Eric Olafson, Neo Viking Vol. 01

Erik Gustav, raising his own falcon shaped cold mask, said. "What is done to make sure?"

"We are pulling what has not caught fire yet away and we throwing snow on the flames."

Isegrim snorted, "No sense to stand out here then. Things are well in hand."

Lighting brightened the sky and thunder rolled over whatever he said.

Greifen looked through the hole in the roof and said. "I wonder what it is that made Thor so angry tonight?"

Erik Gustav turned to the stairs. "Greifen, the generator?"

"It has stopped working, no one we have knows of such Off-World things and how to fix them. It has always worked."

Erik Gustav did not say out loud what he was thinking but he realized just how backwards Nilfeheim really was. They really thought the gods were real and could not even service a simple generator, yet they were part of a space faring community that harnessed the energies of stars. "Call for service then, it is not good to be without electricity in weather like this."

Greifen said, "I fly to Halstaad Fjord at once, my liege. Our only GalNet terminal is in the still room and it too needs power."

Erik Gustav only nodded and turned himself to leave the Freeman house. Halfway down the stairs he was stopped by a woman in fur cloak and the blue dress of a maid, her face bright red. "Sire, the Lady, she is giving birth and the midwife says we need the Union Doctor fast!"

Three hours had passed since the maid had delivered the urgent plea.

Even with power, the Galnet terminal was not Avatar enabled. He then learned that not even the clinic was Avatar enabled. He had used his own PDD to call the Union Clinic.

One of the doctors of the Union Clinic had to come out to the burg in a flier.

The Union Clinic was technically way too small and understaffed for a world of this size, but it was seen as an admission of weakness to go the Union Clinic.

Nilfeheim Vikings first tried to doctor themselves and use old fashioned home remedies before consulting the clinic. Children were born at home and if the mother to be was lucky, important enough and of a clan she could rely on a midwife.

It had taken almost an hour to find a free doctor and while the clinic maintained a small fleet of modern very fast all-weather Fliers, one of them was currently being repaired, the two others were in use when Erik Gustav called.

A Union Doctor had finally arrived and was rushed into the bedroom by the midwife.

The men were standing in the drawing room, each of them nervously brooding. Isegrim feared that he would have to go back to the crumbling burg when his wife died before she could deliver the twins. It was his nature to care more about that than about the young woman who was his wife, fighting for her life.

Erik Gustav was very worried about his daughter and he also realized that he had not done enough as Planet Representative.

The Clinic not having an avatar enabled GalNet terminal was something a Planet Rep should have known and remedied. That he had not learned from the last time, when a disease killed his own wife and did not purchase one for the burg was a painful reminder just how much he had failed as clan Chief and as the Representative of this world.

He was so rich he could buy one for every burg on Nilfeheim and he prayed to Odin to keep Hel away, he would then do just that.

The burg was eerily dark, the generator still not working. The only service company in town for these things was closed for the night. There was another one at Isen Lansby and the technician promised to come as soon as he had serviced three other emergency repair calls first.

Without electric heat, the old fireplaces could not really keep the big burg warm. Not that there were even enough soak stones or Seaweed bricks to keep them all going.

He had called the office of his company and they diverted one of his freighters, picking up a new Zero Point power provider and a few thousand tons of firewood. All his money however could not make them fly faster or arrive here before the eight weeks the trip would take.

Isegrim paced back and forth and grunted. "What is it that takes so long? He is a Union Doctor in Odin's name, he should be able to fix whatever is wrong in no time."

Erik Gustav glanced at the priceless mantle clock above the fireplace, an antique his family had brought from Earth a little over 2800 years ago. He had it restored by an expert only ten years ago and it kept time in a very peculiar way by pointing two arms at the circular arranged numbers around the clock's face.

It was Gothorm Ragnarsson, his grandfather who had shown him how to read the time. The two mechanical hands had almost joined at the top. It was only a minute before midnight. Of course the clock kept Earth time, but the colonists had kept to the 24 hour division of the day.

While he stared at the clock he remembered that one of his Assembly colleagues told him that many of the old Terran human colonies still kept OTT, Old Terran Time. It simply seemed natural to humans and fit their natural biological rhythm. He tried to keep himself calm remembering these trivial facts at a time like that.

