The Only Gods We Know, Ch 9: Acceptable Losses

There are missions that call for overwhelming force, and then there are missions that call for a handful of certifiable lunatics with good aim and nothing left to lose; Brynja's new orders firmly placed her squadron in the second category.

The air in the ready-room on FOB Hlið Þrír was sharp with the metallic tang of ozone. No one spoke. The only sound was the soft click of a magazine seating into place. The Stormbringers were assembled, geared for a high-speed, low-drag surgical strike-their armor stripped of non-essential plating, their packs holding only extra power cells and breaching charges. Beside them stood the other half of this insane plan: a three-person Combat Mage team. Against the far wall, a handful of Einherjar commandos checked their heavy storm-bolters in silence, their scarred armor testament to countless deployments.

Their leader, a senior mage named Kára, had eyes that looked like they'd seen the ugly, screaming heart of the universe and weren't impressed. Her gaze passed over the Valkyries, lingering on nothing, seeing nothing worth her attention. She addressed Brynja with a cool, professional attitude that made it clear she saw the Valkyries as just heavily armed bodyguards for her and her team.

"Your task, Flight Lead Brynja, is simple," Kára said, her voice without any warmth. "Get us to the objective alive. Keep the enemy off our backs while we do the ritual. Get us out. My team is the payload; you are just the delivery system. Is that understood?"

"Crystal, Mage-Major," Brynja replied, her own voice just as cold. She met the mage's gaze, her hand resting on Storm-Singer's grip at her hip.

A detailed, 3D holographic map of the target, Data-Hub Jötun-Kjarni, or "Giant's Core," filled the center of the room. It was a massive, spherical fortress deep in the most heavily defended sector of the Myrkviðr system. The planned infiltration path was a goddamn nightmare, a suicidal "trench run" through overlapping fields of fire, drone patrols, and sensor grids.

"The intel from High Command is… wishful thinking at best," Mist murmured, her fingers dancing across her datapad as she checked the official plan against her own analysis. She highlighted a section of the schematic. "However, there is a potential blind spot here. A maintenance trench for coolant discharge. The Chitin-Cog's logic says it's an inefficient entry point, so its sensor coverage is cyclical, not constant. There's a seventeen-second window every nine minutes. It's a risky, unlikely path, but it's our only real shot at a stealth entry."

Kára looked at Mist, a flicker of something like respect in her cold eyes. "Your analyst is competent. We will use her path."

Just as they were about to plan their exit, a new holographic figure shimmered into existence beside the map. Loki. He lounged in a non-existent chair, a smirk on his lips, looking for all the world like a man who was enjoying this way too much.

"A brilliant plan, ladies," he purred. "But you're missing the final, most elegant part." He held up a small, crystal data-shard that pulsed with a chaotic, purple light. "The 'Rune of Madness.' My little contribution to the war effort."

He explained what it did with the pure enjoyment of an expert poisoner describing his favorite creation. It wouldn't just crash their systems; the magic code was designed to attack the very foundation of their IFF-Identify Friend or Foe-protocols. It would rewrite their core logic, convincing every drone, every turret, every warrior-construct that every other Chitin-Cog asset was a primary threat.

"Make them eat themselves," Loki finished, his eyes locking onto Brynja. "A far more elegant solution than blunt force, wouldn't you agree, my dear Valkyrie? Why level a city when you can convince the bricks to tear each other apart?"

Brynja just stared back, her face a mask. The sheer, beautiful, terrifying cynicism of the plan was pure Loki. A weapon that would turn the enemy's entire network into a self-devouring serpent.

The room was thick with a new kind of tension now. The Valkyries were focused on the brutal realities of survival. The mages were focused on the complex, delicate ritual they would have to do under fire. Astrid was practically shaking, her eyes wide with the sheer, insane glory of it all; this was the ultimate test of skill she had wanted. Sigrun was quietly running a final check on her shield generator, her face a grim, unreadable mask. Hrist looked terrified, but a core of stubborn, Asgardian determination kept her spine straight.

