Gudsriki (42 page)

There were still threats, of course. The worst was the scientific community. As long as science had a chance of healing the world, there was no need for God.

They were easily dealt with. First came Reinard Harlow, who claimed he could cleanse the air of radioactivity. Blasphemy! Only God could clean the skies. He was executed publicly.

Then there were the Brubaker twins and their working generator. Electricity in those days was a god unto itself. It had to be quashed. Mishka called it witchcraft. Of course everyone remembered electricity. It was a hard sell. But nobody ever said its use in the end times was allowed. She found a scriptural passage, she warped it according to her needs, and the generator was soon mobbed and destroyed, the twins ripped to pieces.

Then there was a doctor named Niide, who could heal wave tumors with the use of a mysterious machine. Mishka knew him and hesitated a moment before declaring his doings the work of Satan. God had inflicted the tumors on those who deserved them, that they might suffer and, in suffering, be redeemed through her church. Cures by machinery robbed them of that right. The doctor was drawn and quartered, his nurses beaten and dragged through the streets. And there were others, plenty of others. All met with public spectacle ends.

But there were two last concerns, namely the Geki. Luckily, as Veikko told his sad, stupid story, Mishka realized that when he had dropped the Geki implant in the arcology, Skadi had scooped it up before the split Geki, if it was even alive, could retrieve it. Skadi had brought it to Valhalla, and it fell beside her corpse when she died. Veikko tried to convince her it would summon the Geki if she ever used it. If they were alive.

Mishka was certain they were. They were immortal by Alf's accounts. Mortal by the Bible's, but frankly, Alf was more of an influence. She examined the implant and dug into its programming before giving it a shot. She removed the location sensors and devoted link, silencing the device just in case its net still functioned in the radioactive sky. She removed the bone fragments and replaced them with her own, cut straight from her arm in the abandoned med bay. And then she practiced. It took a week, scorching her old ravine and lighting Veikko a few times before she got the hang of it. But she mastered it. And she waited for the Geki to come.

They came and she kicked their cloaked asses. And Harvard Watain was there to feel the heat of her flames. For she had dominion over fire. She was a witness; he knew it then, and he would serve her until the end of time.

 

 

A
LONG
THE
beach were dozens of tall wooden spikes, each with a naked body impaled on it. The Valkyries stared, silent. Every few spikes there was a wheel, affixed to the top with someone tied to it, exposed to the cold. Nel emerged from below decks and looked at the horror.

A horrible groan echoed from the forest. Nel saw them first, then the others. Men and women, starving and naked, marching among the spikes. They threw a clothed man to the ground. He put his hands together as he knelt, and muttered to himself. Then one raised a knife and swung to behead him. But it was too weak from starvation to cleave his neck. Like a living skinned skeleton. The man ran away and tried to hide in a dead hollow tree as the boat sailed farther along the shore.

They saw gallows with hanging victims, and bonfires that pumped the smell of meat into the air. Vibeke recognized it, that specific delicious stink of fried rapist. They were burning human bodies. Alive, judging by the screams.

Farther up shore they found a tent with dozens of skeletal figures, some wearing black cloaks. Two were struggling to pull frayed cords to ring a bell. And then Vibeke saw the explanation. Crosses decorated the tent. A giant wood cross loomed above it, barely visible against the forest behind.

A procession of living dead walked into the tent, groaning prayers and weeping.

“Well, Vibs, you're hunting evangelists, I guess this is where you two get off.”

“I guess it is….” Vibeke was undaunted—the scrawny men and women on shore posed no threat to a Valkyrie, let alone one traveling with a tough robot-insect-sex-toy. Vibeke didn't even stick around to question it. She jumped into the water. Nel followed. The water where they landed was only chest deep.

“Don't forget to say grace!” shouted Kabar. The boat plodded away as the two walked ashore.

“Have you heard zhe good newsh?” asked a tumored man with no teeth.

“Leave us alone.” Vibs continued to walk.

“Why do you shreat me sho? I only wan' oo help you!”

“We don't want your help.”

“I'm shrying o shave you!”

“Leave or you die.”

“Friendzsh!” he shouted, “she will not hear zhe word!”

The zombified crowd took notice of them as they made the shore.

“Who will not hear the word?”

“Satan,” called one from the crowd.

“Witches!” called another.

Vibeke tapped Nel on the shoulder; she prepped her arm microwaves.

“Burn them!” called the crowd.

“Strip them, check them for the witch's mark!”

Soon a dozen frail, deformed victims had surrounded them.

“You have one second to back off before you die.”

“Blasphemy thy name is woman!”

“They're in league with the devil!”

“Burn them!”

“Burn them both!”

“Burn the witches!”

Nel fired a wide beam and burned half the crowd off of them. Then she refined her beam and fired at the closest individuals, killing them.

“I'm
not
a fucking witch,” she spat at the bodies. But the crowd grew thicker, more and more surrounded them.

“Praise the Lord!” they cried in desperation; several genuflected.

“God is merciful! He is risen!” cried others.

Nel began firing more wide blasts with both arms, scorching the closest, but more and more came.

“Are we going to have to kill them all?”

“Probably.”

“We're only trying to save your souls!” shouted the crowd. “Repent!”

Nel aimed forward and set her microwaves to maximum and burned a path through the denizens. Vibeke ran by her side, breaking any arms that reached for her. Soon enough they were free of the crowd.

“We love you, our sisters! We can save you!” they called.

Nel fired another wide blast behind them and tripped up the closest wave. They seemed to stop following.

“Jesus,” muttered Vibeke.

“Yes,” answered Nel, “that seems to be their motive.”

“Stop!” called one man, who had followed them.

“No,” said Vibeke. They kept walking.

“Stop or you'll be branded a witch, like them,” he said, gesturing to the victims.

