Beneath
Chapter Fifty-Nine – Trickery
"Hello? Jane?" said a familiar friendly voice on the other end of a VOIP call.
"Young-Soo! I'm so glad I caught you. I was afraid you'd be asleep," Jane said into her computer. It was 1:00 Saturday afternoon, April 16, and 11:00 in the morning on the same day where Young-Soo was. A small thing, but it was exciting to talk to someone when the calendar said the same thing in both locations and even the clock wasn't that far off. For Young-Soo though, it was early.
"Nah, I just came back from Korea. My mother harassed me into getting up early every day. My body clock's completely out of whack. Besides, you forget, I've joined the ranks of respectable people now. I have an actual job, and they expect me to show up most mornings."
Jane slapped a palm to her forehead and made a face she was glad Young-Soo couldn't see. She'd gotten so caught up in all the craziness here – and in Asgard – that she'd completely forgotten about his new job teaching. "And what's it like being a respectable person? I was considering taking that route myself."
"I can't say I recommend it, not if it involves teenagers. It's a high price to pay for respectability. But it got better when I mentioned I knew someone who's friends with Iron Man. Can you get me some autographed photos?"
Letting her head fall back, Jane laughed long and hard. It felt so good it almost hurt, because it had been a long time since she'd laughed with so much abandon. "I told you I don't actually know him," Jane said when the laughter faded.
"Well, I kind of already promised, so do your best, okay? We're on break now, but the second term starts Monday. Before the end of the school year would be ideal. So how's it going down there? Did you lose the sun all the way yet?"
"Yeah. It's twenty-four-hour nighttime now. And it's…it's been a little crazy, I guess you could say. But it's okay now. Yeah…it's okay. A lot of winter left to go still, though." Jane filled Young-Soo in on life at the Pole, steering clear of anything related to Loki, which wasn't exactly easy, considering how much her life here had become connected to his – first as Lucas, then as Loki. She then heard about Young-Soo's trip back to Korea and his developing wedding plans. Jane relaxed back in her chair at her desk and looked out over the Pacific Ocean in Malibu. Isolated as she was out here, the world was still spinning, life was still going on.
She felt almost guilty about turning to the real reason she'd called her friend – she should have been doing this all along, getting this reminder of what a normal life was like, even if Young-Soo would have balked to hear her call his life "normal." She'd promised to keep in touch with him, with all her other friends. She'd been doing a terrible job of it. It wasn't their fault; she was the one who was hard to reach.
Keeping some of her explanation pretty vague, she told Young-Soo about the unexpected fluctuations she'd discovered in some "deep space" readings she'd gotten, and noted that the area of deep space in question had some "tunnel-like properties." Young-Soo's brief questions and "uh-huh's" and "yeah's" died down until Jane began to wonder if he was still there. When she finished and there was no response, she asked.
"Uh, yeah, still here. I got it. Glad to hear the lens filter prototype is working. So you want me to take a look at the software you're using and see if I can tweak it to decrease the data loss? Sure, I can do that. But, uh, Jane…this doesn't have anything to do with Albuquerque by any chance, does it?"
"Ummm, it kind of might. A little. But…let's not get bogged down in those details, okay?"
"Yeah, sure, I understand. Okay, so send me what you've got and see what I can do to improve it. Then if you clear up your data, I can try to render a 3D model for you."
"Really? That would be great, thanks. I'll send you a data package today if I can, if there's enough bandwidth available. Otherwise I should be able to get it out tomorrow."
/
/
On Saturday morning Jane pulled her door open to head out to the restroom and stopped short to find Loki leaning against the beige wall just outside the door. "Uh, good morning," Jane said, her rising intonation making it sound more like a question.
"How did you sleep?" Loki asked, stepping away from the wall where he'd been leaning, waiting for over an hour, informing the only person who'd asked that he was waiting for Jane to return to discuss some interesting data with her. It was amazing what you could get away with here just be mentioning the phrase "interesting data."
"Okay," Jane answered, noting the overly polite smile on his face. Patronizing was another word for that smile, she thought. "Pretty good, actually. What's going on?"
