Star Wolves (The Tribes of Yggdrasil Book 1) (17 page)

Hal just smiled, shook his hand and said nothing. He was sure Willms had a lifetime of dealing with his height, and Hal didn’t want to be unprofessional. Besides, at the helm of a thirty-thousand tonne warship, it didn’t matter the Captain was 5’ 0”.

“This really is a beautiful ship, Captain,” Hal remarked.

“Call me Steffen, please.”

Hal nodded. “Fair enough, then I’m Hal to you.”

“Let’s head down to the war room.”

The
Gungnir’s
war room was necessarily larger than the
Sleipnir’s
, as the
Gungnir
was a ship of war, but it was appointed in much the same way; there was a long table with chairs to hold twenty people, and a large holographic projector in the center of the table.

By the time Hal and Willms arrived, the other captains were seated around the table. Hal made his way around the table and introduced himself to a couple of men and women he didn’t know; a few he had served with or had met before.

“We’re waiting for the senior leadership, they should be here in a few minutes,” Willms told them.

Hal heard a multitude of footsteps coming down the hall, and in walked a procession of serious looking folk. At the head of the procession was Interstellar Fleet High Commander Clare Artman. Hal had never seen her in person. She was a serious looking middle-aged woman, auburn hair tied in a bun, and maybe five-feet, eight-inches tall. She ushered the four members of the Alfar fleet, all wearing red capes, into the war room. The junior officers all stood in respect as Artman entered the room.

Artman took her seat at the head of the table and made introductions.

“I’d like to first thank our Alfar allies for supporting us in this conflict,” Artman began, to a round of applause, “Earth and her colonies were not prepared for this war—and yes, we are now officially on a wartime footing. We’ve had nearly a century of global peace and prosperity, which had been almost unprecedented in the history of human civilization. I find it ironic that just as we mended our fences on Earth, we now meet a new enemy. But, we should be under no illusions. Life is conflict. Life is a battle between entropy and order, this is just the way of the universe. Our role in the military, and as private citizens, is to battle entropy and disorder on a daily basis. Just as Odin gathers his armies to battle at Surt and the Jotuns at Ragnarok. Odin knows Ragnarok will come to pass, but it’s his duty to struggle against it, to provide order for as long as possible. I tell you this so you can tell your crews. Let them not despair at what’s ahead. We’ll face it with courage and the knowledge we have staunch allies to help us, such as our Alfar cousins here,” she motioned to the four Alfar dignitaries, “let us view this as an opportunity to exercise our courage and valor. We did not seek war with these Hrymar, but by the Gods we’ll ensure that if they have an appetite for it, we’ll fill their bellies!”

The men and women in the war room clapped and cheered, morphing into a standing ovation.

This is a woman I could follow into battle, Hal thought, a real leader.

Artman gestured for the room to calm. “I’m glad to see such enthusiasm. Let me introduce you to our noble Alfar representatives,” she pointed to the first Alfar, “this is Councilor Iforr, he is the Rhyfelwyr’s representative on the Alfar White Council.” The grey-haired Alfar nodded, “beside him we have three other members of the Rhyfelwyr class: Councilors Bleddyn, Macsen, and Rhonwen. Three additional members of the Rhyfelwyr—or warrior class—are added to the White Council in times of war; then the nine become twelve, and are known as the Red Council until war concludes.”

Interesting, Hal thought.

“Thank you for your kind introduction, High Commander Artman,” Iforr said, “it has been almost a hundred years since the Red Council was last formed. That was against a race called the Ysgar. I was a younger man then, and fought in that war, which we won—barely— and contained the Ysgar in their region of space. Peace has reigned since, and although it saddens me to see the Red Council formed, we are glad to stand beside our human cousins in this battle with our old nemesis, the Hrymar.”

Another round of applause echoed in the room.

Hal learned the Alfar had summoned three of their 90,000 tonne Gullinbursti-class battleships to Epsilon Eridani. That was a huge contribution in firepower to this initial foray into Hrymar territory. Maybe this would be easier than expected, Hal thought.

T
here was an almost
palpable sense of victory in the air after the meeting. The captains and senior leadership were excited. Hal was amazed at how Artman had motivated everyone. He imagined her commanding a squad of men to walk into a burning house and all of them rushing to be first; she had that kind of charisma.

Hal was standing in the corridor outside the
Gungnir’s
war room, talking with Willms and Cadena. It was a pleasant change to be able to speak with his peers; he had to maintain distance with his crew, although that wasn’t his forte, so the chance to open up and have an honest laugh was a welcome change of pace. As they talked, Hal’s wristcom beeped.