The larger one of the clocks hands moved with a fine almost inaudible click.

Just at the same time the bright, cold white-bluish light of a flash illuminated everything for briefest moment and the following thunder felt as if it actually shook the massive stone walls.

The door to Ilva's bedroom opened and Freydis, the wife of Hogun Olafson and Ilva's midwife appeared, holding something swaddled in a blanket. "Lord Isegrim, behold thy son!"

Isegrim forgot everything, all his selfish thoughts all his plans to kill the woman and the child to gain the riches as he saw the tiny pinkish human baby.

The very first thing he saw was that his son had his eyes wide open, blue eyes with a shade of gray.

The baby raised his incredibly small arms towards his face. With shaking hands, with a flood of inexplainable pride and a feeling that even he recognized as love he took the infant and held it up.

"Odin and Thor! Behold all ye Aesir. This is my son!"

Erik Gustav was moved with feelings very similar. A son was born, the Ragnarsson legacy would continue. Yet the wave of pride was swept aside with the throat tightening sensation of fear as he saw the doctor's serious expression coming out the bedroom. "My daughter, how is she? And where is the other baby?"

The doctor said. "You should have called me much earlier. The midwife is good but your daughter had an acute and life-threatening complication in the last state of her pregnancy, characterized by the appearance of tonic-clonic seizures. It is called Eclampsia and I had to call Med Central to diagnose and treat it right. It is virtually unknown nowadays..."

Erik Gustav yelled, interrupting the medic. "Dr. Dwyer how is she?"

"I have her in a deep sleep, she will recover fully and I managed to keep the boy alive. The girl however is still born and beyond any medical help."

Isegrim was still holding the baby. "My son is healthy?"

"Your baby boy is the picture of health and the first baby I ever delivered that was born with open eyes, rare but not completely unknown."

The Midwife said, "He is a warrior born like no other, mighty Isegrim. When the doctor slapped his behind he did not cry, but clenched his tiny fist and raised his arm as if he wanted to strike back at whoever slapped him."

The baby had gotten a hold of Isegrim's beard and the tiny creature smiled. Isegrim cooed.

"He knows his father and his grip is strong, oh aye he is an Olafson!" Then he held the baby out to Erik Gustavson.

The patriarch of the Ragnarssons also raised the baby to his face. He had seen many wondrous sights on Pluribus and yet that rosy little boy that reached with his arms outshone all the wonders of the Universe. He reminded him of his own children as he held them for the first time, one of them being his daughter, the mother of this baby. "Hail to you my grandson, hail Eric Thor Olafson, may your life be long and your way be true!"

Isegrim said to the doctor. "My wife?"

The doctor told him the same thing he said to Erik Gustav and they all went in to see her. She looked peaceful, her golden hair like a precious veil around her. Yet even Isegrim could not fight his emotions as he saw the tiny shape covered underneath a piece of cloth on the bed beside her. He told himself that she was just a girl and he did not care for the woman or the babies, and that his true love was waiting in Halstaad Fjord. They had decided it was wisest for Gretel not to be at the Burg, especially since Erik Gustav was here. Yet as he thought of Gretel and saw his wife and the dead born girl, he decided to let her wait till the very last Longnight occurred on Nilfeheim and be a better husband and the best father Nilfeheim ever saw. Whatever hold that blonde devil had over him felt suddenly broken. His son would be the heir to all Olafson and Ragnarsson. His son, never had words more meaning to him.

"The girl shall find eternal rest with the warriors and first ladies of Olafson and she will receive a send off like no other woman has ever received, she shall not die without a name. Her name will be Freya and such will it say on the Mehir raised in her memory!"

Not just Erik Gustav noticed the change in Isegrim as he came down the stairs the very next day with Ilva on his arm, carefully walking.

Both were decked out in their finest. Isegrim wearing full clan chief regalia, the clan necklace however covered with a black cloth signifying the death of an important clan warrior. He also wore Hevnen the sword.

Ilva was in a long, flowing gown of blackest velvet with golden seams. Her hair, reaching past her waist, brushed into a luster that made gold look dull and cheap in comparison. A black veil before her face signified her mourning.

