Star Wolves (The Tribes of Yggdrasil Book 1) (8 page)

Over the intercom came the announcement of the ETA to New Midgard—five hours. Almost there, she thought. Flight attendants were walking the aisles, taking lunch orders and handing out beverages; an eight-hour interstellar flight was much like any mundane terrestrial flight.

Gina realized how hungry she was. At five foot eight inches, and a hundred and forty pounds, Gina was an athletic woman. Not the treadmill-running, tennis-playing kind of athletic, but the mixed martial arts, eat big men alive kind of athletic; although you would never know it by looking at her
very
feminine form. But she was a tough lady, she had to be. Many woman police and security officers relied on their sidearms for protection—Gina didn't have to. It was there, if she needed it, but for the day she didn't have it, she was ready.

The first clue there was a problem, came when Gina heard two sharp
thunking
sounds on the hull of the
Sparrow
. People in any kind of vessel, whether sailing ship, starship or airplane, all react badly when they hear loud, unexplained noises on their hull.

She looked around the cabin. Nothing else seemed to be out of the ordinary.

Over the intercom came the Captain’s voice, “Ladies and gentlemen, please remain in your seats with your full acceleration-harnesses fastened.”

That was disturbing news. Typically full harnesses were reserved for emergencies like loss of artificial gravity. She still felt her one-hundred and forty pounds pressing in to the seat, so gravity wasn't the issue.

Next came a
hissing
sound, followed by a metallic
banging
on the top of the hull, in the direction of the
Sparrow’s
cockpit. With a
clang
, she saw a section of the hull fall through the top of the ship, but the atmosphere in the cabin was stable. Through all this, Gina remained dead calm.

She thought it was possible another ship docked with the Sparrow. Some emergency perhaps?

The passengers were yelling and getting panicky. Thoughts of terrorists hi-jacking planes from previous centuries came to Gina’s mind, as well as pirates from even further back.

She had a feeling some bad-shit was about to go down, and decided to act. She unfastened her harness and dropped down to the floor, keeping an eye on the hole in the ceiling. A tall man, Alfar maybe, dropped through the hole, holding a rifle of some type. He had a strange pale blue complexion.

In her peripheral vision, and through reflections on metallic surfaces, she saw a flash of dark purple light, then dozens of the passengers around her dropped to the floor. She looked across the aisle and noted several people; they appeared to be unconscious. The big man fired several more times as he walked down the aisles. Must be some kind of stun-gun, she thought. She lay absolutely still.

The big man walked back up the aisle toward the hole and shouted something. A smaller man, also a pale blue Alfar, dropped down. Not holding a gun, she noticed. The two Alfar began speaking. The smaller one seemed to levitate back up through the hole, then the larger one started dragging the immobile passengers under the hole. Once there, they began to float up through the hole. Gina remained still, and quiet, waiting for some opportunity to act.

When the big Alfar got to her, she remained quiet and limp. She let him drag her to the hole, then she felt herself lose all feeling of weight and began floating up through the hole in the Sparrow’s hull, then through a hatch of some sort; was she in another ship?

Through a narrow slit between her eyelashes she saw the smaller Alfar moving people into a rough group, almost a pile, a few feet away from where he was standing. She let him grab her and move her toward the rest of the passengers while she scoped out her surroundings.

She
was
in another ship, but didn’t see or hear any other Alfar. There was almost no gravity on the side of the ship where she lay, but where the smaller Alfar was standing, there seemed to be artifical gravity. Or maybe he was wearing magnetic boots. More likely they had artificial gravity control down the axis of their ship; it was
off
where the Sparrow’s passengers were being piled, and
on,
where the Alfar stood. She needed to find a way to get to him, but she had no leverage or traction with the gravity off. But if she inched her way toward his side …

Gina waited for a few more passengers to be loaded before she began moving, by millimeters, so the small Alfar wouldn’t notice her.

She suddenly felt her weight return. She peeked up at the small Alfar and saw him about three meters away. It might take her two-seconds to jump up and get to him; should be enough time, she thought.

Gina sprang at him like a panther. She swung her right forearm and elbow toward the side of his head and connected with a satisfying crunch. He dropped hard, and with a bit of forward momentum, was carried to the side of the ship with artificial gravity turned off. He hit the field and floated quietly aft, until he bumped up against another passenger and came to rest in the pile of people closest to the edge of the hatch.

One down, she thought.