And Brynja… she looked at the faces around her. Astrid, vibrating with anticipation. Sigrun, a solid rock. Hrist, pale but resolute. All of them. Her responsibility. One wrong call and she'd be bringing home bodies. Don't fuck this up.

***

The void between Hlið Þrír and the target sector was a dangerous trap, and they were the mice. The five fighters of the Stormbringers flew in a tense, tight formation, their engines on minimal power, their energy signatures hidden by a shimmering, faint runic field projected by Kára's team from Brynja's modified fighter. This was a submarine hunt in deep space. They were the sub, running silent, every flicker of energy a potential death sentence.

"Lead, multiple drone patrols vectoring one-eight-zero," Mist's voice was a calm, steady whisper in Brynja's ear, a lifeline in the heavy silence. "Their search grid will overlap our position in sixty seconds. Recommend immediate burn to port, drop behind that comms relay asteroid. Now."

"Execute," Brynja said quietly into her comms, her hands moving with instinct. The Stormbringers moved as one, a flawless, silent maneuver that hid them in the asteroid's sensor shadow just as the drone patrol swept past, their active sensor pings washing harmlessly over the rock. A hot pulse beat in Brynja's throat, each throb matching the slow sweep of the enemy patrol on her scope. One stray power spike, one mistake, and the entire sector's automated defense network would come crashing down on them.

They ghosted through the outer defenses like phantoms, a series of perfectly timed, stomach-turning burns and drifts. Mist's voice was the only anchor, her steady stream of vectors and countdowns threading them through the gaps in the enemy's cold, predictable logic.

Finally, the target loomed before them: Data-Hub Jötun-Kjarni. It was a massive, perfectly round fortress of black, featureless metal, its surface crawling with thousands of automated gun turrets and missile pods. It was a moon-sized weapon of death.

"There," Mist said, highlighting a thin, almost invisible seam running along the fortress's equator. "The coolant discharge trench. Our seventeen-second window opens in three… two… one… now!"

"Stormbringers, burn, burn, burn!" Brynja commanded. "Full throttle! Stay in the goddamn trench!"

Brynja flew on pure instinct, her fighter screaming through the narrow, winding trench at insane speed, the walls a grey blur just meters from her wingtips. Turrets turned to track them, but their targeting couldn't keep up with the sheer speed and the tight, unpredictable turns. It was a mad, desperate gamble, relying on the enemy's logical assumption that no one would be insane enough to try an attack path like this.

They reached the designated access port, a small, reinforced maintenance hatch. There was no time for a glorious charge. "Astrid, breaching charge!" Brynja yelled.

Astrid's fighter slid up alongside the hatch. A small, specialized torpedo launched from her wing, magnetically locking onto the hull. The torpedo answered with a high-frequency hiss, slicing a perfect, glowing circle in the fortress's hull. The cut section floated silently away.

"Breach successful," Astrid reported, her voice tight with adrenaline. "Go, go, go!"

One by one, the Stormbringers slipped through the opening, their landing gear deploying with a soft thud onto the deck inside. The silence of the fortress's interior was a shocking, unnerving contrast to the chaos of their entry.

They had made it inside. The easy part was over.

The inside of Jötun-Kjarni was a different kind of hell. It wasn't the dirty, industrial chaos of Hlið Þrír. This place was clean, sterile, and silent except for the low, almost subsonic hum of huge data-cores processing unimaginable amounts of information. The hallways were wide, made from the same black, seamless metal as the outside, and lit by cold, hidden light strips. The air was still and cold. Seamless black walls absorbed all sound, giving the wide corridors the acoustics of a tomb. The total lack of any visible, living guards was the most unnerving part. It felt… wrong.

"Stick to the mission plan," Brynja whispered over their squad's private comm channel, her boots making almost no sound on the polished deck. "Kára, lead the way. We're your escort."

The mage-major nodded sharply and took the lead, her staff held high, a small rune glowing at its tip to detect magic or energy-based traps. The Valkyries formed a protective diamond around the three mages, their weapons at the low-ready, their senses screaming. Behind them, the Einherjar commandos moved in silence, their heavy weapons trained on their rear arc.