There in the High Hall everyone living at the Burg and the Elders of Nilfeheim had gathered. Even the Lowmen had been called and had a chance to clean themselves. Erik Gustav walking behind them holding the baby, this time swaddled in suede leather and Nubhir fur lined blanket that was Olafson Red. It was embroidered with the wolf heads and the silver falcon, Ilva making this blanket in the many months of her pregnancy.

Isegrim stopped at the five step stair that led from the so called Lord's Retreat into the High Hall of the Ragnarsson Burg.

Then he took the bundle from Erik Gustav and held the child high so all could see and with a booming voice proclaimed, "This is my first born son, brought to this world by my wife, the First Lady of this clan. We also mourn the loss of my daughter Freya Olafson, who was taken by Hel." He lowered the baby and said, "This day and tomorrow will be in her honor and I command you to lower all flags and cover all shields. To the stone cutters I say cut me a Mehir and emboss her name upon it, but in ten days from today, we will gather to celebrate the naming day of my son."

Erik Gustav said, "To send my granddaughter off to the plane of the dead in fashion befitting, I command the cellars to be opened and the kitchens to provide the finest for a feast in her honor for all of you; tonight you are all guests and no difference shall be made as what your stand might be. Tonight we are united in grief and remembrance. This the way we send off the most honored among us."

Isegrim handed the newborn back to Erik Gustav. The Ragnarsson scion stood two steps higher and the tiny baby reached out and his tiny hand touched Mjördaren.

It was of course a completely random event, but there was hardly a society in all the Universe who put more credit into signs and omen than the Neo Vikings of Nilfeheim. A collective sigh went through the assembled crowd and one of the Elders said. "Not rattles or toys are what a newborn Olafson reaches for, nay but a sword. A warrior born indeed!"

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Prelude Part 6: Naming Day

November 4999, OTT

A new egg-shaped stone cut from a single two ton boulder marked the grave of the little girl. The stone had been dug out from underneath the snow; a stone mason had chiseled the name Freya Olafson and the date into the stone and then it was carried to the cemetery behind the community round house.

There, also under a thick layer of snow, were the rock mounds and rock markers of the graves of the most revered. On a planet with so little land, the dead usually received a burial at sea. The greatest warriors and heroes were burned aboard a wooden ship, the wood brought all the way from Earth. The old clans, however maintained a burial field behind the Roundhouse and all the way to Mount Asgard. It was there where they had placed the little body of the dead born girl.

Ilva, the mother of the girl, wrapped in a black fur trimmed cloak, stood there, the wind pulling on her cape, her face hidden behind the black fur of a Nubhir wolf mask. The men were all gone after she had asked to be alone for a while. Her father had left a flier for her to use behind and only after the third assurance that she would be fine they had left.

The bitter cold had long penetrated the cape and her insulated clothing underneath, yet she did not want to leave just yet. She had so looked forward to raising the twins. To have a girl of her own, hoping she would grow up in a better world.

All her life she had been raised to be a proper Nilfeheim woman and after her mother died, she had first hated her father but she knew how much he had loved her and that it was a terrible accident. She then tried to be a good daughter, especially as fate was not kind to the Ragnarsson clan and her older brother had died in a Tyranno Hunting accident.

She sensed his presence and said without turning, "She is dead Old Egill. I have a beautiful son, but his sister is dead." Her voice was just a hint above a whisper.

"I could be twice as old, lovely Ilva and still would not know what to say to make it easier for you. Nilfeheim is Hel's realm and in this our world is aptly named."

"It would not have happened if we opened a little more to the worlds beyond our orbit, but women are still nothing but ornaments meant for pleasure, bearing sons for them."

"Death happens even on Pluribus, the old reaper has not lost his sting and old Hel has never suffered shortage. As you know I hoped Freya would be the one, the one I could raise as a warrior."

She turned to look at the equally bundled up old man they often called the Wizard of Nilfeheim. "I so wish Tyr would be here." She knew he could not see her sad smile but she knew he could sense it.

He pulled her close and said. "He knows my child I am sure and knowing him he will be the first Tyranno that weeps. Now let us go back, your son is alive and he does need his mother."

Erik Gustav had spared no expenses to make the naming day of his grandson a momentous event. The Burg was made snow and ice free as possible. Flags and banners everywhere and even the Lowmen had received new clothing. Every room in the burg was filled with guests, many clan Chiefs were invited and all the Elders. A delegation from Hasvik along with the First Keeper was there, even Bjorn Igvarhein, the operator of Nilfeheim Radio, was there to record the event and broadcast it.

