THE COMING OF THE NORN
The relieved population of Earth continued to march forward, and the five great econo-political zones drew ever closer in kinship. Their leaders formed a ruling body of equal number, the Council of Five, which ushered in an era of peace and prosperity unremembered in history.
Unshackled by the impotence of War, the quasi-god Science pooled the talents of humankind and the resources of Earth. The quest for the Grail mysteries of Life and the Unknown galloped ahead unchecked.
Secure and flushed with the power of a dominant species, humanity thrust into space. With eager hands, they reached for the stars at long last within grasp.
It was then that it happened.
***
Flossy raced around Mother Earth, a young and sprightly daughter held by gravity’s invisible hand. Creaking and groaning, her frustrated murmurs sank unheard into the dark silence of space. Her lunar sister rode in company, a crescent of ghostly silver silhouetted against the backdrop of Earth-glow.
Though made of filament and fiber, platelet and tubing, Flossy was alive and resounded with a multitude of breathy echoes. Five thousand inhabitants trampled her spacious halls, secure beneath her mottled skin of military-spec Everlar. Built with sweat and tempered by genius, she stretched out nearly two kilometers
Her less than feminine configuration was that of a wheel. Eight octopus arms radiated outward from a bulbous central dome, each clutching the haloed outer rim—a Saturn necklace pinpointed by jeweled lights. When viewed from Earth, they coalesced into a planet-bright orb, at once familiar and magical.
But a monster she was, even if a captivating one, with a swelling, cyclopean eye forever gazing into far-off realms. Some of these were so distant they had shed light billions of years before the system of Sol had formed itself from a cloud of cosmic dust.
Fleet Observatory and Ships’ Service Yard: that’s what you called her if you wanted to be correct. Familiarity often shortened her name to the Yard or the Observatory. But to those in the Space Fleet, and to most of the human race, she was best known as Flossy.
Two male members of the Fleet were watching her at the moment, snug inside the cockpit of a Ferryman shuttle. Ten minutes before, they had crossed the lunar tangent. Since then, she had been growing like the proverbial mustard seed, from a candle flicker to a glowing giantess dominating their screen.
The younger of the two men stirred, dragging himself upright in his seat. His adrenaline-fed rush of euphoria was running a distant second place to his monumental hangover. Bloodshot eyes dipped to his chest where a set of gold-glittering wings burned warm and secure. There was no hint they had settled there only eight hours before. Fleet Ensign Hugo Norn was, at last, a reality.
A groan escaped his lips, alerting the shuttle’s second occupant. The man had been lying sprawled in the pilot’s chair, but now he turned and inspected Hugo with interest. His uniform jacket glowed with newness and draped across the backrest. A thick, gold band trimmed the hanging sleeves.
Fleet Commodore Midas Norn watched for a second longer and his wide mouth slipped into a grin. “Feeling almost human again, Junior?”
“Damn it, Midas!” Hugo groaned, rubbing his temples. His mouth was desert dry and his tongue felt like it had grown fur. He had no idea how he’d managed to survive the 8G takeoff from Earth-side without puking. “Why did you wait so long to drag me away from that party?”
Midas shook his head and made a clucking sound. “What the hell are you bitching about, Junior? I would have thought you’d be rejoicing. Passing out from the Academy is a once in a lifetime deal. On second thought, you did do some serious rejoicing last night.” Midas waved a finger in mock disapproval. “Overdo the dancing and prancing and you’re bound to end up with sore feet…and head. Besides, as I recall, you were hardly in the leaving mode apart from slithering into a secluded room.”
A colorful array of images loped across Hugo’s mind. First was the grandeur of the passing out parade, re-enacted in its entire splendor and set against the backdrop of the Academy’s looming towers. Then he was standing in ceremonial dress, receiving his commission from Richard Mondragon, Chairman of the Council of Five. After that had come the celebration, with copious quantities of alcohol and plenty of attractive coeds from the neighboring colleges. There had been one in particular, a gorgeous redhead with large, inviting hips and even larger…
“By the way, Mister Norn…that is hardly the way to address a senior officer, especially one who has attained the lofty level of flag rank.”
