Gudsriki (23 page)

He was well into volume seventeen when he came to Ivan Grozny. Russia in his time had very much resembled certain key traits of the present apocalypse. There were a few choice passages and a few inspiring nodules of information, but the name above all implied the course of action Wulfgar had to take. Grozny meant “terrible.” Not exclusively bad but also big, grandiose, an extraordinary presence.

Wulfgar realized that for all his good deeds in uniting the world, he'd not exuded any sense of presence, or character. It was critical with the gangs he remain an invisible hand. But all the companies had done it through branding and marketing and the usual avenues. Wulfgar unplugged the history of the species and picked up
The History of Advertising
. Where he'd hidden his gang, he would advertise his nation.

He knew immediately what to do. Loups would carry his metal jawed visage on one side and the Mouvant fortress on the other. He thought himself a fool for not printing them that way from the beginning. All state letterhead would depict Fenrisúlfr biting Tyr's hand. The hand biting felt oddly familiar to him, but he didn't know why. All vehicles would get a new paint job. Black with wolves. That would kick-start the image.

But it wasn't image alone that won Ivan his name. Wulfgar began drawing up draconian and public punishments for looters, creative punishments. Fresh off the history of the world, he had no shortage of ideas. Imprisonment held no appeal. The jails were all filled with unrecoverable masses of corpse or wave mutation. The first avenue of punishment was restriction of goods. Radiophobics and food, normally provided by Ulver, would be withdrawn from entire sectors for the crimes of any of their ranks. He would essentially send people to bed without their supper.

Enslavement in a more literal sense than it had been used before the war would be the second tier. For serious offenses—looting, murder, assault, so on—terms of enslavement rebuilding the planet were given. People were so unused to manual labor that the very concept would breed horror in their collective instinct. Crime would be reduced drastically.

For the most serious offenses, rape and sedition, the punishments of torture and death would be reintroduced to the populace. No shortage of doleo batteries survived the war and doleo lashings before execution would be administered in proportion to the severity of the crime. Wulfgar expected to earn the terrible name quickly thereafter.

Among his advisers, he failed. His sentences were called just with near unanimity. The board meeting in which he elucidated his concepts was a revolutionary success. Ulver was to be a land of peace and justice. And Wulfgar was to begin persecution of the threats to it immediately.

“Gerät! What news of the militarized sects?”

“The Muslims calling themselves the ‘Altan Ordu' are terrorizing several sectors of Mongol Uls, forcing conversions. The Christians from Tromsø…. We believe they made it to the Muslims in UmeÃ¥, sire.”

“And?”

“UmeÃ¥ may have been wiped out.”

“Taken?”

“No, sire, wiped out. It was a crusade.”

“A crusade?”

“We believe they killed everyone.”

“Big loss,” said Uggs. “Bunch of Muslims; ship the crusaders to Mongolia and let 'em take care of the rest, easy day.”

Wulfgar kicked himself for not handling them sooner.

“Amend the constitution. Religion is to be considered sedition.”

“Yes, sire.”

“Sire,” said Uggs, “if the Christians are only killing Muslims and what not, we oughtn't get in their way. They—”

Wulfgar wouldn't hear it. “Find the crusaders, annihilate them.”

“Yes, sire. The 6th Army can intercept them within the hour. And the other religionists?”

He thought about it. “Consider them a belligerent militia. Kill any who fight. Behead any who preach. As for the others, brand them. Ostracize them. Terrorize them.”

“Yes, sire.”

“Won't work,” said Hati.

“Then what do you suggest we try?”

“I don't know.”

“When you do, we'll try it. Until then….”

“Until then.”

Wulfgar considered for a moment.

“Leave us,” he declared.

The board filed out into the labyrinthine halls. Only he and his daughter were left.

“You called me selfish for bringing you here, once.”

“You are.”

“What if I had a third reason, beyond your safety and my pleasure?”

