Freya excused herself as Sirius got involved with the business of arming his Morningstar. She'd done her job getting him up onto the Ofnir, a Mobius vessel deemed lost a year prior and now the staging ground for the first shot in Cecile's war on Mobius and, by extension, the Draugr. 

With a sigh, Freya opened a channel to Cecile. “Everything is in position, Lady Penrose.”

Cecile made a small grunt of acknowledgement. “And Sirius? Are things up to his standards?”

“Seems that way.” Freya's gaze passed over the half dozen Einherjar that stood in the other launch bays, their systems clearly active. “Something's bothering me about the other Einherjar you've supplied.”

“And what is that?” asked Cecile, her tone measured.

“Where are the pilots? I never saw anyone enter them, and their systems are shielded from me.” 

“Pilot,” stated Cecile.

Freya clipped the start of a growl and let it out as a rough sigh. “Explain. You've fettered me to your will and I've done as you've commanded. You owe me at least this much.”

“The pilot is the Draugr we retrieved when we cleaned up after Necker's botched survey on EV/NL-08.”

“The…” Freya blinked, her eyes flicking over to the jet black, fully armed Einherjar. “The Draugr. It's alive, and it's on this damned ship?!”

“Yes, Glamr and I reached an agreement.” 

“Isn't the whole reason you're about to damn the whole expanse because Mobius Sci-Tech is working with Draugr? Hypocrite!”

“Do behave, Freya.” 

Cecile's punishment hit like a bolt from the blue. The systems of her Hamr locked up, synthetic muscles tearing at themselves as they seized. The agony lingered after the tension released and she fell backward against a wall. 

“Under…stood.” Freya stood, straightening her dress as she did. “Is your deal with the Draugr like the one you have with me?”

“No, not at all.” Cecile chuckled softly. “I love you and your sisters, dear wife. Glamr is a tool and nothing more. If it becomes more trouble than it's worth, I'll cast it aside like any tool that's lost its use.”

Freya nodded. “Of course, Cecile.”

“It's nearly time. All the players have gathered here on neutral ground, the Breidablik.” The Draugr bound Einherjar descended from the hangar and into the Ofnir's launch rails. “I couldn't ask for better! Both Necker and Blivet have sent their heads, while Mobius has delegated to a board member.”

“And you. Are you really going to rely on that trick again?”

“If it comes to that, but I'd rather not have to shuffle off this new body so soon. As such, your dear sister Frigg is with me.”

“And she will see you safe… What of Friia?”

“At the helm of the Gungnir.”

“About Sirius. Was it really just getting him back into an Einherjar that got him to work for you?”

“Battle is core to his being. He’s been dead since his forced retirement, starved of what gives him life, and with the coming war he will be able to glut himself on blood and death.” Cecile paused. “Go see him off.”

______

Aria closed her eyes and exhaled slowly as Nimue connected her to the Caliburn. Her senses left her own body and instead became those of her Einherjar. Once synchronized a channel opened between her and Maks, with Nimue operating as their mutual coordinator. 

“The Screamers are en route for rearming. Judging by the initial estimated impact, we have our drop window. Are you both ready?” asked Nimue as the two Einherjar were moved into their drop pods.

“Koschei and the Deathless reporting ready,” said Maks.

“Caliburn ready for deployment,” confirmed Aria. 

“Beginning drop sequence.” 

Their pods hissed as the atmosphere inside was sealed. The exterior heat shielding pressed against the pods, then clicked as it locked in place. Atop the pitch darkness fed to her by the Caliburn’s camera suite was a visual of the planet below; trails of flame and smoke marked their destination, like blood from a wound. Then, they fell. Atmosphere burned against the pods as they descended. As they entered lower atmo they slowed, exterior heat shielding popping off as counter thrusters kicked on. 

The smoke billowing around their target parted. Warnings blared on Aria's feed for a brief second before blinding daylight flooded her vision. 

The pod had been breached. A slug had torn through the remaining shielding, and with it one of the fuel containers ruptured. Molten eitr splashed over the Caliburn's left side, slagging its exterior armor. It burned away the fresh paint job too. That'd be a problem for later. 

“Nimue, release the pod locks. This can isn't going to get enough deceleration!”

