Gudsriki (25 page)

“And what, Michelle, can instill fear in the fearless?”

 

 

T
HE
ELDER
Geki was never the same after their excursion to kill Cato. Varg didn't ask why. He knew the elder had gone briefly to check on someone, and he knew the man was morose ever after. With the global death count constantly rising, that was plenty.

They played cards in silence, links straining on maximum pickup hunting for any signal that could deliver intel.

“I recommend we find Vibeke again and team up with her.”

“No, Varg. This is not a Valknut team reunion. Besides, would you want her to suffer in fear for however much time we spent with her?”

“We could at least ask her where Violet was.”

“You will not mention your team again, understood?”

Varg stared at him and set down his cards.

“Sir, it's only natural that we have concerns from our—”

“Violet is dead, Varg. Move on.”

Varg absorbed it. He continued to stare.

“It's your turn, Varg.”

“It's a bit down my list right now that I know Violet is dead, sir.”

“We've all lost people.”

“Yeah, I know you lost someone. That's damn clear. Sir, we've both learned recently that we lost people. I don't know who you went to check on from Orkney, but you've been a damn asshole ever since, and you're going to give me one damn turn to cope with losing a woman I considered a sister.”

The elder stared at him. Varg stared right back. He would stand his ground on it. He knew after those months that a Geki voice has the same effect on a Geki that it does on a civilian. He could push back now. The elder took a deep breath.

“I'm sorry for your loss.”

“Likewise.”

They went back to cards, playing on in silence. Varg strained his link for a signal. He heard only static.

“Sir, have you found anything on any link frequency in the last two days?”

“Not a thing. The radiation is homogenizing across the globe, and we're in the middle of nowhere. I don't think we're going to hear anything more.”

“What's the last thing you got?”

“A snippet of conversation about an arcology collapse in Toronto. You?”

“Another Ulver signal about losing their 6th Army.”

“Ulver lost an Army?”

“They lose sometimes.”

“That's a big loss.”

“Yes, sir. I suppose so.”

“Did you record it?”

“Yes, I'll link it.”

Varg pulled out his link wire and handed it to the elder, who plugged in. Varg played back the signal from one of his partitions.

“—
confirm the 6th Army is lost. Alive, but they've joined the crusaders and are moving due north from Umeå at seventy
—”

“That's it,”
said Varg.

“Crusaders.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Violent religion has returned.”

“It seems so.”

“We dealt with that once.”

“Yes, sir, you mentioned.”

The elder paused during his turn.

“Burn The Motherfuckers Responsible…. We never actually said for what.”

They looked to one another, suppressing grins.

“You want to take on a crusade?”

“Varg, I thought you'd never ask.”

They jumped to Umeå and saw the carnage of the crusade. Varg felt a purpose he'd not felt since the Ares was at stake. They flew on spent jump residue northward toward Tromsø.

Outside of Pajala they found the 6th Army and the crusaders. They surveyed the field.

The crusaders were mostly singing songs. Mostly. Some pockets were put to darker fare. Some were burying a woman in the frozen dirt and gathering rocks. Varg set his audio gear to focus on a half degree.

“Please, please don't!” the woman was begging.

“And he that blasphemeth the name of the Lord, he shall surely be put to death, and all the congregation shall certainly stone him!”

She wept, pleaded, “I only asked if you—”

The first stone flew, hitting the half-buried woman on the head. It knocked her out instantly, mercifully. Others began throwing rocks. Varg pulled back his sound and visual sensors and looked to the elder. He just watched. Varg looked back. The crowd was dispersing. Their departure revealed another dozen dead women buried and bloodied. Varg forced his sensors in again. The woman just killed had a sign around her neck for “blasphemy.” Others said “witch” or “working sabbath day.” One said “rape.” It was on a slim woman's corpse.

“That one doesn't look like a rapist,”
remarked Varg.

“Rape victim. They kill rape victims in the Bible.”

Varg cleared his throat. The elder spoke.

“I'd say this band has graduated to a Province Card, yes, Varg?”

Varg suppressed angry tears.
“Let's put the fear of God into 'em.”

They used the last of their jump energy to float up high over the crowd, and then rocketed down into the center of the crusade.

Fear hit them like lightning. Screams echoes through the crowd. None ran. All were petrified, unable to move. Held in terror. Varg smiled and looked to the elder.

He snarled.

“Angels! Angels have come!” shouted a faint voice in the crowd.

“The witnesses!” shouted another.

The elder looked to Varg.
“Do we burn 'em or play with 'em first?”

“Sir?”

The elder held out his hand and started a faint pillar of flame around their position. Not hot or close enough to hurt anyone.

“We play,”
he said. Then he swallowed and turned his voice and pulse up to their maximum yield.

“
You have angered the Lord thy God
!” he shouted with a sinister grin. “
You have betrayed reason and decency
!
And now you will burn for your crimes
!”

“Sir, maybe—”

He intensified the flames and sent them outward through the people. Through the crowd and the army. People caught flame but didn't burn to ash. The elder was leaving them alive. Alive and in horrific, unsurvivable pain.

“Sir!”

“Not now, Varg, I'm being the wrath of God.”

The fire spread and popped as it hit ammo. Soon they were in the eye of a fire hurricane that lingered over the burning masses. Varg was half horrified and half proud. He felt righteous pride in them taking down a murderous militia of religionists, but the reality of it was on a scale unlike anything in Valhalla. He had never committed mass murder as a Valkyrie, not like the elder was doing.

