by Kate Pearce
“It was an emergency situation. You did your best,” Slavin said firmly. She pushed open the mess hall door. “Now come and get something to eat.”
3
It was late, but Frey was determined to finish checking through every bit of information that had accrued during the eclipse. She’d pinpointed the exact Earth second when the systems had attempted to crash. It had only been about one hundred and thirty seconds of lost power, but she still had no idea what had caused it.
Glancing up, she studied the five planets that had now moved away from each other. Appearances in space were deceptive. They still had quite a way to go before they reached the research station on Alpha Three, which was on one of the moons that circled Odin. She sighed and took another sip of her coffee, one of the few things she had really appreciated about her stint on Earth.
If by some chance she kept her job and got to witness the defrosting process, she was then due two months of leave on Pavlovan. Her family intended to take her to the temple to meet the Oracle and see if she would reveal at least one of Frey’s chosen mates.
Frey finished the coffee in one gulp. She’d managed to avoid going to the temple on her last visit, but she couldn’t miss it again. Despite her mother’s checkered history with her mates, she would be upset if Frey didn’t go. At twenty-five, she was quite old enough to find out what the future had in store for her—even if that meant agreeing to meet an unknown mate or two.
Her acquaintances on Earth had been horrified at the idea of having one’s life partners chosen for you. Frey knew it worked and that partnerships on Pavlovan rarely broke up. Her parents had struggled, and her father had abandoned them, but two of her siblings were very happily mated and she expected to be the same. In fact, she wouldn’t allow the outcome to be any different. A nice, dull Pavlovan male was all she wanted. No fireworks, no drama and no running off to find himself in the jungles of the north in Pavlovan.
Boring, safe, predictable mates just like her…
“Frey?”
“Hey.” She turned to see Slavin in the doorway and beckoned her to come in. “I’m just going over the data again to see if I can make any more sense of it.”
“Any luck?”
“Not so far.”
Slavin helped herself to coffee and perched on the side of Frey’s desk. “Any repercussions from FREN yet?”
“Not so far. I assume they are behind on data collection, and communications at this distance are spotty even for them.”
“Thank goodness.” Slavin grinned at her and toasted her with her mug of coffee. “Maybe they won’t see you touch the ice at all.”
“I’m pretty sure they will. They have their own cameras set up in the inner cell. I can’t believe that I was so stupid. It’s not like me. I’m notorious for checking everything twenty times.” Frey topped off her mug of coffee. “If they let me complete the mission, I’m due home to Pavlovan for leave.”
“Me too.” Slavin grimaced. “My parents want me to meet my mate.”
“You already have one?”
“No, they’re going to haul me in front of the Oracle.”
“Sounds just like my two mothers.”
They shared a smile and then Slavin’s com bleeped and she set her mug down on the desk. “Sorry, I’ve got to get back to the bridge.”
“No worries. I have to finish up this report anyway.” Frey stretched and groaned as Slavin patted her shoulder. “I’m not sure what I’m trying to prove here anymore—that it was an act of nature or that I was just incompetent.”
“I’m sure FREN will decide that for you. I’ll see you at breakfast.”
“Will do.”
Frey considered how much she’d come to like the tall blonde during their journey. She was smart, incisive and had a dry wit that Frey enjoyed immensely. Any Pavlovan should be glad to have her as his or her mate.
Her screen flashed red and the FREN logo appeared. Frey braced herself as the face of an unknown female appeared on the screen.
“Science Officer Frey. I am Director Mitzi Lahm ”
“Director Lahm.”
“We have received your data.”
Frey stopped herself from babbling straight into an explanation and kept her expression serene.
“We have new orders for you.”
She braced herself for dismissal, but saw instead a new file icon appear at the bottom of the screen.
“Read these, obey the instructions and then destroy them using FREN code TRZ9Y.”
“Yes, Director. Thank you, ma’am.”
Mitzi fixed her with a blistering gaze. “We will be discussing your unscientific conduct when you reach Alpha Three.”
“Yes, Director.”
“Over and out.”
Trying not to dissolve into a small puddle of relief at not being instantly dismissed, Frey opened the orders file and considered the few short sentences. She grabbed her FREN recorder and, as requested, manually input the series of codes from the file into the database.
When the recorder beeped, she got down from her stool and unlocked the exterior and interior doors into the Viking’s holding cell. She wrinkled her nose as she stepped into the final space. It felt warmer than it had yesterday. She automatically checked the temperature unit on the wall and the ice for signs of degradation but could see nothing unusual.
Except… She leaned closer to the ice, her breath misting on it. The Viking looked clearer today, and that was not possible. She could see the shaved sides of his head and the runes tattooed there, the thick sweep of long black hair hanging halfway down his back. Hardly daring to breathe, she pointed the recorder at the ice and waited for the four sensors to respond to the new commands as she circled the raised block.
“Hjálpa mér.”
Frey went still. The telepathic thought was faint, the voice unfamiliar and the language unknown. She was fairly certain that apart from Slavin, there wasn’t another Pavlovan on the ship, so who was projecting thoughts to her?
