“It was all for nothing. We don’t have a secret weapon to defend the fort against lasers. We lost, Reyes. I’ve got a few bullets left, but that’s it. Maybe if we’d made more gunpowder instead of twenty kilograms of…”
As he trailed off, Reyes’s eyes lit up.
Gabe smiled, realizing what Reyes was thinking. “Worth a try,” he said. He turned and ran toward a barrel that stood under the eaves of the building they used as a workshop for making bullets. “Heimir! Eirik! Help me with this barrel!”
The two men, who were among those waiting for Harald’s men to come through the gap, put down their spears and ran toward him. They tipped the barrel on its side and rolled it toward the fence just south of the beam. Reyes had already climbed onto the scaffold against the fence. Gabe climbed up after her. “Quickly!” Gabe shouted, as Heimir and Eirik hefted the barrel up to them. The beam was less than an arm’s length from the bottom of the scaffold they were standing on. The Moon had come out from behind the clouds, and beyond the fence hundreds of men stood just beyond the dirt rampart, shields and spears up, ready to charge.
The barrel rolled onto the scaffold. Reyes and Gabe bent down to lift it. “Come on, Reyes!” Gabe said. “You must have built some muscles banging on that anvil for six months.”
“Shut up, Gabe,” Reyes grunted, as she lifted her end of the barrel to her chest.
“Agnar!” Gabe shouted. “Tell your gunmen to shut their eyes!”
Agnar, turning to see what they were doing, gaped for a moment and then gave the order. The men on the scaffold closed their eyes and turned away.
“On the count of three,” Gabe said. “Up and over.”
“Ready.”
“One… two… three!”
As they heaved the barrel over the fence, the scaffold gave way. Reyes stumbled into Gabe and they fell together to the ground. A whoosh of air followed as the barrel split and the magnesium caught fire. Lying on his back, the wind knocked out of his lungs, Gabe looked up to see rays of brilliant white light pouring through every crack in the fence. Above, the dispersed smoke from the guns glowed like a fog illuminated by a spotlight. Beyond the fence, men grunted and screamed. Anyone who had been looking in the direction of the laser when the barrel of magnesium hit it would be blind for a good minute, probably more.
Reyes lay next to him, face-down and apparently unconscious. She must have hit her head on the way down. Gabe heard wood splintering and realized the fence was about to fall. He got to his feet, dragging Reyes with him. He had just enough time to push her out of the way before the fence came down on top of him, slamming to the ground. He was trapped, his legs caught beneath the timbers.
Pushing his upper body off the ground, he turned to see the gaping hole in the fence. The magnesium had burned out, but the fire had spread to the fence, and the men outside stood blinking and stumbling into each other in the flickering orange light. Following the sound of the crash, they pressed forward, stepping onto the fallen timbers, jabbing their spears at the air. Oblivious to Gabe, several defenders ran onto the fence to push them back, and Gabe groaned under the added weight. Gunshots rang out as the riflemen began to fire. Ahead of him, Reyes lay in the dirt, still not moving.
Heimir and Eirik, the two men who had helped lift the barrel, ran to Gabe and managed to lift the timbers enough for him to pull himself loose. Once he was free, they grabbed their spears and joined the fray. Gabe tried to get to his feet, but winced and fell to his knees as weight hit his right ankle. He’d twisted it when the fence landed on him. He crawled to Reyes, shaking her by the shoulder. She didn’t stir.
To his left, Heimir, Eirik and the others did their best to stem the tide, but they were being pushed back by the sheer number of attackers. Somehow Gabe had to get Reyes out of here, even if he had to drag her through the tunnel on his knees. Gabe put his arms around Reyes and began to pull her away from the fight, but a looming shadow told him someone was approaching. He turned in time to see a man stumbling across the fence section toward them, swinging his axe wildly. Gabe had just enough time to put himself between Reyes and the axeman, hoping to protect her from a direct hit.
But as he crouched over her, he heard a grunt and suddenly the shadow was gone. Gabe looked up again to see a man standing over them with a sword. Sigurd. Behind him, the other defenders continued to hack at the half-blind attackers pushing their way into the fort. Sigurd slid the sword into its sheath.
