Star Wolves (The Tribes of Yggdrasil Book 1) (3 page)

Kneeling, Hal hugged him back. "What happened to the farm-tender, buddy?"

"It was broke, so I fixed it!" He beamed.

"You did? Oh my! Let's not fix these little fellas anymore, ok?” Hal shook his head. “If they're broken, come ask mommy or daddy to help."

With a frown, Ailan replied, “ok.”

"I've got something for you."

"A present?" Ailan's eyes went wide.

"Yep.” Hal pulled out a glistening green and black mineral, the size of his thumb, and handed to his son.

"Thanks, Daddy! I'm gonna put it in my room right now!" Ailan sprinted off clutching his prize tightly. Being a dad was a good job, Hal thought.

Siobhan and Ailan were a light in the darkness for Hal. Hal’s own parents died when he was a teenager, which had left a void in his life, one he’d found impossible to fill … until he met Siobhan. Now, Hal couldn’t even recall with any clarity how those dark days felt. They were fully banished, replaced by the warmth and light of his wife and son.

Cate Fisel strained to open one of the double doors leading into the CEO's office. Ben Gridrmann looked up from his desk as Cate closed the door behind her.

"Good morning, Mr. Gridrmann," Cate said, smiling.

He managed to produce a half smile from his wrinkled face. “What have you got?"

"The latest research on the telomere stabilization protocols.”

"Well?" He motioned for her to pass him the papers.

Cate handed him the dossier. She always got nervous around him, despite working for him for six months now. As CEO of the GAPA Corporation, which had a near monopoly on anti-matter production, he was one of the richest men on the planet; who wouldn't be a little intimidated around him?

Anti-matter reactors were confined to use solely in space due to the risks an accident could pose; on a starship or space station, a reactor was designed to be jettisoned. If not for the terrestrial ban on anti-matter reactors, Gridrmann might be the richest man in the solar system.

Gridrmann was seventy-six years old, and although modern medicine was highly advanced, humans still only averaged a ninety-five year life span; for Gridrmann, this simply wasn't acceptable. He was used to succeeding in everything he did, always being able to solve a problem through the application of intellect, money, or force. Old age was one foe he was failing to conquer.

After the first contact with the Alfar over a hundred years ago, humans learned their new friends lived, on average, five hundred years. Over five times the span of a human! They explained that this was simply function of life on their planet Ljossalfheim, or simply Alfheim; Alfar born on other planetary colonies had lifespans much shorter, though still about double a human’s.

For the Alfar, the difference between the lifespans of their colonies was not a great mystery to be solved—it just was, and they accepted it.

For a few years after first contact, humanity discussed the possibility of researching ways to replicate the conditions on Alfheim and reproduce the secret to their long lives. Ultimately mankind made the sensible decision, guided by the wisdom of the Alfar, to give up this pursuit. Earth had been at the breaking point with the population at that point; it had long exceeded it's carrying capacity, which was a euphemism for the planet’s inability to support humanity’s unrestrained proliferation and consumption of resources. Quintupling the age of homo-sapiens would push humanity over the brink. The SID banned any further research into Alfar aging … but not everyone gave up the dream.

Gridrmann was leafing through the report. "God damn disappointing progress," he muttered and shook his head. "I pay these useless assholes a fortune, and for what?" He looked up at Cate.

"I'm sure they're trying, sir."

"My father had a saying, Ms. Fizel—there is no trying, only doing—He was a prick, but I still like the quote. What we need are tissue samples from an Alfar, or an Alfar volunteer if possible. Based on what I read here, the limited DNA samples we have aren't enough."

"Sir, that's a tall order. Contact with the Alfar is tightly controlled, as you well know. Typically only key government officials have access to them."

He glared at her as he leaned forward. "Then buy me a key government official, Ms. Fisel. Better yet—buy me an Alfar."

After a week of playing farmer and getting some much needed rest, Hal had been called back to work to meet with his boss, New Midgard’s Governor, Andrew Zelinksi.

The drive into Norvik was joyful; various species of local trees lined the road, and flowers filled the ditches; the aroma was intoxicating. One of the mandates when humans colonized New Midgard was to strike a better balance with nature. Their colony was self-sufficient by design and everything was done with a 'New Midgard First' policy. Humans were determined not to repeat the mistakes of the previous centuries. Although the last hundred years had seen drastic reforms on Earth, she was in a slow recovery, and its citizens we're still learning to live in harmony with her.

New Midgard was a clean slate, a do-over, and so far so good.

Norvik and its surrounding agricultural homesteads were the only settlements on New Midgard and were now bustling with over nine-thousand residents.

Hal parked his car in front of the Midgard Administrative Center, known affectionately as 'The MAC'. The MAC was a five story office building, the penthouse of which, also served as the governors residence. The MAC was part of a modular technology the SID had co-developed with the Alfar to enable rapid colonization—Prefabricated Colonization Modules, or PCMs. The MAC was a Colonization Administration Module, which language lovers pointed out was a palindrome for MAC. Other options included: Agricultural Modules, Mining Modules, Terraforming Modules and so forth.

To install the various PCMs, a cargo ship would drop the PCM at its target location, after which the PCM would decompress, initiate all systems, and perform self-diagnostics. In a matter of a few hours an agricultural colony like New Midgard would be operational and self-sufficient.

