The Only Gods We Know, Ch 18: Code Black

Ten years since touchdown. Asgard had an empire now. Brynja stood in her ready room aboard Valaskjalf, watching the holotable paint their "peaceful" dominion in triumphant gold, and knew it was horseshit.

The sterile light turned Sigrun's face cadaverous. Mist's fingers danced across the controls, summoning her private overlay. The official map dissolved. A spiderweb replaced it - faint lines connecting incidents across a dozen systems like capillaries feeding a hidden tumor.

"K'tharr pirate raid here." Mist tapped a node. "Workers' riot at a Chitin-Cog facility there. Transport vanishes without a fucking trace in a secure corridor." Her voice stayed level, but her jaw worked. "It's a network, Captain. Decentralized. Multi-species. Coordinated."

The web pulsed on the display, each connection point a small disaster Brynja's superiors had written off as noise.

"They're sharing tactics," Mist continued. "Synchronized supply drops. And this - " She highlighted the web itself, the connections glowing brighter. "Common encryption protocol. Heavy. Almost impossible to crack."

"Almost." Brynja leaned closer, her reflection ghosting across the hologram.

"The encryption has an esoteric component. Mathematical signature that isn't pure tech." Mist pulled up a secondary screen, dense with equations that made Brynja's head ache. "Cross-referenced it with data from the captured Weaver vessel. Not identical, but the foundational principles match their light-weaving. Someone's teaching them. Someone's organizing them."

The Aurelian Weavers. The "pacified" artist-philosophers. Playing their own long game while High Command patted itself on the back.

Brynja's gut turned to ice.

Duty was clear: report to Tyr immediately. She could already see his response. System-wide crackdowns. "De-insurgent operations" - leveling villages to find one sniper, detaining entire populations, punishing the innocent alongside the guilty. A hammer against shadows. An act of brutal stupidity that would ignite the galaxy.

"We don't report the network."

The words came out quiet. Final.

Sigrun's stone face cracked. "Captain, that's direct contravention of standing orders. Withholding intel of this magnitude..." She paused, the weight of the word heavy in the recycled air. "It's treason."

"Is it?" Brynja turned, met her old friend's eyes. "Or is it preventing a mistake that costs us thousands of Asgardian lives and burns this sector to ash? You want to fight shadows with orbital bombardment, Sigrun? You want to see what Tyr does when he gets his hands on this?"

Silence. The ventilation system hummed.

"This is now an active ISR operation under Seventh Rapid-Response Wing authority. My authority." Brynja's voice hardened. "We investigate under official counter-terrorism and piracy suppression protocols. Our objective isn't to crush this rebellion. It's to understand it. Identify their leaders, supply lines, motivations. Cut the head off quietly, before Tyr burns the whole goddamn jungle to find it."

The most dangerous thing she'd ever done. A secret war within the official one.

Sigrun stared at her. The moment stretched. Finally, a single slow nod. "Your orders, Captain."

Her loyalty was to Brynja. Not to distant gods she no longer trusted.

Mist's eyes gleamed - pure analytical hunger. A puzzle. A secret. "I'll begin compiling target lists, Captain."

The summons arrived two days later. Wing Commander Astrid Vingthor'sdotter. The Sun-Eaters had rotated back to Valaskjalf for resupply. The easy friendship of their youth felt like archeology now.

They met in an observation lounge overlooking the void. The conversation was professional, stiff - patrol schedules, resource allocation, readiness reports. Astrid had adapted perfectly to command. Confident. Respected. A rising star. Also a sharp political operator.

"Your wing has high operational tempo, Captain." Astrid sipped her synth-ale, gaze sharp. "Lots of small-scale anti-piracy actions. Impressive kill-counts, but your intelligence reports are thin. High Command values clarity, Brynja. Make sure your reports are thorough."

Translation: I'm watching you. Your activities are unorthodox. Don't step out of line.

Brynja met her gaze, expression calm. She'd anticipated this. Time to play her card.

"Speaking of clarity." She slid a datapad across the table. "My ISR teams flagged a K'tharr pirate vessel, the Carrion-Crow, operating near your next patrol sector. Minor threat, persistent nuisance, hits soft targets. Latest intel on presumed location and capabilities. Professional courtesy."

A gift. Legitimate, actionable intelligence. Proof she was still a loyal officer dedicated to Asgard's security.

