Gudsriki (41 page)

“We're gonna have to resort to coprophagy soon thanks to you nuking the crops, Vibs.”

“God,” Vibs argued, “you end civilization as we know it one damn time, and people never let it go.”

Kabar called out to the Wolf captain, “Take us ashore!”

“Hell no!” said the captain.

The Valkyries stood and looked at the captain, who was looking in horror at what was on the shore.

 

 

T
HE
G
EKI
landed outside of Tromsø, hidden from the cathedral and far from any people.

“Varg, you have failed utterly!”

“What?”

“You cannot get distracted by a damn robot!”

“I'm sorry, sir, she was—”

“She wasn't Violet. She wasn't your dead damned teammate!”

“I know!”

“Then why did you lose focus?”

“Because I just saw a—are you kidding? How could I not be distracted by a damn Violet robot!”

“I wasn't.”

“You wouldn't! You don't give a shit about Violet! You'd have freaked out if you saw a robot of your damn kid.”

“I assure you I would not have. And I know all about your Violet. I know her record with Valhalla. I know she….”

“Know she what?”

“I know she'd have made a better Geki than you!”

Varg looked at him, shocked at his strange insult.

“Well, I'm sorry if I disappoint you.”

The elder looked him over, furious. He didn't know what to make of it.

“Do I disappoi—”

“Yes, you're a disappointment! Yes, you're a disappointment. How could you not be? I saved your life when I could have saved Violet! I saved the wrong Valkyrie! The wrong damn Valkyrie. I'd trade you in a second to have saved her.”

Varg was horrified.
“I—I'm sorry you—”

“Don't fucking apologize to me!”
The anger hit Varg despite his growing immunity to the fear.

“What do you want me to do, sir?”
he asked as calmly as he could.

“Grow up. Give up your insipid regret over that girl and do your duty.”

“Yes, sir,”
Varg said calmly,
“as soon as you forget your daughter.”

The elder's head snapped toward him in an instant. The fear exploded from him.

“Don't pretend, sir, don't pretend your loss hasn't affected you too.”

“You will be silen—”

“
You will be silent
! You, sir! You burned an entire legion of men and women! You burned them for sport, for your own pleasure. You don't want justice or peace. You want revenge! The world fucked you over and took your kid, and you wanna fuck it right back!”

The elder fumed.

“You lost a child you never got to know. One you regret not knowing well enough. That's a hard loss, sir, and you can't pretend it doesn't affect how you've acted. So you'll forgive me for staring at a damn robot of my sister-in-arms for two damn seconds.”

The elder laughed sardonically.
“I am not afflicted with regret as you'd like to believe.”

“Then say your daughter's name.”

The elder stared at him.

“Say her name, sir. If you—”

“
You will never hear her name
!”

The elder summoned a fireball in his hand and prepared to shove it down Varg's throat. Varg was soaked through with terror. He remained calm.

“Look at yourself. Look at yourself, sir. You have to be better than this.”

The elder froze, fear emanating from him like a solar flare. Slowly he let the flame burn out. He stared at Varg for a full minute before sitting down. Varg cautiously sat beside him. The elder waited for a moment, then spoke.

“So your living teammate made a fake.”

“It appears so.”

“Why would she do that?”

“She loved her. Never admitted it, but it was obvious from the start.”

“From when they met?”

“Thereabouts. Started flirting back around Project Serenade, but there was never any question before that. Vibs loved her, and Violet loved her back before I ever got to Valhalla.”

The elder looked down and thought for a moment.
“Her Tikari….”

Varg sat silently. The new creation was strange but not unthinkable, not to anyone who'd had a Tikari. The elder Geki would never understand what it was like to have one.

“Tikaris are smarter than you'd think. I can definitely see one hooked into a brain acting just like its owner.”

The elder wasn't concerned with that.
“She named her Tikari ‘Nelson.'”

“Yes, sir. I named mine Pokey.”

Pokey looked up from under Varg's cloak.

“Sir, why do—”

“No more of this. We must observe Vibeke's progress.”

“Should we escort her?”

“We can't leave her and her robot in perpetual fear. We'll meet them in Tromsø.”

 

 

R
ISTO
'
S
OFFICE
was buried deep in the rock under Itämeri. He was ordered to be there. That left little room for creative interpretation. But he did technically still have an office on board the Proteus. Surely he could monitor the topside war better from his sub, mobile. And if he happened to be observing the recent Ulver movements toward Svalbarð, surely that would remain within his orders.

He knew morale would be questionable on the trip north. He packed his dress uniform. He ordered his most loyal officers onto the ship. All but one, there was one he couldn't order to be there. Who he wanted despite certain errors. Risto was nothing if not resourceful.

Kätyri banged on Pytten's hatch until it was opened.

“Pytten!” he shouted, “Risto wasn't done with you! You have new orders directly from the Fleet Admiral!”

“Yes, sir!”

“As follows!” Kätyri read them word for word. “Sävel Pytten, you know the importance of protocol, you will not violate it under Commander Kätyri any more than you did under me!”

“Yes, sir,” said Pytten, hiding a sudden regret within. Pytten
had
broken protocol under Risto. That was painfully true.

“You are absolutely not to join us on the expedition north.”

“Yes, sir.” Why order that? It wasn't like Pytten had any choice.

“You are absolutely not to stow away on board the
Proteus
, which is docked at the southernmost Vega port until 1300 tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.” Pytten was curious about the extra information.