“Move!” he growled.
When Gabe hesitated, he said it again. “Gabe, move!” Gabe rolled aside.
As Sigurd picked up Reyes, Gabe grabbed a fallen spear from the ground and pulled himself to his feet, using the spear to support his weight. Sigurd carried Reyes toward the shed, and Gabe did his best to follow. Everyone except the riflemen and the other dozen or so men who had stayed to fight had already fled.
Sigurd disappeared into the tunnel with Reyes, and Gabe turned on his cuff light and followed. The tunnel had taken a team of men six weeks to dig, using pattern-welded steel shovels and heat-tempered picks. The walls were raw dirt, reinforced every couple meters by spruce supports. Around a bend, Gabe could just see the flicker of the torches of the men ahead of them. He half-hopped down the tunnel as fast as he could after Sigurd. A hundred meters later, he came out inside one of the casemates overlooking the river. By the time Gabe exited the tunnel, Reyes was on her feet. Sigurd stood next to her with his hand on her shoulder.
“Hey, you okay?” Gabe asked.
“Think so,” Reyes said, holding her hand to the back of her skull. “Just hit my head.”
Gabe looked out the casemate door. The men ahead of them were hacking their way through the brush to get to the trail. Down below, a score or more men with torches stood on the bank: the invaders had left a contingent behind to guard their ships. As they spotted the people emerging onto the trail, they began moving toward the trailhead.
“Good,” Gabe said. “Sigurd, stay with her.”
“Gabe, where the hell…?” Reyes said.
But Gabe was already limping down the trail. If they didn’t dispatch this group quickly, they were going to be caught fighting on two fronts. Once the attackers got past the riflemen, it wouldn’t take them long to find the tunnel.
By the time Gabe caught up with the women at the back of the group, the melee had already begun. Birgir, Braggi and several others were trying to push their toward the riverbank, but most of the defenders remained trapped in the bottleneck of the trailhead. Only about ten of the defenders were currently engaged in the fight, and two men had already fallen.
Gabe pushed his way forward to the melee and then left the trail to get a clear shot. He dropped the spear, leaned against a tree to support his weight and drew his pistol. He had less than a full magazine left, but he was going to make it count. He fired at one attacker, hitting him in the forehead, then aimed again, knocking another to the ground with two shots in the chest. As Birgir sank his spear into the belly of one of the attackers, a second man approached him with an axe over his head. Gabe shot the man in the throat and again in the chest. Another man came at Braggi with a spear. Gabe aimed at the spearman’s chest but realized the slide had locked back. He patted desperately at his flight suit, looking for another magazine, but he was out. Braggi tried to duck under the spear, but it sliced across his neck. Braggi yelped, stumbled backwards and fell to the ground. The blood spurting from his wound told Gabe that his jugular had been severed. As the attackers continued to crowd the defenders against the woods, Gabe holstered his gun and reached for his knife.
“Gabe!” cried a voice behind him. It was Reyes. Gabe turned. A flash of metal came at him through the darkness and Gabe got his hand up just in time to catch it. Feeling the soothing cold of machined metal, Gabe shifted the pistol in his hand and spun to face the enemy. The spearman who had hit Braggi came at him. Gabe fired three times at the spearman’s midsection. The man took another step, dropped his spear, and fell face-down on the ground. Three mo
re spearmen behind him advanced. Gabe put two bullets in each of them. As he aimed at a fourth man, the slide locked on the gun. Empty. Birgir stepped forward and plunged his spear into the man’s throat. He fell to the ground. The battle was over.
“Move!” Birgir said, stepping aside to make way for the group to emerge from the trail. Gabe estimated about thirty heads, but a few stragglers were still coming up from behind.
“Gabe!” Reyes cried again. “Help!”
Reyes grabbed his spear and limped past the men and women emerging from the trail. Reyes was kneeling over one of the fallen: the girl called Inga. A stray spear had gone through her throat. Gabe crouched next to Reyes, shining his light on her, but it was clear there was nothing they could do. Inga, staring at them in horror, took a last wheezing breath and fell still.
“God damn this place,” Reyes muttered.
“There’s nothing we can do,” Gabe said. “We have to go.”
