Ragnarok: Colonization, intrigue and betrayal.

by Andrew Claymore

  She’d kill everyone on the damned ship.

  She could hear a faint whisper of atmosphere beyond the outer window of her pod. She craned her neck to get a look at where they were but, short of releasing her restraints, there wasn’t much chance.

  She could see a stretch of coastline but it was hiding in clouds. Is this Earth or Ragnarok? She looked up at the gauge-line which was starting to trend from red to green.

  When the line was mostly green, it would be safe for her to hit the button and leave the Deathstalker to its fate.

  The ship rolled again, slamming her back against the thinly cushioned restraint seat. She reached up to rub the back of her head but another sudden change in pitch slammed her arm against the wall.

  “OK!” she shouted at the Universe. “I get it. I’ll keep my arms folded until the vehicle comes to a complete stop at the terminal!” She giggled, in spite of the stress or, perhaps, because of it.

  The gauge-line began to change very quickly as the noise outside grew. The red line that bisected it was already in the safe-zone because the ship wasn’t dropping rapidly enough to develop a layer of ionized, high-temperature air.

  It might have been just the opposite, with her tinkering putting a steady downward pressure on the ship. Some clever bastard on the bridge had worked out that rotating the ship would give them a temporary reprieve with each evolution.

  It was playing havoc with her empty stomach but at least it meant she could leave now. She waited for another roll to complete and then darted her hand up. And the monkey hits the button, she thought, vaguely remembering the line from somewhere.

  Vikram stepped out of the elevator, finding himself in a small air-car hangar. There were three vehicles hovering in their charging stations.

  He climbed into one and backed out of the shelter. He didn’t stop to question his actions. He simply knew he was doing the right thing… whatever the hell that was…

  He steered for the family farm up in the highlands. He might not have put a lot of thought into his current objective but the huge chunk of spaceship falling to the ground was worthy of a moment’s consideration.

  He kept flying but his mouth hung open in shock as the smoking mass fell with an odd slowness toward his current destination. Does it still have some drives working?

  It rumbled out of sight behind the high hills. A sound like thunder echoed for a minute at least and then died out, leaving only a haze of smoke from the trail of forest fires and burning wreckage.

  He flew on, bringing the car to a stop at the forest’s edge where they’d cleared a landing pad for their own runabout. He hopped out and started into the forest, knowing he was heading for the same place where he’d been found unconscious previously.

  He frowned. Am I in control of myself this time or just a spectator in my own body? He stopped walking, pleased to see that he had some measure of control.

  But he was still oddly determined to find Kusha. He started moving again.

  A new noise brought him to another halt so he could hear it more clearly. He stood there, head cocked to the side…

  It sounded like something big hammering the atmosphere aside because it was in a hurry.

  Vikram turned and his mouth fell open again. His suit, reading his biometrics, deployed his gauntlets and helmet.

  The monkey frowned. She’d hit the button. Nothing happened.

  “Pod unoccupied?” she yelled at the interface. It was showing nobody on its manifest. No Quailu, anyway.

  “You racist piece of shit!” she yelled, wanting to release her restraints just so she could kick the control pad but a sudden roll reminded her why that was a bad notion. A loud rumbling made her look forward.

  Is this the start of our crash? The ship was pretty damned big, after all. It would take a few seconds to…

  She flinched as something started slapping at the outer window. It was a blur of green. “Holy shit!” she blurted. “Just my luck to be on the bottom when we impacted!”

  The hull would have grown skids for the crash, her brain reminded her. There’s still a chance.

  The noise outside turned into a steady hiss of foliage as the ship settled into the earth and began to slow. Loud cracks seemed to indicate the breaking of tree trunks but they could also have been large chunks of hull being torn loose.

  Gabriella’s own digestive system was feeling a little loose as well. There was a lot going on, it all involved her and she had no idea how things were about to end up.

  There was nothing she could do but hang on and hope she didn’t get scraped into a paste. When the ship stopped moving, she could decide what to do next.

  If I’m still alive.

  She smiled grimly, slightly pleased with herself for being able to think while facing possible death. Her smile twisted itself into a frown.

  We stopped moving? When did we stop moving?

  Vikram was breathing so hard his visor was fogging, something he’d never seen happen before. Something else he’d never seen happen before, but had seen twice so far today, had this time happened close enough to pelt him with debris.

  The cruiser, the biggest single thing he’d ever laid eyes on, had bellied into the jungle to the west of his hill. It had looked to be under partial control aside from the whole crashing thing.

  Huge skids had deployed on the underside just before impact and the gigantic monster had slid along at what had seemed a leisurely, tree-snapping pace up the valley between two other hills.

  It had seemed to be aimed straight at him and that pace had started seeming much less leisurely as the ship loomed larger and closer. The casual violence exhibited as it carved a path through twenty-meter-wide tree trunks was a thing of interest.

  That interest grew into mind-numbing terror as the ship slid inexorably toward him. The bows were torn open, long tendrils of confused nanites flailing around like some monster squid of ancient Earth legends.

  It looked like it was coming straight for him. It was more than just looks.

  Run, Vikram! the voice in his mind urged.

