Star Wolves (The Tribes of Yggdrasil Book 1) (2 page)

A
silvery-white star
, Procyon A, hung low in the sky, caressing the horizon and bathing the landscape in pearly beams of light; it reminded Haldor of the bleak Arctic nights back on Earth. Growing up in Oslo he’d learned to appreciate the generous summer days where the sun never set, though, as if in payment for the privilege, the Arctic nights were equally long and not nearly so pleasant.

Standing at the edge of a crater he watched as Procyon B, a white dwarf, and little brother to Procyon A, crept above the horizon. It was an awesome site. Two milky siblings greeting the day.

A malicious wind interrupted his musing and tore his jacket’s hood down from his head, allowing sleet to dampen his hair. The wind’s icy fingers began piercing his body, burning Haldor’s skin wherever it gained purchase. Pulling his hood back up, he shivered, then marched toward his shuttle amid deafening thunder claps, wincing with each eruption. The thunder evoked his grandfather’s tales of Thor fighting the frost giants. When you hear thunder, his grandfather had said, you know Thor is doing battle with the jotuns. Haldor missed those stories. Even his name reflected those stories: hallr thor, meant stone of Thor in Old Norse.

Haldor Olsen, or just Hal to his friends, was a spiritual man; he honored the Norse Gods—both the Aesir and the Vanir, as his forefathers had done. Three thousand years past, his ancestors regaled their children with the tales of the old gods, of jotuns, dragons and great wars; those tales became legend, the legends became myth, and the myths were soon faded memories on crumbling parchment. The coming of Christianity, and the advent of technology, replaced the old stories with new ones, and men soon forgot the desire for valor and honor; they cared only for the acquisition of new things and to live ever more hedonistically.

Once men began to ply the stygian oceans between the stars, they began to re-discover the truth of the myths. They were
not
alone as many wanted to believe. The multiverse was indeed a place of danger, filled with the evils of old legends; although this realization would not come fast enough.

A red strobe illuminated the area under the ramp of Hal’s shuttle; he pressed a button on the remote at his wrist, then with a whine, a pop, and some hissing, the ramp began to lower, allowing the florid interior-lighting to seep out. Hal was relieved he would soon have a reprieve from the frigid wind and driving sleet; although it was a short distance from the crater to his shuttle, it seemed an infinitely long walk.

The ramp made audible contact with the ground, after which he homed in on the warmth of the shuttle’s interior. Seated in the navigator’s chair was a youngish East Indian woman, who swiveled around to stare at him with her electric-blue eyes and a crooked smile. "About time you got here!" she chided.

"Loki's balls, woman! It's freezing out there!"

"It is. You look a bit like a wet cat,” Nila said, laughing.

Hal smiled. "The ship ready to go?"

"Prepped and ready, boss."

“All the data we need collected?”

“Done and done.”

"Good, lets go home.”

As the ramp clanked closed, Hal flopped into the chair beside Nila and strapped himself into his harness. The shuttle accelerated smoothly out of the planet's arctic atmosphere. From orbit the planet was striking, with subtle shades of cobalt, sapphire, cerulean, and beryl. It was truly mesmerizing. Though Hal only had to remember what it had been like to walk the one-hundred meters back from the crater to remind him of the planet’s less attractive aspects. Like a rose with its thorns, he thought.

A
s the shuttle
approached the survey ship,
SSS Leita
, in orbit around Procyon Zeta, her docking bay doors opened silently and the shuttle navigated into its assigned berth.

Hal stepped out of the shuttle into the stale, but warm atmosphere of the Leita. The docking bay was quiet. Although the Leita was a Solar Inclusive Democracy starship, a military ship, she was a survey vessel, not a ship of war; as such, it was a tranquil atmosphere. Only one deckhand worked in the shuttle bay. Most of the crew on duty, were either at their scientific monitoring stations on the bridge, or analyzing data in the computer lab. This was a drastic contrast to the times Hal served on any of the SID warships which were buzzing with frenetic activity 24/7/365.