Sigurd began herding the others toward one of the smaller ships. But Reyes didn’t move.
O’Brien came up from behind. “He’s right, Reyes. She’s gone. Harald’s men will be here any second.”
“No,” Reyes said. “Wait.”
“Reyes!” Gabe snapped. “Get it together!”
“Gabe, for the love of Odin, shut up for once,” Reyes yelled. She stood up, removed her cloak and began unzipping her flight suit.
“Um,” O’Brien said. “Reyes, what—?”
“Take off your clothes,” Reyes said.
“Why the hell…”
“Do it, O’Brien,” Gabe said, pulling off his cloak. “Those assholes are looking for spacemen. We’ll give them spacemen.”
Reyes switched clothes with Inga, and O’Brien located a man who’d died from an axe wound to the head. If Harald’s men didn’t look too closely, they might be fooled into thinking the spacemen had been killed. As Gabe searched for a man who’d been killed by a headwound, he saw that Braggi was still breathing. He knelt beside the man. Braggi struggled to speak, but choked on the blood in his throat. Gabe crouched behind him, holding up his head. Braggi reached out clumsily, holding something in his hand. Gabe found Braggi’s hand with his own and Braggi pressed something into it. It was the lighter.
“Th-thank… you…” Braggi sputtered.
“Thank you, Fireman,” Gabe said.
Braggi went limp in his arms.
*****
By the time Gabe had switched clothes with Braggi, they could see men coming down the path with torches. Harald’s men hadn’t bothered with the tunnel; they knew where it had to come out. There were shouts as the men spotted the three figures near the trailhead.
Reyes and O’Brien helped Gabe down the bank to the ship. It was a snekkja, similar to Ísbátr. There were just enough survivors to man the oars. The women and wounded men were already onboard, while Sigurd and a score of other men waited, standing knee-deep in river water. They had pushed the boat partway into the water already; they were just waiting for the spacemen to get aboard. The men helped Gabe aboard, and O’Brien and Reyes climbed in after him. The men on the bank gave the boat a heave. As it slid into the water, they climbed aboard.
“Ára!” cried Birgir, and the oars were pulled down and set in place. The crew, including the women, began to row the boat downriver. Arrows flew toward them from the shore, cracking against the hull or splashing in the water. Clouds had come over the Moon again, making it difficult for the archers to get a bead on them. The men on the shore didn’t seem to be boarding their ships. Reyes breathed a sigh of relief: they were going to make it.
As they slid down the river, Reyes glimpsed a lanky, cloaked figure leaning over Inga’s body, holding a torch. After studying the corpse for a moment, the figure straightened and looked down the river. A breeze picked up, momentarily blowing the figure’s hood back. Reyes stood, letting out a gasp. The figure quickly secured the hood, but Reyes knew what she had seen.
The Cho-ta’an had survived.
Chapter Forty-one
Of the seventy-five souls that had begun the day at the fort, thirty-eight had made it to the snekkja. Among those presumed dead were all twenty riflemen, including Agnar and Brynjarr. Njáll, who had fired at the attackers until he ran out of arrows, was the last man through the tunnel.
Andrea Luhman came back online as they left the mouth of the Rouen. Carpenter reported that several ships had gone after them, but were a good twenty minutes behind. Apparently the attackers had been so confident of success that they’d been unprepared to give chase. As the sky began to lighten in the east, a strong wind came up from the southwest.
“A good omen,” Sigurd said, as Birgir directed the men to hoist the sails. Reyes marveled at Sigurd’s spirit. He’d just lost his home and many good friends, and he was already looking to the future. Had he accepted the idea that he would never kill Harald? Or was he still dreaming of vengeance? Reyes put the question aside. Today it was enough that they were still alive.
“Where are we headed?” O’Brien asked. “We’re running out of places in Europe where we haven’t burned any bridges.”
“England?” Gabe suggested. “Maybe the Shetlands?”
Sigurd shook his head. “Iceland.”
“Well,” O’Brien said. “That sounds… cold.”
“I have family there,” Sigurd said. “Many people have fled to Iceland to get away from Harald. They will welcome us there.”