Hugo cocked his head sideways, a movement that caused unpleasant side effects. The commodore’s black eyes speared him in an icy stare that had no doubt frozen many an unfortunate ensign before him. It slid off Hugo like rain off a freshly waxed Ferrari.
“My apologies, Uncle Sir.” Hugo grinned and offered a half-hearted salute. Swiveling in his seat, he touched the light on the recessed cooler. Rank did indeed have its privileges, he thought, taking in the plush surroundings of the cockpit. It was the newest model off the line, fitted with enough customized extras to beggar a New York banker—not that Midas had to worry. The sleek ship was a gift from the council in honor of both Midas’ recent promotion and his official appointment to the newest and largest cruiser in the Fleet.
The cooler emitted a low bleep and the top flipped up, affording Hugo the sight of a six-pack of coke. A lucky choice since alcohol was the last thing on his mind. He reached in and grabbed one. Closing his eyes, he sighed as the ice-cold liquid burned its way down his gullet. Still adds life even after all these years. The age-old slogan drifted through his thoughts, sounding more than appropriate. “I’ll be all right after a shave and a shower,” he said, grinning through a loud belch. His uncle merely shook his head and sighed. Probably thinks I’m a cocky young bastard. He vividly remembered when the Fates had thrown them together. He had only been five years old, a time of the greatest sorrow for the Norn household.
Midas’ older brother, Egan, had been traveling on a commercial flight to a well-known Euro-Nordic ski resort, and his wife, Hugo’s mother, had been with him. The flight had crashed, killing all on board. Hugo had been staying with his grandparents and had remained there. Midas had been sixteen at the time and had assumed the role of an older brother rather than an uncle. The relationship had not changed, even when he’d left a couple of years later to enter the Academy.
Watching Midas now was like looking at an older version of himself. Each possessed the same cat-lean build and close-cropped, jet-black hair. The facial features, with their high and prominent bone structure, were striking rather than handsome, affording clear evidence of their native heritage. The obvious difference that set them apart was their eyes. Midas’ were the night-black of his Arapaho mother, while Hugo had the cerulean blue of his Teutonic grandfather, Ludwig Von Norn.
“You know what?” Midas mused. “I just realized why I’ve never married. It’s the horrifying possibility that I might sire an uncouth brat like you.”
“Very funny,” Hugo retorted, popping another coke. “I thought it was because you couldn’t stay in one bed long enough.”
Midas was saved from a fitting reply as the upper right quadrant of their screen changed to a swirling vortex of magenta, pulsing like a heartbeat. A soft, seductive voice floated through the cabin.
“Greetings, Commodore. We congratulate you on your promotion. It was long overdue.”
“Thanks, Flossy,” Midas replied. “The wheels of progress and those of the Fleet turn slowly—no pun intended.”
Hugo could have sworn he heard the muted echo of laughter. The voice bore an indefinable lilt, instilling a vision of flowing hair teased by a Caribbean breeze and silken limbs dancing over platinum sands. He was about to speak but closed his mouth with an audible pop as Midas flashed him a wordless command.
“We have locked on, Commodore, and will guide you to the central docking facility.”
“We have some last-minute cargo, Flossy. It would be better if we…”
“The elder Norn and various members of the Press are standing by. I have been instructed to deliver you immediately upon your arrival.”
“Belay that!” Midas ordered curtly. “No further communication until I say so!” He leaned back in his chair and a deep frown now furrowed his brow. “I suspected this might happen. The Old Man wouldn’t waste a photo opportunity as good as this one.”
“You and grandfather are still feuding, I take it,” Hugo said.
“No more than usual,” Midas grunted in reply. “As it happens, I do have some things to discuss with him in private. But not with those leeches around, sticking their virtsets in my face.”
Hugo had his own opinion but thought better about voicing it.
Midas deliberated a while longer then slapped his armrest with finality. “Flossy! Is Admiral Taylor among those waiting?”
“No, Commodore. He will arrive with Chairman Mondragon’s party tomorrow morning.”
Midas nodded to himself. A look of satisfaction had replaced the frown and Hugo could see the wheels turning. With the absence of the admiral commanding the Space Fleet, Midas was the ranking officer.