She heard the big Alfar shouting from the Sparrow. She didn't recognize the language. It wasn’t Alfish or Yggdrasi. She glanced left and right. No weapons in sight. Gina knew he would be coming up soon. She saw a series of buttons on the wall above the hatch: one was glowing red, the rest were blue. She guessed that must be the artificial gravity control panel. She pressed the red button, then saw various limbs of the unconscious passengers slap against the floor as gravity was re-engaged. That was it.

The big one was hollering again from inside the Sparrow. Good, at least that way she knew exactly where he was. She decided to give him some company and rolled his friend, and a couple of other passengers, down the hole. She heard the first land with a thump, then a much more muffled sound as the others went down on top of each other. The big guy was quiet after that.

Gina wanted to get back to the Sparrow and deal with the big Alfar. She oriented herself so she would end up facing the back of the Sparrow, and jumped the two meters down the hole. She landed on top of some older woman with red curls. She dove and rolled after she landed, looking up and back. Nothing. Where the hell are you, she thought.

Gina crouched and listened. Still nothing. She could see all the way forward to the cockpit hatch, which was ajar. He wasn’t in between her and the cockpit. He might be inside the cockpit though, so she crouched and made here way forward as silently as possible. She took a breath and kicked the cockpit hatch violently. It flew in with a metallic
bang
, and she saw the pilot, co-pilot, and navigator, all slumped in their seats, unconscious like the rest of the passengers. She concluded the big Alfar must be aft, and he knew right where she was now, thanks to her kicking open the cockpit.

She left the cockpit, walked back six rows, and dropped down on the floor, crawling between the middle rows of seats, listening. She was completely still. She lay there for a few minutes before the big Alfar got impatient and began walking forward. She could hear his soft footsteps, barely. She worked her way under the seats and was completely hidden from view to anyone walking down the aisles. He would have to bend down to find her. Perfect.

Gina saw him pass the eighth row where there was a curtain, he was leading with his rifle, sweeping it across his from left to right, looking for a target. When he was next to her aisle, Gina kicked him in the ankle as hard as she could from her prone position. He tripped, dropped his rifle, and want sprawling forward. She scrambled out from beneath the seats and jumped toward him, but by that time, he was back on his feet—without his rifle, but ready.

She threw up her hands in a standard combat ready pose. He looked at her, and laughed. He was a very big man, older, but well muscled under a tight black uniform. He bore a bevy of scars on his sickly blueish face…but he had beautiful ice-blue eyes. Gina was almost mesmerized—until he attacked.

He bridged the gap between them inhumanly fast, and instead of punching, threw his right hand toward her throat, fingers out, and connected. He now had a firm grip and began squeezing her windpipe. He just held her there and smiled hungrily, eyeing her ample female form. That was the first, and last time he would underestimate her. She was choking, but didn't panic. Gina’s hobby was mixed martial arts. She’d been in this kind of situation dozens of times, the difference was, what she normally couldn’t do in a competition or sparring, was perfectly fine here.

She clawed his eyes hard. Hee stumbled back, but maintained his grip. His left hand went up to shield his eyes, and that was all the opening Gina needed. She grabbed the bottom of his right elbow with her left arm, pinching nerves, at the same time throwing her right elbow into his windpipe. She maintained her grip on his right elbow as he crumpled to the floor, then she hit him on the side of the face with her right forearm, several times in rapid succession. He was out for the count.

“Yes, I do fight like a girl. Thank you very much!” she said, and stood up.

G
ina dashed back
to the cockpit, massaging her throat. She figured her first priority would be to call in the hijacking. As far as she knew, this was the first interstellar hijacking of an Earth starship. Why now, she wondered. And who were these two pale blue assholes? They looked a lot like Alfar, but she didn’t think the Alfar would ever do something like this. A rogue faction maybe?

The
Sparrow’s
flight crew were still unconscious, so she keyed buttons on the comm panel and tried to hail New Midgard.

“New Midgard, this is the Earth passenger transport Sparrow. Do you copy? Our ship has been attacked. There was an attempted hijacking. Please send a rescue vehicle to our transponder location. Over.”

She didn’t expect a signal back for a few minutes—they were still on the edge of the Epsilon Eridani system, and a few light minutes from New Midgard.

“Sparrow, this is New Midgard Transit Control. Did you say you were hi-jacked? Please repeat. Over.”

“NMTC this is
Sparrow
. Affirmative. Two males attempted to hi-jack and capture passengers. Please assist immediately, over.” She waited for the response.

