The Age of Odin - James Lovegrove [83]
The sun kept sinking, getting fainter and fainter, dusk deepening around it. Evening, and I'd had no lunch, and breakfast had been measly. I should have felt famished, but fear quelled the pangs. What a day it had been. What a twenty-four hours. From frost giants to trolls to the Norns to Mrs Keener - talk about having your world turned upside down.
"Any clue what's lurking out there?" I asked Baz.
He shrugged. "Intel hasn't been superb on this one. But then, what else is new?"
"Good point. Back in the army, I don't think I was in a single engagement where we didn't go in half-cocked, knowing next to nothing of what we should have known. Different situation, same old shit."
"American black ops guys, that's what I heard," said Backdoor. "With some kind of high-tech equipment. Who'd have thought we'd be going up against the septics, eh? So much for the Special Relationship."
"I think, seeing as who Mrs Keener really is, the Special Relationship's more like a Special Needs Relationship," said Chopsticks. "And we're the one in the wheelchair, being pushed around."
"Sure and that was a shocker, wasn't it?" said Paddy. "Ultra-conservative president turns out to be Norse god in disguise. Hands up who saw that one coming."
"And a male god and all," said Backdoor. "Makes me a bit sick to think I might have knocked one out over her a couple of times."
"Holy Mother of God, you didn't!"
"I only said might have, Pads. Never said I did."
"Oh, you did," I said. "You big divine-gender-bender fancier you." I turned to Cy. "While we're here male-bonding with insults, and just in case I don't get another chance to ask - 'Coco Pops'?"
A grimace. "If I told you it was my favourite brand of cereal and that's all, would you leave it at that?"
"Nope."
"Thought not."
"Lad has certain tastes," said Baz, with glee.
"For...?" I said.
"Likes the white women, so he does," said Paddy. "By his own admission, prefers them to ladies of his own colour."
"And...?" I said. We were all grinning, even Thor. It was fun watching the youngster squirm. Helped take our minds off what was coming.
"Well, you remember the adverts, don't you?"
"This is so offensive," Cy muttered.
"'Turns the milk chocolatey.'"
I guffawed. Couldn't help it.
"Come on, seriously," Cy said. "It's borderline racist."
"Mate, you're blushing," I said to him.
"Am not. How can you tell?"
"I can tell. Is it true? White birds do it for you?"
"Nothing wrong with white birds, is there?"
"Nothing at all."
"You wouldn't believe how keen they are for a bit of brother, actually, Gid. Gagging for it. You lot obviously aren't measuring up. That's why they come to me, and man, are they grateful. I give 'em something they won't forget. You know the saying. 'Once you've had black...'"
"Hsst!" said Thor. "Enough. Look."
We looked, and there were figures in the fog. Dim, hulking outlines. Grey shadows that moved ponderously, purposefully. Coming towards us. Resolving. Getting sharper and clearer. Emerging. Revealing themselves.
I held my breath.
Mrs Keener and the Pentagon had, it seemed, been busy bees.
Very busy bees indeed.
Thirty-One
I counted nine of them.
Not many.
But they were big. Each basically human-shaped but twice the size. They strode in a V formation, clomping cumbersomely over the snow. Five were dark blue, the other four jet black. Their sleek, rounded contours, backlit by the fading sun, gleamed dully. Giant mechanised suits of armour.
Each had an operator inside. I could see faces peering out through tinted plexiglass faceplates. Each moved a little stiffly, but with obvious strength and power. Servomotors in the legs swayed them along, and their arms swung, providing counterbalance. In place of hands the arms ended in flared nozzles which were connected by flexible metallic tubes to pod-like tanks on their backs. Vents, cowls and farings jutted out here and there from