Gudsriki (22 page)

“I have her memories now. I know everything. Things she never told you.”

“What did she never tell me?”

“She thought Mishka was hotter than you.”

“Bullshit.”

“You should believe it. You fell for Mishka too.”

“Violet never liked her.”

“Like has nothing to do with want.”

“You're very astute for a robotic insect.”

“With a human body and brain. And memories. I don't know what the hell I am.”

“A big fucking mistake, and I knew it before I did it.”

They both sat in silence for a moment.

Nel resented being called a mistake. It was unsettling. It made her want to hurt Vibeke again. But she didn't want to enough to do anything about it. Something stayed her hand. Empathy—she had feared it would start to manifest and now she found it all over Violet's memories like a sweet blue slime. Nel immediately classified it as a weakness.

Vibeke was still in shock. Nel was acting too naturally. Too human. Vibs had expected years of teaching her new companion to recognize the world, to function, to love, and what more? Instead, Nel had already taken a new name, developed a sharp attitude, become the start of a person.

Nel looked over Vibeke. Her face, familiar from Violet's memories though now emaciated. Her body, Violet had seen naked and in better days. From Vibeke's memory, she finally had sex with it. The imagery of those memories disgusted Nel. They provoked anger and xenophobia, fear and hatred of something that she as a knife was never designed for. Though her brain was. Her brain didn't want to feel her disgust. It wanted to feel… something else.

“I admit,” said Nel, “it was the act of someone who loved her uncontrollably. What the hell happened in those months?”

Nel tried to review Vibeke's memories again, but they were fading. She should have kept them. But she couldn't ask to see them again. She didn't know why, but she knew she couldn't ask.

“Almost nothing good. She chased me, I ran. She crossed a few lines. We fought more than we…. Things worked out, though. We would've had a good long life together.”

The suggestion infuriated her. “And you still killed her, you dismal shit.”

“Hold a grudge forever, why don't you.”

“I will. Believe me, I will. If you please me a hundred times, I won't forgive you for taking my… mother? Self? Employer? What the fuck was she?”

“She was a person. You're a body part.”

They sat, Vibeke furious at herself and at the overgrown Tikari.

“Am I at all like her?”

“No.”

Nel nodded.

“She did love you a great deal.”

“Yeah.”

“And she hated you for it.”

“That sounds like her.”

“Sex with you must have made her very, very happy.”

“I think it did. Would it make you happy?”

“No,” she said outright.

“Then you're definitely not at all like her.”

The clouds grew intensely orange.

“So what now?” asked Nel.

“We'll have to get out of here before Niide and the nurses get to Shapinsay. They'll inform the army I killed their second lieutenant, and they'll come for me.”

“Unlikely. They won't risk more deaths fighting you.”

“Either way we shouldn't be here for long.”

“Where should we go?”

“To Valhalla, to kill Mishka.”

“Of course. That's what we do, isn't it?” There were more memories of that than anything else. Violet had remembered every kill. Hundreds of them. Reviewing them gave Nel great pleasure. She wondered why Vibeke would even consider sex when there were people to beat down and rip apart.

“Unless you have any better plans?”

Nel reviewed aspirations. Violet had a few outside of getting into Vibeke's pants.

“Violet would want me to kill Wulfgar.”

“We can do both.”

“Which first?”

“Flip for it?”

“Sure.”

They looked around for anything to flip. The only object nearby was Darger's body. Nel walked over and scooped it up.

“Call it,” said Nel.

“Tails,” called Vibeke.

She effortlessly threw his body up into the air. The corpse fell back down, landing awkwardly with its head facing up.

“Wulfgar it is.”

Vibeke stood up. They headed for the panzercopter cockpit.

“Could you calculate which way he'd fall? When you threw him?”

“Yes.”

 

 

P
YTTEN
HAD
not expected the responsibility of feeding Willie the giant salamander. It wasn't a horrible duty or even an insulting one. It had to be done and Pytten was perfectly happy to do it. The large aquarium that flanked the office had to be kept stocked with worms, fish, and the occasional frog.