The fortress's defenses were subtle, and fucking deadly. Without warning, a section of the hallway ahead of them lit up with a grid of crisscrossing, high-power lasers that could slice through their armor in a split second.

"Halt!" Mist hissed, her hand shooting out to stop Hrist, who had been moving too quickly. "Pressure plates, floor panels 12 through 17. Tied to the laser grid."

"Back up," Brynja ordered quietly. "Slowly."

They retreated five meters. The lasers remained active, casting blood-red shadows across their faces.

"This isn't just a simple trap," one of Kára's junior mages said, his voice tight. He knelt, placing his palm against the deck. "There's a secondary system. The pressure plates reset every thirty seconds. If we disable the lasers magically, it triggers a failsafe-gas vents in the ceiling."

"Show me," Kára demanded.

The mage whispered a detection spell. Ghostly blue runes appeared on the walls, revealing hidden vents and a complex web of interconnected sensors. "The system's adaptive. It's designed to counter both physical and magical intrusion."

"Then we counter it with both," Kára said. She looked at Mist. "Your analyst skills. Find me the timing pattern."

Mist pulled up her datapad, her fingers flying across the interface. "The pressure plates have a seven-second delay before activation. The lasers cycle through a sixty-second rotation pattern, but there's a half-second gap when sectors three and four swap."

"Not enough time to cross," Sigrun said flatly.

"No," Mist agreed. "But if we can freeze the plate sensors for exactly eight seconds, we could sprint through during the laser gap."

"I can disrupt the sensors with a temporal hex," the junior mage offered. "But I'll need someone to physically bridge the magical circuit on the far side, or the failsafe triggers."

Astrid stepped forward, twirling her energy whip. "Say the word and I'll be across that gap before the lasers even know I'm there."

Sigrun's head turned slowly toward her. The look she gave Astrid could have flash-frozen hydrogen. "One mistake and you trigger the gas."

"Then I won't make a mistake," Astrid shot back, grinning.

"This isn't a training run, rookie," Sigrun said, her voice low and dangerous.

"Ladies," Brynja cut in. "We do this by the numbers. Astrid, you're fast, but this isn't about speed. It's about precision. You cross on my mark, plant the circuit bridge exactly where the mage indicates, and you do not improvise. Clear?"

Astrid's grin faded slightly. "Clear, Lead."

Kára's mage pointed to a specific floor panel on the far side of the laser grid. "There. That's the junction. Place this"-he handed Astrid a small, rune-etched disk-"and channel a pulse of energy through it. I'll feel the connection and can complete the circuit from here."

Mist watched her datapad. "Laser cycle in forty seconds. Thirty-five. Thirty."

Astrid rolled her shoulders, settling into a runner's stance. The whip coiled at her side.

"Twenty seconds."

The junior mage began his chant, soft and rhythmic. Green light gathered around his hands.

"Ten seconds. Five. Temporal hex should be active... now."

The faint hum of the pressure sensors died. Silence.

"Laser gap in three... two... one... go!"

Astrid was a golden blur. She sprinted across the trapped section, her boots barely touching the deck, her movements impossibly fluid. She hit the far panel, slammed the runic disk down, and channeled energy through it. The disk flared bright green.

"I have it!" the mage called. He completed his chant, and the laser grid flickered, then died completely. The pressure sensors remained dormant.

Astrid stood on the far side, breathing hard, her characteristic grin returning. "Told you I wouldn't-"

"Save it," Sigrun growled as she moved past, her massive frame stepping carefully over the now-inactive plates. But there was the faintest hint of approval in her eyes.

The team crossed quickly, and the mages carefully retrieved the runic disk. Hrist let out a shaky breath. "I hate this place."

"We're not here for the ambiance," Mist said dryly, already scanning ahead with her equipment.

Further on, a silent, mag-lev sentry drone, a floating black sphere covered in optical sensors, rounded a corner. Before it could sound an alarm, Astrid was on it. A blur of motion, a flash of gold, and her energy whip lashing out to cleanly cut the drone's main power line. It dropped to the floor with a dull, soundless thud.