Also a test.

Was Astrid more loyal to High Command's rigid hierarchy, which would question why Brynja was sharing intel directly instead of through proper channels? Or did some flicker of their old bond remain?

Astrid picked up the datapad, scanned it. "This is useful," she said finally, voice carefully neutral. "My pilots will appreciate having a clear target. Thank you, Captain." She stood. "I have a briefing. Stay safe out there, Brynja."

Not "Captain." Just her name.

A tiny crack in the formal wall. A glimmer of the old Astrid.

Not forgiveness. Not alliance.

But something.

***

The official logs would read "advanced live-fire training exercise" in an uninhabited asteroid field. Reality was a covert strike against a rebel supply depot Mist had pinpointed.

They went in dark. Full stealth mode. This wasn't hammer-and-anvil. The goal was intelligence, not annihilation.

The depot - a hollowed-out asteroid - fell to silent precision. Guards, a mix of K'tharr and some vaguely reptilian subjugated species, dropped to non-lethal stun charges and nerve-jammers. Brynja moved through the corridors like smoke, muscle memory from a thousand battles guiding her hands.

Treasure trove inside. Stolen Asgardian power cells and munitions, yes. But also intelligence. Chitin-Cog data-shards containing propaganda rewritten for different species. Tactical manuals detailing Asgardian patrol patterns and weaknesses. And, most damning, a long-range comms array that didn't use conventional radio or hyperspace signals.

Focused, modulated light.

Weaver principles. Untraceable, instantaneous communication.

The smoking gun.

Mist interfaced with the central computer, fingers flying. A failsafe triggered. Pre-recorded holographic message flickered to life - a cloaked, hooded figure, face obscured by shadow. Voice digitally altered, smooth synthesized baritone, calm and chilling.

"...to our brothers and sisters in chains. The dominion of the false gods is built on lies and fear. They offer you order, but it is the order of a cage. They promise you prosperity, but it is the prosperity of a slave. But a new dawn is coming. A day when the stars will no longer be ruled by the thunder of tyrants, but by the will of the worthy. Be patient. Gather your strength. The time for liberation is at hand."

The message cut out.

Brynja stood in the silence, cold realization washing over her.

Not just a rebellion.

A revolution. A holy war being preached by a messianic figure.

And she was the only Asgardian commander who knew the true scope of the threat brewing in their dominion's shadows.

***

Brynja stood on Valaskjalf's command deck, a steel guardian hanging in the void. Below, the conquered world spun with insulting indifference. The main tactical holotank showed the official picture: vast space colored in Asgard's triumphant gold. Blinking icons for fleet movements, shipping lanes, minor "policing actions."

Clean. Sterile. Dishonest.

She knew the real map was uglier.

Two-front war now. Only one officially approved.

The first was public - detailed in her daily SITREPs to High Command. Keeping Asgard's control, suppressing piracy, enforcing the Allfather's peace. Boring, grinding occupation. A war won on logistics and intimidation.

The second kept her awake during designated rest times. Managing, containing, understanding a sophisticated rebellion without her command structure discovering its true scope. Every decision a calculated risk. Every patrol a potential exposure.

A chime. Priority message incoming.

Lord Tyr's stern, bearded face filled her secondary screen. No pleasantries.

"Captain. We're seeing increased subversive activity in the Kryll system. Supply convoys 'lost' to 'navigational errors.' A local collaborator found executed. Official report blames K'tharr piracy." He paused, gaze piercing. "Your Rapid-Response Wing is being re-tasked. Move to Kryll system. Re-establish order. I expect your methods to be decisive. Maintain discipline in your sectors, Captain. The Allfather does not tolerate chaos in his dominion."

Standard order. Unspoken message loud and clear: Your operational patterns are being watched. This is a test. Prove you're still Asgard's hammer, not some bleeding-heart intellectual.

"Solid copy, Lord Tyr. We will execute mission parameters."

Connection cut.

Brynja alone with the silent judgment of stars.

The crushing weight of her secrets: Loki's betrayal. The real, ugly story of Jötun-Kjarni. The sentient Chitin-Cog faction Mist tracked as "Variable X." And now, the full, terrifying scope of a coordinated, Weaver-assisted resistance.

She was a Shield-Captain of Asgard, one of the most powerful military commanders in this sector.