“Yes?”

“Captain,”
it was his helmsman, Glaw,
“we have an unauthorized launch of the Sleipnir’s pinnace. I just wanted to confirm you authorized it.”

“No, I didn’t. Who’s piloting it?”

“Uncertain. I have hailed it, but I am getting no response. It appears to be heading down to New Midgard, hold on sir…it has landed. It is about six-hundred kilometers from Norvik, or...where Norvik was.”

Hal had a sinking feeling—the Hrymar prisoners! He tapped his wristcom again. “Gina?”

“Yes, sir?”
Gina replied.

“Check our cryo-berths to see if our six guests are accounted for, and hustle!”

“Aye, aye, sir,”
she replied.

“Is everything ok, Hal?” Cadena asked.

“I sure hope so,” he said.

Within two minutes Gina was back on comms.
“They’re all here sir. I have visually identified each and every one of them.”

Hal was confused. “What the heck? Gina, do a quick head count of our crew”

In under five minutes Gina was back.
“All accounted for except Nila Johar.”

The name slammed into his mind like sledge hammer; he was dazed.

“Sir, I’m pretty sure I know what’s going on.”
Gina said.

“Well for fuck sake, fill me in!” Hal snapped.

“Sir, I contacted the Alfar vessels about the lie detector, and they did have one. I was having it shipped over.”

Hal looked at Willms. “Can I borrow a pinnace Steffen? I need to go planet-side.”

H
al’s mind
raced as he piloted the
Gungnir’s
pinnace out of her docking bay. He couldn’t process the fact Nila might be the murderer. He was just jumping to wild conclusions, wasn't he? There had to be some explanation for her taking the shuttle. Nila was like family, like a little sister. He cared about her. Hal could feel his eyes burning as he pointed the pinnace toward New Midgard.

He was going to have a bumpy ride in through the atmosphere as he didn’t want to slow down—he was pushing the pinnace to its performance limits. The buffeting and yawing slammed the pinnace when it pierced New Midgard’s atmosphere, which was just as thick as Earth’s.

Six-hundred kilometers north-west of Norvik, Hal spotted the
Sleipnir’s
pinnace on the ground by a grassy hill. He circled around a couple of times to get a view before landing. Everything seemed ok. On his third pass, he touched down ten-meters from the other pinnace.

It occurred to Hal he had no armor or weapons. Why would he need them? Why were these thoughts intruding—this was Nila for gods’ sake. Hal kept berating himself for allowing these ridiculous ideas to intrude. He had to reserve judgement. Maybe Nila was in trouble?

Hal stepped out of the airlock on the port side of the pinnace and onto a grassy field. It was a beautiful day—the sun was shining, the sky was clear—it was a day for quiet walks, not trouble.

There was a rectangular, grassy hill with a door on the south-side of it. Not a hill, Hal thought. He approached cautiously. The door was open and he could see into a corridor that went a few meters then angled ninety-degrees to the left. As Hal stepped across the threshold of the door, he felt a rumbling—the dust on the sill of the door danced to the tune of the harmonic vibration. The rumbling was followed by a whine and Hal ran back outside.

He watched as the top of the hill opened up. Two large rectangular doors parted, dust flying, and he could see a small starship rising from inside the hill. It was much bigger than a pinnace. It looked like a hundred-tonne scout ship.

Hal ran back to the pinnace and scrambled through the airlock. He jumped into his seat and put on a headset.

“Nila, is that you in the scout ship?”

Nothing.

“Nila, this is Hal do you read?” No reply. Maybe comms are out, Hal thought.

And then…

“Hal? What are you doing?”
came Nila’s voice through his headset.

“Nila. What am
I
doing? What in Odin's name are
you
doing? Why did you take the pinnace?”

“I’m sorry, Hal.”

“Sorry for what? What did you do? Get your ass back down here now, that's an order!”

“I wish things had turned out differently,”
she said gently,
“I’m so sorry about Siobhan and Ailan. I loved them too, Hal.”

“Captain -"
another voice interjected on the comm.

“Get off the gods’ damn comm, now!” Hal ordered.

“What are you sorry for? Nila, please … talk to me …” he pleaded.

“Let me at least do one thing for you before I go, Hal. Let me give you some closure.”

Hal’s mind was going numb—the whole situation was unreal, it was like he was watching a vid or reading a book about someone else, this wasn't happening to him … was it?

He nearly choked on the words. “What do you mean, closure?”

“They’re dead, Hal. I’m sorry.”