Pytten collected the fauna from the market and ran them down to Risto's office. Inside, Risto sat at his desk in the dark, lit only by a satellite image of aerial battle. Pytten walked over and observed.

“Do you understand what you're seeing, Pytten?”

“More or less, sir,” Pytten answered honestly.

“Tell me what you see, tactically speaking.”

Pytten observed for a moment.

“Ulver is routing the UKI by applying extreme force on their north flank.”

“And how can the UKI win this fight in an instant?”

Pytten had no idea. They watched as the UKI flank broke and Ulver began hammering their unprotected formation. The UKI threw all they had left at the oncoming forces to no avail. One missile flew from the hologram directly at Pytten. Upward and to the left.

“They're on even ground,” Pytten realized. “UKI should be ascending.”

Risto looked over and contemplated his assistant.

“How did you know that?”

“A guess, sir.”

“A good guess. Wrong, in this case—they should have come up from below as this is a pogo confrontation, pogos have more spring when they're coming up from the ground—but you get the idea. War is three dimensional. The same applies underwater.”

“Naturally.”

Risto laughed. “Not so naturally as it comes to you, it seems. We teach it in tactics, yet half our captains still forget it when put to the test.”

Pytten felt quite proud of getting it despite not having had command training.

“I forgot it on my first command simulation. Lost to Captain Julkea.”

Pytten said nothing. At first. Risto was being forthcoming, a rarity from what Pytten could tell. Pytten was there for taking the initiative and had seemingly impressed Risto with tactical analysis. It was time to press that advantage and earn a superior's trust even further.

“I'm sure that loss only—”

“Don't placate me, kid.”

Pytten swallowed. They had to think fast.

“No, sir, not your loss, the UKI.” It was a good start. “They committed two pogo contingents to a fight with Ulver's—” Pytten checked the stats readout. “—second largest carrier. They didn't intend to win this. It's a feint. This loss is only to keep the carrier—” Pytten checked again. “—
The Germanotta
, off their back for another maneuver. Check the extended region. They must be rallying something else.”

Risto considered it. Then he spun the hologram around and zoomed into the activity spikes. The area was otherwise silent.

“Nothing yet, Pytten.”

They watched the spikes. Pytten grew concerned. They'd avoided one iceberg but steered straight into another.

“Why did you expect that, so resolutely?”

There was no compelling lie this time.

“I, uh… meant to placate you and tried to change course in a manner appearing smart, sir.”

Risto frowned.

“Well,” said Risto, “let's see how well you pretend.”

He returned to the spikes. Pytten stood nervous as all hell.

“Bullshit is an art as subtle as battle. Tactical analysis?”

They realized Risto meant their own mistake. “Ah, I sent an inferior force into enemy territory, and it was destroyed. Rather than send additional forces in after, I immediately tested another front, one which yielded immediate success but alerted the enemy and allowed them to regroup with superior force for which I'm unequipped.”

“And the ‘enemy' is now attacking on all forward fronts, but you have a way out. Name your tactic, Pytten.”

Pytten's mind raced, trying to resolve the metaphor and solve the riddle at the same time.

“Come now, Pytten, you dug this hole. Not a deep one, mind you, but surely an awkward one. You want to impress me, you still can. What's your tactic?”

“Surrender to a superior force, sir?”

“Do you think loss will ever impress me?”

“No, sir!”

“Then name your tactic, sailor.”

Pytten thought fast. “Terrain advantage.”

“How so?”

Pytten pointed to the spikes. “UKI's attacking.”

Risto looked. The UKI was mounting a massive assault on Ulver's nearby port.
The Germanotta
was stuck with its forces extended too far north to save it.

“Not a bad bout. Real world strategy this time.” Risto zoomed in on the attack. “What's the UKI doing wrong? If that was their plan?”