Nimue didn’t bother responding and instead blew the locks off the pod, letting Aria and the Caliburn enter free fall. Aria fired her thrusters sending out twin trails of eitr, their force greater than those on the pod. It was better, but it wasn't enough. She was going to hit the ground at terminal velocity if she didn't do something risky. Better than death would be, well, better than death from impact trauma. Like she did when she fought Cecile, she pushed power to her thrusters, more than they were rated to handle. The cuffs on the end of her boosters melted, falling away in trails of molten metal wrapped in rainbow. The ground was still approaching. Warnings on her hud flashed bright red, reactor critical. That wasn't terminal velocity. That brief moment of relief ended as her connection to the Caliburn cut. 

Aria's senses return to her body, the one mostly made of flesh. Her other body, the Caliburn, hit the ground hard. It was bad, but something had cushioned the fall; debris or a tree most likely. The places that the restraints held ached from taking the brunt of the impact trauma.

“Nimue, Maks!” shouted Aria, not bothering with keeping her comms to mental only. 

A heavy thud and the clatter of pod panels signalled Maks’ landing. “Fuck, thought we lost you there.”

“I think the Caliburn’s in bad shape. Nimue, just how bad is it?” asked Aria, testing her restraints, still locked in. 

“Bad, but I do not believe that the Caliburn will remain inoperable. It will need a few minutes to reboot its reactor. I will assist.” 

“I’ll run interference, get up and moving as soon as you can,” said Maks. 

Aria sighed. “Not how I expected the landing to go. So much for softening the target.” 

“I am not detecting any activity from the automated defense systems there. It is more likely that what shot you down was a manned emplacement, or more likely an Einherjar.” Nimue groaned, annoyed. “The sensors from the Visund are struggling with the amount of smoke.” 

“Shouldn’t have bothered with the Screamers, their predecessors didn’t really help back on Veles either.” Aria closed her eyes. “Not that the Council needed it.”

______

Sirius opened his eyes. Not the ones in his head, the Morningstar’s; all six of them. Cameras nested inside a cranial that had the appearance of a smoothed over human head. In front of him stretched a launch rail, its sling mechanism latched to his feet. The door to the void opened, and what air was in the tunnel roared past him. 

“Sirius, how’s it feel in there?” asked Freya.

“It feels right.” He bent low, the quartet of missile racks on his back folding like wings. “I’m ready to make my return.”

“Setting off a war is a damn loud way to do it.” 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” said Sirius as he hurtled down the rails and out into space. “Breidablik looks so small from here.” Across the Morningstar thrusters fired. “My entourage seems a little slow to launch.”

“They’re on the way. They just need a few moments to finish full diagnostic checks,” said Freya.

The Breidablik, a neutral space station as close to the middle of the Vangr expanse as was reasonable, rapidly came into view. What was a silvery-white speck revealed itself as the sprawling station of concentric rings. The exterior rings housed its defenses; turrets, missile racks, and several squadrons of Einherjar meant for void combat. 

“Automated defenses disabled, Sirius,” said Freya.

“You’re not even going to let them have a chance, are you?” grumbled Sirius.

“The mission takes priority.”

“Then why let me go on ahead in the first place?”

“It’s the most I could allow you under Lady Penrose’s orders.”

Sirius smiled. “If you ever shake the leash, you’d be a fine operator.”

A comms channel opened. “Unidentified craft, you are to cease your approach vector and remain still. Breidablik security forces will not harm you as long as you come willingly.” 

“G1-G6 are enroute, Sirius,” said Freya.

Sirius came to a stop, thrusters angling forward. “They’d better hurry.” He raised his shield in front of the Morningstar. 

“This isn’t the time for jokes. Identify yourself and submit,” said the man on the other end of the line, as the white and gold Einherjar of the security force launched. 

The Morningstar fired its boosters, missile racks extending as it did, battle rifle in its right hand locking onto the trajectory of the closest Einherjar and firing. “Not even a decade and I’ve already been forgotten.” 

His shots connected, blowing the lead mech’s head entirely off its shoulders. The Morningstar spun and turned on the spot, high caliber revolver moving from the inside of its left forearm to its hand. SIrius pointed it toward an enemy that had turned and tried to alter course, looking to duck behind the ring itself. The other Einherjar spread out around the Morningstar, popping off shots as the runner’s back exploded. Sirius’ vision clouded with impact notifications and he turned, shield raised as internal mechanisms in the mech’s forearm reloaded the revolver. He surged forward, moving at speeds that would have killed him without the pressurized capsule he was now inside. Bullets pinged off his shield before he bashed his opponent’s weapon to the side and jammed the barrel of his rifle into the machine’s torso, then fired. A plume of eitr erupted out the ruined machine’s body, laced with particulate matter that had moments before been a pilot. 