“That tears it!” Midas’ grin was wolfish. “Flossy, order all traffic to stand clear of S.E.Sector Lima. I’m going to make a brief, flyby inspection of my ship before landing.”
After only the briefest hesitation, the silken voice responded without inflection.
“As you command, Commodore.”
Hugo was watching the screen and he detected a subtle movement in the faceless pattern, like an eye shifting in its socket. He became aware of an uncomfortable tingling in his scalp and was sure he was being scanned. More than that, it was almost as if something was inside him. For all its intensity, the experience lasted only a second. Then it was like a switch had turned off.
Flossy’s physical mass now dominated the screen. In the brief interim she had grown even larger.
Midas fitted his palm into the curved depression on the console and a light-green aura sloped upward, reflecting off the cabin sole. “Computer! Disengage autohelm!”
The ship immediately yawed as Midas took control. The shuttle banked until the craft’s nose pointed toward the protruding underbelly of the station. The axis tilted until it became obvious something lay at rest underneath. It remained indistinct but gave the impression of being out of place—almost a deformity. The small cabin fairly crackled with the undercurrent of suppressed excitement.
“I’ve never heard a computer-generated vocal like that before.” Hugo’s comment carried the tone of a question rather than a statement. When he received no immediate answer, he added, “But I see the imprint of grandfather’s hand all over it.”
“My, aren’t we astute?” Midas drawled, not taking his eyes off the screen. “The Old Man’s been busy all right. With what, I’m not too sure. Whatever it is…whatever she is went online six months ago, right about the time Daedalus Falken honored us with a visit.”
Hugo noticed his uncle’s side-glance and could not disguise his loathing.
“It may be just a coincidence,” Midas added without much force.
Hugo shook his head. “An ILF,” he murmured, his thoughts warring between disgust and incredulity. Integrated life form: part human and part machine, so intricately enmeshed it was difficult to tell where one began and the other left off.
“Now that you’ve mentioned the word, it’s probably true.” Midas shrugged and shook his head. “The security in the dome is level fourteen, almost too rich even for a commodore. I may not be in the same brain class as you or pop, but I’m not slow either. No one has told me, but I’m pretty sure Falken is involved.”
When Hugo raised his eyebrows, his uncle expounded.
“In my opinion, Daedalus Falken is criminally insane. Even so, he’s the recognized guru of the Genetic Engineering clique. And he’s also the darling of both the Southern Hispanics and the Eastern Bloc. Their support in council is crucial if we’re to keep getting the funding we need for this project.”
Midas reached over and squeezed Hugo’s shoulder. “I’m not saying I condone everything going on up here, Junior, but I have to divorce myself from moral issues. I’ve got too many other things to deal with.” His voice became harsher. “We’re not going to conquer space by being pussies, are we? Or bleeding hearts.”
When Hugo offered no comment his voice roughened further. “I can almost hear your mind working. How could the Old Man allow it? Well, boyo, you should have figured out by now that Herr Von Norn—and the chairman too—will do whatever it takes to make this work, even if it means getting into bed with a degenerate like Falken. And so will I, Goddamit!”
Midas finally clamped his mouth shut. Hugo would never admit it, but his uncle had sounded like an irate lecturer at the Academy. He waited a moment longer and Midas turned, giving him a forced grin.
“Anyway, Junior, what the hell? Flossy didn’t sound like a monster, did she?”
“Well, no,” Hugo admitted, “quite the opposite.” He decided not to mention the intense feeling that had assailed him. His uncle was right, of course. People like Falken would always be a part of the system. And leaders—no matter how noble—would use the fruit of their labors in spite of how warped or perverted their ideals might be.
“To be honest, I’m a little surprised you didn’t know about the situation up here,” Midas added. “You and pop usually compare notes on everything.”
“Up to a point,” Hugo agreed. “He’s kept me current on construction details…those related to my design specs in particular. Still, we haven’t met or spoken more than token greetings since I entered the Academy. Not even at grandma’s funeral last year.” He stared at his uncle. “You of all people should remember the deal since you’re the only surviving witness.”
“You agreed to serve a ten-year apprenticeship under the Old Man, and then he had to let you graduate from the Academy. No interference, right?”