Reyes was skeptical about that, but they didn’t have much choice but to trust Sigurd. “Did you get that, Carpenter?” she said. “Apparently we’re going to Iceland.”
“What the hell are you going to do in Iceland?”
“Same thing we did in Normandy, I suppose.”
“Well, I’ll have to talk the captain, but I expect we’ll be able to see you through your voyage at least. After that, you’re probably on your own.”
“Captain’s still thinking about trying to get back to IDL space?”
“That’s the plan, unless you have a better idea.”
Reyes squinted into the sun rising over the open sea. “Actually,” she said, “I do.”
“Raising that Cho-ta’an ship isn’t going to happen, Reyes. It was probably a pipe dream even when I thought I could find the damn thing.”
“That’s… not what I was talking about.” As Reyes turned over the idea in her head, she realized it had been lurking in the back of her head for some time—probably since the lander exploded. She’d needed something to hold onto, something to let her believe this wasn’t all for nothing. The flight to Earth, defending the lander, the deaths of Slater and so many others… it couldn’t all be for nothing. Even when they’d resorted to raiding poor villages for iron and copper, she’d needed to believe that it was for a reason. It wasn’t enough that they had superior knowledge and firepower. There had to be a reason for them to win, to survive. A goal that was bigger than any of them.
“Okay, Reyes,” Carpenter said. “So what’s your idea?”
Reyes hesitated. Up to now the others had followed her and Gabe out of necessity, focused on nothing more than survival. But that wasn’t going to cut it anymore. They’d reached a decision point, where they either had to embrace an impossible goal or admit they were just another band of bronze-age warriors scrabbling for a few more years on Earth. Reyes couldn’t speak for the others, but she hadn’t joined the IDL so she could lead a mundane existence, either in 2207 AD or in medieval Europe.
“What if we built our own ship?” she asked.
For a moment, the question hung in the air. Gabe and O’Brien turned to stare at her. Carpenter broke into laughter. When she didn’t reply, he stopped.
“Holy shit, you’re serious.”
“Hear me out,” Reyes said. “We’ve built firearms, bombs, a forge, a compass, a signaling system…”
“Okay,” Carpenter said. “But—”
“Not finished,” Reyes snapped. “We did all that in less than a year. We basically pulled a tribe o
f Vikings kicking and screaming into the eighteenth century, and we did most of it without your help, just the four of us. Andrea Luhman’s got terabytes of data on it. Historical, technological, geographical… You’ve probably got the specs for the Saturn V rockets in there somewhere. Tell me one good reason we couldn’t build our own spaceship.”
“Well, theoretically…” Carpenter said. “But it would take years. Decades.”
“You got something better to do, Carpenter? As it is, you’re going to show up two hundred years late for the war. Even if it takes us thirty years to build a ship, we’ll have plenty of time to repair Andrea Luhman’s thrusters and get to an IDL outpost before the war is over. Why not stick around and give it a try?”
No one spoke for some time. Finally Mallick’s voice came over the comm: “Reyes, do you understand what you’re saying? Building a craft capable of reaching orbit is no small feat, even for an advanced civilization. You’re talking probably twenty years or more just for training and infrastructure development. You’ll need mines, refineries, factories….”
“I’m aware of that, captain. It’s an engineering problem.”
Mallick laughed. “It’s a bit more than that,” he said. “You’re going to need hundreds, maybe thousands of people. It takes the equivalent of a small city to build a spaceship.”
“Then we’ll build a city,” Reyes said. “Start small, with the Norsemen in Iceland. Bring in people as we need them. Miners, mathematicians, whatever it takes.”
“If you’re going to go to those lengths, why not forget about repairing Andrea Luhman? Go all out and rewrite history from scratch?”
“Paradoxes don’t exist,” Reyes said. “Everything we’ve done so far could easily be lost in the noise of history. If we start actively trying to rewrite history, we’ll fail. So we do it in secret. Find a remote location, someplace nobody will ever find. Cover our tracks. Do it in a way that doesn’t contradict anything that’s known to be known. After all, nobody knows a group of spacemen didn’t help a tribe of Vikings build a spaceship.”
The Dream of the Iron Dragon: An Alternate History Viking Epic (Saga of the Iron Dragon Book 1) Page 40