“How could you know that? You weren’t there!” There was a growing desperation in his voice. He tried to keep calm and controlled in all situations—the better to handle them, and come out on top. But not this time. He could feel himself slipping; back into the dark place he’d lived for so long after his parents died. He thought that place was long behind him. They couldn’t be dead. But why would she say that? Was it a last kindness from an old friend?

Nila continued,
“But I know the people who were there, Hal. I work for people who want to see a different future. I didn’t know Norvik would get bombed. I’m truly sorry. I grieved for them when I heard. Now you must do the same. Grieve, Hal. Then move on with your life. Goodbye.”

“Nila?”

There was no reply

“Captain?”
came the other voice

Antonio Cadena spoke up,
“Captain Olsen, this is Captain Cadena. We have a ship breaking orbit and heading out of the system. What’s going on? Should we try to stop it?”

Silence.

“Hal, this is Antonio … what’s going on?”

“Just leave it,” Hal said, “let her go.”

C
lare Artman was
in her stateroom aboard the
Gungnir
. Normally an officer of her rank would have had a much larger ship acting as her flagship, but as the fledgling SID Fleet was under construction, the
Gungnir
would do. Nothing about this war was normal. Her most senior officers were back on Earth or Mars, overseeing the construction of their ships, which were at least several months from completion. While the most senior people sat idle, her junior officers with the smaller ships were here, and about to be the vanguard for the SID’s retaliation on the Hrymar.

Commander Zhang Mei Xue, who was in charge of Interstellar Fleet actions, was also without a flagship. For security purposes they decided it would be best not to both be on the Gungnir should something happen to that ship, which was their single large ship, and therefore the most likely target in a battle. Commander Xue was ensconced over on the
Skofnung
, which was under the command of O-4 Antonio Cadena.

Artman realized this small flotilla was very heavy on senior management, and very light on middle management. All the senior people were over on Alfar ships. Oh well, she thought, nothing in war is ever perfect. She recalled the great Prussian General Carl Von Clausewitz

Now was the time for imperfect action, she mused.

Clare was also concerned about her acting Director of the Stellar Scout Service, Haldor Olsen. She had planned to rely on him for intelligence on the Hrymar, and she knew Olsen was a good man, but the confirmation his wife and son were dead, and the betrayal by a friend, had him badly shaken. The simple truth was there was nobody to replace him. A man partly broken would be better than no man at all—he hoped.

There was a knock on her door.

“Enter,” she said.

Captain Willms stepped through into her stateroom.

“Commander, all ships report ready for departure,” he said.

“Good … good. Are we really ready, O-5?”

“M’am?” he said, not understanding her question.

“Are we really ready, I mean to fight a war out in interstellar space?”

“Yes, m’am. I think we are. We may not have the biggest fleet, or as much intel on enemy locations as we would like, but we have something better,” he said smiling at her.

Artman raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to finish.

“We have you, m’am,” Willms said.

Artman gave him a puzzled look.

“M’am, I don’t know if you realize it or not, but you are probably the most respected military leader in decades.”

“Bucking for a promotion, O-5?” Artman replied with a wry smile. Artman motioned for him to sit down, which he did, in a chair opposite the desk she was sitting behind.

“No, m’am. I mean- yes m’am, always, but that’s not why I’m telling you this. Throughout history men and women have gone to war following some general or some commander. The forces that were successful were almost always the ones with great leaders. Even if that force was outnumbered, or had other factors not in their favor, leadership and morale won the day. I think I speak for everyone in this little fleet when I say, we would follow you to Ragnarok and back,” Willms continued.

“Good. Because, O-5, I think that’s where we’re heading,” she said.

H
al sat
in his chair on the
Sleipnir’s
bridge, expressionless and numb. The bridge crew was clearly uncomfortable, as they kept glancing, one to another, looking for some support. Hal was normally a touchstone of confidence and serenity, but now he was tainted by a darkness, infinitely cold, and it was leeching the life out of his crew.

Idwal turned back to face the Captain. “Sir, incoming fleet-wide broadcast from High Commander Artman.”

“On screen,” Hal said.

“Good afternoon Captains and crew. Our flotilla is just about ready to leave the Epsilon Eridani system and head toward Hrymar territory. We’re waiting for our engineering and maintenance ship, the Good Wrench, which should arrive within the hour. Once she arrives, expect to jump to hyperspace within fifteen-minutes. Time to earn our pay people. Artman out.”

The screen went blank

“Helm,” the Captain asked, “are the jump points plotted?”