As she stood, she heard a noise outside the cockpit. She poked her head out and saw a set of legs disappearing up into the ceiling. Her blood ran cold. She knew what was going to happen next, and she had to act fast!

She looked down the aisle of the Sparrow and saw three passengers and the small Alfar lying there in between the next bulkhead. She heard an engine sound getting louder above her. Gina reached out to the nearest body, which happened to be the small Alfar, and pulled him into the cockpit, just as the hatch was automatically sealed.

The Alfar vessel must have detached, leaving the compartment behind the cockpit open to vacuum. There were auto-sealing bulkheads every eight rows, so the other passengers should be safe, but the three people behind the cockpit bulkhead would be dead instantly.

“Gods damn you!” she yelled, and kicked the Alfar on the ground, shaking her head.

H
al
and his crew were exuberant after confirming the function of the objects, now rightly called
bridge nodes
, and were looking forward to being home after several months off-world, but their jubilation would turn out to be short-lived.

Once the
Halygen
dropped out of hyperspace the crew immediately received a high priority message from Alfheim, ordering Hal to proceed directly to Saeran's quarters in Llangernyw. This made sense to the crew, who were all sure Saeran wanted updates on their discovery.

After the shuttle landed, Hal took a small open-top flying transport, which whisked him quietly to the tree where Saeran was quartered. The landing pad was nestled on the upper most boughs, of what Hal was certain, was one of the tallest trees in the city. What a view, he mused.

Once he disembarked, a servant beckoned him to follow. Hal was led through elegant living chambers, then outside again to another balcony. Saeran turned to greet him. He was smiled…she did not.

Hal could feel a great weight pressing down on Saeran, even though he couldn't see it. “Saeran, is everything ok? I've got great news … ” he let the words hang as she lowered her gaze.

“A human interstellar flight was attacked," she said softly.

Hal felt stunned. “What? By who?”

She met his gaze with a mix of sorrow and consolation. “About a week ago, an unknown vessel attacked the
Sparrow
, which was carrying colonists from Earth to New Midgard. Two creatures boarded and began taking prisoners. One of the passengers was the new Security Director for New Midgard. Thankfully she was able to take action.”

“Who would attack us? Another human faction?” he paused, eyes wide, a feeling of horror spreading over him, “Please tell me they weren't Alfar?”

Saeran shook her head. “No, not Alfar. But close.”

Hal saw a chair near Saeran and dropped himself into it. “Saeran, by all the gods, please tell me what’s going on.”

Saeran leaned against the balcony and looked out over the great forest of Llangernyw. “Five millennia ago, we were one great tribe, flawed, but united. As our numbers grew we looked to the stars for new fields and forests to call home; at first, settling planets peacefully. Our needs soon exceeded the available uninhabited worlds—without sentient life—and we were forced to consider settling those that had.” She turned back to look at Hal. “This was a dark time for our race. Many of us felt to take a world by force and dominate other sentient beings contradicted the essence of being Alfar. There was much bloodshed; brother killed brother, wives became widows, and our elders mourned the loss of their children. We call this time the Schism. Ultimately, the aggressive faction was expelled from Alfheim and settled on an icy world called Niflheim. They now call themselves the Hrymar—children of the frozen sea mist. Even after they’d left … they found no peace," she said in a soft voice, turning again to look at the forest, smiling gently as she focused on the tranquility below her, “soon a new and even more militant faction emerged; worse still, they were religious zealots. They called themselves the Illar. The Hrymar and Illar continued to war amongst themselves, and within a year, the Illar fled Niflheim. We do not know where they went, or if they yet live; nobody has heard from the Illar faction since. Would that we could say the same for the Hrymar. They’ve harbored a burning hatred for us since their expulsion. After a few unsuccessful raids on our home world, the Hrymar were driven back and they have not returned since. We occasionally hear of them through a neutral race we both trade with, the Dvergar.” She turned back to look at Hal, who was sitting quietly, and listening intently.

“So, it was these Hrymar?” he asked

Saeran shrugged. “We believe so. But are not entirely certain. Thankfully, your new Director of Security, Gina Russo, captured one. Your people have him on a transport enroute to New Midgard.”

Hal couldn’t understand. “Why would they attack us? You haven't even seen them in millennia, why now?”

“I wish I had an answer, Hal. Perhaps it is the emergence of your species as a new stellar power, but I’m only speculating.”

