing after women who should know better than to act like spoiled children.”

  “Why did you refuse to take her? She’s a major news host for the Interplanetary News Service! Her program commands respect everywhere that . . .”

  “Mr. Jordan, stop right there,” said Ryan, his voice taking on a hard edge. “I don’t give a tinker’s damn who your sister is. All I know is that she expected me and my men to drop everything to take her on some wild goose chase into No Man’s Land when I told her I could not do that without breaking a five-year treaty we’ve had with the Ymir!”

  “What does that matter,” snarled Jordan. “They’re only aliens, dammit! They don’t matter when put against the story she was uncovering! You should have taken her then she wouldn’t have needed to head out on her own!“

  “I don’t propose to even discuss that topic with you, Mr. Jordan. Sadly you are only too representative of corporate society today—no sense of values and morals. If you had, we wouldn’t be at war in the first place! You seem to care more about Ms. Jordan’s story than her, and you’re obviously no one of importance in the Company, or you’d be well aware of our Valkyries and what they do here.“

  Jordan sucked in a breath and very obviously forced himself to calm down. “That’s not true,“ he said more moderately. “I care deeply about my sister, but you should be sending out a professional group of soldiers to find her, not a bunch of girls done up in fancy dress!”

  Hearing Dalton’s gasp of horror, and seeing the look on Ryan’s face, Sigrun was hard pressed not to smile. It wasn’t even vaguely amusing, but for some reason, it did amuse her.

  “Have you any idea what you’re talking about?” Ryan ask
ed quietly. “These ladies perform a vital service for us at the front line. They are the only ones allowed by the Ymir into No Man’s Land to retrieve the injured and the dead! No men are allowed there, ever, not even their men! Not since they first found women among our soldiers. That’s what the pact with them is about.”

  “As for professional,” chipped in Dalton, “they are the professionals.”

  “Thank you, Dalton,” said Ryan. “I happen to know Captain Sigrun has been doing this for years. How long is it now, Captain?” he asked, looking back at her.

  “About five years,” she said, meeting his gaze. “I was. . . recruited about six months into the war,” she finished, trying to control the faint feeling of disorientation that had swept over her. Why had she no memories that went beyond waking up on Valhalla with Olrun beside her?

  Ryan’s hand reached out to touch her elbow, ready to steady her should she need it. “There you have it, Jordan. Captain Sigrun and several of her team were soldiers like us before their recruitment into the Valkyrie units. Either they take you, or no one does and your sister stays out there. Dalton, take Jordan and Captain Sigrun’s ladies to the Officer’s Mess and offer them some refreshments. I have a few words I need to say to the captain in private.”

  “If you would . . .” Dalton looked hopefully at Kara, waiting for her name.

  “Lieutenant Kara,” she said, grasping Jordan by the arm and pulling him with her.

  When the door shut behind them, Ryan gestured to a chair in front of his desk. “Please, have a seat, Captain.”

  “Thanks,” she said, sitting down.

  He poured her a glass of water, passing it to her, then sat down on the edge of his desk.

  “Kate Jordan got wind of what happens out in No Man’s Land and was trying to investigate it further,” he said bluntly. “I don’t know how she got word of it, but as far as our Intel goes, only she has any suspicions. We obviously censored everything she sent out from the base, but nothing out of the ordinary was mentioned. I doubt her brother actually knows anything either.“

  “Perhaps it was just a hunch, then,” said Sigrun, sipping the water.