by Hugh Howey
A low rumble emanated from the deepest bowels of the ship. The view screen flickered, along with the lights on the bridge. Odin sat on a bench beside the captain’s chair, his eyes half closed, as if he were contemplating an afternoon nap.
“Spark destabilizer deployed // Antimatter hyperfield dissolving // Shift phase initiated.”
The rumbling turned into shaking, and Sigurd grabbed hold of the central railing. The other crewmembers did the same.
The shaking grew violent, and Sigurd felt as if the ship would wrench itself apart. “What’s happening?” he yelled over the deafening noise.
“Too many circuits are damaged,” Merovek explained. “The power supply is inconsistent. In order to dissolve the hyperfield, a sustained plasma burst is required. Even the backup breakers are overloading.”
Rapa slammed a wing against the back of his chair. “It’s the algae! It’ll be the end of us!”
Odin stood from his chair, securing his balance against the railing. “Calm yourself, Rapa. Merovek, divert power through the weapons relays. Those systems are built to sustain enormous amounts of energy. It should be enough.”
Rapa turned on him. “Even if that does work, you’ll risk frying the entire weapons grid! You’d leave us defenseless?”
“We’re already defenseless,” Odin countered. “We cannot afford to miss our target. This is the only chance we have.”
“He’s right, Captain,” Merovek said. “Odin has proposed a sensible solution.”
Rapa took a breath and met Sigurd’s eyes. “What do you think?”
Sigurd tried to straighten his back, fighting against the pops and cracks. Their current dilemma wasn’t a difficult one. If they missed their target, all was lost, whether they had operating guns or not.
“Reroute power through the weapons grid,” Sigurd replied.
Rapa considered him for a moment, then he lowered his beak, maintaining an air of dignity despite the tremors. “Do it, Merovek. Do whatever needs to be done. Take us out of hyperspace.”
“As you wish, Captain. Rerouting conduit power now // Initiating phase plasma declaration spark cannon // Activating course correction algorithms.”
The overhead lights flashed off, and for a moment the white view screen lit up the room like a bright, rectangular star. And then, unbelievably, the shaking ceased and the screen winked out. Sigurd didn’t know if his eyes were open or closed. All he saw was blackness, and all he heard was silence, until…
Until pricks of light began to flicker in the view screen, blessed starlight twinkling in the emptiness of space. And then, slowly, colors drifted into view. Blue, green, white. They appeared at the bottom of the screen, as refreshing as a cool breath of air, and floated toward the center.
Sigurd could have cried. Could have wept like a child. But his tears had long dried up, along with the rest of his body.
No matter. For he had laid his eyes on the love of his life. A new mistress, who cast a shadow across all others. For below him, below them all, lay perfection. A majestic planet, the likes of which no Valerian had ever known. All hail Midgard, prospect planet of Solaris 3052, an exquisite green and blue jewel, the toast of the night sky.
“My sweet heavens,” Rapa whispered. His eyes, like everyone’s, were glued to the view screen, gazing at the magnificent marble that floated before them.
Unlike Valeria’s twisted brown and yellow surface, a world of dirt and stocky yellow grass, Midgard was practically shimmering—aqua and green and white, a planet glistening with endless prospect.
“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” Sigurd said.
“This is truly our destiny,” Odin said, unable to keep the awe from his voice. He spoke proudly and softly, as if the planet before them was a physical manifestation of all he had worked for in his long life.
“What’s all that green?” Rapa asked. “Surely that’s not—”
“It’s life,” Odin said, breathless. “Glorious life. Not only is this planet capable of supporting life, as we have long suspected, but it appears to be doing exactly that. If we could only take this information back to Valeria, it would usher in a new age of peace and understanding between nations. To know once and for all that we are not alone in the universe… Such perspective this could grant our species. It’s astonishing.”
Then, suddenly, the overhead lights flashed back on. But instead of white, they screamed in shades of orange, and Merovek’s voice broke over the intercom.
