Wrath of the Gods Page 2

  Torsten tried to teach the more intelligent men and women in the village the basics of the natural sciences and taught them what he could of history. He had some modicum of success. There would be no grand university there any time soon, but the men and women had learned enough that they could begin to manufacture more potent medicines. Blacksmiths could make stronger steel. Tanners could produce more rugged leathers.

  It seemed that they doubted what he told them of the past. And he had to tailor it very carefully to avoid them thinking that he was simply crazy.

  He couldn’t help but think that in the future it would be easier to let the people believe he actually was a God. It would make the transfer of knowledge easier if they thought it was from a divine source and not just some know-it-all asshole in a shiny suit.

  He taught them that the Ancients had been just men, powerful in the ways of science, not magic. The same force that allowed their blacksmiths to make better metals for working and that allowed their farmers to grow more crops with less effort. He taught them that those same Ancients were their ancestors. More than a few of the assembled had exchanged looks of disbelief or chuckled quietly.

  He taught them that the Gods were in fact not Gods, but men who came from another world to enslave or destroy the Ancients. He told them that the Great War that was fought between the Gods and the Ancients had ruined most of the world and destroyed the civilization that had stood here. And that same war was in fact, still being fought to this day. The Long War was still ongoing, albeit on a much smaller scale.

  Torsten led a small expedition as well into nearby ruins of the Ancients that stood a few days ride from the village. It had been little more than a farming collective with some small mining operations nearby when it was still inhabited and in operation. There would be little of use there. But he did manage to find a stasis cabinet full of first aid kits and a few hunting rifles. Some of the mining equipment was still operable, but it would be of little use to his new allies.

  After function checking the weapons, he chose the two most experienced warriors in the expedition and instructed them in the proper use of the weapons. The first time they had fired the rifles, ancient slug throwers that used chemical propellants, the noise had frightened them to the point of dropping the weapons and running. Torsten tried not to laugh, but failed.

  He would have probably done the same thing in their position. He showed them how to fashion ear muffs that would protect their hearing when using the rifles, but still allow them to hear enough to tell if prey or enemies were nearby.

  The first aid kits were given to the best students he had during his time there. Whether they would actually be able to use them, he couldn’t say. But it was better than leaving them to eventually rot in the ruins of a farmhouse when the stasis field on the storage cabinet eventually failed.

  Once Torsten reached the point where he was satisfied that the village would be able to advance on its own, he moved on. Merchants were more than eager to lead him to the next large settlement, where they would be able to claim the possible monetary rewards of having brought such a man to them.

  He passed through several small villages, pausing for a few days in each. He graciously accepted their hospitality and taught them a few things that might be of use, but he concentrated his efforts on the larger communities he found. Eventually anything he did in the larger villages and towns would spread out to the smaller groups as well.

  The entire process of an extended stay in larger towns while he educated their populace as much as he could was repeated twice. Torsten introduced himself to the rulers of the village and taught them what he could. Each would be given a portion of his knowledge based on the pledge that they would band together in permanent alliance, setting aside whatever petty feuds they might have had in the past or that might still be active. And that in the future if he required it, he could count on their allegiance and support in battle.

  There was agreement to his terms. Acceptance if not enthusiasm. He was pleased with his work. Though initially clumsy in his approach, his attempt at nation building had born fruit and the seeds of something greater had been planted.

  In a moment of reflection, Torsten sat on a ridge high above the last town looking down at the construction already underway. It was then that Modi finally established solid contact with him for the first time in a few months.

  She was happy to report that the men of his crew had survived the battle in orbit. They had been hard at work gathering supplies and returning them to Fort Kasper. As their work advanced, more and more of the facility was brought back online and better equipment became available to them.

  After a good deal of hard labor they were able to restore a lift from an underground hangar to the surface. A few armored vehicles had been reactivated and moved to hardened blast-proof hangars on the surface. There, they would be hidden from prying eyes, but easily accessed in case of an emergency.

  An emergency like another Titan unit falling on their heads, he assumed.

  The Coalition Special Forces monstrosities were more than a match for infantry, but Veldt heavy armor would pound one flat in little time.

  More importantly, several aircraft had been salvaged. Of those, the only thing currently approaching functionality had been a cargo shuttle. Not fit for modern combat, it would have been unheard of to use for insertion or retrieval of operatives in the field in all but the most desperate situations, even in the final days of the war. But now it was really the only option.

  Once brought to the surface it was a simple matter to return the shuttle to working condition. A few more weeks spent scavenging for parts and it was operational. And immediately dispatched to pick up Torsten.

  As he sat, still as a stone and communicating with Modi through his suit, he spoke to her of his plan. Based on what he had seen among the tribes, here, where he had fallen. In the coming weeks and months he would begin to visit the more advanced groups within range of Fort Kasper.