He stepped gingerly through several bulkheads and took an abbreviated set of stairs to the bridge where Captain Chahaya perched like a hawk in his command-chair. Chahaya was a wizened old Indonesian man with a wispy white beard, stood barely over five-feet tall, and weighed in at just over one-hundred pounds—soaking wet. What he lacked in physical stature he made up for with his commanding presence; there was no doubt who the Captain was on this ship. In private he was the polar opposite, giggling, smiling, almost a silly little man; few got to see that side of him; Hal was one of the few.

“Hal! How was the view?” Chahaya asked.

“Stunning. It’s a frozen jewel. I wouldn’t want to colonize it, but I’m sure somebody will find a use for the mineral deposits under all that ice.”

“I am certain. Sadly my crew does not permit me to have any adventure. I must be content with the view out the bridge window.” He smiled at Hal and motioned to the view.

Two silvery stars and a swirling blue marble—the planet—filled the view-screen. Hard not to appreciate—from orbit, Hal qualified his thought.

“We’re calculating the jump back to New Midgard now, we should have you home in about ten hours.”

“Sounds good, lets hope my wife has dinner ready for me,” Hal said with a wink.

“You need a good Indonesian girl. My wife can cook for a thousand men, and none leaves hungry,” Chahaya said in his thick Astronesian accent.

With a grin, Hal replied, “I’m sure, but my wife might object, old friend.” He might make the odd quasi-mysqogenistic joke, but he adored his wife Siobhan.

“Well, sometimes you trade them in for a new model.” Chahaya winked.

“Why aren’t you cooking
her
dinner? She deserves it for putting up with your nonsense, Hal,” Nila said, as she walked into the bridge.

They all laughed.

Chahaya pressed a button on the arm of his command-chair and spoke. “Crew, prepare for jump to hyperspace.”

The lighting on the bridge phased from the standard full-spectrum white, to a dull yellow. Everyone took a seat and buckled in. When the ship’s computed detected all passengers and crew secure, the lighting on the bridge changed to red. There was a momentary feeling of disorientation and the sensation of falling—just briefly—then all returned to normal….but now they were in the inky black embrace of hyperspace.

The lighting on the bridge reverted to its original white.

The
Leita
dropped back into normal space with a shudder. Over the comm system came the strangely alluring voice of the ship’s computer,
“We have arrived in the Epsilon Eridani system, next stop, New Midgard, ETA five hours.”

Hal looked over at Nila. “What are you up to for the next couple of weeks?"

"Oh, I am going to go home to New Delhi to visit my parents. They keep pestering me to visit. If I don't go soon they will show up here!" She giggled.

Haldor was relieved to be home. He missed his son terribly; at five years old, little Ailan was always up to something interesting. His antics were the most cherished part of Hal’s life. He never imagined he would love anyone as much as his wife, but when his son was born … there were no words to describe it. He told Ailan daily that he loved him more than the sun and the moons and the stars. It always made Ailan giggle, although he didn’t know quite what it meant, just that his dad was smiling and laughing, and that was always enough.

Hal had visited dozens of planets in his job with the Colonial Survey Service, and always tried to bring back an interesting rock or mineral sample for Ailan; who now had a collection rivaling most colonial museums.

New Midgard was humanity’s first extra-solar colony, which they’d established after making first-contact with the enigmatic Alfar over a hundred years ago. They’d named the colony in honor of the Old Norse word for Earth—Midgard.

Haldor keyed a button on his wristcom, heard a beeping, and then his wife’s voice, “Hello?”

“Guess who’s coming for dinner?” he asked.

“Hi, darlin! How was the trip?”
Siobhan asked.

“Good. Uneventful really. Just glad to be home. How are the crops looking?”

“Wait till ye see the corn! The tomatoes are doing really well too. The ultra-sonic transmitters are doing a wonderful job keeping the pests away.”

“Great, I’m looking forward to some corn-on-the-cob this summer. I should be home in a few hours. How’s Ailan?”

“Out chasing the animals, no doubt. Listen, I’ll let ye go. I’m in the middle of a thousand things, see you when you get home. Kisses!”

