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If You Like This Page... See my cover story in the August Salon magazine, about new surveillance technologies
and some of the stark choices we face in the years ahead. (Government Technology magazine also ran an interview
with me about government accountability and the proposal to
establish an Inspector General of the United
States.) Hear a recent speech (from NPR) about TECHNOLOGICAL NIGHTMARES, by renowned futurist
economist Paul Streetn. Prof. Streetn offers exceptionally wise
perspectives about future threats and opportunities. (I'm biased. He
spends five minutes discussing The
Transparent Society.) Salon Magazine recently ran another of my articles
about popular culture. This one focuses on J.R.R. Tolkien's epic
fantasy, Lord of the Rings, and how that famous trilogy has
played an important role in the long struggle of romanticism against
the modern world. The version on Salon was abridged. The full-length
article can be viewed here.
Now available in bookstores:
The Life Eaters! This lavish 144 page graphic novel
vividly extends one of my classic novellas into a full-length saga
-- a dark but ultimately uplifting tale about an alternate world,
offering chillingly plausible insight to what the Nazis might have
really been up to, during World War II. DC/Wildstorm calls Life
Eaters 'the biggest thing to happen in the graphic novels since
Watchmen or The Dark Knight'! More than a dozen
organizations, spanning a wide spectrum of interest, have lately
engaged me for my specialty -- questioning deep-seated assumptions.
One of these 'unconventional' consultations finally was transcribed
-- a keynote
speech for the Libertarian National Convention (7/02). Beyond
some specifics aimed at that group, you may find the general
perspectives (e.g., about the way people view past and future)
unusual and thought-provoking.
Now available in
bookstores, Contacting Aliens: An Illustrated Guide To David Brin's
Uplift Universe is a fun tour of the many alien races people
enjoyed in books like Startide
Rising and The Uplift
War. I do need to make one correction, however; take a look at
my fiction
errata page.
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home > science
fiction > online novellas
& short stories > thor meets captain america 1 2 3 4 5
"Thor Meets Captain
America"
a novella by David Brin
Copyright © 1986 (revised 12/98), by David Brin. All
rights reserved. No duplication or resale without
permission.
2.
The sabots gurgled
and rocked, shooting free of the submarine and then bobbing to the
surface of a frigid sea. Outer shells broke away and sailors dipped
their oars. Men gratefully took their first breath of clean air in
more than a day. The dwarf seemed
little relieved. Staring across dark waters to the west, where a
reddish line of sunset outlined a great Baltic island, the creature
muttered in a guttural language like nothing
Earthly. Which seemed natural. Like
most Americans, Chris was convinced that these beings were as much
the ancient Norse gods -- recalled into the modern world -- as
he was Sandy Koufax, or that the Dodgers didn't play in
Brooklyn. Aliens -- that was
the official line. The story broadcast by Allied Radio all through
the Americas and Japan and what remained of Free Asia. Creatures
from the stars had arrived, like in those stories by Chester Nimitz,
the famous science fiction
author. It wasn't hard to imagine
why they might want to be seen as gods. And it explained why they
chose to side with the Nazis. The ruse wouldn't have worked in the
West. No matter how great their guests' powers, Euro-American
scientists would have probed and queried. People would have asked
questions. But in the Teutonic
madness of Nazism, the "Aesir" found fertile
ground. Chris had read captured
German SS documents. Even back in the thirties and early forties,
before the arrival of the Aesir, they were filled with mumbo jumbo
and mysticism -- stuff about ice moons falling from the sky and the
romantic spirit of the Aryan super race. In a Nazi-conquered world
the Aesir would be gods indeed. Like the logic of a rat or a hyena,
Chris could see the aliens' reasons for choosing that side, God damn
them. Silhouettes of pines outlined
hilltops, serrating the western sky. Two lead boats were crammed
with marines, assigned to take the beach and move inland. Meanwhile,
navy teams would prepare the boats for a getaway... as if anyone
thought that would really
happen. The last two craft held
Chris's demolition team. Loki knelt
on one knee at the prow of Chris's boat, staring ahead with
glittering eyes. Dark as he was, he looked like something straight
out of a Viking saga. Good
verisimilitude, Chris thought. Or maybe creatures actually
believed they were who they said were. All Chris knew for certain
was that they had to be defeated, or for humanity there would be
nothing but darkness, from now
on. He checked his watch and looked
up at the sky, scanning for starry openings in the
clouds. Yes, there it was. The
satellite. Riding Newton's wings more than two hundred miles up,
circling the globe every ninety
minutes. When it first appeared,
the Nazis had gone into paroxysms, proclaiming it an astrological
portent. For some unknown bureaucratic reason, officials in the
Pentagon sat on the secret until half the world believed Goebbels
propaganda. Then, at last, Washington revealed the truth. That
American space-argonauts were circling the Earth. For two months the
world had seemed turned around. This new technological wonder would
be more important than the atom bomb, many
thought. Then the invasion of
Canada began. Chris turned his mind
away from what was happening now, out in the Atlantic. He wished he
had one of those new laser communicators, so he could tell
the men up in the Satellite how things were progressing down here.