  Torsten would share information with them in exchange for allegiance. Through the near magic of his halo unit, he would be able to tell if the men and women he spoke to had deception in mind. Those who could be trusted would be brought into the fold. Those who could not be trusted… he would advise their people to replace them before departing.

  The process might well take years, but time was the one thing he had. What else was there to do besides run errands for Modi and Vidar? He would begin his great work of rebuilding and see where it took him.

  The shuttle arrived at dusk, lighting the sky above the village with its engines and sending dust into the air with their downwash. The gathered people seemed frightened, despite Torsten’s reassurance that it was only an inanimate object sent to retrieve him.

  As close to a party as he had seen in a very long time awaited him back at Fort Kasper. The men of his crew greeted him with bottles of whiskey in hand. He handed over what was left of Anhur’s brain case to Vidar in the medical facility beneath the fort and returned to his brothers in arms. There was more drinking than would be considered healthy by most, but it wasn’t every day men survived such circumstances to be reunited.

  Stories were swapped of the days since Anhur’s fall and there were several requests for the sensory data recorded during Torsten’s orbital jump to the surface of Veldt. The group of scouts gathered together and watched it all in first person as they drank and talked about it.

  “So how many times did you shit yourself?” That had seemed to be the most popular question.

  The festivities continued for two days before Modi and Vidar put them back to work. Too much to do, and not enough hands to do it was the general consensus.

  The six of them were gathered, working on repairing the anti-grav drives that allowed a heavy armored vehicle to levitate a few feet off the ground when Modi appeared to them. Natural muscle and synthetic muscle strained side by side to lift components into place long enough for them to be connected.

  “Torsten, we’ve thou
ght over your plan.” She began. There was no question who “we” referred to. Obviously Modi, the collective, and Vidar. “We think with a few slight tweaks it might work quite well. The cargo shuttle is prepared and we’ve selected a few villages that we believe will be receptive.”

  A data stream opened and Torsten perused it. So then, finally, the process could continue.

  Torsten and Ed returned to the area where Torsten had first touched down. From what could be told from orbital surveillance, there were several large tribes that lived in a loose confederation of villages. These villages were perpetually at risk of being attacked by hostile tribes of nomadic warriors that followed herds of game across the plains.

  The nomadic warriors were known to be worshippers of Anhur. Despite their having witnessed the fall of The Lost Star from the heavens, and their intuiting that Anhur had died, they still remained loyal. It was unlikely they would be receptive to Torsten or his message.

  Others across the vast plains where Torsten had landed had seen his descent from orbit and heard of the gifts he had bestowed upon the tribes that had befriended him. They would no doubt be envious of the information he had given and would be more than grateful for their own share of it.

  Once there, Torsten and Ed had found many who were willing to strike a bargain with them. Men of their word that could likely be counted on in the future. Future allegiance that might never be called upon, and friendship and cooperation with their neighbors in exchange for ascension to the next level of civilization.

  Based on his previous experiences Torsten had given up trying to explain to the people he encountered that he was not divine. He never made the claim, but neither did he present himself as just a man.

  During their travels in the far west, they found men of exceptional intelligence and warriors made of stuff harder than steel. Men who would be at home among a band of soldiers like what the scouts had been in The Kingdom. They had no desire to expand the size of their unit, but these men could still be given a greater purpose than living the entirety of their lives locked in the middle ages.

  It was first suggested by Modi as Torsten’s suit scanned a sick warrior to isolate the source of his illness. She had been looking in on their progress as a satellite moved over the area, and saw that the man’s central nervous system was well-suited to halo use.

  They had brought the warrior, Dean, with them on a return trip to Fort Kasper. He had been honored that he was chosen to escort the divine warriors on their journey, though his fear showed plainly, even without the use of a halo unit.

  At Fort Kasper he was taken to the medical facility and given the same choice that had been presented to Torsten and each man of his crew. He accepted the offer without hesitation and emerged from the halo unit a new man. Something burned in his eyes as he spoke with the men of Torsten’s crew.

  Determination.

  The man had iron in his will and sought to correct the wrongs done to his people as best as he could. He had been given a security suit, like the ones Torsten and his crew had first worn in the ruins of Andersonville. It would give him information on a wide variety of subjects and allow for limited communication between himself, Torsten’s crew, and Modi.

  He was armed with a few simple firearms and a blade. They were weak compared to what Torsten and his crew carried, but they would make Dean the ruler of any battlefield he might find himself on anytime soon. He would be the most powerful warrior on the surface of Veldt outside of Fort Kasper.

  His word was taken as his bond, after Modi and Vidar could confirm that the man wasn’t lying. And then he was returned to his people and installed as ruler. Torsten and Ed remained with him for a week to ensure that they hadn’t created just another petty dictator. On the other hand they also wanted to make sure the man wasn’t too weak in his rule.

