Gudsriki (40 page)

“You should find a flight to the moon. Someone's gotta be flying, escaping still. You could live a full life there. Cut off the necrotized foot before it takes the whole leg and learn to walk in low gravity.”

“And take you with me?”

“I'm the gangrene itself.”

Nel thought to say otherwise but failed to speak. She didn't want to make Vibeke feel better about herself. If she did, she might realize matters were the other way around. That it was Nel rotting her from the inside out. She was afraid. So she stayed silent. The boat trudged toward the coast.

“You're all I have, Nel.”

Nel couldn't disagree. She wanted to return that compliment.

“You're a good owner.”

Vibeke suddenly looked at her, as if hurt.

“I don't own you.”

“You don't?” Nel was shocked.

“You own yourself.”

The idea seemed offensive to Nel. And sickeningly lonely.

“If you're not my owner, what are you to me?”

Vibeke stared at her. “I'm whatever you want.”

Nel didn't even know what she would classify Vibeke as if not her owner. She reviewed Violet's memories for anything remotely similar. She'd thought of Vibeke as a friend but wanted to own her, possess her as an object. It seemed right that Vibeke owned Nel now.

Vibeke caught her thinking. “What
do
you want?”

Nel was caught off guard. “I want Violet back so she could deal with this emotional bullshit and just use me to kill people.”

Vibeke drew back. Nel looked at her, angry as when she was born. It echoed inside her: Vibeke didn't own her. It was like she'd been thrown away.

“I don't want you. I didn't ask for you at all. I didn't ask you to grow a brain for me so I could feel so damn miserable in this gangrenous world.”

She could tell Vibeke was hurt by what she was saying. She felt no empathy this time, only anger and the desire to hurt her worse. If she didn't belong to the woman, she wanted her to suffer for it.

“And since when did you care what other people want? You knew what Violet wanted and didn't give her shit.”

The instability in Vibeke's face was like an order to push her further. To see if she could make her break down in tears.

“You have the gall to ask what I want you to be to me? I really don't think you want to find out.”

As Nel said it, she knew she wanted Vibeke to be her guide to the world.

“What I want you to be is a moot point when you can't even change what you are.”

She thought Vibeke was her maker and her purpose.

“You're trash. Debris. The wreckage of what Violet remembered.”

She had thought Vibeke was her owner, and it was a happy thought.

“You're a waste, an utter waste.”

And Vibeke said she wasn't her owner after all. She thought Vibeke was everything to her.

“You're nothing to me, and
that's
how I want it.”

Vibeke was shaking. Not crying. Nel wanted her crying. If she wasn't her owner she wanted her sobbing.

“You're worthless.”

Vibeke had heard as much in her youth. That reminded her how she was supposed to react. She slugged Nel in the face with every ounce of strength she had. Two of her knuckles fractured on the metal undercarriage behind her human skin.

Nel was surprised into motionlessness. She hadn't considered in all her insults that Vibeke still had it in her to fight back. She could respect that. Admire it. Her angry streak ended, and she stared at Vibeke with a higher regard than ever before.

Vibeke seemed to recognize it in her face.

“Wan' another, fuckbot?”

Nel wasn't sure why she'd just ripped into Vibeke the way she had. As if the hit had erased her previous rationale and heat. She wasn't sure what to say next. She reviewed Violet's memories, the earliest formations of etiquette she could find. The answer seemed too childish, but it was the only answer she could find.

“Sorry.”

Vibeke stared at her. She was supposed to say “Apology accepted.”

She punched Nel again and broke her knuckles completely.

“Now pop your fingers open and fix these,” she demanded.

Nel did so without comment.

 

 

P
YTTEN
STOOD
at attention as the assembly mumbled among themselves. Finally the murmurs ended, and the chief honorable motioned for silence.