“Intruder alert. A large Valerian fleet ship has emerged from hyperspace. It is heading toward us on an attack trajectory. Initial scans indicate that their weapons are online and charging.”
* * *
The radios crackled to life. The voice that came over the intercom was weak and breathless. Undoubtedly the crew of the Valerian attack vessel was equally weakened by the interstellar journey.
“Stand down, rebel ship! This is Captain Yggrasil Vassa of the Valerian Protection Fleet. By Capital Requirement Fifty-Three of the Danorium Composition Act, you are required to stand down and prepare for boarding.”
Rapa shook his head as he reached for the intercom. “Captain Rapa Nui speaking for the Rebellion ship Vitellius. Seems you’re a long way from home, Captain Vassa.” He took a seat in his chair and waited for a response.
“No farther than you.”
“Give it up, Vassa. We can end this now. The people you used to work for are long since dead. Let us do the right thing.”
“You underestimate my integrity, Nui, and my commitment to this mission. It is my duty to bring you to justice, to see that you and your Rebellion crew pay for your transgressions against Valeria. My commanders, though long dead, died knowing they could trust me to bring you down and see to it that Valerian justice is served.”
“Cut off the transmission,” Rapa spat. He looked around at his crew. “It’s clear we’re not going to be able to negotiate with him. And our weapons are offline, am I right, Merovek?”
“Quite right, indeed,” Merovek replied.
Rapa turned toward Odin and Sigurd. “You two—I need you to get Merovek and the memory sphere off this ship. We’re not going to last long against that attack vessel.”
“But they’ll destroy you,” Sigurd said.
Rapa straightened his back proudly, his hollow bones cracking with the effort. A few feathers slid from beneath his breastplate and tumbled to the floor of the bridge. “Yes. They probably will. But if the memory sphere is on board when that happens, everything we’ve done will have been in vain. I can’t let that happen. I can’t give up my life for nothing.”
Odin rose from his chair. “Merovek, transfer your program back into the memory sphere. The captain will assume control of the ship.”
“Good luck, Captain Rapa,” Merovek said. “I’m taking my program offline now. You can remove the memory sphere as you wish.”
The intercom buzzed to life. “This is your last chance,” Vassa warned. “If you choose to voluntarily surrender the stolen Freyan minds, your cooperation will be kindly noted during your trial.”
Sigurd carefully removed the memory sphere from the acceptance indent and stowed it in his satchel. His muscles were feeling stronger, and despite his hunched shoulders, he thought he was standing a little taller as well. He wondered if any of his lost feathers would grow back. He thought regretfully of his yellow and brown tail feathers, which he had once displayed so proudly for his soon-to-be mate. He was glad he hadn’t yet taken the time to appraise his ragged body in a mirror.
“Prepare propulsion evasion techniques,” Rapa said to the remaining bridge staff. “Without Merovek, we’re flying manual.”
Odin stepped up to the captain and bowed his beak low. “Thank you for all you’ve done for us.”
Rapa raised a talon and lifted Odin’s beak to the ceiling. “I could never do enough for you, Odin, or for the cause. May you find a new home for the Freya, and rest peacefully yourself. You too, Sigurd.”
Sigurd bowed. �
�Thank you, friend.”
Sigurd put a wing behind Odin’s back, supporting his frail body, and they headed off toward the escape pod bay.
* * *
They climbed into the sleek, oblong vessel, which was pointy at one end and round on the other. Its surface was reflective, making it nearly invisible to the naked eye, especially as it flew through space.
Odin activated the escape pod sequence, and Sigurd connected the memory sphere to the ship’s navigation controls.
“This pod is in excellent condition,” Merovek said when he came online.
“Good,” Odin said, strapping himself in. “Now get us out of here.”
Sigurd strapped himself into the pilot’s seat, through he would leave the flying to Merovek.
The glass top slid down over their heads, sealing them inside. Sigurd felt the ship vibrate beneath him, and then they were ejected from the Vitellius. An ion engine kicked in, and the ship flew invisibly through space. The Vitellius continued flying in the opposite direction, and the Valerian attack vessel whizzed by a moment later, trailing it.