“Tell your pilots they need to do better,” said Sirius, casting the wreck aside and boosting toward his next target.

“Your reinforcements will arrive momentarily,” said Freya.

“I don’t need them,” said Sirius, swooping down toward the exterior ring of Breidablik, gunfire chasing his booster trails. 

“Then you’ll handle hitting the council chamber?” 

Sirius flipped around, the top two missile racks extending out behind him. “These ones weren’t providing a suitable challenge anyway.” 

The Morningstar loosed a swarm of self-guided warheads at the nearby Einherjar. Two of them tried to evade, while the third didn’t have a chance to react, their boosters unable to significantly alter their approach. A series of explosions tore its armor away and rendered it inoperable. The runners didn’t fare much better; shots from Sirius’ rifle knocked out one of their boosters and the other just couldn’t manage to avoid the group after them. Behind the Morningstar, the racks switched position, the used set folding up and the other rising. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” 

Sirius turned then paused, one of the security Einherjar had managed to get behind him. He opened a channel to the other pilot. “You gonna just stare?” 

Behind Sirius, from the direction of the Ofnir, six glossy black Einherjar came into view and engaged the remaining security force. Blade of crimson eitr flared as they found their mark, severing limbs and driving through cockpits. 

The pilot in front of Sirius dropped his weapon. “Please, I… I don’t want to die.” 

Sirius let go of his battle rifle, letting it float near him. “Why did you drop your weapon?” 

“I surrender! Just let me go, and do whatever you’re here to!” pleaded the other pilot. 

Sirius pulled a blade from his right thigh, the edge illuminating with rainbow light. “Stay still, act like you’re dead.” He swung the blade through the neck of the other machine and down through the right shoulder, severing the arm and head. 

Before the other pilot could speak, Sirius cut the line and kicked them off the ring, leaving for the council chamber. 

______

Maks pushed through the smoke and flame around where she landed, her Deathless holding up it’s rotary grenade launcher and machinegun. Aria and Nimue needed time to get the Caliburn up and running again, and it was her duty to make sure that could happen. Blivet’s intelligence on the forces at the site were sorely lacking, just the suggestion of Alfar and Einherjar presence. No concrete numbers or pilot IDs, just that there would be mobile opposition. She scoffed. Typical corp shit, expecting mercenaries to just handle whatever was actually there.

“Nimue, you able to pick up anything yet? I’m practically walking blind here,” said Maks. 

“I am sorry, but no.”

“Was worth a try,” sighed Maks. 

A nearby tree fell, flames having fully engulfed it. She pointed her grenade launcher toward it, scanning for any movement or silhouettes that might be an enemy. A moment passed with nothing, then she moved on. The bunker should be nearby and– Her train of thought was interrupted by the BRRRT of a high caliber minigun emplacement, then a small explosion from up ahead. 

“That you, Nimue? If it’s not, we got friendly fire on their side.”

“It is not me,” replied Nimue.

“Checking it out. But first, just to be sure.” 

Maks pointed her grenade launcher and sent a trio out in a small arc, then pushed forward through the smoke. The brown and gold body of the Deathless emerged from the smoke to see the damaged bunker. Her salvo had hit one of the turrets and one of the shots had hit a closed blast door that led deeper into the facility, but otherwise no immediate sign of hostiles.

 A comm channel opened. “Guess the other one didn’t make it,” said a male voice.

“You're the one who fired the shot?” growled Maks, scanning the nearby area for any sign of the speaker.

“Shame they’re dead. You’ll have to be enough to entertain my Tyrfing and I while we wait for the problem beneath to rear its head.” 

A shot rang out from above as the Deathless flew to the right. Buckshot, each pellet the size of a fist, blasted the exterior plates of her left arm off. The arm went slack for a moment, then whined as its internal mechanisms compensated for the damage. 

Maks raised her machinegun and sprayed the lip of the bunker. “Nimue, I’ve got hostile contact.”

“Looking through your eyes, a moment,” said Nimue directly to Maks.