“Sävel Pytten. We understand you have been recently demoted to lieutenant and relieved of your duties as Risto Turunen's assistant, as a result of your decision to bring the admiral intel that, though critical, was concerning a personal matter that he had specifically asked you to keep in confidence.”

“Yes, your honors.”

“This was before the incident in the atrium, and the escape of the belligerents.”

“Yes, your honors.”

“In light of those events, and some… suggestions… on the part of your superior officer, it is the decision of the council….”

They looked to each other nervously.

“That the demotion will serve as sufficient punishment.”

“Yes, your honors.”

“You are dismissed. You will report to Commander Kätyri for your next duty assignment.”

Pytten did an about-face and departed. Once past the outer chamber doors, Pytten began to hyperventilate. Their knee joints went weak. Tear ducts became inflamed. Extremities went numb. Pytten knew the council must have had something worse planned. Risto must have done something. Pytten had no clue what but was instantly thankful. Sadly, though, the council had every right to determine Pytten's next CO.

“Pytten!” shouted an officer.

Pytten stood at attention. It was Commander Kätyri. Already time for the next duty.

“Congratulations on staying in the corps. It comes as quite a shock to me after your destruction of an entire atrium and direct insubordination to the admiral of the entire fleet. If it were up to me, I'd have put you in the stockade for life for the shit you pulled. Luckily for you that's not up to me. Unluckily for you, the rest of your time in the corps
is
up to me.”

Pytten stood still.

“You thought you did your time as a lieutenant, didn't you? Rising up through the ranks, did you think you'd be a captain someday?”

Pytten said nothing.

“You will answer me, Lieutenant!”

“Sir, yes sir!”

“Did you want a command?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Do you think you'll get one now?”

“No, sir!”

“What would you even do in command?”

“I don't know, sir!”

“What would they even call you in command? Sir? Ma'am?”

“I don't know, sir!”

“You don't know much, Lieutenant. You're not gonna be a captain if you don't even know how you'll be addressed!”

“Yes, sir!”

“You're not gonna be captain period. Not with this on your record!”

“No, sir!”

“You're not going to want to be when I'm done with you!”

“No, sir!”

“Do you know what I'm going to do to you,
Lieutenant
?”

Pytten tried to breathe correctly. “No, sir!”

Kätyri drew closer to Pytten's face. Then produced a book.

“You will read this volume cover to cover. You will memorize the contents of this book. You will do so by 1500 tomorrow, then you will report back to me. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir!” Pytten shouted with exacting care. Kätyri departed, and Pytten looked at the book.

It was
The Complete Naval Compendium of Discontinued Corporal Punishments 1804-2207
.

It was subtitled:
And their possible continued legality
.

 

 

T
HE
G
EKI
appeared on the Valkyries' commandeered boat.

“Goddamn it,” shouted Kabar, angry beyond the fear. “Where the fuck were you when the war—”

“Can it, Kabar.”
The elder Geki moved past him.
“Vibeke.”

The fear hit Vibeke doubly as they said her name.

“Yes!”

“You must kill Mishka immediately.”

“Okay! Where… is she?”

“The Arctic Cathedral in Tromsø. We will meet you there. Be warned, she has a Geki flame implant.”

“Great!”

“Hurry.”

Vibeke thought quickly. Tried to think up the fastest way to get there.

“Can you take me? Blink me there?”

“No, you will need to gather artillery.”

“The Blackwing, where did y—Varg land it?”

Varg stood still, staring at Nel.

“Where did Varg land it?” Vibeke shouted. It snapped Varg out of his stare.

“It's in the sea by Valhalla. It will open only on Valkyrie contact, but it's too far away to do you any good. Find Alf's tank.”

“Okay!”

The Varg-Geki turned back to the robot. He stood motionless. Nel felt the fear cripple her from the mind out. She wanted to cut herself off from the brain but couldn't move to do it. It was as if the Geki was looking deep into her and didn't like what it was finding.

“Violet?”

