by Scott Moon
Cindy moved to the edge of the tunnel opening and saw Paul squatted uncomfortably low, twiddling his thumbs and looking miserable. She displayed a hand signal and he replied he was pinned down. Cursing, she pointed toward better cover.
Paul responded with several hand signs that were not part of the standard military lexicon and finally peeked out.
A bullet ricocheted near his head.
“See!” he yelled.
Cindy cursed and retreated to her unhelpful benefactors. “What do you want?”
“Simple,” the captain said. “I need proof of Seccon’s guilt or innocence.”
“Not high on my list of priorities,” she said.
“When the time comes, we will help you drop to the surface,” he said.
“That would make us Absent Without Leave, which can be tried as a capital offense in a theatre of war,” she said, wishing she were hiding behind the loading truck with Paul.
“Is Grendel a theatre of war?” the captain asked, looking at the ceiling for a moment. “Hmm. How should we interpret the law during times of galactic revolution and upheaval? I see your point, sergeant. The risk is great. It is a good thing there are plenty of other people on the planet to help your lieutenant.”
Cindy was tired. She didn’t trust this man or anyone not a FALD Reaver. Kate was dead. Aefel was lost.
She balled both fists but resisted the urge to punch the captain.
“We will also descend to the surface by dropship. You are the experts in planetary assaults and fighting on the surface. We are bodyguards. We need you and you need us.”
“Well, we’re not going AWOL unless there is no other option,” Cindy said.
The captain smiled. “We will create one distraction to help you out of your current tactical problem, then you are on your own. Consider all that I have said.” Moments later, the Strongarms left out the back way.
Cindy moved to the entrance and yelled to Paul, “They’re going to create a distraction. Be ready to get the hell out of here.”
7
AEFEL & JORGO
GRENDEL 0473829: VALLEY OF LIGHTS
MISSION CLOCK: N/A
AEFEL gathered ammunition when he could, despite the countermeasures the New Galactic Order soldiers used to protect lost gear. Each projectile was slightly different than his own, nearly impossible to use except that he had faced this problem on other worlds and always figured something out.
The Valley of Lights held dead soldiers of all shapes and sizes, new humans of the Commonwealth, and Grendel natives as well. Swords, cloaks, and food were at least as valuable for a lone survivalist.
He sat on a rock overlooking a lake, aware he was visible but certain there were no threats at the moment. Lights from the castle built from modern materials illuminated one end of the valley as though magic had found a home on Grendel. Once, he saw a pair of helicopters rise from behind the walls and run a circuit of the many meadows that had become battlefields over the last few days.
What would Fey and the others think of machines flying through the night, loud as thunder and black as storm clouds?
Wounds throbbed all over his body. Some were from battle. Others were crude surgical attempts to free himself from cybernetic “enhancements.” The longer he was without such things, the longer he resented having them in the first place. The only parts he planned to keep were the structural braces protecting bones and certain joints. When he had access to a qualified medical team, those were gone as well.
He refused to be a killing machine under the control of the Earth Systems Commonwealth or any other political entity that arose from the chaos following Dan Uburt-Wesson’s assassination.
Wounds and equipment checked, food and water consumed, he moved on to a deer trail to follow Jorgo.
It wasn’t his best plan.
Over the last few days, he had witnessed the brute survive after being separated from his clansmen despite the natural rule that no one survived alone. He understood this better than most. Continuing on like this was possible, but not if he wanted to make progress. He wanted to do more than survive and give his enemies the finger to their backs. He wanted to win.
Most of all, he wanted to save Fey.
Don’t lie, Reaver. You don’t want to save her. You want to run away with her and live happily ever after. What kind of soldier are you?
“I’m getting soft,” he said aloud.
Jorgo waited for him near a clearing with a single boulder in the center. Aefel thought it might be an electronic monitoring station disguised to fit the environment but didn’t care. Whoever controlled the modern fortress could watch him and the rest of this sorry ordeal easily enough, with or without his core internals betraying him night and day.
He moved up the trail to face his enemy.
“I should kill you, off-worlder,” Jorgo said, appearing too exhausted to attack.
Aefel kept his distance. “Do you understand what that means?”
“Your kind are abominations. Hell will claim you in the end and Valhalla will be forever denied to you,” Jorgo said. He stood, allowing his long axe to fall without letting go of the haft. Wounded and blood-spattered, he appeared confident.
“One of two things are going to happen right now,” Aefel said.
Jorgo waited.
“We kill each other or help each other.”
“Why would we help each other?” Jorgo asked.
Aefel checked his back trail to be certain none of the warrior’s clansmen were enveloping his position. The brute was smarter than he looked. More than once, the man had caught him off guard, which made him wonder how the giant fell for Seccon’s trick days ago.
“I chose to kill you rather than the rest of Sky Clan. If there were no hotjidelig-ed, this clan war would be over. I am tired of killing women and children,” Jorgo said.
“You’re good at it,” Aefel accused.
Jorgo said nothing for several heartbeats. “I kill you, my honor is saved and I can go home.”
Aefel wondered if he had miscalculated. “Then why aren’t we fighting?”