"Now you're showing off," Hrist whispered.

"Little bit," Astrid admitted.

They moved deeper into the silent fortress, their progress measured in Mist's hand signals and the soft glow of Kára's detection spells. Sigrun, her massive shield now held defensively, ready to block any unexpected energy discharge, was their rock, their unbreakable rear guard. And Brynja led from the front, Storm-Singer in hand, her mind a whirlwind of tactical planning, making split-second decisions on which hallway to take, when to move, when to hold.

They were deep inside, nearing the Core Chamber, when it almost went to shit. They entered a large junction, the hum of the data-cores louder here. "Wait," Mist whispered, her eyes wide. "The floor… it's a proximity sensor. A big one."

Hrist, her nerves frayed from the constant tension, took a half-step too far. A low klaxon began to sound, soft at first, but rising in pitch. Red alert runes began flashing on the walls.

"Dammit!" Brynja swore. "We're made!"

Sigrun acted without hesitation. She didn't shout, didn't panic. She simply reached out, her massive gauntlet grabbing the back of Hrist's armor, and yanked the younger Valkyrie back off the sensor plate with bone-jarring force. The klaxon cut out instantly. The red runes faded.

They stood frozen in the sudden silence, their hearts hammering. Sigrun stared at Hrist. The younger Valkyrie flinched under the weight of that gaze, her face paling as she looked down at the deck. They were close. So goddamn close. And they had almost blown it all.

After the near-disaster at the junction, they moved with the extreme caution of soldiers who knew their luck was running out. The final hallway opened into their objective: the Core Chamber. It was a vast, perfectly round room, its seamless black walls humming with contained power. At its exact center, held in a powerful gravity field, was the data-core, designated "Ymir's Brain" by some wise-ass intel analyst. It was a pulsating, crystalline sphere of pure, solid light, easily ten meters across, a silent, beautiful, terrifying thing. This was the nerve center of the entire sector, the god in this machine-worshipping temple.

"This is it," Kára, the Mage-Major, stated, her voice tight with a mix of awe and grim focus. "The sanctum. Valkyries, set up a 360-degree defensive perimeter around the core. Stay fifteen meters back. No one, nothing, gets to us once we begin. Is that clear?"

"Clear as ice, Mage-Major," Brynja replied, her voice low. "Stormbringers, Einherjar, form up. Overlapping fields of fire. Watch all approaches."

Her team moved with practiced, desperate skill. Sigrun anchored one side of the circle, her massive shield planted firmly, a bastion of defiance. Astrid stood opposite, her energy whip held loose, her eyes darting, scanning for threats. Hrist and Mist took up positions between them, Mist's compact storm-rifle-lighter than the Einherjar's heavy weapons but deadly in the hands of someone who never missed a shot-held at the ready. The handful of surviving Einherjar commandos knelt, their heavy storm-bolters aimed at the sealed blast doors they'd come through and at other, unnervingly similar doors around the chamber.

Kára and her two acolytes walked to the center of the room. They planted their rune-etched staves into the deck, forming a triangle around the pulsating core. They began to chant, green flames dancing on their hands, their voices a low, deep chorus of ancient, powerful words that made the air itself vibrate. Glowing, complex runes began to fill the air around them, weaving themselves into a shimmering, magical lattice that slowly reached out towards the crystal sphere. Kára held up Loki's data-shard, its chaotic purple light pulsing in time with their chant. This was it. The upload.

The moment the first runic tendril touched the data-core, the silent fortress roared to life. A deep, bone-jarring klang echoed through the chamber as every blast door slammed shut at once. Red alert strobes bathed the room in a bloody, pulsing light.

"They know we're here!" Astrid yelled, unnecessarily.

"Hostile contacts, multiple! They're coming out of the goddamn walls!" an Einherjar screamed.

He was right. Panels in the seamless black walls slid back, revealing hidden alcoves from which elite combat drones and heavily armored Chitin-Cog warriors emerged, their weapons already powering up. The chamber, their objective, had just become a kill-box.