  He was already moving. When did I start running? He ran perpendicular to the ship’s approach vector. The approaching hulk’s apparent slowness was deceptive.

  He had the sense to realize a ship that size was probably moving much faster than it seemed. His only chance was to get out of its path, rather than to outrun it.

  The hailstorm of destruction grew closer as he raced as fast as his power-assisted legs could carry him. He risked a look to his left and saw he was out of time.

  He gathered all his strength for one final, desperate leap. He sprang forward, at least five meters off the ground, and was slammed forward by a section of tree trunk thrown out by the ship.

  His armor saved him, absorbing almost all of the shock, but it did nothing for his stomach as he cartwheeled wildly into the scrub. The landing blew the air out of him as the suit flexed to soften the impact.

  His ribs were bruised but not broken. He sat up in a daze. The suit… and that large chunk of tree trunk had saved him. There was no way he could have run far enough in time.

  And there was no way the suit could have saved him from the crushing weight of an entire cruiser.

  The hull loomed above him, crackling with the static discharge of its passage through the atmosphere. A hangar bay was perhaps five meters above where he sat.

  Should I go in there to help? He shook his head, realizing how stupid that question was.

  There were no Human cruisers assigned to their protective fleet. Just the old Kuphar and two corvettes. These had to be bad guys.

  He looked down at the ground, seeing the toppled remains of that dead feather tiger. There was no way he was going to risk walking through all those spores, anyway.

  As groggy as he was… Just no. His boots were probably safe enough but the joints of the EVA suits were more vulnerable to puncture or cutting. One stumble and I’d have a gut-full of bugs. Not risking that for our enemies.

  “Yea
h,” Gabriella decided. “she’s done.”

  A ship this size didn’t stop quite as abruptly as an automobile hitting a tree, even while hitting thousands of trees. This much mass tended to bleed off momentum more gradually.

  She gave it a moment, just to be sure they weren’t about to slide over a cliff or something, then she hit the restraint release. She tried the outer hatch but, unsurprisingly, it didn’t feel like opening.

  The wood fragments visible through the window were so compressed by the weight of the ship that the sap was oozing out to fill the few air-pockets that still existed.

  She opened the pod’s inner hatch and climbed back out into the security office.

  “Thanks for nothing, you specist asshole,” she told the pod’s orifice.

  The pod, not based on nanites, was much stronger than the hull. The Universe reminded her of that when a section behind her ruptured, spewing splinters and pulp everywhere.

  She yelped as a sliver jabbed her in the backside but she’d been incredibly lucky. She grimaced as she pulled the half-inch splinter out.

  Never mind about the pain, she told herself. Stay here any longer and the next hull rupture might put a two-foot sliver through your head!

  She headed for the main exit, still carrying her weapon, though whether that was from luck or some sub-routine in her escape and evasion training, she couldn’t say.

  The doors only opened part-way, then started to turn into wavy nanite ribbons that looked sharp enough to slice her in half. That’s why Humans put pattern-repeaters throughout their ships, her mind told her.

  She edged out between the waving phalanxes of tendrils and started heading up the central ramp. There was too much pressure against the lower hull so she’d need to exit from a higher deck. The port hangar bay seemed a good option.

  It should be high enough to be above the wreckage and there would be no physical door made of nanites. With the patterns no longer reaching all of the ship, some parts would become… confused.

  A door might know how to be a door but ask it to become an open door and it might find out it has temporary amnesia. The one in security had and things had gotten a little slicey.

  She wasn’t alone anymore. She was surrounded by panicky Quailu and most of them were foolishly trying to get down to the lower decks, not realizing how deeply the Deathstalker had plowed her grave. If any of them had known she was an enemy, they were beyond caring at the moment.

  Gabriella reached the hangar level where some of the crew, at least, were showing a bit more sense. She spotted Memnon’s richly decorated EVA suit and Ereshkigal was just in front of him, blasting at anyone who got in their way as they headed for the same hangar.

  Gabriella let out a wordless scream of rage and gave chase. Her quarry hadn’t heard her in the bedlam or, if they had, simply thought it unremarkable in a crashed ship filled with terrified crew-members.

  She would have rushed them mindlessly, if it had been possible, but the crush of Quailu saved her. She would have certainly drawn attention if she’d attacked Memnon while he was surrounded by his own retainers.

  As she struggled against the tide, her thoughts cooled. Her attempt to rush them ebbed and became a cool, methodical stalking of her prey.

  She followed them into the hangar, which was empty, the crew from here already struggling to trap themselves in the crush of the lower decks.

  The worst time for me to be here, Vikram thought as he watched a Quailu stumble out of the hangar opening and land badly, is probably right now…

  The armored alien had twisted an ankle as he fell and tumbled over on his back. He tried to push himself up to a seated position but his muscles froze up.

  Vikram watched in horrified fascination as the handful of spores stuck in the more flexible joint panels between the Quailu’s arms and shoulders began pulsing.

  Were they already injecting larvae or was this still the poison? He took a heartbeat or two to realize that another Quailu had jumped out, this time landing much better. It looked at the partially sitting Quailu and recoiled a few steps at what it felt there.