“Is there anything we can do for them?” Sigurd asked, watching the two ships growing smaller against the stars.
“Negative,” Merovek confirmed. “It would be unwise to give away our position. We must allow Rapa to draw the enemy away from us.”
Even as Merovek spoke, a bright green light erupted from the hull of the attacker’s ship. The volley of missiles streaked through space and struck the rebel ship along its starboard side. The resulting explosion told Sigurd everything he needed to know.
Captain Rapa and the Vitellius were no more.
Odin bowed his head. “Their sacrifice will not be forgotten, nor was it in vain. Merovek, set a course down to Midgard. Identify a suitable location to establish the new Freyan colony.”
* * *
The silvery ship sped downward toward Midgard. There was no sign that the Valerian attack ship was even aware of their existence.
“Find somewhere remote,” Odin said.
White clouds gave way to blue skies as the escape pod surged ever downward through the planet’s dense atmosphere. Vast continents took shape before them, becoming more detailed, and soon they were flying over a misty forest, cut through the middle by a surging river.
“The plant life is unbelievable,” Sigurd said, staring through the glass. Several times he caught his ugly reflection, but even his run-down appearance couldn’t diminish the joy he felt, gazing upon a new world full of life.
“Odin, look!”
Sigurd shuddered when he saw the creatures that lined the banks of the river. Huge, meaty animals, giant horns rising up from their heads, dominated the shoreline. Some of them looked up lazily at the anomaly flying overhead, but then they returned to their drinking.
“Should we be here?” Sigurd asked suddenly. “Should we be interfering with a planet already full of life?”
“These creatures do not appear to be technologically advanced,” Odin pointed out. “We will do our best not to disturb them. Besides, what choice do we have?”
As soon as he finished speaking, the ship crested a hill, and both Sigurd and Odin leaned forward in their chairs, stunned. For before them, rising against the horizon, were three massive pyramidal structures, clearly hewn from giant stones with expert hands.
“Take us higher, Merovek,” Odin said.
The ship rose, and the river shrank beneath them. The pyramids continued to grow larger until at last they were directly below, surrounded by a sandy desert.
“Stop us here,” Odin said. “Angle the ship downward so we can see.”
Merovek obliged.
“Magnify window.”
The scene rushed up at them as Merovek magnified their view, and Sigurd had to bring his talons to his chest, pressing them against the place where his heart was, willing it to cease its chaotic beating.
“Look at them all,” Sigurd whispered. “They’re miraculous. Absolutely astonishing.”
Try as he might, Sigurd couldn’t peel his eyes away from the beings… the people… he saw at the base of the pyramids. They were small, maybe half the size of an average Valerian, and clothed in brown leather and white fabrics. They were certainly featherless and mostly bald, except for a patch of dark hair at the top of their heads.
Finally Odin spoke, quietly and reverently. “We cannot in good conscience set down anywhere near here. These beings are obviously culturally advanced and would likely take offense to our presence. Merovek, take us to the ocean. Let us find an isolated piece of land, far removed from anywhere these Midgardians might inhabit.”
“Scanning maps now,” Merovek informed them. “I believe I have found an appropriate location. A remote island in the middle of a great sea. It is very unlikely these beings would have migrated there.”
“Do it,” Odin said.
“I have only one concern,” Merovek said. “Our fuel supply is limited. Once we arrive at the island, we will not have sufficient fuel to fly back to the larger landmass.”
“So be it,” Odin said.
Sigurd stared at the people below as their ship ascended. Some of them were looking up, perhaps noticing a strange glint in the sky as the sun reflected against their ship’s hull. And then their vessel sped away, leaving the incredible beings behind.
They flew toward the setting sun, and soon the land gave way to water, endless water, and then a stretch of land again, and water once more. Sigurd had never seen so much water. He was about to say so when a tiny speck of land appeared on the horizon. They had reached their destination at long last.