Hal said nothing. His mind trying to process what he just heard.

“What is even more curious, is that we lost contact with a small Alfar Mining vessel prior to this attack. We sent a rescue craft and the mining vessel was found adrift, the crew were nowhere to be seen; their vessel was in perfect working order, but their EVA suits were missing, so it may indicate some kind of deception.”

Hal said nothing.

“We believe it highly unlikely these are isolated and separate events,” Saeran continued, as she took a seat beside Hal. “Although an intra-system mining vessel doesn’t have star charts beyond our system, perhaps the Hrymar attacked this vessel and found clues to the location of New Midgard; unlikely, but possible. It’s also possible they simply blundered into the Epsilon Eridani system by accident, and there may be no relationship between these two incidents; but I have little faith in that theory.”

“Well at least this Gina Russo fought them off,” Hal said, “thank the gods.”

“She did, but they made off with a dozen captives, and three people were killed by exposure to vacuum when the enemy ship disembarked,” Saeran replied, her face dropping once again. “We’ve dispatched a warship to a Svartalfheim outpost, where our trading partners dwell. We believe they may have further information, at a price. They are governed by the Sons of Ivaldi Corporation.

“Can they be trusted?” Hal asked.

“Let us simply say, they are led by different moral imperatives. For them, profit, and the acquisition of wealth is all. However, they are brilliant engineers, and a reliable trading partner, as long as the contracts are—I believe you say—
iron clad
.”

The blood in Hal’s face was returning, and the feeling or horror was giving weigh to a new feeling of anger. “My father taught me when a bully attacks, the best response is to give him a bloody nose so he learns not to bother you again.”

Saeran nodded. “Wise advice. Peace has a price, perhaps we need to extract that price from the perpetrators.”

“I like you more and more, Saeran.” Hal attempted a smile.

“Although I chose the Phenadur class and became a leader, I strongly considered taking the warrior’s path. I try to maintain balance, Hal, but at times like these my blood boils, and I yearn for a sword and an enemy upon which to quench my rage.”

Cate Fisel tugged at one of the gigantic mahogany doors that barred the way into Gridrmann’s inner sanctum. She really wished someone would oil the hinges, or do something to make the damn things easier to open.

Gridrmann had melted into his chair and was eyeing a video display intently, like a hawk tracking a mouse from two thousand-feet, waiting … watching.

“Trade now! Yes!” Gridrmann’s face lit up with a perverse delight. His trade had just purchased a company at a ridiculously low price, and now he’d fire the workers and sell the assets. Sadly, the company was entirely salvageable, but Gridrmann did this like a cat might toy with a mouse; it was a sick game.

He glanced up at Cate for the briefest of seconds, as if she was barely worth his notice.

“What?” he asked.

Cate was unfazed. Working for Gridrmann was not about job fulfillment and a pleasant work environment—it was all about the paycheck. And he paid her very well; very, very well in fact. If he didn’t, she would never have stayed. He was an abusive, cruel man, but a deliriously rich one. Take what I can and move on, she thought.

“There’s a report from New Midgard just in through back channels. Apparently there was an attack on a transport taking passengers from Earth to New Midgard.”

Gridrmann stopped breathing and looked up at Cate. She had his full attention now.

“An attack? By who?” he asked.

“From what we can tell, a race called the Hrymar. And it wasn’t just an attack. They took a dozen or so hostages, Alfar and Human. One of the Hrymar was captured in the process.”

His mouth froze agape. Cate had never seen an expression like this on his face. Nothing surprised Gridrmann, but that did.

He closed his mouth and his face contorted back into a filthy smile; a smile that was a recognition of advantage, an opportunity to be exploited.

“Prisonerssss….,” he said, letting the sibilant
S
die slowly. “Alfar prisoners ...”

“Yes, sir, that’s what we understand. I’ve asked for an immediate follow up report.”

“Well done, Ms. Fisel,” he said with genuine praise, “we need to secure those prisoners. I want those Alfar, Ms. Fisel. Having live specimens may be our only hope of developing this anti-aging medication. Just think of the lives we can save with it,” he lied. There was only one life, and one person he gave a damn about saving. “You’re authorized to obtain those prisoners at any cost. Do you understand me? I mean—
any
—cost.”

Cate nodded. She knew how important this was. If he didn’t solve this problem soon, he never would. Dying was Gridrmann’s last hurdle, and he intended not to jump it, but to skip it all together if possible.