“Yes, sir,” answered O-2 Glaw, “it took me twice the time it would have for a proper Astrogator, but I believe everything is in order.”

That reminder of Nila’s absence and betrayal scraped at his soul, as with a dull knife.

“Very well,” Hal replied. He got up from his chair and through his office to his private quarters. His office had three doors, one to the bridge, one to the hallway outside, and one directly to his stateroom. One of the benefits of being Captain was having large chambers, well, at least much larger than standard crew quarters. His stateroom was only as big as a very small bachelor apartment back on Earth, but he did have a window curving around the entire suite, and was only a few meters from the bridge.

He lay on his bed, fingers interlocked behind his head, staring up through the ceiling and into space beyond; his mind wandering the stars toward Hrymar territory. Their plan was loose and vague: proceed toward Niflheim, search for slave depots and trading posts, make raids and gather intel. Nobody expected to get any of the hostages back; based on what they were told by Devrim and the other Hrymar hostages, the slaves would be disposed of as quickly as possible. They would be sold first to a broker on one of the trading posts and then on to whatever masters purchased them. In a way, he was glad to hear his wife and son were dead. The thought of them in the hands of some sick bastard terrified him; better a hard truth than a lingering, gnawing uncertainty.

As there was no direct door to his cabin, only the one in his private office, would be visitors had to announce themselves via wristcom—his beeped.

“Yes?” he said.

“Captain, it’s Eva. I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

His heart fluttered and he felt dizzy, even lying down on his bed.

“C’mon in,” he replied.

He heard the door in his office whisk open, and then the door to his chambers slid open.

She was painfully beautiful, Hal thought. He loved her dark-black hair—like a silky frame to a work of art.

She smiled at him, a small, worried smile with emerald-green eyes that wanted to take his pain away. That was one of the reasons he had loved her. She was the girl who would bring the bird with a broken wing home to tend to it. She would have made an amazing Physician, but then again, maybe not. She may have been too sensitive to handle the suffering on a daily basis. Siobhan’s eyes had been green too. That thought crushed him.

Hal gestured to the sofa and he sat down. Eva walked over to him but did not sit down, instead she reached out with her hands and placed one on each cheek, and caressed his face, ever so gently.

“Haldor, let me help you,” she whispered. She sat down close to him putting her milk-white hand on the back of his neck, followed by a gently caress. “I know you’re hurting, Haldor.”

Hal just closed his eyes and let the warmth of her touch wash over him. It was nothing sexual, just then, only the comfort of another human being, someone in front of whom he could let his facade slip, if only a little. Hal was about to start chastising himself mentally for embracing this moment, this pleasure, guilt welling up over the death of his wife and son, and his betrayal by being here with Eva. But it was no betrayal. He loved them fiercely. He loved them like no human had ever loved another—he knew that. And that was the crux of it. He was just a human, just a man. He needed to be strong for his crew, for his planet, and to do that, he needed this comfort just now, he needed to heal, if just a little. There was no shame in that need, no betrayal.

“Thank you, Eva.” Hal said.

S
he could see
tears welling in his eyes, silently mirroring the tears in her own. She pulled him gently to her and embraced him, stroking his hair, each sharing in Hal’s pain. They sat in the still, warm embrace, for at least an hour until Haldor drifted off to sleep in her arms.

Carefully, Eva got up and retrieved a pillow from Haldor’s bed, and returned, laying it under his head. She stood for a moment and watched him, tears in her eyes coming anew. She still loved him. She had never stopped loving him. She kissed her first two fingers and placed them gently on his lips, then left the room.

H
al woke
up on the sofa in his state room, Eva was gone and he noticed a pillow where his head had been, the one she must have placed when he was sleeping; he smiled.

He stared out into space, into the Epsilon Eridani system which had once been his home—but no longer. A home was where your family was. Hal had no family now, therefore, he had no home. He didn’t want to wallow in self pity, but hadn’t he given enough?

He recalled an Anglo-Saxon phrase his grandfather had taught him:

N
o man could escape
his Wyrd. The Norns weaved the fates of all men, not even the gods could escape it; and so his ancestors were taught to face their Wyrd with courage and resolve.

Hal got up off his sofa and left his stateroom. He had come to a decision—in a few minutes he was at his ship’s chapel. It was a neutral environment, as there were many faiths aboard the
Sleipnir
. It was a quiet place set aside for prayer, worship, and contemplation. It was also soundproofed to give devotees the privacy to pray as they would, without being overheard. A red light over the outside of the chapel door indicated it was in use. The light was green now, and Hal entered.