  The newcomer saw him and drew a pistol. “Witch!” it snarled in Imperial Standard, bringing up the weapon to aim at his head.

  A scream from above drew both of their gazes, luckily for Vikram, who’d been staring down the muzzle of a linear pistol. The gun wavered as the Quailu half turned to face the new threat.

  A young Human woman, oddly dressed in the sort of shorts and t-shirt one might wear to bed but certainly not in public, came sailing out of the hangar bay opening, a spear elongating as she descended.

  The blade sliced off the hand of the armed Quailu with such ease it might have been cutting through a holo. The Human recovered instantly as she landed, the spear brought back, ready for a thrust, her body balanced.

  “You can create duplicates?” the Quailu gasped, holding her wrist. “The sooner your kind are wiped from existence the…”

  Ragnarok’s beauty was balanced by harshness. The first Quailu to fall out of the crashed ship had fallen prey to glow whale spores. The second had developed a serious infection of spear-in-mouth disease.

  The young woman slid the weapon sideways, her victim’s eyes bulging as the blade slipped through tendon, bone and flesh as if none of it were even there. The head tilted over, not quite fully severed from the body.

  The Quailu fell, twitching among more of the glowing blue spores. The circle of Ragnarokian life…

  The young woman stared angrily down at her victim, breathing heavily. She looks like a goddess, Vikram thought, wits thoroughly scattered.

  But he gathered them just in time. “Don’t move!” he urged, holding up his palms in emphasis. “You’re surrounded by deadly spores. Let me come over there and get you.”

  She looked at him, nose wrinkling and head tilting in surprise. “English?” she said. “Then you’re not one of Kolm’s people?” She looked around at the jungle. “Is this Earth?”

  “Earth?” He stopped walking for a second, then resumed his careful advance, not wanting to test the soles of his boots if he could avoid it. “No, this is Ragnarok.”

  She frowned slightly, looking at his face. “I remember you. You were part of the wedding in orbit!”

  She’s Lady Gabriella, he realized. How is she standing here in the middle of a Quailu crash? He felt a warm glow. She remembered me?

  “OK,” he said, stepping up next to her. “I’m going to…” He gulped. “I’m going to have to carry you out to a safer spot. If one of those spores jabs you, you’ll end up food for the larvae like our friend over there.”

  “Bet you say that to all the girls,” she said wryly.

  “I might,” he quipped, surprising himself with his flippancy, “but there aren’t that many girls around here.”

  He placed his feet in a wide stance and leaned over, putting an arm around her back and the other behind her knees. He lifted her with ease, thanks to his armor.

  He still resented the armor a bit, though, because he couldn’t feel the arm she’d put around the back of his neck. He sniffed and immediately regretted it.

  “Yeah,” she reddened. “Spent the last few days hiding in crawl-spaces, so I’m not a treat for the nose…”

  A thump beside them brought the conversation to a halt. They turned to find yet another Quailu rising up from a decent landing. “Ooh!” she cooed at the Humans. “Love on the field of battle!

  “Don’t let me interrupt,” she said over her shoulder as she stepped toward the Quailu who still had a fully attached head.

  “Mmm!” She smiled down. “Don’t know what’s happening to you, Memnon, but your terror is exquisite!”

  “What is happening to him?” Gabriella asked Vikram, her voice oddly flat.

  “Those blue spores on his back are injecting him with some kind of toxin,” he told her. “Then they inject their larvae. They’ll eat away at his body as they grow.”

  “That’s interesting!” the Quailu exclaimed,
glancing at the Humans. She looked back down at Memnon. “Don’t you think that’s interesting, dearest?

  “When our child asks about you, I’d like to have a good story.” She rested a hand on her still-flat armored belly. “That’s right, Memnon, son of Sandrak. I have your heir inside of me, so I really must be going now.” She looked up at the wrecked cruiser looming above them.

  “So much to do. Genetic testing, registering a claim of inheritance, finding a nanny…” She looked down.

  “Save you?” She smiled again. “Is that what you’re yearning for so desperately? Honestly, it’s all such a jumble in there.” She tapped a finger against his forehead.

  She sighed. “You know the old saying, my dear. When you’ve planted the garden, you toss the seed-packet.”

  She activated a holo and entered a command. “You two might want to step back a little,” she warned in a careless tone, pressing her arms to her sides.

  Vikram followed the reverse of the path he’d taken to get into the middle of the spore-field. He turned as a distant mechanical sound boomed their way.

  An escape pod emerged from the upper hull a half kilometer away and blurred toward them. It arced up above the jungle canopy and came slamming down over the Quailu female.

  It lifted off again, presumably with her inside, and flew back along the hull, pulling off a stream of nanites as it headed aft. It stopped amidships and hovered, growing into what looked like a shuttle.

  A large lump was handed out from the cruiser by the nanites. It slid inside the growing hull and dissappeared.

  “I’ll be damned,” Gabriella said, still in Vikram’s arms. “She’s building a shuttle out of that pod. Just put a pitch drive inside.”

  She looked at Vikram, then suddenly seemed to realize where she was. “Is it safe here?”

  “Huh?”

  “For me to get down,” she explained.