“Any ideas on how to do that?” Calvin asked.
“None,” Paxton said. “He would probably fight to the death rather than allow himself to be captured…especially by us.”
Calvin sighed. “Yeah, probably.”
Paxton looked at his chronometer. “We’re about 15 minutes from docking,” Paxton said. “Give them another 15 minutes to get us tied up and 30 minutes to shut everything down…We don’t have much more than an hour before the gas starts flowing. Think you’ll have a better plan by then?”
“I hope so…” Calvin said. He only thought the rest of the sentence, “but I doubt it.”
Bridge, TSS Vella Gulf, Anti-Jotunheimr System, December 24, 2021
The cleanup crew had been thorough, Captain Sheppard noted as he strode onto the bridge. Not only had the Jotunn bodies been cut up and removed, the flashing General Quarters lights showed no signs of the gallons of green blood they left behind. He spied a spray pattern on the overhead, 20 feet up, but knew it wouldn’t show on the view screen when they spoke with the giants. He thought about telling someone so that it would get cleaned, eventually, but decided to keep it for now as a memento of what they’d been through. The rest of the bridge was spotless, which was quite an effort considering a significant portion of the crew had been killed by the Jotunn as they rampaged through the ship. It would not do to let the Jotunn know that Loki had been able to get his men aboard.
The Gulf’s bridge crew had been counseled on their duties—mostly, to look bored and as if nothing had happened; basically, to look like they didn’t have a care in the world.
Nothing could have been further from the truth.
“Status check,” Captain Sheppard said.
“Proceeding toward Jotunheimr,” the helmsman said. “Standing by to jump to our universe with an immediate jump back if there is a Jotunn ship nearby.”
“All systems normal,” the duty engineer noted; “General Quarters is set throughout the ship. Stealth is unavailable until we go back and recover the stealth modules.”
“Offensive systems operational,” the OSO said.
“Defensive systems manned and ready,” the DSO added.
“Science manned and ready,” Steropes said.
“All right,” the CO said, “here we go. Make the jump, helm.”
“Jumping in three…two…one…”
Everything flashed.
“Stable back in our universe,” the helmsman noted.
“All systems normal,” the duty engineer reported.
“No targets within weapons range,” the OSO added.
“While it is true there are no ships within weapons range,” Steropes said, “I have a large number of ships on the long range scanner around Jotunheimr. There appears to be a shipyard there as well.”
“Understood,” the CO said.
“Sir, we are being hailed by the Jotunn ship Falcon.”
“On screen.”
The front viewer lit up with the image of a giant on the bridge of his ship. Other Jotunn could be seen behind him going about their tasks. “I will say this about you,” the Jotnar said in welcome, “you are persistent. How you evaded Loki is beyond me.”
“I am Captain Sheppard of the Terran ship Vella Gulf,” the CO replied. “Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?”
“I am Captain Oleif Magnusson,” the giant replied. “I am the commanding officer of the ship you have been chasing for several systems now.”
“I am glad we finally caught up with you. We have a number of matters of great importance that I would like to speak with you and your leaders about.”
“Oh you do, do you? How are your little matters of any importance to us?”
“One of the matters is the side you’re on in the ongoing war. It is our opinion you have chosen the wrong allies, and they are stripping you of your honor the longer you support them.”
“Anything like that must be brought before the Council of Jarls,” the Jotnar said. “Sadly, I do not believe you have ever been recognized as a civilization worthy enough to attend the Council of Jarls, so I’m afraid you must wait where you are for my uncle to come and kill you. At least when you are dead, you will no longer be troubled by your ‘matters of great importance.’”
“If your uncle is Loki, I am afraid we will be waiting here for quite some time. His ship was destroyed in the other universe with a loss of all hands.”
“How am I to believe this? What proof do you have?”
“Well, we can sit here and wait for a week, and when he doesn’t show up, maybe you’ll believe me. I can also provide video of his ship’s destruction if that would be helpful.”
