Tetsu
July 26th, 2004, 06:03 AM
This is part 1 of my Norse Iceland story.
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KEFLAVIK NAVAL AIR STATION.
Mist swept around the face of Captain Erik Thorfinnson as his small coastal guard ship lurched into port. He sucked in a large breath of Iceland's cool, fresh air, as maintinence workers, dressed in their traditional blue jumpsuits, secured his miniscule ship to the dock. Each one bore the Royal Seal of the Norse Kingdom on their breast pocket, the same crucifix-based symbol that Thorfinnson wore on his shoulder above his rank insignia. He turned to face his crew, a group of six men, who were securing everything on board the craft. Two imposing machine guns bristled each side of the boat.
It was a fine day in Iceland, or rather a fine day quickly turning to night. Well, as "night" as it got during Iceland's light season. The sun had sank almost to the horizon line, which was as far as it usually got before changing it's mind and rising again. For new recruits stationed on the small volcanic island, the sun's odd tendencies were difficult to get used to. Thorfinnson himself had grown up in New Oslo [1], where the temperature sometimes exceeded ninety degrees, and the sun actually set during every night. But after being stationed here in Keflavik nearly six months with his Coastal Guard unit, he had most assuredly gotten used to it.
"So," said one Private Bard Asvaldson, as he removed the ammunition belt from one of the machine gun posts. "What does everyone say to a beer after we get everything squared away?"
"Ha," laughed another private, named Annar Haaroldson. "As long as it isn't that Celtic garbage."
Thorfinnson turned. "Ah, Bard doesn't give a shit about taste- he just enjoys the after-effects," he said with a grin.
Bard rolled his eyes and grinned. "I could do without the hangover in the morning, I admit, but there's nothing like a five o'clock wake-up call to go hop in a small-ass boat to make the headache better!"
The men laughed, as Thorfinnson hopped out of the boat onto the dock. Stretching his legs, he looked to his right, toward the carrier docking bay.
Sitting quietly in the harbor was the Norse Royal Navy's pride, joy, and excecutioner; the NRN carrier King Olaf Tyrgvason. The massive ship was flat-topped with only a small island, resembling a smaller version of China's supercarriers, undoubtedly the largest in the world. In fact, if Thorfinnson could remember correctly, the largest ship to ever enter service was the Chinese Imperial Navy's Admiral Zheng He, constructed after the Third Global War. It had two landing strips on each side of the ship, with multiple islands in the center of the dual runways. There had been quite a stir over the naming of that ship, mainly because Zheng He, the legenday 15th century explorer who led China to "Yingzhou" [2] and helped Ming China ascend to world power, had been a devout Muslim.
King Olaf Tyrgvason had just returned from the South Atlantic, not looking for anything in particular. It was vaguely rumoured that there had been some suspicous Ghanaese naval activity in their colonies [3], but the offhand rumor had come to nothing. The ship's crew had been at sea for nearly three months, and were getting some well-deserved rest. Now, it was his turn. He started off towards the officer's living quarters. After he got about half of the way there, he stopped and turned. He probably could use a good beer. So off to the bar he went.
REYKJAVIK. GOVERNOR'S OFFICE.
"I am very sorry to have awakened you sir, I realize this must be an imdepidement."
Steinar Garrettson, the governor of the Iceland province, grumbled. "I understand," he said, in a course, deep voice. He had, in fact, been awakened twenty minutes before, with an urgent phone call. Something was evidently wrong. "Just get to the point, ma'am."
Vigdis Olafsdottir, his young advisor, smiled "Very well, sir."
The governor said nothing.
She went on. "The point, sir, is that something has happened, and we don't quite know what that is yet. We have been getting strange reports of lights in the sea surrounding our island, and something is interfering with transmissions."
Garrettson sighed. Probably some paranoid, newly-recruited sailors seeing the Aurora Bourealis, combined with an odd magnetic disturbance. Nothing of worry.
"And has Oslo been notified?" he said.
"That's one of the odd things, sir," Vigdis replied. "Oslo cannot be reached. At least, not the Oslo we know."
The governor cocked his head, but said nothing. I'm dreaming, he thought.
