Eric Olafson, Neo Viking (Vol 1)
Copyright© 2000 by Vanessa Ravencroft
Prelude Part 7: XChange
5004, Year
Isegrim stood at the bar in the Xchange cafe, watching through the large windows into the large warehouse, as his men unloaded the last crates of Flicker fish and Fangsnapper meat. The door opened and along with a flurry of snow flakes and a gush of cold wind Leif Elhir stomped in, cleaning his heavy boots over the snow grate. He looked around to see who was there and then he noticed Isegrim. “I see the winds also dragged in the steward of the Ragnarsson riches, running errands for the Old Falcon, as the true lord of these boats and men out there is busy doing obscure things far away from Nilfeheim shores.”
Isegrim turned, this hand dropping on his whip. “It appears the Elhir star is falling further every season. Not able to defend his meager catch against the Black clan, now crawling and barking like a Nubhir pup, hoping to get attention of real men. I think this pup needs a lashing.”
Vémundr, the manager of the Xchange cafe came from behind the bar, holding a massive club. “You all know the rules, no fighting on Xchange property, this is Union territory. Unless you want to find yourselves before a Union Judge, you behave.”
Elhir snorted. “You are a Viking, you should not hide behind Union laws and Off-world judges.”
Vémundr who was clean shaven grinned cold. “I am also the second son of a Freeman and not associated to a clan. You are welcome to take your business elsewhere, Mister Elhir. To me you are just a customer and nothing else. Customer rights can be revoked.”
Isegrim turned back to look outside. “He is Elhir, they only risk insults when they know they can hide but come Elhir speak thy challenge if you dare and we will go where no Off-world laws interfere.”
“What good would a challenge be against a steward? I deal with Chiefs alone.”
Gunnar Peerson another clan chief sitting at a table with two of his men said. “Perhaps envy speaks, as Leif misses the strong arms of Olafson fishers aboard his boats, casting nets and harpoons is one thing. Casting axes and swing the sword against the boarders of a black clan boat is quite a different thing. I don’t recall an Elhir boat returning raided while mighty Volund had to hire on thy boats.”
Isegrim laughed. “Indeed, the masked devils of the Black clan fear the red banner and do not come near a boat sailing under the wolf heads.”
Elhir clenched his fists. “Instead of squabbling, all clans of the West should put every able man aboard a vessel and find the lair of the Black clan. We all know under their black guise are banners of the Eastern clans.”
A clan chief known as Sørensen the Silent and lord of the Holmquist clan, grunted. “The Black clan sails against the boats of the Eastern clans as well. It is the old feuds between the clans of West and East that keeps the Black clan safe and active.” Everyone turned to Sørensen, as this was more than he had ever said, as far as anyone present knew.
Isegrim quaffed the last swallow, swiped his Credit Strip across the bar, then went to the door and took his Fangsnapper coat from a hook at the wall. “Real Vikings would not come to a tavern to lament their losses, but sail to find revenge!”
With these words and an evil grin he stomped out and crossed the Duro-crete floor that stretched from one end to the other of this roofed area.
The Xchange was the largest building outside the space port. It was 600 meters long and 200 meters wide. It was completely open to the west side where it faced the wharf. A wide ramp led to the water, or right now to the ocean ice. A conveyor system in the ramp could pull entire Tyrannos onto the trade floor and another one was designed to carry the boxes of fish and what other trade items were delivered.
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