Valhalla

by Ari Bach

  Staring at him asleep, she wasn’t interested in killing him. She didn’t feel any hatred toward him. Certainly not over Vibeke. That hatred she reserved for herself. She wanted to work, to move him somewhere safe. But Valhalla had no jail, no brig, nothing of the sort. Every room there locked from the inside. Had they avoided any injuries, they probably would have elected to hand him over to the Kyle police. He could stand trial for all she cared. But now he was in Valhalla. Violet took him to the only lockable cages in the ravine that could hold him—the walrus cages.

  Celebrations went on. She could smell the cafeteria cooking up something special as she passed. What the hell would they do with him? Not send him all the way south to the cops, she thought. Someone could break him out from there. Who might, she didn’t know. She didn’t care about loose ends just then. She just thought it better he stay there, where they could watch him. She unloaded him into the cage on the far right of the cluster and locked it by link. She informed Alopex to keep that cage off the crane, so it wouldn’t be unloaded topside by mistake, then gave Alopex the information to treat him as she would an animal injured on capture: to keep him fed, watered, and locked in so securely he couldn’t possibly leave. Then Violet was done with work and left alone with her thoughts.

  She kicked the cage as hard as she could. She kicked it twice more in frustration before she slipped and fell on the rocks. She sat there for some time, angry as hell. She was upset enough about Vibeke but even more angry at herself for feeling it. If she felt so strongly about the death of a teammate, she was screwed in this line of work. Valhalla was meant for people who celebrated trifles like this. She called herself weak. She called herself stupid. She looked into the cage and saw Wulfgar sleeping, snoring, and couldn’t think of what the hell he’d done that was so important he had to get caught. It couldn’t have been just her family. It couldn’t have been general crimes or mayhem. Earth is hell, she thought. How is he any worse than the status quo?

  Yet she had forced the situation to catch him. It was hubris, bloodlust, petty revenge that killed her teammate. But she knew nobody would blame her. Nobody would berate her; to everyone involved, even Vibs, all was near perfect. Balder linked her a compliment on their success in taking down the gang once and for all.

  “I’ve seen many a gang go down by our hands,” he said, “but this will be the one to review! Training will reference this for ages to come as a prime example—”

  Alföðr joined the link. “I don’t know about that, Balder. Trainees might get their hopes up higher than they can handle. This was quite an ambitious first effort for a team.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, knowing the words to be a heavy understatement.

  “For what, Violet? You broke no rules. The Geki haven’t shown up. Why aren’t you in the cafeteria with us? They made special brown wafers that taste like nuts, chocolate, and milk all at the same time!”

  Balder linked again. “Ambition ain’t bad when it all works out, Violet. Speaking of which, where did you stick Wulfgar?”

  “In a walrus cage. I know we don’t keep prisoners, but—”

  “Excellent idea. We’ll discuss his future tomorrow. Come, join us. Your team misses you.” And the link ended.

  Not enough to call me themselves, she grumbled to herself. Of course she wasn’t trying to link to them either. What could they say? Veikko wouldn’t understand a shred of it. Varg would only lament that Valhalla celebrations lacked any kind of orgy. The one person who might understand was Vibs, and Violet wasn’t going to share the bad mood with her. She had done enough to her for the day. Violet cursed loudly and lay back on the rocks, staring up at the icy walls, and wallowing in self-disgust. She had learned the last bit of that old cycle: if you do something wrong, someone will yell at you; if you do something very wrong, they talk softly or not at all; and if you fuck up beyond all measure, you punish yourself. She’d never guessed that the last would be the worst.

  Violet fell asleep there on the rocks. Her link was dimmed at the time, so she didn’t go into lucid sleep with the rest of the ravine. Nobody came to get her. Her team cared for her deeply but agreed as they slept that she had to work through something on her own.

  “Must be a chick thing,” said Veikko.

  “I’d understand it, then,” answered Vibs. “It can’t be jealousy. I mean, she was sad she didn’t get to die first, but she wouldn’t be this upset over it.”

  “I don’t know, that little coffin is pretty cool,” said Varg.