Pytten picked up on the hint. Risto had said strategy and not tactics.

“They wasted working pogos to disable a port. Unless that port is incredibly important—”

“And it is not. UKI thinks the port is critical because it's dispatched half the threats to the Thames. They don't know the region held only two more dispatches. They disabled the port too late at too high a cost. This also reveals to Ulver which of their recon satellites are still working, as they'd not have made such a mistake if they could see the region.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You fared better. The enemy survived, but you made it out as unscathed as you could, trying to bullshit an admiral.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Course of action now?”

“Regroup and tell intel not to try to placate or bullshit you, sir.”

Risto smiled. “You want to earn my trust and good favor?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Then what's the problem with this metaphor?”

Pytten knew instantly. “Stop thinking of you as the enemy.”

Risto nodded.

 

 

“T
HE
CANCELLATION
couriers will make it to most of the navies and armies before they receive the original orders.”

“And Temujin?”

“He'll get his intel forces within the day. Unst is under UKI control, but I recommend you retake the region only after the Thames front is resolved. We lost the Zeebrugge port, but most of our forces were already underway. We should have our foothold within days.”

His advisers were happy. Hati was happy. Wulfgar was happy. He couldn't fathom why he'd made the strange choices he'd made, but he was certain the decision to remove it from memory was the best of his life.

He tossed Umberto a giant soggy clam. The animal scarfed it up as usual and gave Wulfgar a nuzzle, then flopped off to go for a swim in the deep end. Wulfgar stroked his chin. It was still glitchy, but he'd grown used to the staccato motion, the faint stutter it gave him. So many of the little things were fading away, it seemed.

“Dad, something about Dr. Blacha I never told you.”

“Yes?”

“He's my fiancé.”

Wulfgar smiled. “Tell me about him.”

“He lives on Floor 155, he's a doctor at Ballard's main hospital, he—”

“No, Hati. Tell me about him.”

She thought. “He's a lot like Mom. Loves word games, twenty-second-century broadcasts, cats. Has two CG's named Hank and Dean. Big fluffy ones. He takes care of them as if they were real, does everything for them. Thinks AIs should have rights and used to spend a lot on donations to get 'em.”

She thought; Wulfgar rubbed his chin. “We can bring him here.”

“Or you could send me home,” she reminded him.

He frowned.

“I know things were hard for you, that you grew up around some terrible role models, but I'm glad you ended up with someone you love.”

“That I did.”

“You know I never loved your mother. She certainly never loved me. I lived in fear all my life that you'd end up with a gangster you couldn't stand, like she did.”

“Dad—”

“No, let me say it. I've made a lot of mistakes as a father, no doubt more than I even know. And I know one of them might have been bringing you here. If it was, so be it. But I'm glad you're here now with me. And I hope whatever failings I've had, however I've hurt you in the past, that you can come to accept me, if not as a good father, then as a friend.”

“I do, Dad. I always did. Even when I was screaming at you.” They sat silently for a moment.

“Go now,” he said, “before you make me cry in front of my walrus.”

She laughed and stood up and headed out. Wulfgar looked around for Umberto but couldn't spot him. He adjusted his jacket, returned to his study, and looked over his latest plans. He could see a lot of changes he wanted to make.

He'd found quickly before that the world was all but too disordered to bother controlling. Even with his Loup taking over the global economy and putting countless tons of gold in his bank, people remained defiant to any semblance of government beyond their immediate company.

Wulfgar's rule was as thin as the lines of communications to the willing CEOs he could pay off. It wouldn't do. He needed a firmer grasp. A cultural hold. He hardwired into a copy of Karel Unheilig's thirty-seven-volume
Complete History of Humankind, 200,000 B.C.E.—2219 C.E
. and began to skim. The ancient times yielded little. Brutality was key. That was certain but not any news. Sumer, Egypt, Greece, Rome, all mundane and dependent on laws that couldn't quite be bent to apply to the situation.