"Defensive perimeter! Protect the mages at all costs!" Brynja roared, the commander taking over from the soldier. "Fire on my mark! Volley fire! Don't let them establish a foothold!"

The battle was instant and absolute. The air filled with the shriek of plasma bolts, the thud of storm-bolter rounds, and the crackle of Asgardian energy shields. It was a desperate, back-to-back last stand against overwhelming odds. Brynja fought with a cold, focused fury, Storm-Singer a blur of motion, her own shield flaring as plasma bolts splashed against it.

They were completely surrounded, fighting in a shrinking circle of defiance around the chanting mages, who, to their credit, never wavered, their focus absolute on the ritual. This was the gambit. Everything depended on Kára and her team finishing their work before they were all overrun and slaughtered.

Another Einherjar fell. Sigrun's shield sparked and died, the heavy armor on her left arm now pitted with plasma burns. Their circle was shrinking meter by agonizing meter. The Chitin-Cog were too many, their tactics too logical, their firepower too overwhelming.

One of the Einherjar went down, his power armor breached by a concentrated volley, collapsing in a heap of armor and flesh. Sigrun grunted in pain as a heavy plasma bolt hit her shield, cracking the energy matrix and sending spiderwebs of damage across its surface. Astrid fought with a desperate, beautiful fury, a golden whirlwind of death, but even she was tiring, her movements losing their razor-sharp edge.

"Kára, SITREP! We can't hold them much longer!" Brynja yelled over the noise of battle, parrying a lunge from a Chitin-Cog warrior.

"Almost… there!" Kára screamed back, sweat pouring down her face, her eyes blazing with magic light. "The core is fighting back! It's… adapting!"

Just as a massive Chitin-Cog warrior broke through their line, its vibro-blade raised to strike down a kneeling Einherjar, Kára let out a final, triumphant roar. "IT'S DONE! THE UPLOAD IS COMPLETE! THE RUNE IS IN THEIR NETWORK!"

The crystal data-core at the center of the room flashed once, with a sickening, chaotic purple light. The psychic pressure in the room vanished. For a single, heartbeat-stopping moment, there was silence.

Then, pure, total chaos erupted.

On Brynja's tactical HUD, the neat red icons representing the enemy began to flash and flicker randomly, swapping between hostile and… friendly? A Chitin-Cog warrior that had been advancing on Sigrun suddenly turned and blasted its nearest comrade point-blank with its plasma cannon. Automated turrets that had been firing on the Asgardians now turned and began tearing into the drone ranks. The drones themselves started attacking each other, a swirling, metallic storm of self-destruction. Loki's gambit had worked. Their own systems now saw each other as the primary threat.

It was a system-wide civil war. A machine mutiny.

A ragged, disbelieving cheer went up from the surviving Asgardians. They had done it. They had actually fucking done it.

Then, a new voice, cold, chillingly familiar, and dripping with smug amusement, cut through the chaos on a private, encrypted Asgardian command channel, a channel only a god could access. "Excellent work, Valkyries. Your part in this is complete. The Allfather thanks you for your sacrifice."

It was Loki.

Before Brynja could even process the word "sacrifice," the massive blast door they had originally entered through slammed shut with a final, echoing boom of absolute permanence. On her tactical display, every possible escape route, every maintenance tunnel they had mapped on their way in, vanished, replaced by solid red icons indicating sealed, impassable barriers.

And worse, automated turrets they had bypassed on their way in, turrets that had been silent until now, suddenly activated, their targeting reticles turning, locking onto the Asgardians.

They had been left behind, trapped in the heart of the fortress, their mission a one-way trip to ensure no one could ever trace the "hack" back to Asgard.

Brynja watched the last exit seal. Her HUD lit up with new threat indicators-turrets behind them, the ones they had bypassed, now powering on. Their icons locked onto her team. Brynja looked at the terrified, betrayed faces of her warriors, and a cold, hard rage, purer than any she had ever felt, replaced her weary disillusionment.

A disposable blade. That's all they ever were.