“Ok, bye.” Haldor keyed his wristcom again.

When a tone announced the shuttle’s imminent landing, Haldor and Nila got up and collected their bags, then made their way to the disembarkation ramp.

Hal shot her a smile. “You have a safe trip back to New Delhi.”

"Thanks boss, give Siobhan and Ailan my love."

"Will do, see you in a couple of weeks. Rested and ready for action. Right?“

“With sixteen nieces and nephews, I cannot guarantee the rested part," she laughed and walked off.

H
al's
electric groundcar arrived quietly at his farm, ten kilometers outside of the capital city of Norvik. Most settlers on New Midgard ran small farmsteads in addition to contributing whatever other talents they had. Hal spent most of his time surveying nearby planets for suitability as future colony sites. His wife Siobhan was a botanist, who, in addition to managing their farm, conducted research on local flora for the New Midgard Ministry of Agriculture.

The colony on was founded in 2120 (Earth Common Era), and was barely seven years old; nine thousand people called it home, with new settlers arriving each month. Life here was good. Not that life on Earth had been so bad recently; seventy years ago Earth completely redesigned its energy economy and migrated from fossil fuel burning, to an energy economy based on hydrogen fuel cells, high efficiency solar and wind power. The entire infrastructure became renewable and non-polluting, as well as accessible to all.

All of this was made possible after the implementation of the Global Digital Democracy—a fully inclusive, instantaneous electronic-voting system that transformed world governments. People now had the ability, and legal obligation, to vote directly on issues; the world's population could now come to true consensus on issues, unhampered by lobbyist influence or lopsided representation.

It was inevitable that when the voices of all people on Earth could be heard, they united. The individual countries on Earth, as well the colonies on the Moon and Mars, voted to form one solar-system wide government; the Solar Inclusive Democracy was born.

Hal climbed out of his electric car and took a deep breath of the fresh air; recycled air on a starship was never great, no matter how efficient the atmospheric scrubbers. He inhaled deeply, letting the muted scent of grass and pollens linger in his nose.

He sauntered over to a corn field bordering his grassy yard and gazed out at a rippling sea of gold. He reveled in the simple beauty of his own food growing; of course his crop would help feed others as well, but they were
his
fields. He watched as some of the robotic farm-tenders wandered the fields, analyzing soil ph, moisture levels, and ensuring there were no pests. These tiny semiautonomous robots removed much of the drudgery normally associated with farming.

Attached to the side of the house was a greenhouse where his wife conducted research, and where she grew herbs and plants during the longish winter season. He saw her bent over a plant, pruning and generally fussing over it. He crept in quietly, stopped behind her, and put his hands over her eyes.

She spun around and threw her arms around him. “Hey, handsome!"

"Hello, beautiful!” He kissed her deeply, then paused to say, “Flowers are coming up nicely."

"They
really
are.” She turned around and picked up a pot. “Look at this orchid.”

He glanced at the brilliant fuchsia flower. "Doesn't hold a candle to a little Irish lass I know.” He kissed her again. “Where's Ailan?"

“Oh, he’ll be bug hunting around the house.” She waved dismissively. “I have one of the farm-tenders following him."

"Ok, I have a new mineral sample for him."

She smiled. “Not like he needs more rocks, his room’s already overflowing with them. Just like his Da, eh?” she said throwing up her hands.

Hal's study was brimming with rock samples from a dozen planets and asteroids, but that was work, he rationalized. He'd been collecting rock samples since he was Ailan's age, and turned his hobby into a career. Second only to his rock collection, was Hal's collection of bladed weapons, which lined the walls of his study, and almost every other room in the Olsen household; Siobhan had declared their bedroom a 'blade-free zone' though. Few people knew Hal was capable of wielding any weapon in his collection to deadly effect; most guests saw them only as quaint wall decorations.

Hal found his son, and the farm-tender—or at least what was left of it. Ailan was sitting behind the house, screwdriver in hand, with pieces of the farm-tender lying scattered in front of him. He saw his father, sprang up and ran to him, giving him a tight squeeze, "Daddy!"