“Yes,” Captain Magnusson said; “I would like that.”
“Solomon, please send the video we have of Loki’s ship exploding.”
“Transmitting.”
The conversation paused as Captain Magnusson watched something off-screen.
“That appears to be his new ship,” the giant said when he looked back, “and if the video is authentic, it does appear his ship was destroyed. On your honor, is this the real video of Loki’s ship, free from any editing?”
“Yes,” Captain Sheppard replied.
“How was his ship destroyed? Although there is evidence of previous damage, the final explosion does not seem to be caused by the impact of any missiles or energy weapons.”
“Unfortunately, I am not at liberty to say although I can tell you that the weapon we used to destroy Loki’s ship was unlike any you have previously seen used in ship-to-ship combat. I wouldn’t want to have to use it against the Falcon, but if I am forced to in order to gain an audience with the Council of Jarls, then that is what I will do.”
“Ho, ho, ho,” Captain Magnusson laughed. “I wouldn’t want you to have to do that to my ship either; however, I have no say in getting you a voice at the Council. That is something you must do on your own.”
“And how exactly do we do that?”
“You have to prove your worth as a civilization if you want the Council of Jarls to listen to you.”
Captain Sheppard sighed. This was about as informative as talking to a wall. Or asking questions of a Psiclops. “And how do we do that?”
“Stand by,” Captain Magnusson said. He turned and looked at something off screen. A brief conversation followed, with Magnusson mostly nodding and replying in the affirmative. Eventually, his attention returned to the Terrans.
“You are in luck,” the giant said. “Our council has offered you a chance to speak to them. There is, however, one small task you must accomplish first.”
“And that is…”
“Your champion must beat our champion in battle. If your champion can do that, the Council of Jarls will grant you a brief audience.”
“So, let me guess. This battle our champion must beat yours in…is it to be hand-to-hand combat, or with weapons?”
“Why, hand-to-hand, of course, with only unpowered weapons allowed. Is there any other type of combat to settle issues among men?”
“Well, our society used to use pistols and rifles to duel.”
“Not acceptable. Your champion can use swords and axes and weapons like that; no rifles or pistols are allowed in Odin’s Longhouse.”
“Okay, so unpowered, hand-to-hand weapons only. Does it in any way matter that you are three times our size? How do you consider that to be a fair fight?”
“It is one of your men versus one of ours. What could be more fair than two champions meeting in battle?”
“Sitting down to discuss our issues without any of this unnecessary foreplay.”
“Ah, but that is where you are wrong. This is very necessary to judge the worthiness of your civilization to come before our Council.”
“That’s okay,” Night interjected, speaking for the first time. “I owe the Jotunn. I’ll be your champion, and I will kick the living shit out of whoever they want to put up as theirs.”
“And you are?” Captain Magnusson asked.<
br />
“I am Paul Train, Captain, Terran Space Marines.”
“Captain Train, eh? I’m sure our champion will be very happy to meet you.”
“Before I agree to anything,” Captain Sheppard said, “we need to discuss the matter of safe passage for my ship and those under my command. Will you promise safe passage to the planet and back for all Terrans?”
“Yes, we promise safe passage to the planet and back for all Terrans,” the Jotnar replied.
“Are you able to make that promise for all of your civilization? No Jotunn or any nation allied with you will hinder our passage to and from your planet? Do you offer that protection free from all types of subterfuge or trying to trick us with words?”
“Yes, I give you my word that you will be granted safe passage by us or any of our allies. You have my personal word I will do everything in my power to protect you while you are in this system.”
“Sir, the Aesir Farhome was with Calvin,” Night advised in a whisper. “You need to open up his offer of protection a bit more.”
“You’re right,” Captain Sheppard said. He turned back to the view screen. “Will you promise safe passage to the planet and back for all Terrans and any members of other races who might be accompanying them?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” the Jotnar said. “The members of the Council want to see the combat between our champions. You are to be granted free passage. I so promise and give you my word.”