“I believe I know just what to do, sir.”

A
fter briefing
Saeran on how the interstellar bridges worked, Hal was taken to a facility with a stellarcom so he could report in to New Midgard. When Hal reached the stellarcom, he saw Governor Zelinski’s image on the screen.

“Hal, good to see you in one piece,”
Zelinski said.

“Thanks, Governor.” Hal nodded. “I wish we were speaking under less trying circumstances. Let me brief you on our discovery, then perhaps we can talk about the hi-jacking.”

After briefing the governor on their progress, Zelinski spoke, “Damn, this is great to hear, but given we may now have some hostile species on our doorstep, this could be a disaster. If they learn of these bridges, that could be another major reason for conflict.”

“Agreed. I’m very concerned about that,” Hal said.

“We need to put the knowledge of these bridges in an airtight security vault, Hal. As of now, this is the most important secret mankind has. Once we’re done, I’ll set up a conference with President Rukundo and Ambassador Saeran so we can jointly lock this down and discuss options and next steps.”

“Ok. Can you tell me anything more about these Hrymar, and the prisoner?” Hal asked.

“I can, but let me introduce you to our new Director of Security, Gina Russo. She is handling everything, and was actually there and caught the bastard.”
The Governor motioned to someone out of view of the monitor. A beautiful, well figured brunette appeared. Hal was almost taken back. He expected some tough looking ex-soldier; she did look solid though, but in a very pleasing way.

“Gina Russo, Mr. Olsen. Pleasure to talk with you,”
she said.

“Just Hal, Ms. Russo, my father was Mr. Olsen.”

“Call me Gina, please.”

Hal nodded, “So Gina, what the hell happened to you?”

Gina related the full story of the attempted hi-jacking, and her daring rescue.

“So it looked to me, like they were only interested in taking prisoners. Their entire assault seemed aimed at rendering everyone unconscious, then loading the people into their ship. I only wish I could have saved them all.”
Gina looked disappointed.

Hal shook his head, “Gina, thank the gods you were there! If you hadn’t been on that ship, everyone would now be in their hands. I can’t imagine anyone doing more.”

“Thanks … I just keep wondering what the hell they’re doing with our people, Gina said.”

“We need to find out,”
Zelinski said,
“I would like to live in peace with these aliens, but if they want to capture our people, then to hell with that!”
He slammed his fist down on his desk.
“I’m sorry, I don’t have much experience dealing with such things. Crooked politicians and slippery lawyers are my usual opponents, and I understand how to work around them, but this?”
Zelinksi shook his head.

“Boss, I’d like to request the prisoner be sent back here to Alfheim. I think the Alfar may be able to help me understand this prisoner. They
are
distantly related after all,” Hal said.

“Sure. I was planning to do it eventually. Ms. Russo will accompany the prisoner. She was coming to Norvik to build a local security force, but I think that’s going to have to wait.”
Zelinski turned to Gina.
“Ms. Russo, effective immediately, I'm assigning you to assist Haldor Olsen on an indefinite basis.”
He turned back to look at Hal.
“Also effective immediately, Hal, you will be tasked to build a team and assess this new threat. I’ve been authorized by President Rukundo to reactivate your commission as an 0-5 in the SID Stellar Fleet—that’s the same rank when you left.”

“Yes, sir, it is. I would be honored.”

“Of course, you may be addressed as Captain on your ship.”
He turned to Gina,
“Ms. Russo, I would like you to command a squad of Marines for Hal and help with security issues, so I’m going to reactivate your commission at the rank of O-4, which was your final rank in the Marine MPs when you mustered back into civilian life.”

“Yes, sir.”
Gina whipped her body to attention, and gave a crisp salute to both men.

“At ease, Ms. Russo, I’m not in the military,”
Zelinski said with a smile.
“I’ll try to find a decent ship for you, Captain,”
Zelinski said, emphasizing Haldor’s new shipboard title.
“Please let me know what resources you need aside from ship's standard crew—I’m sure whatever ship we find will come with the requisite crew required to operate it. Whatever we don’t have here on New Midgard, we can requisition from Fleet.”

“Good to know,” Hal said.

“The plan is to have the prisoner on Alfheim in about four weeks, I suggest you two start building your team. If you need people or special equipment from Earth or New Midgard, let me know by tomorrow morning so I can have them on the same transport to Alfheim as the prisoner.”