“You know the demons and their hell-weapons. You are one of them and you will help me defeat them,” Jorgo said. “My best runners were sent to King Hurlach and the other great chieftains after we killed the first of the strangers and realized their weapons could not be of this mortal realm. My advisors warned me Hurlach is in league with the monsters, and it was my mistake to ignore his words.”
“You will never win,” Aefel said.
“With enough men, women, and swords, we cannot lose,” Jorgo said.
Aefel was about to laugh when he recognized the confidence in the giant champion’s voice. “How many warriors can the Jarls bring if they stand united?”
Wind drove a cold gray cloud through a high mountain pass, framing the scene and sending a chill up Aefel’s spine.
“We will fill this valley with strong fighters and sweep away the evil that has taken root,” Jorgo said.
“The slaughter will be like nothing your people have ever seen,” Aefel said.
“You do not know my people or the history of these mountains,” Jorgo said. “Help me fight the demons and I will allow you and Fey to survive afterward.”
“I must have sanctuary for all of Sky Clan,” Aefel said.
Jorgo nodded, then cut his hand with a knife. “We will seal the bargain in blood and you will show me what I have purchased.”
AEFEL led the way using stolen and modified gear from the NGO, SALD, and at least three mercenary groups he had encountered since leaving the people of Sky Clan in the hands of Seccon. The Earth Systems Commonwealth was falling apart, as was evidenced by the increasing number of opportunists hunting for secret bounties. Some of them had to know Sveinn was the legal heir to the Empire.
Or perhaps not. For the right price, he guessed there were men and women willing to descend to a lost planet and round up barbarian children no questions asked. What worried Aefel were the charms again
st Carosn technology many of the newcomers wore. Someone thought one of the banned weapons was on Grendel.
“Stop. Play dead,” Aefel said.
“I am the Champion of Hawk Clan. I don’t play dead,” Jorgo said.
“Fine, then be dead.”
Grumbling, the densely muscled giant knelt on pine needles and crawled under the branches of a tree. “I will have a nap right here.”
Aefel moved away from his skeptical ally and concealed his position from the NGO patrol sweeping the area. He turned off all electronics and let the ground turn his body cold as a stone where he lay. One of the squad leaders seemed hesitant to continue without further investigation.
“Get lost, you charnel house dog,” Aefel muttered under his breath.
Time passed and so did the patrol. Snow fell through the increasing glare of sunshine.
“When my people have magic to equal these demon-men, there will be justice,” Jorgo said, brushing away a fresh layer of snow from his tunic.
“There will be a lot of killing, but justice is harder to pin down than you realize,” Aefel said.
“Why would you want to pin it down?” Jorgo said.
Aefel moved beyond the tree line. The Grendel giant joined him and stared at the spectacle in silence. Modern lighting illuminated the castle at night.
8
SECCON'S ADVISOR
GRENDEL 0473829: FIRST BASE BUNKER
MISSION CLOCK: N/A
SECCON had never been a drinker. After he lost Casia, he took an official oath against mind-altering substances and mostly adhered to it over the years. Why cloud the mind when death came and went with impunity?
He laughed at himself as he stared at the bottom of the mead cup.
“You should not drink,” Borghild said as she paced the modern apartment below First Base.
“Are you my wife to tell me such things?” Seccon asked.
“I do not care what you drink,” Borghild said. “I merely said the words.”
He watched her for a long time. “We need to talk.”
She snorted and turned her back to him.
With a strange sensation warming his spine, he stood and crossed the room, taking her hand and turning her to face him. “Borghild, sit with me by the window.”
“It isn’t a window. So you say. Even though I have eyes and I am not fool,” she said. “You say there is no window to make me believe in the magic of your people. But I see birds flying and clouds moving across the sky. You say pictures can move, and maybe they can, but no picture is as real as this.”
“You are right, of course,” Seccon said. “I explained the window poorly. Please sit with me. I need your help.”
She frowned. “Now you want my help? Do you need more sex?”
He pulled her to the couch and sat beside her. “You know all the clans of Grendel, large and small.”
“Because I am no longer a girl,” she replied. “Of course I know such things.”
“Could you learn the truth of a plot against one of the Jarls?” he asked.
Borghild smiled and leaned forward, interest glowing in her eyes. “I love such mystery as that. Are we going to talk about your people?”
“Yes, Borghild, my love, we are,” he said. “The nations of my people were called the Earth Systems Commonwealth.”
“What is a commonwealth?” she asked.
“A type of alliance for trade regulation and military support.”
She nodded and waved her hand for him to continue.
“I was given a mission,” he said. “This part I must not tell you because…”
“Then leave me alone. I will take another of the warm bubble baths that smell like flowers,” she said, pulling her hands from his.
Seccon studied her, seeing all of her glorious form even as he held her gaze and searched her expression for deception or ulterior motives. “What I tell you now will kill you.”
There was no smile from her, but neither did she look away. “Then you must marry me. There is a bond in marriage that cannot be penetrated by goblins and fairies.”
Seccon paused to check his translation software, remembering too late that he’d already disabled his Cybernetic Internals. “Is this what you want?”