Noises could be heard from off-screen, and all of the Jotunn looked up as something fell past the camera.
The picture pulled back to show Calvin on the deck next to the Jotunn captain. Calvin stood and addressed the viewer. “Thanks, Skipper, that was well done,” he said.
Calvin turned and looked up to face Captain Magnusson. “I would like to take you up on your offer of safe passage to the planet,” he added. Additional forms fell from above and resolved themselves into Farhome and a number of Ssselipsssiss. “And I believe my allies are ready to go to the surface, as well.”
Several creatures flew down into the pickup range of the screen. They looked like giant cockroaches. “Oh, and I believe the S’nark would like to come, too,” Calvin said.
Bridge, Jotunn Ship Falcon, Jotunheimr System, December 24, 2021
Calvin patted the S’nark that came to stand next to him. He thought it might be Zeeelbit, but he wouldn’t have bet too much money on it. “We don’t have a lot of belongings, so we can go down to the planet whenever it’s most convenient, but hopefully before you fumigate the ship.”
Calvin had never in his brief contact with the Jotunn seen any of them look confused or bewildered. Angry? Yes. Plenty of times. But Captain Magnusson changed that as his eyes swept the bridge, and his mind tried to process where all the creatures had come from.
He finally shook his head and began laughing. Before long, the entire bridge crew was laughing along with him, and Calvin, Farhome and the Ssselipsssiss joined in.
“We will meet with you tomorrow at Odin’s Longhouse for the challenge,” Captain Magnusson said, looking back to the view screen as he began to wind down. “We will send you the coordinates.” He terminated the transmission. “Well, bend me over and call me a sheep!” he exclaimed with another laugh. “I think we’ve found the problem with our shields.” He looked down at Calvin. “My uncle Loki would be proud of you,” he continued. “I have no idea how you tricked us to get aboard, but I am very much looking forward to finding out.”
The Jotnar’s eyes roamed across the collection of creatures. “Not only that, but you have assembled quite a menagerie here. The only species I recognize are the bugs, but I do not understand how you have gotten them to do your bidding. They are nothing more than roaches we allow to exist because they do the cleanup tasks we prefer not to.”
“The ones you call ‘bugs’ refer to themselves as the S’nark,” Calvin said, “and they are actually quite intelligent. In fact, I had one of them pull a gun on me when I came aboard.”
“A gun?” Magnusson asked. He laughed again. “Where would they get a gun? How would they know how to use it?”
In the blink of an eye, Zeeelbit drew his pistols and fired one of them past Magnusson’s ear. The laser bolt burned a hole in the bulkhead that hissed and steamed.
Magnusson laughed again, a full belly laugh that infected the crew. Soon all were laughing. Zeeelbit neither moved nor flinched. As the laughter wore off, Magnusson looked down to see the pistols now aimed at his face.
“You are full of surprises,” he said, still chuckling. “Put down your weapons. I have already given you safe passage to the council, and I have no desire to explain to my friends how I got shot by a bug.” With a blur, the weapons disappeared again.
Magnusson’s eyes searched the group, and his eyebrows knitted. “I don’t see the furry creature our maintenance robots chased. Will we still need to have the ship fumigated to get rid of it or is that another of your pets?”
“No, that creature is actually Bob Jones,” Calvin said nodding toward Farhome, who had transformed himself to look Terran. “He has the ability to manipulate his appearance somewhat through the use of very small robots.”
“That almost sounds like something the Aesir are known for,” Captain Magnusson said. Although not experienced in Jotunn, Calvin could hear the suspicion in his voice.
“Really?” Calvin asked. “I didn’t know that. I guess I need to learn more about the Aesir, because I had no idea. I thought our society was the only one with that capability.” He shrugged. “Regardless, it was actually the Ssselipsssiss who caused the problems with your shields.”