“Right…” Hugo answered cautiously.
“And afterward? You make any deals regarding the future?”
“What are you talking about?” Hugo had a most uncomfortable feeling of Déjà vu that relegated his hangover and the unsavory topic of Falken to a distant second and third place. “I’m a serving officer now…”
“There she is,” Midas interrupted.
The rim of the Observatory had crept up on them unnoticed. There were no more obstructions and the deformity had become a ship. She hung beneath the dome structure, suspended by a complex web of flex-pipe. She could have been a spider awaiting the arrival of her prey or the captured insect itself. Her name was the North Star, and she was the third and latest of the Jupiter-Class Cruisers.
She stretched out half the diameter of the Observatory, yet for all her size she was a thing of symmetry and beauty. The bow was thickly armored and swept outward like the hooded cowl of a bird of prey. From the great ridges of back and belly, tapered wings flowed in a reverse curve, each housing a massive engine. A third formed the fluted tail. All could tilt up to ninety degrees on their axes. She was a bird of prey, from shadowed slate gray to darkest ebony. Soon, like her sisters Ulysses and Peregrine before her, she would fly to the newest and furthermost colony of mankind: Jupiter Station.
The tiny shuttle continued to hover and the two men inside felt as insignificant as gnats buzzing an elephant’s head. They watched as a blue arc traced its way along the port wing, where a honeycombed area of scaffolding remained. A dismantling crew of drones scurried like fireflies around it, and thin plumes of jetpack exhaust trailed intricate patterns as they ducked and dodged at their work.
“Damn me if she isn’t the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen!” Midas swore with pride—the kind only a captain can feel for his ship. “The umbilical tethers are due to be cast off at 1300 hours tomorrow. She’ll have power by then and we should get underway by 0800 the following morning.”
“Accompanied by champagne and fanfare, no doubt,” Hugo quipped.
“Exactly,” agreed Midas. His lips twisted into a wry smile. “The council and their entourage will be on board by then for the Earth circumnavigation. But my number one will have to kiss their collective asses. I’ll be in engineering with the chief, monitoring data readouts.”
“You expect problems?” Hugo asked with a note of concern.
“A good commander anticipates…he doesn’t expect anything. This is our maiden run, so I’m keeping a weather eye open.” Midas raised his eyebrows. “Of course, there shouldn’t be any problems, Dr. Norn, assuming that your design specifications are without flaw.”
“You have my guarantee,” Hugo assured. “That’s assuming that your engineers built it right. Modifications to the reactor will bump performance by forty percent…and that’s a conservative estimate. The Ulysses spent fourteen months getting to Ganymede, and the Peregrine's voyage will be about the same. The North Star should do it in a little over eight.”
Midas whistled. “That’s great news, Junior. But to tell you the truth, I’m not worried at all about this voyage since you’ll be there to sort out any screw-ups.”
“What?”
Midas’ laugh erupted straight from his belly. His expression was that of a cat who has just awakened to find a canary sleeping peacefully beside him. Reaching back, he pulled a slim case from the breast pocket of his jacket. “Take a look,” he said, tossing it at his astonished nephew.
Hugo caught it deftly and opened it. Inside laid the slightly tarnished insignia of a full commander.
Midas waved his hand in a gesture of silence. “Hear me out before you start squawking. A jump from ensign to full commander in less than twenty-four hours is unusual, to say the least. This is a brevet rank in keeping with your new duties as director of science aboard the North Star.”
A thousand questions burned in Hugo’s brain but all he could do was shake his head. “This is a joke, right?”
“If it is, then it’s shared by both Admiral Taylor and Chairman Mondragon himself.”
“The Old Man?”
“He isn’t in on it yet. That’s why I need to speak to him alone.” Midas grinned. “I don´t want anybody to hear the screams.”
“I haven’t said yes.”
“Now you’re joking.”
“I’m only twenty-six years old, Midas,” Hugo reasoned. “There must be more experienced personnel that you could pick.”