She nodded. “I am tired of being an enke kvinde, a widow woman.”
“Then marry me, my love,” Seccon said, forgetting what the conversation had been about.
With a passionate embrace, Borghild made her intentions clear. Guilt circled him as love and lust and happiness created something new inside of him.
Time lost meaning.
“Perhaps I should have proposed weeks ago,” Seccon said.
“What is ‘proposed’?” she asked.
“Never mind. Help me unravel the plot against the Emperor.”
“Emperor?” she asked.
Seccon took both of her hands in his. “Sveinn is the sole heir to be the Emperor of the Commonwealth.”
Borghild began to cry. “Commonwealths have emperors?”
“Yes and no. Sometimes,” Seccon said, leaning closer. “Why are you crying?”
“I am not. And if I were, maybe it would be because I should have married Sveinn when he is old enough,” she said.
Seccon thought she was joking but didn’t like the feeling her words left in him. Borghild was the biggest surprise in his long life. He hoped she was real. Should his enemies have planted her as a spy or assassin, he would know soon.
Borghild sniffled as she put away her tears and sat up very straight on the edge of the couch. “What is the big mystery?”
He considered his words carefully, then simply began the story in the middle. “Aefel is a great warrior who was sent to kill me.”
“Why?”
“Because I killed the last Emperor of the Earth Systems Commonwealth.”
“No!” she said. “Why?”
“His name was Dan Uburt-Wesson and he ordered the murder of his sister and her children, who had a better claim to the throne than he did,” Seccon said.
“Then it is good you stopped him,” she said. “This means Aefel is on the wrong side. Fey will be very upset.”
“I don’t know which side Aefel is on, because he was also ordered to kill everyone in Sky Clan. Especially Sveinn and Sveinn’s sisters.”
Borghild considered the contradictory information, asking a few questions. He told her of the Strongarms and how they were sworn to protect the Emperor. He described the difference between the New Galactic Order and Zero Brigade. By the end of his lecture, she was less certain of the difference between the First Armored Light-infantry Division and the Sixth Armored Light-infantry Division, insisting they would fight as allies no matter how many times Seccon insisted they were rivals.
He could not bring himself to describe the Carosn Device and what it meant for Grendel.
“This is very simple, my singer husband. The New Galactic Order and Zero Brigade are enemies but desire the same prize. They are sweeping aside old rivals, death to the last child, as they say in politics, and building their strength to seize their enemy's fortresses.”
Seccon imagined a galaxy-wide war where fortresses were planets and siege engines were starships. “But what of the FALD Reavers and SALD Knights? Or the Strongarms who used to serve me?”
“They are pawns. Or they have secretly sworn allegiance to someone. Or they do not matter,” Borghild said.
Seccon smiled, exhausted and glad at the same time. “You are very clever, my lovely Borghild.”
“Any woman of Sky Clan could have put together this puzzle. It is a primal thing. Jarls fight for dominance. That is the way it will always be.”
9
AWOL FOR AEFEL
GRENDEL 0473829: LANDING ZONE
MISSION CLOCK: N/A
WE are coming to you, Aefel. Hold fast. Cindy concentrated on the drop suit flight path, remembering how Aefel often called it a fall path. Calling it a high-altitude insertion flight was offensive to any creature or
machine with wings. She checked the heads-up display once, counting the remaining members of Aefel’s platoon and forcing herself not to feel guilt for the mess these soldiers had followed her into.
Every member of the Lightning Division learned to manual pilot a drop of this nature. There were calculations to be made on the fly and prayers to be said by the smarter fools attempting a drop without authorization or computer assistance. Any one of the orbiting Commonwealth ships could have plotted their course and linked with drop suit computers to time each deployment of the breakaway heat shielding.
“Mark the time,” Cindy said as she integrated her Internal Cybernetic Enhancements with the suit.
“Mark,” Paul said as each of the skydiving soldiers gave a simultaneous thumbs-up.
“Mark altitude and angle of descent,” she said.
“Mark.”
Paul’s voice reassured her. She checked her calculations in her head and hoped for the best. Her hands were needed to steer the descent. Palms flat, she twisted the surface of the gloves to make minor corrections. The rest of the platoon followed her in a diamond-shaped formation three levels deep.
“Keep it tight. We are still high.”
“Roger that,” Paul said.
“Check right and left and count off,” she said, then waited for every member of the platoon to check in.
A chill shuddered from her bladder to her mind as the heads-up display of her drop suit flickered twice and went blank.
“I have a visor malfunction. Show of hands, who is having the same difficulty?” She looked right and left, flipped onto her back, and checked the rest of the platoon above her. “Well, at least it is unanimous.” She faced the planet and made a flight plan adjustment from her memory of the last HUD readout.
Time passed. The icy blue fields and mountains below grew rapidly nearer. “We will hit our final parachute as close to the ground as safely possible. The ground is coming up faster than you think, so be sure to deploy your chutes early rather than late. Spread out into Formation Omega.”
The platoon formed a single layer in the shape of a circle. “This isn’t the first time we’ve made a cold drop without instruments,” she said.