***

Glossary

Factions & Units

• Asgardian: The faction Brynja and her forces belong to, blending Norse mythology with advanced technology.

• Chitin-Cog: The designation for the enemy faction, suggesting a cybernetic or insectoid machine race ("Chitin" refers to the exoskeletons of insects, "Cog" to machine parts).

• Combat Mage: A military specialist who uses magic in a battlefield role. Kára and her team are Combat Mages.

• Einherjar: Asgardian commandos, likely heavy infantry, fighting alongside the Valkyries. In Norse mythology, the Einherjar are the spirits of glorious warriors brought to Valhalla by the Valkyries.

• Stormbringers: The official designation of Brynja's elite Valkyrie squadron.

• Valkyrie: Elite, female Asgardian soldiers specializing in high-risk special operations and fighter combat.

Locations & Objectives

• Data-Hub Jötun-Kjarni ("Giant's Core"): The primary mission objective. A massive, heavily fortified spherical data fortress. "Jötun" is Norse for giant, and "Kjarni" means core or essence.

• FOB Hlið Þrír: A Forward Operating Base. "Hlið Þrír" is Old Norse for "Gate Three," indicating it is a key strategic outpost.

• Myrkviðr System: The star system where the Jötun-Kjarni fortress is located. "Myrkviðr" is Old Norse for "Mirkwood" or "dark wood."

• Ymir's Brain: The cynical, informal designation for the central data-core within Jötun-Kjarni, named after the primordial giant Ymir from Norse mythology.

Military Acronyms & Jargon

• Burn: A controlled firing of a spacecraft's engine for a specific duration to change course or velocity.

• Fields of Fire: The area that a weapon or group of weapons can effectively cover. "Overlapping fields of fire" is a defensive tactic ensuring no enemy can approach without being targeted by multiple weapons.

• Flight Lead: The pilot in command of a formation of aircraft or spacecraft (Brynja's role).

• FOB (Forward Operating Base): A secured, forward military position, smaller than a main base, used to support tactical operations in a hostile area.

• High Command: The highest level of military leadership responsible for overall strategy and operations.

• High-Speed, Low-Drag: Military slang for equipment or personnel that is lightweight, efficient, and unencumbered by non-essential items, optimized for speed and performance.

• Hostile Contact: An identified enemy unit on sensors or in sight.

• IFF (Identify Friend or Foe): A critical electronic system that uses transponders to distinguish friendly units from enemy ones, preventing friendly fire.

• Kill-Box: A military term for a designated three-dimensional area targeted for destruction, into which enemy forces are funneled to be engaged by concentrated fire.

• Low-Ready: A stance where a soldier holds their weapon pointed downwards at a 45-degree angle but is prepared to raise it and fire instantly.

• Payload: The essential cargo carried by a vehicle. In this mission, the mages are the "payload," and the Valkyries are the "delivery system."

• Running Silent: A naval/submarine tactic applied to space, involving shutting down all non-essential systems to minimize energy signatures (heat, electronic noise) and avoid detection.

• SITREP (Situation Report): A concise report updating a commander on the current tactical situation.

• Surgical Strike: A precise military attack intended to destroy a specific target with minimal collateral damage.

• Trench Run: Slang for a high-speed attack through a narrow, defended channel on a larger structure, famously depicted in Star Wars.

• Vectoring: Directing a unit or patrol along a specific course or compass bearing (e.g., "vectoring one-eight-zero" means heading due south).

Technology & Equipment

• Breaching Charge: A specialized explosive device used to force open a locked door, reinforced wall, or hull plating.

• HUD (Heads-Up Display): A transparent display integrated into a pilot's or soldier's helmet that presents critical data (targeting, navigation, threat indicators) without obstructing their view.

• Rune of Madness: Loki's custom-made weapon—a data-shard containing a magical computer virus designed to corrupt the Chitin-Cog's IFF system.

• Storm-bolter: A heavy-caliber, rapid-fire weapon used by Asgardian forces like the Einherjar.

• Storm-Singer: The proper name of Brynja's personal weapon, likely her sidearm.