“Youth is not a deterrent on this expedition but rather an advantage,” Midas explained in a tone of suffered patience. “There is no one better suited. How many people do you know who have four doctorates in separate fields of science? Hell…not even pop did that. Let´s not forget the Fusion Engine and the Gravity Field Generator, both of which you co-invented…or the new uniform. You’re a pilot as well. Christ! You’re tailor-made for the job!”
“Aren’t you worried the tiniest bit about what this is going to look like?” Hugo argued. “You know what they’re saying about us... ‘Space is becoming a dominion and the Norns are its rulers.’” Hugo heard the waver in his voice and realized he was grasping at straws. He needed to be alone for a while to think things out. This unexpected development was beyond even his fertile imagination.
“Tabloid crap!” Midas swore. He leaned forward like a fullback going for the goal line. “I couldn’t give a shit. I’m the commanding officer. At the end of the day, it’s my opinion that counts. I need you, Junior. Remember that old flick about the Dons? I’m making you an offer you can’t refuse.”
“Why didn’t we talk about this before now?” Hugo complained. “The way you’re making decisions about my life…hell, you’re worse than grandfather!”
“Such flattery will turn my head, Junior. What’s wrong with a little surprise?” Midas’ grin was wicked. “Don’t try to snow me. You think I’d believe a little slap on your pride would make you shy away from this? You’ve had your vacation, sonny. Now it’s time to get back to the business of serving the human race. It’s the obligation…the duty of every genius.”
Midas sat back and Hugo remained silent, wondering what else his uncle had up his sleeve. He didn’t have long to wait.
“Tell you what,” Midas said, lowering his voice and leaning on his elbow like a conspirator. “I’ll sweeten the pot even more. This is not something the admiral would condone, but once we’re underway there’s nothing anybody can do about it. I’ll add your name to the flight duty roster. You can log as many shuttle hours as you like—providing it doesn’t interfere with your primary duties.”
Hugo could swear his headache was returning. His uncle was the wise old owl and he was a young rabbit. “Isn’t the director supposed to be equal in rank to the mission commander?”
Midas laughed. “Don’t get cocky. I have no doubt you’ll wear both hats someday. Then you’ll be a real ruler!”
He brought the ship higher, banking as they leveled with the rim. Instead of moving toward the command facility at the dome’s center, they headed toward the nearest rim docking-bay. The approach was flawless. When Hugo heard the metallic snick of the magnetic grapples, he realized they had finally linked with Flossy.
Midas’ feet shifted impatiently through the shutdown procedure. “Let’s not waste any time getting out of here,” he warned. “This is a secure area but I don’t trust those virt people. If they manage to get past the OP’s, they’ll be on us like flies on shit.” He shrugged into his uniform jacket. “I’m going to my quarters before I meet the Old Man, but you’re free to wander around a while. Yours are three doors down from mine. Ask anyone…they’ll show you. We’ll meet in the Observatory Atrium at,”—he glanced at his watch—“1800 hours. That’s two and a half hours from now.” He paused to straighten his tie. “You remember the layout?”
Hugo nodded. His uncle knew damned well he had helped design it.
The exit light suddenly blinked amber and Midas threw his duffel over his shoulder. “All righty then…don’t be late. We’re due for the laser link with Admiral James on Jupiter Station. Pop will be there and we’ll have a family reunion. After we finish talking about horseshoes and horseshit, you’re scheduled to meet with your senior staff. That’s at 2000 hours.”
There was a low-keyed bleep as the hatch light blinked green and the thick door slid wide with a whisper. They stepped through the opened airlock and onto the hangar tarmac.
Hugo blinked, not only from the brightness of the lights but the immensity of the area. It was the size of a football field in width, stretching out in either direction until the natural curve of the rim blocked further view. The lattice-structured ceiling was twenty meters above his head. According to his design this should have been a suited area, but since the North Star remained tethered it looked like the Yard was taking advantage of the ship’s huge ecosystem.
When he looked back, he saw Midas standing a dozen paces away talking with a couple of armed security officers. He finished with a brief flourish in Hugo’s direction and his long legs carried him to the nearest pedway. With athletic ease, the commodore jumped on board, turned, and waved.
“Get set, Junior! You’re about to embark upon the adventure of your life!”