Utterly, completely alone.

***

Later, Brynja stood in her personal observation deck's solitude. The conquered territory glittered before her - a deceptive jewel-box spread across the void.

The disillusionment had scarred over. No longer a fresh, bleeding wound. A part of her now. Cold, hard resolve replacing fervent faith.

She was a Shield-Captain of Asgard. She would do her duty.

But her definition of duty had changed irreversibly.

Not simple, blind service to the Allfather's will. A complex, dangerous, high-wire balancing act. Her purpose wasn't conquest anymore.

Control.

Manage the chaos - internal and external - without igniting a galaxy-spanning inferno.

She turned to her private, heavily encrypted comm unit, bypassing the ship's main servers. "Mist. Open two new intelligence files. High-level classification. My eyes only."

"Ready, Captain."

"File one. Codename: Vigrid." The mythological plain where the final battle of Ragnarok would be fought. "I want full threat assessment on this resistance network. Leaders, supply lines, motivations, weaknesses. Everything. We're getting ahead of this before Tyr tries solving it with orbital bombardment."

"Understood, Captain."

"File two. Codename: Unsanctioned Variable. I want continuous deep-space watch on our sentient machine friends. Where are they going? What are they building? What's their intent? They're a wild card. I won't be caught by surprise."

"It will be done, Captain."

Brynja cut the connection.

Orders given.

No longer just a weapon of conquest. A spymaster now. Secret keeper. Player in a shadow war she'd chosen to fight on her own terms.

Holding together a fragile peace built on lies while a rebellion, born from Asgard's own brutal actions, grew in the shadows.

Ten years since arrival. Asgard had succeeded in creating an empire.

Not the empire of legends and myths.

A dominion of unequal species, divided alliances, a hundred secret, simmering rebellions. A lie built on blood.

The whole thing beginning to crumble.

What would happen when it fell apart? What would the future look like then?

Brynja couldn't say anymore.

She'd been a loyal warrior of Asgard. The reward had been an unyielding, impossible responsibility. She'd lost her faith, gained a burden no less divine.

The weight of the world.

***

Glossary

Acronyms & Communication Codes

• ISR (Intelligence, Surveillance, and Reconnaissance): An operation focused on gathering data rather than direct combat. Brynja uses this classification to justify her investigation into the rebel network without alerting High Command to the severity of the threat.

• SITREP (Situation Report): A periodic status update sent to superiors detailing current unit location, activity, and status. Brynja uses her daily SITREPs to feed High Command a "clean" version of the war.

• "Solid Copy": Radio voice procedure meaning "Message received and understood clearly."

• "Dark": Going "dark" refers to operating with all active emissions (lights, transponders, standard comms) turned off to maintain stealth.

Tactics & Operations

• Hammer-and-Anvil: A classic military tactic where one force pins the enemy in place (the anvil) while another force maneuvers to strike them (the hammer). Brynja notes that her stealth raid is not this type of maneuver.

• De-insurgent Operations: A euphemism used by High Command (Tyr) to describe brutal, broad-spectrum crackdowns, often involving collective punishment or leveling civilian infrastructure to neutralize a small number of combatants.

• Soft Target: A target with little to no military defense, such as a civilian transport or a supply depot.

• Actionable Intelligence: Information that is specific, reliable, and timely enough to be used immediately to plan a military strike.

• Operational Tempo: The speed and intensity at which a military unit conducts missions. Astrid notes Brynja’s wing has a "high operational tempo."

Equipment & Technology

• Holotable / Holotank: A strategic display system that projects a 3D topographic map of a sector. Used for tracking fleet movements and territory control.

• Nerve-Jammers: A non-lethal weapon used to incapacitate biological targets by disrupting their nervous system, favored for capturing prisoners for interrogation.

• Data-Shard: A physical storage medium for digital intelligence.

• Ready Room: A private office adjacent to the bridge or command deck where a commander can review data, rest, or hold private briefings.

In-Universe Code Names

• Vigrid: A classified file opened by Brynja to track the rebel network. Named after the mythological field where the final battle of Ragnarok is destined to take place.

• Unsanctioned Variable: The designation for the sentient machine faction (Chitin-Cog) that is operating outside of Asgardian control.

• Variable X: Mist’s tracking designation for the specific sentient machine faction.