“Brand me.”

The man ran and picked up a brand from a fire. He approached Vibeke and shouted for her to stop again. She snatched the brand from his grip and shoved it burning down his throat.

Nel looked at several burnt bodies tied to stakes. “What did they do to deserve this?”

“He said witches. I have a book on 'em in a partition. Christians hate women. They think they're meant to be breeding machines and nothing more. If women get out of control, they'll burn 'em, drown 'em, call 'em witches, and they can do anything they want to 'em.”

“If they kill all their women, how are there any left?”

“That's one thing I never got when I read history. There are so many atrocities killing so many people, but they always have someone left for the next atrocity.” She kicked a skull out of her way. “We're gonna survive this war. Humanity can survive anything, even itself. It won't die off. It'll just be miserable. Forever.”

“You sound resolute.”

“I am. We should kill Veikko, flood this planet, wash it all away.”

“I disagree, there's still good worth—”

A tree fell. The men who had cut it down, all bound by chains, began hauling it off. Another man with a doleo came after them, striking the weakest of them.

Even Nel understood. Slavery had returned. Under the exact rules of the Bible, men were bought and sold, and tortured and beaten.

As it happened, they all sang, masters and slaves alike. Fluffy lyrics about a twinkling savior that belied their nature as a field holler. Vibeke felt nauseated. She looked to Nel.

“You were saying there's still good in the world worth saving?”

“It's good I lack a digestive system to vomit right now. That's good….”

“Glad we're on the same page. We kill Mishka. Painfully. Then we end this planet.”

“We would surely die.”

“After I kill Mishka and Veikko, I have nothing left to live for.”

It hurt Nel to hear it. She wasn't enough to Vibeke live for. She wanted to be.

“Nothing and no one?” she asked.

Vibeke caught on.

“Falling for Violet… was the worst thing that ever happened to me. Worse than this, this world. What I've done to it. I know how I feel about you. But it can't be real. Anything I feel for you that might make me go on, that makes me want to live, it's all delusion. A psychological trauma-induced madness. Not real love.”

One of the slaves was hit so hard with the doleo, he caught on fire and fell to the ground screaming.

“If it were, how would you know the difference?”

“I do know the difference. Logically. It takes trauma, endless pain, and incredible stress to forge what I feel now.”

“But you felt the same love for Violet without any stress or trauma.”

“No,” explained Vibeke, “I never loved her half as much as I love you.”

Nel exhaled sharply and looked at her with the most human expression. She couldn't wrap her mind around it. She'd been unable to even kiss her the night before and now she was—it was impossible. Nel didn't know whether to believe her or not. It was too good. Good, was it good? Too good to be true.

She shed a tear, and Vibeke couldn't even look anymore. They walked into the forest as the burning man stopped screaming.

“She got that line from
Sommersby
, you know.”

“Shut up, Veikko.”

“Just saying.”

 

 

T
HE
P
ROTEUS
departed on schedule to monitor Ulver movements in the north. Pytten was mashed into the supply cartridges as planned, or at least as Pytten hoped the admiral planned. The only questions were when the cartridges would be opened, and by whom.

Pytten's questions were answered when a midshipman opened the cartridges and whispered as he did, “Pytten, if you're in there, you're to report to the admiral in Auxiliary Engineering immediately.” He left the cartridges open.

Pytten crawled out and headed aft. Upon entering the engineering sector, Pytten found the admiral surveying the spare screw field emitters alone. Willie left his side and waddled up to Pytten, limply flopping over on their leg.

“Don't expect any apologies, Pytten.”

“None, sir.”

“And don't expect any excuse for further insubordination. You will have your orders just as I have mine. I am to monitor Ulver troop movements. I will not deviate from this directive, nor shall my crew.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You, however, are a stowaway. You are under no such directive.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You will use any resources not devoted to the ship's mission to observe Rear Admiral Taitamaton's progress with Loki and the Ares. You will report to me here at 1300 and 2300 daily. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Dismissed.”

 

 

M
ISHKA
CALLED
in her advisers.

“What news of the third crusade?”

“They're just wiping out pockets now, lone families and the like. The major Muslim centers have been killed, as have the Thuggee.”

“And the Jews?”

“All dead, we believe, there were so few.”

“Begin shutting down the camps and preparing them to move into Mongol Uls.”

“If I may, Voivod?”

“You may.”

“We should keep the camps open and build new ones there. There are too many more groups ripe for imprisonment. The scientists, the heretics, the homosexuals.”

“Let's… ease up on the homosexuals for now.”

“Yes, Voivod.”

“Heresy is the greatest threat to our dominion. Execute five hundred publicly.”

“Five hundred who, Voivod?”

“Anyone, just mark them heretics.”

“Yes, Voivod.”

She headed downstairs. Past the Sunday schools, past the torture chambers, deep into her inner sanctum.

Harvard was there, feeling the ikons. He heard her enter.

“
Khristos voskres
!” he shouted.

“
Voistinu voskres
!” she replied.

She came to him and hugged him. He had to restrain himself not to kiss her on the cheek. It would be too much, and he couldn't let himself be tempted. It is the devil that tempts, and the devil must be rebuked.

He hugged her back and didn't let himself consider the softness of her body when she hugged him. They let go, and he complimented himself. He had resisted temptation. He was a good man, and he knew it. He would be rewarded with eternal life.

 

 

V
IBEKE
SUDDENLY
tripped on a starving child. Nel pulled her up. She looked down at the kid. He was gutting dead cats. She stared in disgust, and the child noticed her.

“They're the devil's animals,” he said, “but we can eat them if they're cleansed.”

“You killed them?”

“No, the grown-ups kill them. I prepare the meat.”

“These are probably the last cats on Earth,” Vibeke mumbled.