“I'd say it's a good thing, considering your safety has almost gotten me killed. Between the pogo crash and Donatien following me around, I'd be safer with the arcology mobs.”

Wulfgar looked hurt, concerned. “I apologize for the lapses in your safety. But I do have another motive.”

“And what's that?”

“Immortality.”

She stared.

“I won't live forever, Hati. I hope I have another hundred years, but like I said, I have an ulterior motive.”

“You want me to follow in your footsteps.”

“The world needs a strong leader right now, now and for the next two hundred years if we're going to prevent a second dark age. I need a successor I can trust.”

“I won't lead the way you do.”

“You don't have to. You shouldn't. You have to do what you think is right. But of my advisors, I know you're the only one who isn't just hungry for power.”

“Dad, you're the most power-hungry man the planet has ever known.”

“And I'm not ideal. I'm the storm before the calm. I live to control, to seize, to bring order to chaos. You, in all your jobs, have lived to maintain order, to stop it from degenerating into chaos. The world needs me today. But it will need you tomorrow.”

“So you'll retire?”

“When the time comes.”

“And I'll rule the world.”

“And you'll rule the world.”

“Maybe I just want to run my arcology floors.”

“The world is the biggest arcology.”

“
My
arcology floors, Dad. I don't care about Mongolia and Britain. I care about Jeff and Kerry, and Tom. And Lance Abbott. About Piper and Sarah, and Sarah's real dog. There are people on low floors who would kill that dog, torture him. Probably eat him. I was there to make sure he was safe. I'd give up all of Mongolia to protect that dog.”

“That care is why you're the one to lead when—”

“Politics! It's always been the curse of politics that anyone who wants to rule shouldn't rule. Maybe I do have the qualifications, maybe I do have the chance, but Dad, I just want to go home.”

“I'm offering you the world.”

“I'm asking you for my freedom.”

“Reconsider.”

“You reconsider. You say you want what's best for me. Prove it. Stop forcing the planet on me and let me do what's really best for me.”

Hati left the room.

Wulfgar sat, vexed to all hell. Hati was right. What he wanted for her wasn't what was best. But it was the world at stake. He knew he'd put her first, so why didn't he just send her back? Because she could die there. Because she'd be settling there for a few floors when she could run the planet. His feet scratched the concrete with their toes.

He couldn't waste any more time on it. He opened the doors and invited the board back in. They had much to do.

 

 

V
IBEKE
LANDED
the cockpit on Unst, and the two disembarked. A UKI soldier spotted them.

“Shit on fire there's two of 'em now! Alarm! Call an alarm!”

The soldier ran for one of the tents. There were no others present, just automated bulldozers rounding up the Ulver dead. Nel followed Vibeke toward the command tent. It still bore signs of her break-in. A small squad headed by Sergeant Therion emerged. They didn't have weapons drawn.

“Where is Darger?”

“He's fine,” said Vibeke. “He's with Niide.”

Nel looked at her askance.

“We have a question,” Vibs continued.

“Good for you, go get—”

“We need to know Ulver's capital. We're gonna kill their CEO.”

Therion froze and considered them.

“You'll leave this island and go kill their CEO?”

“Yes.”

“Elba. Now go.”

Without a word Vibeke turned and headed for the cockpit. Nel remained still.

“Go!” shouted Therion.

“You're very rude,” said Nel.

Therion drew her sidearm. “MacRae, I've wanted to fuck you up for years….”

Nel extended her arm, and it split open, revealing a heavy microwave cannon, a rack of expansion missiles, and a projectile gun.

“I'm not MacRae.”

Therion stood still. “You think I was born yesterday?”

“I was born three hours ago.”

Vibeke stepped back and grabbed Nel and pulled her toward the cockpit. She and Therion stood down with their weapons, turned, and went their separate ways.

The panzercopter cockpit headed for Elba.

“Violet kicked her ass once.”

“Yeah, she did that a lot.”

