Page 9 of Alien Viking's Plunder

The crew got busy, everyone having done this before. Soon the ship shook as it detached from the station and slowly backed away from it.

“Seals secure?” Bragr asked, squinting at the holes where the ships had been attached to the station.

“No leaks, Captain,” Sigurdr reported, leaning over the side of the ship to inspect it properly. “It will leak less than it did before we came here.”

“Raise sails!” Bragr took up his position by the rudder and grinned at a man next to him. “No need to sulk, Eystein. Being beaten up by a girl half your size is simply a lesson for you: don’t judge an opponent by her size.”

“It always worked before, Captain,” the huskarl muttered, leaning up against the wall and gingerly touching his head. “Perhaps this one wastoosmall.”

“Perhaps,” Bragr laughed. “Small and ferocious. I feel some of her anger myself.” He touched his own stomach. “We will have some bruises, nothing more. It was an easy lesson.”

“Yes, Captain.” Eystein forced a smile. “At least I’m still able to walk. Haraldr is not so lucky.” He made his way towards his position, hunched over.

Bragr shook his head. He had a strong urge to let someone else take the helm and return to his stateroom, so he could give the female there a thorough check.

But this was a crucial time in the voyage. All four ships had to be properly aligned, the sails had to be facing the exact right way, and the rudders must be dipped into the River just right. If not, they could end up far from Gardr, needing years to get home. It hadn’t happened for a long time, and Bragr wasn’t worried. He’d done this dozens of times, and so had the captains of the three other ships.

“Sails?” he yelled forwards.

“Sails out and flat,” came the response from the sail master, standing amidships.

“Rigging?”

“Rigging is taut,” yelled the boatswain.

“Anchor?”

“Anchor is secured,” the anchorwoman reported.

“Chart is clear,” he himself announced, glancing at the saudr skin map that was nailed up on the wooden bulkhead beside him. The small crystal that was carefully sewn into its center was the same type as the oracle crystal, more shadow and void than stone. But even Bragr could understand this one. It would simply put a black point on the map exactly where the ship was going to end up, depending on where the bow was facing.

Bragr didn’t bother his brain with how it worked — if he was going to do that, the ancient longships themselves contained so many mysteries it could drive anyone to madness trying to figure them out.

He worked the rudder until the point was right next to the symbol for Straum, then stuck the rudder into the River until he could feel it being pushed back as the sails were pulled forwards.

Making a small adjustment to put the point of light right in the middle of Straum, he let the ship go faster and faster, checking that the other three ships were following. Only theKrakenhad a chart for this route, and the others had to follow him as best they could.

The River was the many strange streams through empty space where longships could travel from Straum to other suns. It was said that it was magical, but Bragr was certain it had something to do with the sun Straum itself. And only the longships could use the routes.

Keeping an eye on the chart, Bragr looked forward, into the blackness of space. Straum could not be seen yet, but a good steersman could see the River and would choose the right path by

making tiny adjustments with the rudder. There had to be a steersman on duty at every moment — the River could be bumpy, and it would try to knock the rudder out of alignment.

Slowly the blackness changed as the ship picked up speed. Space around theKrakenbecame swirling mists, first gray, then colorful and bright. It was like being inside a feverish dream, disorienting and unpleasant. Warriors going on their first raids would go pale and nauseous, and would spend most of the voyage down below where the nightmarish River could not be seen. For Bragr, it was still unpleasant, but after many raids he was so used to it that he could handle it without problems.

The fine adjustments gave him time to think about the female in his cabin. He could feel his crotch swelling at the thought of those hips, that incredible roundness of her behind.

She was far from the first alien female he had seen, but none of them had ever interested him, not even remotely. But this one, with her hornless head, her intoxicating shape, and her incredible fighting skills — she intrigued him in a way that was new.

“Sigrid,” he called for his best steerswoman. “Take the first watch. Keep a delicate hand — it’s always harder to go home than out.”

“Of course, Captain,” she said and took the rudder, grasping it with the light touch that the ship responded best to. “We’re going fast already.”

“And we shall go faster still,” Bragr said. “It’s spring time in Hjalmarheim. The fruit trees are blossoming, the seeds are in the ground, the grass is coming out. We want to miss as little of that as possible.”

The steerswoman grinned. “Yes, Captain.”

He gave the ship a final check, found everything in order, and walked to his stateroom, excitement rising.

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