“And you are absolutely not to do so at precisely 0940 when the supply cartridges will be opened and left unattended for exactly two minutes by Lieutenant Värkki.”

“Yes, sir!” Pytten replied forcefully.

Kätyri looked over the lieutenant carefully, with utter disdain. Pytten tried not to smile.

 

 

N
EL
FELT
a supreme amusement. She realized quickly it wasn't her own. It was Veikko, rattling the corner of her mind. She hated him for it. He felt that hatred. She knew it, but it made him only happier. She felt his sense of joy like a cheese grater behind her eyeballs.

“What are you so happy about?”

“You don't know where you're going.”

“Like you do?”

“You're going to hell.”

“See you there.”

“No, I mean you're going into hell. You don't know what's happened since you went undersea.”

“What's happened?”

“You'll find out soon. If I were you I'd kill myself now. Not have to see it.”

“Please, please kill yourself.”

“Not when the fun's about to begin. You convinced the Cetaceans to come, didn't you?”

“Yes, they'll make a prisoner of you in—”

“They won't.”

“What?”

“Thank you, Nel. Thank you. You and Vibs did a perfect job!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Not too smart, though. I've called in Ulver to destroy the Cetaceans. It was a trap. I was the bait, and you were the line. You got them to come here, come here to die!”

“You used us?”

“I used you. I used Vibs. I used Violet. I used you all. You're just so easy to use! Now the fish are coming to die.”

“You're lying.”
She knew he wasn't.
“Good-bye. I won't speak to you again.”

“You don't need to! You've done it already! So long, and thanks for all the fish.”

 

 

H
ARVARD
W
ATAIN
was lost, was blind. Was utterly alone. Mishka's tank nearly ran him over. But she stopped it just in time and, more importantly, took mercy on him and let him ride with her, sitting on its side. They rode to Tromsø together.

She told him about Torquemada, how she was seeking out the church because the church was their only hope in those trying times, those end days.

Together, they joined the church that was growing in Tromsø. Harvard could only listen to Mishka's rise through its ranks. She rose fast, until she hit the glass ceiling. She found it antiquated so she shattered it. Killed the man who'd erected it. Confessed and asked forgiveness and received it.

Her knowledge of spiritual matters like command and assault were valued by the new church leaders and before long, she was one of them. Not much longer, she was the head of them. Voivod, they called her. Leader of the army of Christ.

Harvard stuck by her side. Despite his blindness she valued him. That shocked him. He thought he'd become useless after the war took his sight. But she called him one of her generals. That meant God wanted him too. He was wanted! He was strong in the Lord, and strong in his messenger. What amazing fate had brought him to Mishka? He prayed in gratitude every day.

Mishka confided in him. She explained some of her advantages. It was far easier to convert the masses after the apocalypse than before. When she could point to the nuclear rapture of billions and a dozen other prophecies come true, people were apt to listen.

The severity of it all—the end of the world, the criticality of faith, the urgency of the end times—it delivered masses willing to do the impossible. Harvard would test that for her.

Umeå. It would be Mishka's first test case once she came to power within the church. She had inherited a flock of sheep where once she'd lead wolves into battle. She had to see if the sheep could bite.

So she rallied them as a good shepherd does. She spoke for God, and God's word was inviolable. Unquestionable. Infallible. She didn't waste time on tests. She didn't see how far they'd jump in their leaps of faith. She had to be certain that her newfound power was absolute. She ordered Harvard to take them to Umeå.

Rumors of the Muslims of Umeå—the ideal villains for her masses—were circulating. Muslims denied Christ was the Son of God, believed the heretic Muhammad was a prophet, all manner of absurdities she could rally against. She found that it wasn't enough. So she revealed that they killed Christian children in their blasphemous rites. The crowd demanded no evidence. Without the net to research all claims instantly, they believed what they were told. So she didn't stop there. The Muslims were rapists, of course. Murderers. Cannibals! The ultimate cannibal gang in fact. Who preyed on Christians, who ate their children, raped their women, profaned their hosts. The crowd was ravenous. She set them on their target.

Umeå was slaughtered. Their defenses were nonexistent. Their fight was no fight at all; most merely died reciting the
shahada
. They piled up the dead and headed home, singing hymns to glorify their deeds. And their deeds were glorious—they had defeated the ultimate evil! They had executed every last cannibal and rapist and blasphemer, all in the name of the one true God, Jesus Christ. It was for his glory that they acted.

On their way home, they encountered the 6th Army of Ulver. They were to be wiped out by the evil empire. If it was God's will, they would accept that, but not before trying to save their persecutors' souls. They negotiated. They revealed the nature of their Christ. They preached the word, and the word was received. There was a fight within the ranks, converts versus skeptics. With Watain's crusaders behind them, the converts won and defeated their enemies. They formed a grand Army of Christ.

Their homecoming was to have been celebrated. The first celebration most of them had seen since the war. But they didn't come home. Only Harvard Watain came home. He had survived the Geki fire only because he was a sinner. He had left the camp to sin. That was why God kept him alive: to be redeemed. And to let his leader know what had happened. The crusaders and converts had been martyred, and upon hearing they died in flames, Mishka had a damn good idea of who killed them.

At first she feared telling the crowd they'd died. But she found that they were a better rallying point dead than alive. They were united, united in hatred and in love, the most intimate community that existed in the entire world, all thanks to the Lord, and his presence on Earth. She fulfilled her role as their voivod. Alexandra Suvorova. Mishka to her friends.