  “Actually, the magnet stiffens the collar a little bit.”

  “Keep it. The dead should get rigor mortis,” Veikko mused.

  “What’s Mortiis got to do with it?” asked Varg.

  “No, not Mortiis from M team, part of decay.”

  “Oh, that’s why you smell so bad,” said Veikko.

  “Shush. I’m worried about Vi.”

  Veikko was concerned too. “Alopex, where is Violet now?”

  “Violet is in sector 86-E, in proximity to—”

  Vibs canceled the response. “She must still be staring at him.”

  “Or asleep off link.”

  “Or she’s pining for a walrus that’s out of her league.”

  Varg spoke up. “You know, if I had just caught the guy who killed my parents, if someone had killed my parents, I’d be there too. And the man tried to eat her. They clearly have issues.”

  “He never told me he tried to eat her.” Veikko mulled it over. “It doesn’t seem his style. He’s dignified, that guy. Respectable. Crime is just his business. He’s a CEO like the rest of them.”

  “Then company men are all monsters,” said Vibs. “Here’s what I’m wondering: What do we do next?”

  They spent the night debating it. There were other gangs. Veikko thought it would be a good sophomore effort to end oceanic piracy. Varg had some humanitarian ideas that Veikko and Vibeke found in poor taste. Vibs didn’t really care that much just what to do next. She was preoccupied with Violet’s state. Varg was right, there were issues raised by having one’s worst enemy so close at hand. But Violet was strong, she thought. She could handle him.

  “HELLO, VIOLET MacRae.”

  It was daytime, the dim twilight day of November in the north. Violet woke when she heard her name. She sat up on the rocks. Her back ached from having slept on the hard, uneven ground. She knew who was talking and glanced around to make sure there was nobody else around. She turned and looked into the cage. Wulfgar was back to the kind, dignified man he liked to appear as. He was covered in the grease of the walrus cage, stained with some blood, but his face showed no hint that he was imprisoned. Violet saw through the exterior and recognized the animal within, the degenerate soul stained by their last meeting. She felt quite in control of him.

  “Just Violet now,” she said simply.

  “What a shame. We should never lose our family names. It’s akin to losing our families.”

  “I can thank you for that.”

  “And I you, Violet.”

  Polite conversation felt like a waste of time. She had more important things on her mind but she started with the least of them, a minor oddity that had bugged her when she’d confronted him last. “Why weren’t you surprised to see me alive again?”

  “Oh, I was. But this is the Hall of the Slain, isn’t it? Yes, that’s who bought you from the orphanage. Who gave you the chance and the tricks to break into my gang? You forget that to the vulgar world, you had died once already. I wasn’t fooled only because they claimed it was my own gang that captured you. I had no idea just who was faking your death.

  “Then I killed you with my own hands. Had I known you kept the boogeymen behind you, I’d have killed you more permanently. Live and learn. Or learn nothing. You speak to me now, and you’ll fall victim to my own mistake. You’re letting me, me of all people, live. Have I not earned death at your hands? Why do you keep me alive in this cage that smells of fish breath?”

  He was right, but he was also makin
g up his bold words as he went along. He was still in the cage and she was safe from him. She had no reason not to speak honestly, “In case we need you to tie up your gang’s loose ends. We might not need you at all, but your death can’t be undone.”

  “You of all people should talk, having died twice now. I won’t beg you for death. I don’t want to die. But your idiocy amuses me.” He thought for a second. “Yes, I am very amused.”

  Violet had nothing to say.

  “You seem so morose for a victor. Does my capture not satiate you the loss of your parents?”

  “I suppose it does,” she lied.

  “Then what’s eating away at you, girl?” He crouched as close to her as the cage allowed. “Come and tell your mortal enemy your deepest psychological vulnerabilities.”

  She wasn’t about to. He went on. “Then let me tell you the source of my amusement and pleasure. It isn’t merely your tactical error of letting me live. It’s so much better than that. You see, I wanted revenge. I wanted to torture you to death, and I got to. And it was good. I was very happy.”