But the light amplification devices were so secret, the Chiefs of
Staff had refused to allow any to be taken into the enemy's
heartland. Surely the Nazis were
working on a way to shoot down the Satellite. No one knew why, with
aliens to help them, the enemy let their early lead in rocketry slip
so badly. Perhaps they can't
operate in space anymore... like they haven't been able to crush our
submarine forces. But does
that make sense? How could aliens lose the ability to destroy such a
crude spacecraft? Chris shook
his head. Not that it matters
much. Tonight the Atlantic fleet is dying. This winter, we'll be
forced to use our biggest bombs to hold the line in Canada...
wrecking the continent even if we slow them
down. He looked at the figure
in the boat's prow. How can
cleverness or industry or courage prevail against such
power? Those fur-covered
shoulders were passive now. Loki had admitted to being one of the
weakest of these "gods." But Chris had seen him tear down buildings
with his bare hands. "Loki," he
said quietly. As often as not, the
Aes would ignore any human who spoke to him without leave. But this
time the dark-haired figure turned and regarded Chris. Loki's
expression was not warm, but he did
smile. "Thou art troubled,
youngling. I spy it in thy
heart." He seemed to peer into
Chris. "It is not fear, I am glad
to see, but only a great
perplexity." Fitting their assumed
roles as the fabled lords of Valhalla, courage was the one human
attribute most honored by the Aesir. Even by the god of trickery and
treachery. "Thank you, Loki." Chris
nodded respectfully. You could've fooled me. I thought I was
scared spitless! Loki's eyes
were pools glittering with
starlight. "On this fateful eve, it
is meet to grant a brave worm a boon. Therefore I will favor thee,
mortal. Ask three questions. These will Loki answer truthfully, by
his very life." Chris blinked, for
the moment stricken speechless. He was unprepared for anything like
this! Everyone from President Marshall and Admiral Heinlein on down
to the lowliest Brazilian draftee had hungered for answers.
Imperious and aloof, their one Aesir ally had doled out hints and
clues, had helped to foil Nazi schemes and slow the implacable enemy
advance, but he never made a promise like
this. Chris felt O'Leary tense
behind him, trying to seem invisible in order to be allowed to stay
and listen. For once the beatnik's mouth stayed firmly
shut. Pine forests loomed above
them as the boat entered shallows out of the evening wind. He could
smell the dark forest. There was so little time! Chris groped for a
question. "I... Who are you, and
where did you come from?" Loki
closed his eyes. When he opened them, the black orbs were filled
with dark sadness.
"Out of the body of Ymir, slain by
Odin, poured the Sea. "Gripping the body of Ymir,
Yggdrasil, the great tree. "Sprung from salt and frost,
the Aesir, tremble Earth! "Born of Giant and man,
Loki, bringer of mirth."
The creature stared
at Chris. "This has always been my
home, he said. And Chris knew that he meant the Earth. "I remember
ages and everything spoken of in Eddas -- from the chaining of
Fenris to the lies of Skrymnir. And yet
..." Loki's voice was faintly
puzzled, even hushed. "And yet
there is something about those memories... something laid over, as
lichen lies upon the frost." He
shook himself. "In truth, I cannot say for certain that I am older
than thee, child-man." Loki's
massive shoulders shrugged. "But
make haste with your next question. We are approaching the Gathering
Place. They will be here and we must stop them from their
scheming, if it is not already too
late." Reminded suddenly of the
present, Chris looked up at the wilderness looming all around them
on the shadowed hillsides. "Are you
sure about this plan -- taking on so many of the Aesir in one
place?" Loki smiled. And Chris
realized at once why. Like some idiot out of a fairy tale, he had
squandered a question in a silly quest for comfort! But reassurance
was not one of Loki's strong
suits. "No, I am not sure,
impertinent mortal!" Loki laughed
and the rowing sailors briefly lost their stride as they looked up
at the ironic, savage sound. "Think thou that only men may win honor
by daring all against death? Here does Loki show his courage, to
face Odin's spear and Thor's hammer if he must, tonight!" He turned
and shook a ham-size fist toward the west. The dwarf whimpered and
crouched beside his master. Chris
saw that the marines had already landed. Major Marlowe made quick
hand gestures, sending the first skirmishers fanning out into the
forest. The second row of boats shipped oars and were carried by
momentum toward the gravelly
shore. He hurried to take advantage
of the remaining time. "Loki. What
is happening in Africa?" Since '49
the Dark Continent had been dark indeed. From Tunis to the Cape of
Good Hope, fires burned, and rumors of horror
flowed. Loki whispered softly.