Hugo saw a flash of white teeth and remained watching until his uncle dropped from sight. He already knew he wasn’t going to say no. How the hell could he? What galled him was how Midas had maneuvered him like a chess piece. Twelve hours ago, he’d been certain he had the world by the tail. Now he felt like he was the tail, or the ass in front of it.
He still had the insignia case in his hand. In a flash of decision, he threw his duffel on the tarmac. Ten seconds later and he’d added ten years of rank to his collar. He shouldered his duffel again and stood there wondering what in hell he would do for the next two and a half hours. He was even less interested than Midas in meeting with the Press, so standing around in his present location wasn’t the best option.
The hangar was almost deserted, a far cry from what it must have been like during the heyday of the project. On second thought, though, it was not quite empty. A freighter had recently docked two bays to his left. He could see a master-chief directing half a dozen khakied Sailors as they offloaded supplies onto a tamilift. Last-minute rush: the Navy way.
This was his first venture into space and his first visit to the Yard. He was signing on to a new command, also his first. A hair of the dog might not go amiss. After all, he wasn’t on duty until 2000. Might not hurt to try out the local food while he was at it.
The rim had three levels. The uppermost was acclimatized for accommodation. The mid and lower levels were for docking, storage of materials, and both major and minor ship repairs. Staff who traveled horizontally used the pedways. Vertically, there were escalators and elevators. All levels linked to the dome by way of the radial spokes. The design called for entertainment facilities at the junction of each spoke so he shouldn’t be too far from his destination.
He began moving toward the pedway his uncle had taken. The two security personnel were still there. They managed to avoid staring at him, but he could tell they were looking out of the corner of their eyes. No doubt they’d never seen an ensign do a swift change into a commander before.
He noticed a figure in the distance, feet pumping and hands pulling rhythmically on the rail. He knew it was a female from the thick waves of dark hair falling past her shoulders. She wore an opened lab coat that fluttered about her like a moth’s wings, revealing periodic flashes of long, exquisitely tapered legs. Her shoes were dark brown, with practical one-inch heels.
He continued to watch her with the heightened interest of a young man noticing a pretty girl for the first time. As she got closer, he realized she was far above pretty. Tall, but not thin. There was more than adequate movement under the lab coat. Svelte…that was the word he was looking for. The hair was dark auburn and shot with lighter highlights. Her skin was the color of aged porcelain, unmarred by any blemish he could see, not even a freckle.
He was so entranced the girl had jumped off the pedway and was standing in front of him before he realized it. Her eyes were startling, the color of a filtered sky, and they immediately flicked to his new insignia. Her face registered surprise and annoyance, though she continued to stare at him. He didn’t mind at all.
“I’m sorry, Commander. I was expecting someone else.” She was already looking around him for the ‘someone else’ but offered her name, accompanied by the hint of a smile. “I am Luna Hengstrom.”
He recognized the name at once. She was famous. ‘The’ Luna. They had named her after the original lunar colony since she had been the first offspring born off-planet. And the voice: it was identical to the one Flossy had used, right down to the minor inflection. His Caribbean girl in the flesh.
“You are newly arrived, Commander?”
She’d spotted the duffel even though her attention had been wandering like a vixen in a sheep pen. No interest in him at all. Not good for a dashing young officer’s ego.
“That’s right. Hugo Norn at your service.”
The long auburn hair had all but covered her eyes, but the sharp movement of her head flung it back over her shoulder. He had her undivided attention once more. Or rather, his commander’s insignia did. At that moment he realized he badly needed a cleanup. “The rank is real enough. A recent but explainable development. My grandfather sent you, I presume?”
“No…” She froze and her eyes lost focus. It was as though she was looking right through him and beyond at some invisible object behind him. “I am your grandfather’s assistant, yet it was the ILF who sent me. She wishes to link with you.”
Link? He was smiling inwardly. How lucky could one guy get in a single day? “You mean with a virtset?” he asked.
Luna gave an impatient toss of her head. “I am speaking of a mind link…a thought sharing. You felt something on your shuttle before you arrived?”
Hugo nodded and his smile slipped into a frown. He remembered the tingling under his scalp. The strange feeling of invasion was still fresh in his mind