"I was just wondering why you felt the need to send coded messages about me."
Jane's eyes went wide. "Come on, get in here," she said after the shock wore off. As soon as she turned to go back in her room she cringed. It was only in the last few days that she'd been able to look at that particular patch of floor right there on her left, by the bureau, and not think about Loki's hands on her neck. She should have insisted they go to his room. It wasn't any safer, but then it wasn't really her safety she was worried about. It was just uncomfortable to again be standing here, with him, right next to there. The only other time he'd been in her room since then, she hadn't strayed from the doorway.
Loki followed her in, closed the door behind him, and leaned against it – almost exactly the position she'd been in the last time he was here. He didn't bother with the sound blanket. He didn't plan to shout. And it had become difficult to get the barrier to seal properly.
"What's this about? I haven't been sending any coded messages about you."
"Oh? Would you care to explain what significance some unimportant town in New Mexico holds for you?"
Jane shook her head her brow furrowed. "Puente Antiguo? You know what significance that holds for me."
Loki stepped forward, away from the door, and wagged a finger at her. "Not Puente Antiguo. Not quite that unimportant."
"Loki, I have no idea what you're talking about. Whatever you're asking, just ask me."
"Albuquerque, Jane. Tell me about Albuquerque."
Jane stared. "How do you-" Her eyes widened slightly, and she drew her lips in to moisten them before continuing. "Have you been listening to my phone calls?"
"Who is answering whose questions with questions now?"
"No," she said, shaking her head resolutely. "I don't answer yours until you answer mine."
"All right. It's not as if it matters. Yes, I have been listening to your phone calls."
Jane turned her back to Loki, not wanting him to see whatever it was that might be on her face right now. She was angry. She felt betrayed. And she felt like a fool for feeling betrayed, because he was Loki, and what else did she expect from him?
"I'm waiting," Loki prompted.
Jane would have liked to slap the smug right out of him, but she reminded herself she was not a violent person. Besides, she'd already tried slapping him once, and it had hurt her more than him. She steeled herself and turned back around. "Albuquerque isn't about you. Not directly. It's code for 'Asgard.' And it's just because I told a friend of mine, a fellow astrophysicist, about everything that happened in Puente Antiguo before SHIELD told me not to. I told you I wasn't going to tell anyone you were here, as long as you don't hurt anyone, and I meant it, okay?"
Loki nodded, thinking back to the two times he'd seen the word come up, in her recent phone call and in a much earlier e-mail. "Asgard" did make sense in both contexts. "'Albuquerque' for 'Asgard.' I thought you capable of cleverer codes than that, Jane."
"It wasn't meant to be clever, it was just… Are you still reading my e-mails, too?"
"No, I agreed to stop, did I not?" Ah, well, that period of honesty was fun while it lasted.
"Okay, good," Jane said, uncertain whether she should believe him. "Stop listening to my phone calls, too."
"That was never part of our deal." Besides, I don't listen, I read their transcripts.
"It was kind of assumed."
"That's unwise, Jane. Never assume."
Jane gave a strangled cry of frustration. "Will you please just stop listening to my calls? I'm not going to tell anyone you're here. I just want…some privacy. Not everything in my life is about you, remember?"
"I'll consider it," Loki said after a deep sigh purely for dramatic effect . "Your calls are tedious and perhaps not worth my time. Autographed images of Iron Man? Really? This is what your youth crave? After enduring my first conversation with that bombastic buffoon I threw him out a window. If they had met him they wouldn't be so impressed."
"You might be surprised," Jane said, tamping down her desire to defend Tony Stark as Loki briefly raised an eyebrow in some kind of expression of disdain. "Look, as fascinating a discussion as this is…I was on my way to the ladies' room."
"Forgive the interruption," Loki said with a nod. He opened the door, stepped out, and returned to his own room – where more work and a fresh yellow notepad awaited him – satisfied that his false identity here remained intact.