* * *
“What’s the status of our fuel?” Odin asked. He sounded weak and out of breath.
“Five percent,” Merovek said. “This island will be our final resting point.”
“What are those?” Sigurd said. He pointed toward the island. Now that they were closer, Sigurd saw giant stone pillars rising up from the land.
Merovek magnified the window viewer, and Sigurd’s eyes went wide. The giant rocks were statues, each one nearly identical to the last, carved with the faces of men. And again, Sigurd saw people walking around at the bases of the statues. In fact, they seemed to be transporting one of the oblong heads, using brown logs to roll the massive stone across the beach.
“Take us down, Merovek,” Odin instructed. “We have no choice.”
As their ship touched down onto the island, the group of Midgardians turned and looked on in surprise. They motioned to one another, and several of them began running toward the ship. They wielded crude sticks, with flint edges or sharpened coral fastened to the ends.
Surprisingly, Odin was first out of his seat. He held up a battered wing. “Let me. I would be honored to make first contact with the people who will be our protectors.”
He instructed Merovek to open the escape pod. The glass lifted above their heads, and Odin climbed up onto the wing. He raised both talons into the sky. A few precious feathers caught the breeze and fluttered off into the wind. That’s when Sigurd noticed flying creatures, soaring high above in the sky, with wings stretched out against the blue, gliding through the air.
“Look!”
Odin followed Sigurd’s gaze and nodded. “It was meant to be. This is truly our safe haven.”
The small brown Midgardians now surrounded the ship. Their skin was caked in mud, and their eyes were wild and fierce. But Sigurd sensed intelligence there as well.
One of them, the largest member of the group, stepped forward and shouted at them in harsh, guttural tones.
Odin looked down at him, bowing his beak forward. “We have come from afar, and wish to take shelter upon your beautiful world.”
The leader took a step forward, reaching his hand out toward the glassy hull of the ship. He laid his palm upon the shiny metal for a brief moment, then jumped back, grunting and shrieking. The others followed suit, one by one, each displaying equal shock and surprise.
“We come in peace,” Odi
n said loudly. “We offer whatever we can to make—”
At that moment, the leader hurled his spear into the air. It whistled as it flew, and it struck Odin directly in the chest, its sharp pointed end emerging from his back before it came to rest.
“Odin!”
The old Valerian stumbled backward and fell into the ship’s tiny cabin. Sigurd rushed to him, panicking. The spear stuck upward from his body, reaching into the sky like a denuded branch. Sigurd knelt down beside his mentor, trembling with fear and adrenaline.
“Merovek, close the hatch! Where are the medical supplies stored on this ship?”
“They’re under the seat, Sigurd, but I fear there is nothing you can do. My preliminary scans indicate that Odin is mere moments from death. The Midgardian weapon has pierced his heart.”
Sadly, Sigurd took Odin’s head in his talons.
Odin coughed. “My death is irrelevant. I wasn’t long for the world. I am passing the gauntlet to you, my dear Sigurd. You must make our sacrifices worth something. You must complete the mission.”
Sigurd shook his head. “But we can’t set up a Freyan colony here. This world is already densely populated with life.”
“That was… unexpected.”
Sigurd could see Odin slipping away before his eyes.
“We have no choice but to remain on Midgard,” Odin coughed. “So we must amend our goals. Hide the memory sphere as best you can. Perhaps, someday, the Midgardians will develop the culture and technology necessary to successfully locate it—and ultimately learn from the Freyan minds contained within the sphere. We must pray that that is the case. All is… not lost.”
He coughed again, and this time drips of blood pooled at the sides of his beak. The red droplets fell onto the cold metal floor of the ship.
Odin reached out a shaky arm, digging his talons into Sigurd’s shoulder. “Please. You must do everything you can to protect the Freya.”
“What about the Midgardians?” Sigurd asked. “What should I do about the ones outside?”
“Do not blame them for my death. They were simply reacting instinctually to our presence. It is we who are in the wrong.”