"Surtur must needs have a home, before the
time of raging. "There, in torment, men cry out, screaming for
an ending."
The giant shook his
great head. "In Africa and on the great plains of Russia, terrible
magics are being made, and terrible
woe." Back in Israel-Iran Chris had
seen some of the refugees -- Blacks and high-cheeked Slavs -- lucky
escapees who had fled the fires in time. Even they had not been able
to tell what was happening in the interior. Only people who had seen
the earlier horrors -- whose arms bore stenciled numbers from the
first wave of chimney camps would imagine what was happening in the
silent continents. And those fierce men and women kept their
silence. It struck Chris that Loki
did not seem to speak out of pity, but matter-of-factly, as if he
thought a mistake were being made, but not any particular
evil. "Terrible magics..." Chris
repeated. And suddenly he had a thought. "You mean the purpose isn't
only to slaughter people? That something else is going on, as
well? Is it related to the reason why you saved those people from
the first camps? Was something being done to
them?" Chris had a sense that there
was something important here. Something ultimately crucial. But Loki
smiled, holding up three
fingers. "No more questions. It is
time." They scraped bottom. Sailors
leapt out into the icy water to drag the boat up to the rocky shore.
Shortly, Chris was busy supervising the unloading of their supplies,
but his mind was a turmoil. Loki
was hiding something, laughing at him for having come so close and
yet missing the target. There was more to this venture, tonight,
than an attempt to kill a few alien
gods. High in the dark forest
canopy, a crow cawed scratchily. The dwarf, laden under enough boxes
to crush a man, rolled its eyes and moaned softly, but Loki seemed
not to notice. "Reet freaking
hideaway, daddyo," O'Leary muttered as he helped Chris shoulder the
bomb's fuse mechanism. "A heavy-duty scene.
" "Right," Chris answered, feeling
sure he understood the beatnik this time. "A heavy-duty
scene." They set out, following the
faint blazings laid by their marine
scouts. As they climbed a narrow
trail from the beach, Chris felt a growing sense of anticipation...
a feeling of being, right then, at the navel of the world. For well
or ill, this place was where the fate of the world hung. He could
think of no better end than to sear this island clean of all life.
If that meant standing beside the bomb and triggering it himself,
well, few men ever had a chance to trade their lives so
well. They were deep under the
forest canopy now. Chris caught sight of flickering movements under
the trees, marine flankers guarding them and their precious cargo.
According to prewar maps, they had only to top one rise, then
another. From that prominence, any place to plant the bomb would do
quite nicely. Valhalla would evaporate in
flame. Chris started to turn, to
look back at Loki... but at that moment the night erupted with
light. Flares popped and fitted and floated slowly through the
branches on tiny parachutes. Men dove for cover as tracer bullets
sent their shadows fleeing. There was a sudden gunfire up ahead, and
loud concussions. Men
screamed. Chris sought cover behind
a towering fire as mortars began pounding the forest around him.
From high up the hillside -- even over the explosions -- they heard
booming laughter. Clutching the
roots of a tree, Chris looked back. A dozen yards away, the dwarf
lay flat on his back, a smoking ruin where a mortar round must have
landed squarely. But then he felt a
hand on his shoulder. O'Leary pointed up the hill and whispered,
goggle-eyed. "Dig it,
man." Chris turned and stared
upslope at a huge, manlike being striding down the hillside,
followed by dark-cloaked, heavily armed men. The giant figure
carried an enormous bludgeon which screamed whenever he threw it,
crushing trees and marines without prejudice, exploding massive
conifers into kindling and men into jam. Then, as if by a will of
its own, the weapon swept back into the red-bearded Aesir's
hand. Not mortars, Chris
realized. Thor's hammer. Of
Loki, there was no sign at all.
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