The Road to Perdition
Sigrun’s journey from Bergen had not gone terribly well. While she’d made the trip from Dalsnes on Gunnar’s boat (no, they still hadn’t fixed the road) just fine, the long-suffering flight staff had been forced to give Sigrun sedatives (the single strongest drink they could pour, with a little extra stuff thrown in for good measure) once the plane took off and she realized they were off-the-ground-what-devilry-is-this flying, but by the time she reached Oran, they’d worn off. She really had no idea how she’d been transferred at this “deGaulle Airport” place, but she assumed that it was better that way.
The lines, crowds, more lines and more crowds were beginning to get to her. At first, she’d been (more) able to tamp the instinctive agoraphobia of even an immune Y90 denizen down, but as she wove her way through the massive lines and crowds that characterized this era’s air travel, it kept gnawing at her more and more. There were just too many people all piled into this place, and every one seemed intent on jostling her. A few times, she’d had to give someone a Look (as opposed to a blow), which had generally scared the offender off, to her relief. These Old Timers weren’t the most courageous bunch, either.
The others were waiting for her by the “Baggage Claim” carousel-thing. Sigrun suppressed a shudder as she glanced at it again. These Old Time machines could be worse than any trolls, for with trolls at least you knew where they would and wouldn’t fit. The machines could be anywhere, though, and do just about anything, even (Sigrun suppressed another shudder) talk. It was just so... unnatural.
Tuuri, Mikkel, and Emil looked almost as overwhelmed by the noise, the press of the crowds, and the smells as she was beginning to feel. The four of them formed a visible knot of silent (and tall; even Tuuri was as tall as or taller than most of the local men) Norse-ness around which the more normal airport traffic, mostly Arabic, flowed.
The very first thing Sigrun did when she reached her comrades-in-arms surprised even her, however. As soon as she was in range, her arms seemed to reach out of their own accord to pull the other three into a relieved group hug, an embrace the others all fell into with the same mix of emotions as were running through her. They stayed that way for a blissful moment, but then broke apart.
“We have a ground car and a map of sorts,” Tuuri said. “The way it’s marked is kinda confusing, though, but Reynir said Lalli says not to show it to you until we’re in the car.”
“That is most wise,” Mikkel rumbled contemplatively. “In fact, we shouldn’t say anything more at all until then.” Sigrun flicked him a surprised glance and almost spoke, but for once thought better of it.
*
Reynir whistled tunelessly as he waited for the call. His great-great-grandparents were turning out to be really nice people, who seemed to totally buy his story about being from this place called “Canada” and “trying to find his Icelandic roots”. The calls he’d passed off as to and from various sources: work, family, friends. Of course, the fact that Reynir was willing to help out in exchange for his room and board, as well as the “probable family connection”, probably eased his path with them.
Finally, the phone rang.
“OK, um, it says here that you’re each supposed to have a... ‘cover story’? Weird. Anyway, Tuuri, you’re supposed to be a lawyer, Emil’s a corporate negotiator, Mikkel’s a doctor, and Sigrun is... it says here ‘muscle-slash-heavy’, which I don’t get either. Um. You’re meeting with this guy ‘Achhhhhhhhhmed’--” Reynir briefly broke into a coughing fit “--Sorry, something in my throat. Anyway, you meet with this ‘Achmed’ guy, he takes you to this place where they have a sample of the Rash--no, Tuuri, there’s nothing in here about how they got it in the first place. No, Lalli didn’t mention anything about that, but when--When I call them back, I’ll ask, but I don’t think they know either. Anyway, once you know it’s the Rash sample, you smile politely, fob ‘Achmed’ off, and blow the whole place to Jotunheim as soon as possible. Emil’s boom-boom kit got there OK, right? Oh, good. OK. Yes. Yes. Fine. Right, I’ll just call now and let you know once I know. Of course. ‘Bye.”