  He was lying, and she knew it. Even then she could see the hidden shame that he had enjoyed it too much, as his brother would have. But then, no man can truly despise himself for feeling pleasure. He was ashamed, but shame for a man so perverted as this might be just another vice.

  “My revenge,” he said, smiling, “wasn’t as empty as yours. Never mind your own reasons. I was tumescent with joy as I relieved you of your fingers. And your hand. The only slightest fault was, like you said, death cannot be undone. Life is one of those possessions you can only steal once. I thought I could only kill you once. I’m so happy to see you all sewn up, so I can tear you open again.”

  She could fight back with one thing he didn’t know. “I had analgia. I didn’t feel any pain at all. I faked every scream.”

  “All the better. I can do it right the second time.” He studied her for a moment, tried to see through her facade, to see what she was thinking. Try it, she thought. You’re powerless. You have no idea who I really am or how I work.

  She was wrong.

  “You’re depressed right now because your friend got shot. Yes, your simplicity betrays you. You lost a friend.”

  “She’s fine.”

  “Then I’ll kill her as you watch. And the rest of your new family. Such an extended family you have here. They’ll all suffer so much, so much at my hands…. You think you feel bad now when your sister-in-arms survived? Think how you’ll feel as she dies painfully because of you. Think how your superiors will weep at my feet, how they’ll dwell in agony at your mistakes, and how their eyes will stare daggers into you in disappointment and shame for trusting you, before I pluck those eyes out.” He stood and looked down at his pants. “Dear me, I’ve gone hard again. Come closer, girl. Finish me off.”

  He was disgusting, to be sure, but that didn’t bother Violet. Nothing he said really got to her, because she had already told herself far worse. There was a peculiar satisfaction in hearing his threats and taunts. The more he tried to hurt her, the less she hurt. But she had seen quite enough of him for the day. She turned and walked away. He didn’t call after her. She walked to the steps leading away from the walrus cages and was surprised to see Cato.

  “Violet, congratulations, mate!”

  “Thanks.”

  “I came to see the prisoner. You know, he’s the first prisoner we ever had here. Big man outside too. I thought I’d see how he was holding up in a cage. Some animals just die in captivity.”

  “I’m sure you can lend him a hand,” she said and jogged toward the barracks. She found herself in a better mood than the day before. Despite Wulfgar’s poor skills as counselor, Violet’s visit to him served a purpose: She finally felt like a minor team injury was worth it to take the sick bastard down.

  WINTER BROUGHT snow, more than Violet ever thought could fall. She spent some time alone outside the ravine, watching the flakes collect, thinking about Wulfgar in his cage or about Vibeke. She knew why she had felt so terrible that day, so afraid of Vibeke’s loss, and decided that the way she felt for Vibs was a liability in their line of work. They could be friends, they could be close friends, but she knew part of her wanted more. That part could be very dangerous in a battle or—

  She heard crunching. After months in Kvitøya, she knew the sound meant footsteps in the snow. She heard a voice from behind her.

  “You’re lucky you have that furry suit.”

  Violet turned around to see a man of about twenty-five. He was bundled up in a thick jacket like one of Valfar’s. He sat on the rock beside her.

  “I’m Nergal,” he said. “Civilian. And you’re the girl who caught Wulfgar Kray.”

  She nodded.

  “He killed my mother—well, his men did. So thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I never knew my dad. Alf’s been like a dad to me. Ever since I joined up.”

  “You’re on a team?”

  “I was on N team. It didn’t work out.”

  “You’re retired, then?”

  He laughed. “So to speak. You have a very stressful job. Too stressful for me, and not worth the Thaco armor. I was going to take N team on a mission to destroy the Orange Gang. Didn’t make it past Death’s doorstep. She told me what I’d have to do, and I just couldn’t do half of it. I couldn’t do most of the shit we set out to do. Have you met Sappho or Samoth, formerly of S team?”

  Violet shook her head. Nergal went on, “Same deal there. But damned if we’ll leave the ravine. Once seen the promised land, right? But I had to find you after this. Just to say thank you, thank you for doing what I couldn’t, what the world couldn’t do. We all owe you so much.”