The sensors beeped and she jumped and looked down at the screen. Heeze, what was going on now? There were numbers where there should’ve been zeroes.
After one quick glance at the ice, she went back to the lab and entered her secure codes for FREN. It took but a click to feed the new data back to the director. She waited tensely in her seat, but there was no reply. What the hell was she supposed to do now?
Curiosity drove her back to the ice and the Viking within. Even in the time that she’d been away, the ice was clearer. Three of the probes were now visible. She squinted closely at the still figure and finally detected the fourth device, which seemed to have been placed right against the Viking’s skull.
It was winking red like a ruby, reminding her of the droplet of red blood she’d collected on her finger. Was that where the blood had come from? Dread settled low in her gut and she backed against the door.
“Slavin? Can you come down here?”
“Is it important?”
“I think it might be.” Frey hesitated. “Did you pick up any telepathic activity earlier?”
“Apart from you? No, why?”
“Then you really should get down here. I’m…scared.”
“Hang in there. I’m calling security.”
Frey stayed where she was, blocking the exit. She had the stupid sense that if she left the space the Viking might follow her…
Within minutes, Slavin appeared on the other side of the glass with the head of security, a competent male called Brown.
His voice sounded in her com. “What’s wrong, Tecky?”
“The sensor readings have changed on the ice. It’s warming up. I’ve reset the temperature controls twice, but nothing seems to make any difference.”
“Are you trapped in there?”
“No, I just wanted someone with me when I tried to get out.”
He nodded through the glass at her. “Then go ahead. I’ll cover you and lock the door the second you’re through it.”
“You ca
n’t lock this door. I’m the only one who has the security clearance to do it.”
“Then get out of there damn fast and lock it behind you.”
“Okay.”
She felt behind her for the passcode panel and, trying not to take one eye off the ice block, tapped in her security code. The door unlocked and she whisked herself out of it and slammed it behind her. Her fingers shook as she recoded the door.
Brown studied her. “You all right, Tecky?”
“Not really. If this block of ice is melting, we’re going to have a defrosting body on our hands, and FREN is going to freak out big time.”
“Can you adjust the controls from here?” Slavin asked.
“Yes, I’ve tried it both ways, but nothing seems to be working.”
“You’ve contacted FREN?”
“They contacted me and ordered me to input new codes. That’s when everything started to go wrong. They haven’t gotten back to me yet.”
Slavin sighed. “Then I don’t know what else we can do. I’ll check in with the captain and see if there are any protocols I can adapt from the ship’s main temperature controls to override or support what’s in here. But this stuff was all introduced by FREN and made to their specific guidelines.”
“Then let’s hope they get back to me,” Frey muttered.
He could sense her now, her thoughts jumbled and chaotic, and her fear palpable. That drew him to her and made him want to lick his lips in anticipation. Whatever she was, she was connected to him through his magic, and she would obey him. His eyelids twitched and he fought against the desire to force them open. Being encased in ice had taught him about patience and he would wait… There was no stopping his eventual emergence now; he knew it in his very being.
Frey couldn’t sleep. She’d been dreaming about the Viking again, his black hair billowing in the breeze and his hand extended toward her. She’d gone to him and when they’d touched lips she’d moaned and unfortunately woken herself up. Her body throbbed a protest. It was the strangest sensation. She felt like she already knew the taste and texture of him intimately. She also had a sense that he needed her and was calling to her…
The captain had ordered security to guard the ice cell while she wasn’t awake and to alert her to any significant changes, but her sense of need and dread refused to disperse. She didn’t know why her nerves were jangling or why her mind was open to the slightest sound.
He needed her.
She sat up and pushed off the covers. Something was wrong and she was the only one who could fix it. FREN hadn’t responded to her or to the captain, so she was on her own.
If the Viking defrosted…
She ignored her shoes and went out into the narrow hallway that connected the crew quarters with the mess hall and administrative wing beyond. Above her were the more spacious cabins of the captain and those for official travelers. Below her, engines, cargo holds and the storage units. The subdued roar of the machines made the metal shudder and hum and the floor gently vibrate under her feet.
Ignoring the lure of the mess hall and the elevator, she climbed the spiral staircase up to her lab, her tension mounting along with her killer headache. She’d neglected to close the window shields. Her lab gleamed with red and yellow light reflecting from the exterior planets and their circling suns and stars.
A waft of freezing air made her stop and turn slowly toward the storage cell. She blinked hard at shards of broken glass and the slumped figure half-in and half-out of the first security door.
Grabbing both her weapon and her FREN recorder, she dropped down to her knees and crawled slowly toward the fallen man. It was Prism, one of the security guards. She felt for his pulse. His skin was frozen and she could see no other signs of life. Looking up at the security door, she bit her lip. The glass looked like it had exploded from the inside…
Why the heeze weren’t the alarms blaring? Why hadn’t the rest of the security team appeared the instant one of their men went down? It was so damned quiet. Hardly daring to breathe, she eased past the man and the broken glass and focused her attention on the last of the security doors. The one she held the codes for.