The tables almost buckled under the weight of the mountains of food.

A dozen grills lined up with entire Fangsnappers slowly turning over open flame. There were stacks of barrels of beer, ale and mead. Stacks of cases holding aquavit and other strong spirits.

Now after days of frantic preparations, the ceremony drew near and again just like at the wedding, oak tree branches had been transported all the way from Earth and decorated the High Hall.

Even sacred mistletoe and birch saplings and flowers. Even the rich clan lords were open in their envy of such Old Earth splendor. Things only seen in the most ancient illustrations, from the original home of the Vikings.

The Elders had brought the most precious artifact of the planet, the Altar of Odin made of solid platinum.

It was richly decorated depicting the one eyed god, his ravens and all the other symbols associated with the father of the Aesir.

Twenty men had struggled with the enormous weight as they had carried it in.

It had been placed just beyond the five wide steps that led from the High Hall to the Lord's Retreat.

The big table that usually was at the center of the High Hall had been pushed to the side and chairs were placed in rows to the left and right of a dark red carpet running from the main entrance all across the polished stone floor of the High Hall and to the Altar of Odin.

Olafson banners and the wolf heads mixed with the banners of Ragnarssons and the falcon crest everywhere.

Tall iron wrought braziers and oil fed torches lined the walls.

From the twenty meter high, vaulted ceiling now hung the eight huge, famous chandeliers made of Tyranno Fin bones and the skulls of long perished enemies of the Olafson clan.

They had been brought from the old Olafson Rock to symbolize that this was now the new burg of the clan. Each of these chandeliers had thirty six soot blackened skulls with a long-lasting candle burning in each of the skulls half open jaws. These macabre lamps were the source of many legends and were known far beyond the walls of the Olafson clan.

Isegrim was standing in his finest chief regalia near the top of the stairs and looked up to these chandeliers.

It was an old Olafson game to know the name of each enemy whose cranium bone was attached up there.

Each time a mistake was made, a tankard of ale had to be emptied. No ancient symbol had been overlooked; Odin's spear lay upon the altar, the Elders wore their white robes and the goði, the priests from Hasvik, had added dark red capes to their stately outfits.

The First Keeper of Hasvik wore a robe adorned with the world tree Yggdrasil embroidered on his chest.

Over hundred fifty clan chiefs both from the Alliance of the East and the Western clans in finest, most traditional garments complete with swords, axes and today even shields accompanied by first sons, warriors and wives filled the mighty hall to the very last seat.

The Eldest, the hermit they often called the Wizard of the Pillar was here as well. That he again had left his lonely burg was seen as an omen of great importance.

Gretel was standing in the back, next to Brunar Bendixen, disguised with a dark wig and a veil.

She had used a generous dose of the Shaill pheromone to attract the man and then spiked his ale with more illegal hypno drugs.

Despite her sister's complaints, she had not wasted all her time spending time in virtual reality.

She talked to other escaped Lowmen. Not all were like her sister, content to simply be away. She was not the only one lusting for revenge.

She learned about the Nubhir gang, residing right under the noses of the high and mighty clan lords.

One of them got her in contact with a dealer of these illegal substances. From him, she learned about the subtle ways to entice and control others via psycho drugs. After she had heard of it' she soaked up every bit of knowledge she could find.

Her sister's money purchased a neural upload on Shaill poisons and toxins.

Of course the possession and use of such drugs was highly illegal, but so was stealing her own sister's life savings. She would eventually get over it, besides it was her parents too, that Gretel wanted to avenge.

She cared little about that, she was beyond Union law on Nilfeheim. Here, the knowledge she had gained and the content of the little box would make her queen and give her the tools for revenge.

What easier way to gain all she ever dreamed about, on a world ruled by pecker brained simpletons?

The Shaill, a very disgusting species of huge sentient slugs, had based an entire civilization on the mastery of biochemistry and could at will make their glands produce the most complex and potent bio toxins and compounds. While it wasn't psionics, the potions could only increase and reinforce emotions that were already there, but with the help of inhibition lowering and hypno suggestive psycho drugs the primitive men of this cold world could be molded to her will.