The MAC—all PCMs in fact—were a paragon of environmental integration; all the MAC's windows doubled as solar panels, and in between the windows on the outer walls of the buildings were a plethora of mosses and plants. The roof acted as an herb garden for the restaurants on the first floor, and all water and waste were one-hundred percent recycled and re-used.

After Hal had grabbed a double espresso at Stellar Joe's on the main floor of the MAC, he hopped the contragrav-elevator to the fifth floor.

Kristy Hardin, an attractive thirty-something brunette, and the Governor's aide, was waiting in the fifth floor lobby when Hal stepped out.

"Well, hi there, Kristy," Hal said, smiling.

"Hi, Hal, nice to see you again, it's been awhile."

Kristy was a pleasant young woman with the uncanny ability to herd cats; this proved useful in a fledgling administration.

"It sure has. You're looking great. New hair?”

“Yes! Thank you! That's so sweet of you to notice. Let's get you in to see the Governor."

Kristy ushered Hal into the Governor's office, which was adjacent to his living quarters.

Governor Zelinksi was pacing and talking on the stellar-comm when they walked in. The regal, ebony face of SID President Dalia Rukundo filled his wall monitor.

One hundred and fifteen years ago, man had unlocked instructions to contact an alien race—the Alfar. Part of those instructions included plans for a communications device that worked instantaneously across the stars. The technology relied on the creation of microscopic Einstein-Rosen bridges—a.k.a. wormholes. The device was naturally called an Einstein-Rosen Bridge Transceiver or ERBT; most folks referred to it simply as a stellarcom. A stellarcom required the presence of a planetary sized gravity-well, so they couldn't be deployed aboard ships.

"...thanks, Madame President," said Zelinski, "I'll talk to you next week." The stellar-comm disconnected and the wall monitor went black. The Governor sat down behind his desk.

"Morning, Governor," said Hal, "how are things back home on Earth?”

"Good morning, Hal. Good, actually. No problems on Earth this week … for a change, and no troubles here to report. The calm before the storm?" He put on a questioning look and laughed.

Hal smiled. “Nice to hear."

"Governor, do you need anything more from me? If not, I'll let you and Hal get started," Kristy asked.

"I see Hal's already got a coffee, although he didn't think to bring his boss one ... this could reflect badly on his year-end performance review." Zelinksi smiled again and winked. He and Hal had been friends for going on ten years, and knew each other very well. "We're fine, Kristy, thanks."

Hal took a seat in one of the deep leather chairs in a semi-circle in front of the Governor's desk. He inhaled deeply and reveled in the natural smell of the leather; everything on a star ship was synthetic, and you missed these little things. He heard the door close behind him.

"What's up boss? I was supposed to be off another week. Something urgent I take it?"

"Yeah. Some pretty heavy stuff actually. You probably know that ever since the Yggdrasil Codex was discovered in 2013, scientists have continued to try to find evidence of further secrets embedded in the runic script on the stones. They hadn't made much progress … until a few weeks ago. They decrypted another set of coordinates—a subset of the data which contained the constellations originally discovered. These coordinates aren't just the stars that form the constellations, but additional points in space, very close to those stars."

"What are they?"

"No clue yet. The consensus is that we send a team to investigate in parallel with continued decryption efforts. Our plan is to dispatch a couple of our folks to Alfheim, partner up their people, then perform a joint recon of the first point. We’ll visit the location closest to Alfheim first."

"I assume that means you want me?"

"Absolutely. We want you to lead the team. In addition to your surveying and exogeology background, being the great, great, great grandson of the man who cracked the Yggdrasil Codex doesn't hurt. In fact, Ambassador Saeran requested you personally."

Hal's pulse quickened. The first time humans decrypted a code on the Yggdrasil Codex runestone, it had lead to contact with an alien race and hinted at possible divine intervention in the development of the human race—heady stuff! His mind was scrambling to imagine what new discoveries this could lead to. He took a sip of his espresso, and wished it was brandy.

"Who else is on the team?" Hal asked.

"I figured we'd send Nila with you; I sent a message last night asking her to cut her vacation short and grab a transport back to Norvik. She's on her way as we speak. We have a cryptographer from Earth, Elnora Kollman. She's already on Alfheim, so she'll meet you there. Is there anybody else you think you might need?"

"Sounds ok for now. Let me get there and assess the situation, then we'll see if we need anybody else."

"Perfect, and the Alfar will put their experts at your disposal, so you can round out your team with their folks."

"Are they expecting us to leave tomorrow?"

The Governor nodded. “Sorry.”

"Siobhan isn't going to be happy. That's three weeks there, plus mission time, then three weeks back. Several months all tolled."

"I know, but considering how important this will likely be, I think she'll understand."

"She might—Ailan won't. I'll have to bring back a damned expensive gift to make up for this. Any nice rocks on Alfheim, Boss?"

A
s Hal opened
the groundcar door his wristcom beeped, indicating a message. He tapped a button and read the display.

W
ell
, that
is
interesting, he thought.

The SID was quick to realize colony surveying was the perfect cover for more sensitive activities. Hal’s previous military service with Earth’s Stellar Fleet was an asset, and in his current job Hal explored dozens of stars and scores of planets, scanning, gathering and analyzing data. He was the SID’s eyes and ears amongst the stars. Hal had been recruited prior to moving to New Midgard, and so far, his role had been uneventful. He’d undergone several months of intense training to prepare for trouble that had yet to appear … perhaps until now.