“Gods, no,” Frey whispered as she got a closer look at the mangled and distorted metal that had been practically ripped from its frame.
Knowing that she had to get even closer, she crawled forward and peered into the blackness within the holding cell. The motors hummed, keeping the air at well below freezing, but she had a sense that the Viking had forced his way out of there…
This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all.
She had to turn on a light and discover the truth. Her hands were shaking too much to make anything work. With a forlorn prayer to the Pavlovan Oracle and her Gods, she managed to illuminate the small screen of her FREN recorder and pointed it outward into the darkness.
The ice block had disappeared and so had its occupant.
Frey sat back on her ass and buried her face in her hands while she remembered how to breathe. She had to inform FREN that somehow their primitive Viking had self-defrosted and was now roaming the space ship obviously alive. And what the hell would he make of the world he’d emerged into? He could do untold damage and kill every one of them without even realizing what he’d done.
She tapped in the emergency code, added a short message and fumbled her way back into the main lab.
Her screen was already flashing an answer.
KEEP HIM ALIVE AT ALL COSTS. USE PROTOCOL 3ZE.
She stifled a hysterical giggle. The 3ZE protocol basically meant that she had control of the ship and the crew. She’d tried not to laugh when she’d been handed the secret protocols, knowing her chances of getting anyone to listen to her were fairly slim. But with a Viking marauder on the loose, would her companions change their minds?
First and foremost she had to find the Viking and communicate with him. Once that was achieved, she might have a chance to save both him and the crew. Rising to her feet, she rummaged in her desk for some additional items the FREN team had provided her with in case of an emergency and added them to her utility belt.
If she wasn’t allowed to kill him, and she didn’t think she could anyway, she’d have to shut him down somehow. Her fingers steadied as she slid the buckle home and tightened the belt around her hips. A whisper of something touched her mind and she went still. It definitely wasn’t Slavin’s now familiar telepathic signature. Was it possible that Vikings in the first century A.D. on Earth had been telepaths? Had she sensed him before?
It was a bit of a leap, but it was all she had. Frey took a deep breath and centered her thoughts while allowing her telepathic senses to roam outward.
There.
Anger, rage, fear…
Frey opened her eyes. If she could find him before the rest of the crew were alerted to his presence, she might be able to prevent further bloodshed. Focusing on her slight sense of him, she left her lab, took a sharp right turn and headed back to the kitchens.
Einarr paused, his breathing ragged, his breath still frosting in the warm air. Nothing made sense. He’d thought he was free, but now he was encased in some kind of metallic, humming maze. Had he been swallowed by a great beast? Was Odin demanding one more act of valor before he was allowed into the hallowed halls of Valhalla?
He gripped the shaft of his axe more tightly and heard a scuttling sound to his left. Reaching out, he gently pushed open the nearest door and found himself in a space that smelled of food. His stomach grumbled loudly in the silence, convincing him that he was indeed alive and not completely immersed in the nightmare of his dreams. Two green orbs flashed at his shoulder level and he went to grab the creature, whatever it was, and encountered sharp claws and the hiss of fangs.
“Kottur.”
He hastily withdrew his hand and sucked his fingers into his mouth. His blood flowed as sluggishly as a frozen river. Cats were beloved of Freyja. Perhaps this was a sign that he was not alone in this strange world? The sound of the cat jumping
down to the floor and rubbing against his ankles was surprisingly comforting. When was the last time he’d been touched by another creature?
Moving further into the chamber that smelled like food, he found another door and went inside. Even in the darkness, he could make out the sight of the loaded shelves. The cat had followed him, and was now meowing, but Einarr’s focus was on feeding himself. He picked things up at random and discarded them, his mouth watering as his sense of smell returned. Eventually, he found something he recognized and fought with the strange wrapping, using his teeth to rip off the shiny coating so that he could bite into the bread beneath.
Carrying the loaf in his hand, he searched for a jug or a barrel of ale but found nothing. Frustrated now, he left the food store and returned to the outer room, his keen hearing honing in on the drip of water onto a metal surface. Moving quietly around the space, he found the water and patiently cupped his hands beneath the trickle of liquid until he had satisfied his thirst.
It probably wasn’t wise to eat or drink anything in this strange place, but he was too hungry to care if the spirits intended to lure him into another world. He was beginning to believe he was in a cursed realm anyway. Since stepping over the body of the man who’d been caught up in his violent release from the ice, he’d seen no one but the cat. Yet he sensed someone, had recognized the female’s thoughts from the moment he’d regained that first sense of himself within the ice.
Someone touched his mind, and he immediately went for his weapon and then paused. Didn’t he want to be found? Didn’t he yearn for someone to confront him and tell him what was going on? And if it was the female whose presence had reached him even through the ice and his magical entrapment, he might even welcome her…
There was another door that led into what looked like a hall with benches and tables set out for eating. But as he came through it, that wasn’t what caught his attention. Set in the wall were two large, clear rectangles that looked out into…nothingness. His newly beating heart almost stopped as he tried to comprehend what he was seeing. Somehow he was flying through the night sky and the stars. But he didn’t recognize any of the constellations.