The flames died down, and the elder broadcast an extinguishing wave. Bodies smoked.

“Sir, what about the innocent—”

He turned to Varg
. “You don't win a crusade without killing your objectors along the way. If there were innocents among them, they died on the way out.”

“Sir, you killed hundreds.”

“Do you think the Geki were approved by Amnesty International? Do you think we're here to spank children? The Geki destroy people who fuck shit up. These people fucked shit up. And now the Geki Burn The Motherfuckers Responsible. Today we burned some responsible motherfuckers. Now can you handle this or do I kill you and find someone better?”

Varg considered. He was overwhelmed by the smell of burning flesh. He looked around.

He saw the sign on the victim they'd stoned for being raped.

“I can handle it, sir. No problem.”

The elder nodded.

“Where do we go next?”

“Save your jump juice. We stay here for now. Then we need to focus on their leadership. Hunt down the source of the infection and remove it before healing can begin. Then we take care of other religionists.”

“Even the peaceful ones, sir?”

“Religion evolves inevitably toward cruelty.”

“Burning them all wasn't exactly friendly.”

“Valkyries were never friendly. Valkyries fought because they wanted to. Tell me, Varg, when the flames spread, were you thinking of your dead comrades?”

“No, sir.”

“We are fire, Varg. We're only at peace when we consume. So we consume.”

Varg nodded.
“How shall we go about investigating?”

“Ulver will know who took their army.”

“We work our way up their chain of command?”

“Stop thinking like you don't strike terror into anyone you meet. We jump directly into their executive boardroom.”

 

 

T
HE
FORTRESS
loomed ahead in the dim morning light. Gunmetal gray and blocky, it straddled the island like a contortionist bent over backward, four limbs stretching out to sea holding up a strange ribbed arch. Even at a distance they could feel the magnetized air stiffening their suits. They turned on the protective fields.

Vibeke had seen the schematics for the fortress before, studying fortifications in Alf's library. It was infamous, the most overbuilt structure on the planet, spawned of paranoia and overfunding. There was truly no way to sneak in, no way to burrow in or otherwise breach the place. And they were flying in half a panzercopter stolen from Ulver's own base.

Luckily they had a trump card.

“This is Registry 2070 delivering Violet MacRae for Wulfgar.”

“Ah, word must have passed you in the sky. That directive has been rescinded.”

Vibeke thought fast. “It was rescinded because I caught her. Landing pad?”

As soon as she'd said it without missing a beat the oddity struck her. Wulfgar no longer wanted Violet. She couldn't fathom why.

“Ah…. Affirmative, illuminating.”

A landing pad on top of the fortress lit up. Vibeke set the recognizer to it and let the cockpit land. She looked to Nel as it descended.

As soon as they touched down, guards motioned for them to stay in the cockpit. They waited two minutes before a hurried man in a black rubber business suit came running out from the airlock. He motioned for them to exit the cockpit.

Eight guards kept their rifles aimed at Vibeke and Nel.

“I rescinded the order, yes. Violet MacRae was not to be caught, yes? Who are you?”

“An independent contractor, I—”

“We had none. You're under arrest.” He nodded to the guards. “Escort them to the armpit.”

As capture was their goal, they went without complaint. The guards kept their microwave rifles on them as they entered the airlock. All stood as monitors closed the outer and opened the inner doors; then they headed in deeper.

The place was immaculate and strong. It gave the sense of absolute impermeability, the prison to which they were escorted even more so. Vibeke wondered if it wasn't best to fight the guards before they were locked up. But she remained certain Wulfgar would want to see Violet, no matter why the order was rescinded.

They entered a pink padded room.

“Stand against the wall.”

There were still eight rifles on them. They did so. A giant mechanical arm padded in smart foam swung into place to press them against the wall. The smart foam expanded and immobilized them. All but two of the guards left.

The man in the rubber suit walked up to Nel.

“What are you doing here?”

“This woman captured me.”

“That woman, if I'm guessing correctly, is Vibeke, yes? You came here of your own accord, two Valkyries, yes…. To kill Wulfgar?”

“How do you know—” Vibeke started.

“I know all there is to know about you. I'm Wulfgar's expert on you, on Violet, on the Hall of the Slain, yes. He told me everything, and I learned… so much more. I came to know you better than my master ever did, ever could. I know you, Violet. I know your avatar in the last era, before the fall of the link, a squid; I know your VVPS score on the tests, yes, it was twenty-nine; your favorite musician, Nadhir Only; your favorite food, bacon wrapped avocado fries; I know the curve of your bosom at Y equals point zero five times
e
to the negative (negative twelve plus thirty X) to the sixth, minus three times X times the logarithm of X, yes….

“I know that if you're here, you wanted to be here, yes. You've not sent your insects after me, not that you can with the arm in place. You could have escaped at any time, yes. You want to be here. Why?”

No point in denying it. “To kill Wulfgar, like you said.”

It was a chess game now. The pieces were all in plain sight. The question was who could outplay whom.

“Wulfgar… was obsessed with you, Violet. Obsessed to the point of negligence of his other conquests. He had you deleted, he moved on. But now, here you are.”

“Here I am,” said Nel.

“What am I to do with you…?”

“Let us go and tell us where Wulfgar is.”

The man grinned. “Why would I take your side against my king?”

“Because we'll kill you if you don't.”

He laughed. “The arm! It can stay on you forever if I give the word. It can crush you, bind you, bind any man with ten times your strength, yes.”

“Let us go and you can live.”