“Nimue, that the name of your handler?” asked the other pilot, his own machine pulling back from the edge of the bunker. 

“There’s little I can glean other than a name, Arngrim. I would need to do a more in depth search, and we do not have time for that.”

Maks ducked under the bunker’s roof. “Just get Aria back here as soon as you can.” 

“That’s the other one then, Aria. Can’t leave a job half done,” said Arngrim.

Maks left the safety of her position and boosted up to the roof from the left side of the bunker. Arngrim’s Einherjar stood stock still, its humanoid torso sticking up out of a tank chassis where a turret would have been. In its left hand was a shotgun and in its right a belt-fed chaingun. A heavy rail cannon was extended over its head and pointed out into the smoke. Maks fired a grenade, peeling a layer of her foes armor off, but more importantly disrupting Arngrim’s aim. The rail cannon fired. A trail of plasma illuminated the shot’s trajectory as it tore through the smoke, blowing a tunnel out as it passed. 

“Your fight is with me, jackass,” said Maks, unloading her machinegun into the Tyrfing. 

The Tyrfing pulled back, treads rolling over a caved in metal plate. Its shotgun barked, the force knocking the Deathless back toward the edge of the roof. Maks pushed forward, moving to flank on the Tyrfing’s right side. The Tyrfing tracked her movements, its chaingun spewing a trail of lead at her. Bullets tore into the Deathless’ left side, the EInherjar’s thrusters struggling to outpace them.

“You’ll break first,” said Arngrim.

He was right, the Deathless couldn’t take much more of this. Maks fired the last grenade in her current drum, then dropped her machinegun. While normally her Einherjar would handle the reload with mechanisms in the forearm and on the ammo storage on that thigh, in the moment she didn’t have time for the slower process. She pulled the empty drum out, swapped the weapon into her other hand and reloaded it with her now free left arm. Another blast from the Tyfring’s shotgun knocked the Deathless to the ground, sparks flying as it skidded along the concrete. Maks unloaded her remaining weapon, aiming the shots to go under the Tyrfing’s chassis. Explosions rocked the Einherjar, its body going limp as it leaked motes of rainbow.

Maks stood, the Deathless in no condition to keep fighting. “Serves you right, fucker.” She walked to pick up her fallen weapon. “Aria, Nimue, you missed the fun.” 

“Just my luck, babe,” said Aria over the comms channel.

Maks smiled as she reloaded her machine gun then pointed it at the Tyrfing’s smoking cockpit. “Normally I don’t like killing my opponents.” The Deathless’ arm went slack, internal mechanisms briefly failing. 

“I heard him mention that there was something going on below,” said Nimue. 

“Blivet wasn’t very clear on what was down there, just that we were to secure the location,” added Aria. 

“I could see what I can find there, things seem calm enough right now.” 

“Don’t bother, Nimue. We’ll have Blivet get down here and do it themselves.” The Caliburn boosted up onto the roof, its shield having been moved to a mount on the upper arm. “I can take care of this one, Maks.” 

“You got it, babe.” Maks pulled the Deathless back, letting the Caliburn pass. “I bet you they’ll still want us to take a look.” 

Aria pushed the Tyrfing’s torso back with the barrel of her rifle, its head limply falling back. “Impressive rail cannon. Nimue, please flag it for retrieval.” She drew a blade from her left thigh.

“Understood. It seems to be a custom model.”

Aria jammed her blade under the warped chestplate of the Tyrfing and popped it off like one would a barnacle. Beneath was something that gave her pause, an ovoid of dark metal. The Caliburn staggered back, blade and rifle falling from its grip as Aria held her machine’s head, her own head. Echoes of the agony she’d felt back inside the Nail on EV/NL-08 pulsed through her mind and for a moment she was back there, as the Draugr had reached for her, it’s voice that was not a voice demanding- no, stating that she would drown.

“Aria?” asked Maks, the Deathless walking closer.

“It is alright, Aria. I’m not picking up the intensity I did from the Draugr. In fact, I am only detecting a basic life support suite inside that structure.” 

Aria lowered her hands, there was no Draugr here. It was just her, Maks and a dead man. She bent over to rearm herself. “Yeah, I just got spooked.” The Caliburn approached the inert Tyrfing once again then plunged the blade into its cockpit. A spurt of viscera shot out, covering the sides of her weapon. 

“The fuck was Mobius doing here?” asked Maks.