"Any transmissions to Oslo have come back with frantic, confused messages, from a government that is not Norse. It's the same with Vinland; it appears to have disappeared. We tried New Oslo a few minutes ago, and we got somewhere else entirely, people speaking a strange, almost Germanic language.. A roughly translated transcript says something about 'the Commonwealth'. We don't know what it means yet."
"Has Keflavik been notified of this?" the governor asked.
"Yes, we contacted General Sigmund, and he said that similar reports are coming in there, too. One of the strangest was that of a merchant ship that found it's way into port on the base there."
"A merchant ship?"
"Yes, civilians. They were headed to Andalus, and instead ended up somewhere that the locals called "Espanya" or something to that effect. The sailors claimed they spoke some sort of Latin-derived language; one of the traders claimed to know Latin and said he had minor luck with rudimentary communication."
Garrettson had an almost bewildered look on his face. "What other attempts have there been to contact other nations? The Holy Roman Empire? Russia? Hell, even the Aztecs?"
"Actually, Russia has been attempted, but they claim to have no knowledge of any 'Norse nation', as they put it. They laughed and passed off the transmissions as a joke."
The governor was obviously puzzled, and still had a look of 'I must be dreaming'. "All I can say is, call all of our embassies, anywhere. I don't care if it's the one in Kongo, or even the Maori Republic. Just get on the phone and figure out what's going on."
"Yes sir. We will," Vigdis replied.
"Oh," Garrettson said. "And one more thing. How many carriers have we made contact with?"
Vigdis thought for a moment. "Well, sir, one is in port in Keflavik, and I think we've contacted three others."
"Get them all into Keflavik, and have the military prep them for battle. Tell them to mobilize all of our forces. I don't quite know what's going on, but if we have to fight, I want to be ready."
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[1]. New Oslo is the captial of Vinland, the Norse Kingdom's North American colonies. In OTL, it is called New York City.
[2]. "Yingzhou" is Chinese for "ocean continents". It refers to North America.
[3]. Ghana's colonies are limited to OTL Brazil, while they are the only African nation to possess an overseas empire.
-------------------------
KEFLAVIK NAVAL AIR STATION.
Mist swept around the face of Captain Erik Thorfinnson as his small coastal guard ship lurched into port. He sucked in a large breath of Iceland's cool, fresh air, as maintinence workers, dressed in their traditional blue jumpsuits, secured his miniscule ship to the dock. Each one bore the Royal Seal of the Norse Kingdom on their breast pocket, the same crucifix-based symbol that Thorfinnson wore on his shoulder above his rank insignia. He turned to face his crew, a group of six men, who were securing everything on board the craft. Two imposing machine guns bristled each side of the boat.
It was a fine day in Iceland, or rather a fine day quickly turning to night. Well, as "night" as it got during Iceland's light season. The sun had sank almost to the horizon line, which was as far as it usually got before changing it's mind and rising again. For new recruits stationed on the small volcanic island, the sun's odd tendencies were difficult to get used to. Thorfinnson himself had grown up in New Oslo [1], where the temperature sometimes exceeded ninety degrees, and the sun actually set during every night. But after being stationed here in Keflavik nearly six months with his Coastal Guard unit, he had most assuredly gotten used to it.
"So," said one Private Bard Asvaldson, as he removed the ammunition belt from one of the machine gun posts. "What does everyone say to a beer after we get everything squared away?"
"Ha," laughed another private, named Annar Haaroldson. "As long as it isn't that Celtic garbage."
Thorfinnson turned. "Ah, Bard doesn't give a shit about taste- he just enjoys the after-effects," he said with a grin.
Bard rolled his eyes and grinned. "I could do without the hangover in the morning, I admit, but there's nothing like a five o'clock wake-up call to go hop in a small-ass boat to make the headache better!"
The men laughed, as Thorfinnson hopped out of the boat onto the dock. Stretching his legs, he looked to his right, toward the carrier docking bay.