“This is all more than I can handle with a dry tongue,” Magnusson said. “At the moment, you are guests on this ship, so we can discuss how you came to be here tonight at our night-meal. Until then, I will have one of my men escort you to a room where you may rest and prepare for tonight’s feast.”
He motioned, and one of the bridge crew led the assembled group away.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Officer’s Mess, Jotunn Ship Falcon, Jotunheimr System, December 24, 2021
The Officer’s Mess was like the wardroom of any Terran ship Calvin had ever been on, in that it was where the officers ate, but that was where the similarities ended. First, everything was triple in size, and Calvin felt like Gulliver in the land of the Brobdingnagians. Calvin couldn’t even reach the seat of his bench without help; he had to be lifted onto it by one of the stewards. The furniture in the mess consisted of a long table that ran the length of the space with benches on both sides. Magnusson sat at one end of the table; Calvin, Farhome and the Ssselipsssiss were relegated to the opposite end, with Zeeelbit given a place on the floor next to them.
“You know this is the position of least honor, right?” Farhome asked. “Although they honor us with a feast, they dishonor us by placing us at the opposite end of the table from Magnusson.”
“Hey, I’m just happy they’re honoring their promise not to kill us,” Calvin replied. “I don’t care where they have us stand, as long as it isn’t a gallows someplace. Besides, the smell of unwashed Jotunn is a lot less aromatic down here at this end of the table. Can you imagine having to sit between them and eat? I’m not sure I could hold down any food.”
“Well, when you put it that way, I guess it isn’t so bad.”
Captain Magnusson stood. “Wife!” he yelled. “Serve the drinks!”
A female Jotnar, the first Calvin had seen, came into the mess carrying a large tray of tankards. Magnusson’s wife was as tall as the males and had long blond hair she wore in braids. The woman wore a loose, brown linen dress with a brooch over the right shoulder to fasten it. A red over-dress wrapped around the woman, held up by a shoulder strap that was fastened with another brooch. A series of spaceships were embroidered on the hem of the over-dress as decoration. Although the men didn’t wear them, she also had dark blue cloth leggings and covered her head with a flowered-print scarf. She wore a variety of bracelets, armbands
and rings in gold and silver. They were crafted in intricate patterns, but before Calvin could tell what they were, the Jotnar next to him elbowed him in the stomach, sending him crashing into Farhome.
“Don’t stare at the Captain’s wife,” the giant said, “not unless you want to duel him, anyway.”
Calvin stopped staring.
The woman served Magnusson and then the officers before finally working her way to the end of the table where Calvin was. She slammed a tankard down in front of him, and he was doused by the foam that slopped out.
“Oops!” she said to a chorus of laughter and catcalls.
“Thank Bryggjemann for the feast we have today and Terra for providing us our amusement for the evening,” Captain Magnusson said. “Let us drink to the Odin and his success.”
“To his success!” the assembled officers toasted. Everyone took a drink, accept for the non-Jotunn, who looked at their four-foot-tall tankards with some dismay. Calvin didn’t see any way that trying to drink out of one wouldn’t end in disaster.
“And to the Falcon and our success!”
“To our success!”
“Now, let us eat and drink!” Magnusson said, clapping his hands twice. He sat, and the rest of the officers followed suit. Stewards brought in platters of food and pitchers to refill the officers’ tankards, many of which were empty after the two toasts. The last steward brought in a tray of cups and saucers. The Jotunn cups were as big as large fish tanks, but Calvin was able to lean over and drink from it unassisted so he took a cautious sip. The drink had the flavor of honey, but without the sweetness.
“This is pretty good,” Calvin said licking his lips. “What is it?”
“Mead,” Farhome replied, standing up from his cup with a sigh. Calvin could see a large portion missing. “It’s been a long time since I had any this good.” He smiled. “Drink up!”
The Dark Star War (Codex Regius Book 3) Page 23