  She suddenly felt angry, despite his kind words, or perhaps because of them. “That’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

  “Nah,” he said, standing. “It’s just a little note of gratitude from his victims. I wanted to deliver it on their behalf.”

  He walked away. Violet turned back to the cold expanse. She resented the man, however kind he was, however natural his words might have been. She tried to think of why and decided it was because he claimed to represent “the victims.” She wasn’t a victim. She wasn’t even fighting for victims. Deeper down, though, she knew she was more bothered that he seemed perfectly happy as a civilian. Someone who had trained and fought as a Valkyrie could simply stop one day and live a happy life. That meant she could too.

  What if she could leave the team and still be perfectly content with herself? She had her revenge; now why shouldn’t she retire? She could stay and see her team, when they weren’t working. She could see Vibs and watch her grow distant over time. No, she thought, it would be agony. I’m not a victim nor a civilian. I’m not Nergal or Samoth, and I don’t run away.

  Violet knew what she had to do. She tracked down the part of her that wanted Vibeke as more than a friend and killed it as if it were another enemy on the battlefield. It is an enemy, she thought, quite literally. It’s the most dangerous enemy I face because it makes me weak. Violet had the mental discipline to make it a precise and effective assassination. That part was dead and buried under the snow. Something Wulfgar said about death’s permanence rang dully in the back of her mind.

  But Violet was happier for the moment and headed back into the ravine to see the people she had so recently shunned. She found most of them enjoying one of Varg’s ice-wall film projections. Not one person mentioned her stay in the doldrums. Their eyes were all on the spaceships on the wall. The night’s show was the second part of an ancient series that intended to predict the future, a vision of half a century to come made over two centuries ago. Violet doubted that such pretty spaceships would be floating through such distant nebulae so soon, but she still grinned when one blew up the other and found herself moved at Spock’s funeral. She blamed the bagpipes.

  Once again she felt at home with her team, in dreams or in the gym. The På Täppan pile was conquered, bu
t with the mission accomplished, the enduring occupation was light fun. The team had mastered so many forms of personal combat that sparring was like a duet, improvising off one another and enjoying the odd sensual cocktail of pain and pleasurable contact. Violet and Vibeke spent a lot of time sparring. Varg and Veikko seemed content in the bleachers. Veikko spent much of his time off with Wart. Thankfully Veikko never had too much free time, or he’d have surely returned to his pranks. When Violet caught him modifying a target-range microwave to spray silly string, the team thought it time to start more assignments.

  They didn’t plan another massive gang takedown, partly because the biggest gang was already taken down. They joked about taking on the yakuza or Unspeakable Darkness, but the fact was they were a bit sobered by project Alpha. They didn’t want to take on the worst of the world that year. They wanted to refine their skills.

  Mostly they assisted other teams, owing both D and M for their help. Mishka, Marduk, Mortiis, and Motoko found use for them in preventing an assassination in France, where they got to track and catch more talentless American assassins and see Paris, the Eiffel Tower, the two-kilometer-high Sarkozy glass atrium, and the site where the Cathedral of Notre Dame once stood. Marduk explained that it was destroyed and not rebuilt in the single most malodorous sewage explosion of all time, one of the events that led to mandatory dispersion-field toilets in megalopoli. Vibeke mentioned that the dispersion field’s safety components had been bought up and price hiked in an early scheme of the Purple Gang, leading to substandard, fragile safety features on some European models. She didn’t need to remind Violet that the Purple Gang was then run by Hrothgar Kray.

  After D team returned from Udachnaya, they began an advanced surveillance operation in Argentina. V team offered to assist, but there was little to be done. Before she left, though, Death took some time to talk to Wulfgar. Violet was surprised when, the next day, she listed plans for a brig on the Alopex bulletin. A rather humane brig, in Violet’s opinion, considering who would be its sole prisoner. Aside from jokes about Death’s merciful side, the ravine set to dreamtime debate and design. Alf posted only one note in the discussion, stating, “We have never held prisoners here for extended periods of time. It seems to me unwise to begin.” He did not state any opinion on what to do with Wulfgar, nor did he argue further when the ravine decided to build the brig.