Sitting quietly in the harbor was the Norse Royal Navy's pride, joy, and excecutioner; the NRN carrier King Olaf Tyrgvason. The massive ship was flat-topped with only a small island, resembling a smaller version of China's supercarriers, undoubtedly the largest in the world. In fact, if Thorfinnson could remember correctly, the largest ship to ever enter service was the Chinese Imperial Navy's Admiral Zheng He, constructed after the Third Global War. It had two landing strips on each side of the ship, with multiple islands in the center of the dual runways. There had been quite a stir over the naming of that ship, mainly because Zheng He, the legenday 15th century explorer who led China to "Yingzhou" [2] and helped Ming China ascend to world power, had been a devout Muslim.
King Olaf Tyrgvason had just returned from the South Atlantic, not looking for anything in particular. It was vaguely rumoured that there had been some suspicous Ghanaese naval activity in their colonies [3], but the offhand rumor had come to nothing. The ship's crew had been at sea for nearly three months, and were getting some well-deserved rest. Now, it was his turn. He started off towards the officer's living quarters. After he got about half of the way there, he stopped and turned. He probably could use a good beer. So off to the bar he went.
REYKJAVIK. GOVERNOR'S OFFICE.
"I am very sorry to have awakened you sir, I realize this must be an imdepidement."
Steinar Garrettson, the governor of the Iceland province, grumbled. "I understand," he said, in a course, deep voice. He had, in fact, been awakened twenty minutes before, with an urgent phone call. Something was evidently wrong. "Just get to the point, ma'am."
Vigdis Olafsdottir, his young advisor, smiled "Very well, sir."
The governor said nothing.
She went on. "The point, sir, is that something has happened, and we don't quite know what that is yet. We have been getting strange reports of lights in the sea surrounding our island, and something is interfering with transmissions."
Garrettson sighed. Probably some paranoid, newly-recruited sailors seeing the Aurora Bourealis, combined with an odd magnetic disturbance. Nothing of worry.
"And has Oslo been notified?" he said.
"That's one of the odd things, sir," Vigdis replied. "Oslo cannot be reached. At least, not the Oslo we know."
The governor cocked his head, but said nothing. I'm dreaming, he thought.
"Any transmissions to Oslo have come back with frantic, confused messages, from a government that is not Norse. It's the same with Vinland; it appears to have disappeared. We tried New Oslo a few minutes ago, and we got somewhere else entirely, people speaking a strange, almost Germanic language.. A roughly translated transcript says something about 'the Commonwealth'. We don't know what it means yet."
"Has Keflavik been notified of this?" the governor asked.
"Yes, we contacted General Sigmund, and he said that similar reports are coming in there, too. One of the strangest was that of a merchant ship that found it's way into port on the base there."
"A merchant ship?"
"Yes, civilians. They were headed to Andalus, and instead ended up somewhere that the locals called "Espanya" or something to that effect. The sailors claimed they spoke some sort of Latin-derived language; one of the traders claimed to know Latin and said he had minor luck with rudimentary communication."
Garrettson had an almost bewildered look on his face. "What other attempts have there been to contact other nations? The Holy Roman Empire? Russia? Hell, even the Aztecs?"
"Actually, Russia has been attempted, but they claim to have no knowledge of any 'Norse nation', as they put it. They laughed and passed off the transmissions as a joke."
The governor was obviously puzzled, and still had a look of 'I must be dreaming'. "All I can say is, call all of our embassies, anywhere. I don't care if it's the one in Kongo, or even the Maori Republic. Just get on the phone and figure out what's going on."
"Yes sir. We will," Vigdis replied.
"Oh," Garrettson said. "And one more thing. How many carriers have we made contact with?"
Vigdis thought for a moment. "Well, sir, one is in port in Keflavik, and I think we've contacted three others."
"Get them all into Keflavik, and have the military prep them for battle. Tell them to mobilize all of our forces. I don't quite know what's going on, but if we have to fight, I want to be ready."
-------------------------
[1]. New Oslo is the captial of Vinland, the Norse Kingdom's North American colonies. In OTL, it is called New York City.
[2]. "Yingzhou" is Chinese for "ocean continents". It refers to North America.
[3]. Ghana's colonies are limited to OTL Brazil, while they are the only African nation to possess an overseas empire.