“She used me to kill nearly a hundred individuals directly.”

“Do you regret that?”

“No, they're my fondest memories. Of my own.”

“What are Violet's?”

Nel scanned the memories.

“The first time she saw the side of your breast when you showered. The way Wulfgar's expression changed when she knew she had him beat.” She admitted one more with no shortage of resentment. “I'm sure sex with you would have replaced them all.”

“But you feel nothing for me.”

“I remember feeling everything for you in Violet's memories. But I don't now. Her memories of you didn't make her fall in love; the reality of you did.”

“The reality doesn't work on you.”

“I've had emotions for three hours. It's nothing personal.”

They remained silent for nearly an hour. Vibeke couldn't help but stare. It was Violet but not. It wasn't the seams that made her so bizarre, but the way she moved. She didn't breathe, didn't adjust the way she sat or stared out the windshield. Her body seemed stolen, as if she'd given Violet's body to someone who didn't know how to use it. Exactly what she had done, she reminded herself.

She'd done what she intended to do, the most that could be done. She had her fake Violet. She decided to try using it for what she wanted.

Vibeke stood up and walked to Nel, and stroked her hair. Nel simply watched her. She knew what Vibeke was doing. She felt an exact split of disgust and appeal.

Vibs let her hand drop to Nel's shoulder. She took a deep breath and let her hand drop to her breast. She pushed, felt her up, Nel just watched her. She dropped to her knees and kissed her on the lips.

“Feel anything?”

“Used,” she said honestly.

Vibeke sat back down.

“I'm sorry.”

“Apology accepted. But….”

“But?”

“I don't seem to perceive ‘used' as a negative.”

“A positive?”

“Hardly.”

“What positives have you felt?”

“Amusement. Hatred. Anger. Rage. Bloodlust.”

“What negatives?”

“Empathy. Disgust. Boredom.” She didn't say arousal. She didn't want to suggest, even to herself, that she could feel it. But she had memories of it. And not from Violet. Thinking about crushing Vibeke's neck, her first memory as a humanoid, gave her a pleasure she'd not experienced at the time. One she couldn't classify.

Vibeke returned to her seat.

“Can machines even
be
bored?”

“Apparently.”

“Well, how did Violet pass the time in long pogo rides?”

“Her memories suggest she spent the time fantasizing about you.”

“Figures.”

“How do you pass the time?”

“Usually linked into the web, but that's changed lately. I spent the walk to Orkney going insane.”

“Are you insane now?”

“I assume so. I just killed a man to get Violet's heart for your chest.”

“This body could have been constructed without it.”

“Yeah.”

“Why did you care?”

“Because it's all I had left of her. The real her.”

“You had me. Wasn't a bug enough for you?”

“You're not really a part of her, though. Clearly you're your own person. Even the memories… sound as if you read 'em like a book about someone else. That heart is really all there is of her in you.”

“The artificial heart designed for the A-2 system would have been more efficient. This natural heart is weaker, more susceptible to disease and damage. It offers very few advantages.”

“I'm amazed it has any advantages.”

“Its surrounding vessels can be disconnected more easily.”

“Totally worth that guy's life.”

“You hate yourself.” It amused Nel.

“Yes.”

“Because you caused the war, got Violet killed, and have gone insane?”

“Yeah, good job, Nel. You're really picking up the human condition.”

“You don't need to be rude.” Nel watched Vibeke stew. “If my temper was anything like Violet's, I'd have given you a backhand.”

“Why didn't you?”

“It would kill you with my strength.”

“Like I said”—Vibs stared at her—“why didn't you?”

Nel felt comfortable with Vibeke hating herself. It felt like she had Vibeke right where she wanted her. “Did you want me to kill you?”

“It might be best.”

Nel looked her over, then stood up and straddled her in her seat. She put her hand around the back of her neck.

“I could quite easily.”

“Then do it.”

Nel stared at Vibeke with her silver eyes. Vibeke took a final breath.