“Nothing good.” Aria pulled her weapon out of the Tyrfing. “Nimue, tell Blivet the facility is ready for them.”

“They’re gonna want us to look inside a bit first. I know their kind,” grumbled Maks, worrying her machine’s damaged joint. 

Aria sighed. “Better get down there then.” 

Once the pair were out of sight, the Tyrfing straightened its back. Its hands traced over its cockpit, fingers gliding over the goreslick wound. It was as the scientists had told him, he had fallen only to rise once more, no longer constricted by his failing body of flesh. The Tyrfing… No, Arngrim, pushed down on the tank chassis that had been his legs. With a creak, he tore himself from his own wreck. 

______

Ben felt movement, his limbs moving without his will. His eyes shot open and, for a brief moment, beheld the pulsing metal insides of Vivien’s Einherjar body before being redirected to eyes that were not eyes and definitely not his own. His vision swept over the inside of the facility he and Vivien had been kept in. Now the defenses within either laid in ruin, or scanned in search of new targets. A turret swiveled and fired a short burst at something hiding behind a smoldering Alfar. Blood sprayed across the wall of a nearby building. 

“That should be the last of them.”

It wasn’t his own thoughts, but he could hear them and, not only that, he felt the emotion that came with them; satisfaction. His sight wrenched upwards, toward the lift that led to the surface. The light from outside was blinding to him even as the Einherjar’s vision adjusted to it. Two other machines, both ones Vivien recognized. 

Elation. Worry. Apprehension. 

Ben felt the body pull back inside of the nearby hangar, then his vision was pulled along to one of the turrets to watch as they descended the broken lift, sparks flying behind them as they went. He felt the Einherjar move briefly then stop, his vision spun back up to the light pouring in from above as a dark shadow wreathed in scarlet descended. It struck the side of one of the other Einherjar, and then dove at one of the facility’s buildings. The others followed, rainbow tailing them. And then, movement; his vision returning to Vivien’s body. The pair soared through the air, then disappeared into the breach after the shadow. 

He could feel movement again. From where his vision was tethered he saw the shape of Vivien’s body pass, all smooth curves and dark metal, a second set of arms holding handguns attached above the hip. His vision returned to the Einherjar as it paused at the lip of the breach that led below. The chamber beneath was luminous, a placid lake of glowing liquid eitr, its surface only disrupted by the crystalline formations that the fluid seeped from and a trio of shadows, one opposed by two.

The worry was back, and with it a burst of static in Ben’s mind.

“Maks, are you sure you’re good to fight still?” asked a woman with a reedy voice that dropped into a rasp at the end.

One of the two raised a weapon. “I’ll be fine, Aria, as long as the joint doesn’t go again,” replied presumably Maks, her voice lower, smooth in texture. 

“And if it does?” asked Aria. 

“Then we deal with that when it happens,” said Maks.

“If you can, try to limit your exposure to the eitr. It can be toxic with direct contact,” added a voice that reminded Ben of Vivien, but more restrained. 

A cry emanated from the single shadow, disturbing the surface of the lake of eitr. It’s shape distorted, growing and filling out the beginnings of its missing lower half. 

“Yeah. Lotta help, Nimue.” One of the other two pushed forward, using an outcrop of the crystals as cover. “Can you maybe tell us what the fuck half an Einherjar with a pulped pilot is doing with it instead?” 

A barrel swung over one of the shadow’s shoulders and braced on top of a shield. “Doesn’t matter what he’s doing. We’ve killed a Draugr before, and we’ll kill this imitation all the same.” 

Anticipation. His vision focused in, lenses magnifying as best as they could on Aria. The barrel of the weapon crackled, energy at unsafe levels; then, it fired. A projectile launched at speeds far beyond the sound barrier. The lake parted under its path, the air burned, and then the payload hit, shattering on a lattice of light in front of the regenerating shadow.

“It’s still standing, Aria!” shouted Maks as she left cover, spraying machinegun fire at the abomination ahead.

The barrel swung back over Aria’s shoulder, coolant hissing. “Nothing? The last one was melting across its chassis…”

The shadow extended a hand forward, a point brighter than the lake forming there.

“Aria, move!” shouted Maks.

Conviction. 

Aria boosted hard, trails of rainbow behind her.

Vivien jumped down, boosters kicking on as she descended toward the glowing battlefield below.