“Nel!” The fear was unlike anything she'd experienced. Violet's memories of it didn't do it justice, not by a long shot.

“What are you?”

She shouted to ease the fear, “An artificial intelligence based in a regrown and mechanically modified body with the genetic and memory patterns of Violet as backed up before her death.”

“What artificial intelligence?”

“Nelson, her Tikari!”

Suddenly the elder Geki was interested. He looked at Nel directly for the first time and demanded an answer.

“She named her Tikari ‘Nelson'?”

“Yes.” She cringed and buckled. “Please go away!”

The Geki froze. The fear intensified. Intensified tenfold, growing worse and worse until suddenly both Geki disappeared. The relief was phenomenal, as if a dozen thistles had finally been removed from her viscera.

“Odin's beard,” said Tahir.

“What the fuck was that about?”

“They need me to kill Mishka, apparently.”

“Why do they want her dead?”

“Why
wouldn't
anyone want her dead?”

“Veikko said she's been evangelizing. She must have seized the region. We saw signs of a crusade in UmeÃ¥, if the Geki are involved—Wait, why would they need my help? And why didn't they just take you there themselves?”

“They said she had their flames. They must be evenly matched now. They must intend for you to bring superior armaments.”

“Nel is right. The tank.”

“Right, ‘Nel.'” Tasha stared at Vibeke contemptuously. “You made a fake Violet out of her Tikari? It's a fucking bug?”

“Please don't talk about me in the third person.”

They all looked at Nel. Tasha continued.

“I talk about my Tikari in the third person. I'm sure as hell not gonna hold a conversation with a fucking fruit fly—”

Nel was already upset enough after her last chat with Vibeke and the Geki fear. She'd been an instant from kissing her the night before, and now Vibeke was healing from slugging her in the face. She jumped up and grabbed Tasha by the hair, holding her up over the gunwale.

“You are if you want me to put you down.”

The other teams merely laughed as Tasha fidgeted.

“It picked up Violet's temper, that's for sure,” said Tahir.

Tasha shouted, “Go debug yourself, you fucking gnat!”

“Tasha, I wouldn't. She'll kill you.”

“I won't kill Tasha,” said Nel. “I've learned a bit since I was a Tikari. Yes, I could kill you right now if I wanted and would if I were a mere Tikari. Tikaris don't have any sense of mercy. They're made to kill. So you better count on me being something more, because if I'm not a damn advanced piece of learning hardware, if I'm still just a pathetic little bug, then you're dead. And I'd love to see you dead. So come on, call me a pathetic little bug.”

T team readied their Tikaris; K prepared for a water rescue. Tasha struggled.

“I'm sorry,” she grunted.

“Apology accepted.” Nel set her down on the deck and skipped over to sit back down. Vibeke watched her with a huge grin and a sense of recovering affection.

“So. That ravine, you know, the one with the Ares in it we all lived in for years? What are we doing about that?”

Kabar spoke first. “K team will find a pogo and head north to observe.”

Tahir next. “If we do take it back, we're gonna need more than two teams. T can look into the valley. Vladivostok also had a note from Othala team in the crater. We haven't decoded it yet, but we might find them.”

Nel felt vaguely ill at all the Valkyrie talk. Envious.

“And V team? Such as it is?” asked Trygve.

Vibeke didn't hesitate. “We find and kill Mishka.”

Nel wished she could talk on their level. She didn't know why she couldn't, but she was reminded painfully by their different candor that she wasn't one of them. She stood and nodded to Vibeke, then headed below decks.

“Well, you have fun with that.”

“Alf's tank.” Kabar pulled out the end of his link and wired it to Vibeke. “One person can ride inside and one… ‘person' can cling on to the back for a long time.”

“Then it's settled. T and K will do some good, and Vibs can take her robot-insect-sex-toy—I mean her new friend to kill one lady we haven't cared about in months. Good and fair.”

“Eat shit, Tasha.”