  History had shown that democracy was little more than mob rule and people needed strong leaders to keep them in line, as well as to keep civilization moving in the right direction. Dean would have to walk a tightrope between despot and weakling, with the end goal being benevolent yet absolute rule. When they were satisfied with the man, they moved on.

  The process was repeated several more times. Another warrior. An old man who had been a farmer his whole life. A nursemaid. A blacksmith. A mason. Each was taken back to Fort Kasper and each became what they should have been all along. Before petty alien powers had brought their ruinous war to Veldt.

  Good progress, in Torsten’s opinion. Through his communication with them he saw them beginning to work together far more frequently than their villages and tribes had in the past. New trade flourished and they began working towards mutual prosperity.

  Having been privy to the behind the scenes machinations of The Kingdom, Torsten knew better than to assume all would be well from now on. There would be rivalries and bloodshed between them, but in time they might grow into a nation. Until then, he would settle for being able to call them as he had intended.

  A new start, and a potential army.

  Other tribes were brought into the fold by Torsten and his crew as well. The leaders of a few groups of Mountain Men from The World’s Spine were a beginning. Torsten had considered attempting a new start with them in the past. The chieftain of a group of tribal warriors that ranged on the vast plains to the west of the mountain range was indoctrinated as well. A select few men from the island nations to the south of what had been The Kingdom also found their way to Fort Kasper.

  None were given the gift of a suit or particularly powerful weapons, but they were given something just as useful and just as dangerous to their enemies.

  Knowledge. Though what knowledge was given to them varied on each man and his circumstance, custom tailored to the recipient as it were. A plethora of information on theoretical physics would be of little use to any of them, but advanced mining techniques and economic theory would be. Metal working for the Mountain Men and sailing and navigation for the southerners. In time they would be given knowledge of other things like the mass production of medicine and simple steam engines.

  After their minds were filled with relevant information by the halos at Fort Kasper they were given a gift of gold from the fort’s vaults that would allow them to start their work and returned to their homes.

  Upon each return visit to Fort Kasper, Torsten found that new functionality had been restored to the complex. The men of the scouts had been hard at work while he travelled. New vehicles were found and new caches of arms and armor were raised from the depths to subsurface staging areas. As the site of the experimental technology that the UN and Coalition had both seen fit to ruin themselves fighting for, the fort had been exceptionally well stocked for a protracted battle.

  It seemed odd to Torsten at times that Fort Kasper, and all of Veldt for that matter, had been brought to heel by something as simple as a neutron bomb and a virus. Granted there had been far, far more than just one of each, but they had been well prepared for just about anything else. He would have to ask Modi about this odd gap in defenses sometime.

  And while Torsten was at Fork Kasper, the injections continued.

  Modi had told Torsten in the past that she had designed a series of injections that would deliver gene therapy treatments to him. In time they would begin to affect him as the cells in his body turned over. In the passing months they seemed to be doing whatever it was they were intended to do.

  Torsten felt stronger. Even without the suits he had no problem performing feats of strength that almost rivalled what he had been capable of when Anhur’s nanobots had coursed through his blood. In moments of private vanity he would look at himself in the mirror after stepping from the showers of the officer’s quarters.

  His skin had taken on the glow of youth. What grey there had been in his hair was gone, replaced with the dirty blond he had sported for most of his life. So little remained of his body fat that he had begun to resemble the anatomy chart hanging on the wall in the medical facility. Flexing his arm revealed a ne
twork of sinew and muscle that seemed barely contained by skin about to burst apart. He could get used to this.

  He felt more intelligent as well, if such a thing were possible to feel. Sometimes, it was difficult to tell if it was caused by information implanted by the halos or the injections. But without wearing a halo, things seemed to click into place in his mind faster. To make more sense. He found complex tasks such as repairing engines on armored vehicles easier and easier, even if he hadn’t performed that specific task before.

  In a rare moment of free time, he’d tried his hand at revising some of the code in a security terminal. The end result being that the energy requirements for the attached weapon and tracking system had been reduced by 30%.

  Whatever Modi’s intention for the gene therapies, they were working, and working well. Torsten had suggested that the other men in his crew undergo some of the basic treatments as well, but was told that resources were limited and Modi and Vidar both believed they were best invested into Torsten. He left the matter at that and continued receiving periodic injections from automated terminals in the medical facility at For Kasper.

  During a lull in busy work, Torsten and his crew found themselves in the training hall. Each man had his fitness regimen of choice, but on that day they were all gathered there for one thing, and one thing only:

  To beat the shit out of each other.

  It had always been a regular part of training for men serving in the scouts to fight one another in a sporting manner. Encouraging their competitive nature. It let men settle scores without losing an operative and let enlisted men dish out a beating to an officer without being broken on the wheel for it.

  This time, they’d all agreed that it would be bare handed all the way. The suits of armor at their disposal would have allowed them to train with specialized weapons, but after so much time being in the suits, the men just wanted to be done with them. Even if only for a little while.