Meanwhile Jane hurried down to the ladies' room at last, and when she returned, she lingered for a moment just inside the door, staring at that spot on the floor. A confrontation, an argument, accusations…and nothing happened. Jane reminded herself that although it might feel like some kind of watershed, it wasn't. Loki was listening in on her phone calls, and for all she knew still controlling her e-mail, despite what he said. Loki was still Loki. Still…it was something.
She took a deep breath and refocused her attention on the day ahead. She needed to catch up on her other data again, the work Tony's institute was paying her to do here, so she planned to be out at the DSL most of the day, potentially in close quarters with Selby, and these days she'd almost rather spend the day with Loki than with Selby things had grown so awkward. Jane paused in the middle of pulling on her overalls. Not "almost" – she would rather spend the day with Loki. At least she knew where she stood with him. Usually.
/
/
"I see you've come alone this time, Gullveig," Odin said from his new throne, completed only yesterday and still lacking the engravings and other design flourishes of the previous one. It was simple, but it was still gold, still large, still perched atop a two-level dais – in short, it was still imposing. He signaled the two Einherjar at the foot of the dais to leave.
Gullveig's unescorted approach to Vanaheim's official-use gateway to Asgard had not been cloaked, and Heimdall had given ample notice of it so that permission was given to open the gateway on Asgard's side. First Einherjar Hergils had met him and escorted him first to the Ambassadorial Estates, where he was kept waiting for nearly two hours before being allowed into the palace to see the All-Father.
"I see you make your repairs quickly in Asgard, Odin," the Vanir king said, coming to a halt before the repaired dais but refusing to give the customary bow even a king made when standing before a fellow king's throne.
Odin stood with deliberate slowness, his expression dour and stern, the gold of his armor, his helmet, his eyepatch, his entire throne room gleaming – though in the still-damaged throne room some of the gleam was only an illusion. He descended the dais, step by purposeful weighted step until he stood on the falsely gleaming golden floor before Gullveig, in his typical long white robes with fine gold embroidery, today with a loose-fitting gold-crusted belt. "What did you hope to accomplish with this secret sabotage?" he asked, his voice quiet but carrying easily throughout the throne room with its excellent acoustics and a wisp of sound-amplifying magic through Gungnir. "If you thought you would be able to frighten us into submission with such a cowardly act, you'll find we do not frighten so easily."
Gullveig held his hands out as though to placate a crying child. "It was merely a message. That you are not as invulnerable as you seem to think. That you should reconsider our offer. We do not seek your submission, Odin, only your cooperation."
"You wish to encourage our cooperation by killing and maiming Aesir who simply had the misfortune of being in the throne room at the wrong time? A woman whose offense was sweeping my office? By nearly killing my wife and son?"
"Any loss of civilian life is of course regrettable. And your wife and son were not in the throne room – the magic we used made sure neither you nor your family was present."
"My family had just left. My son was badly injured. And if your magic ensured my family was not present, why did it not ensure no one was present? A simple cleaning woman no more deserved such a cruel fate than the queen."
"A throne room is never empty," Gullveig said, anger beginning to break through his mask of calm sagacity. "And we did need to ensure you knew we were serious."
"Thank you for clarifying that, Gullveig," Odin said with a small nod. Show yourself for the vain, calculating man you truly are. The warmonger you've become. "Now, for what purpose do you approach my throne today under oath of truce?"
"You know for what purpose. My purpose – our purpose – is unchanged. You know what we ask of you. The return of the Ice Casket to Jotunheim to heal their land. The surrender of Loki to Jotunheim to pay for his crimes. The transfer of the tesseract to the care of all the rest of us, to ensure its fair and peaceful use. In return, peace. And a renewed friendship on a new plane of equality."
"You slaughter our civilians and ask us to surrender the tesseract to you in return for peace. Were we to even consider such a thing, your tactics do little to assure us of your trustworthiness."
Gullveig's anger was obvious now, as obvious to Odin as his dislike of being continually reminded of what he had to know was the wrong he'd done here in this very hall, and yet he could of course not back down from what he'd done. "Stop sniveling over your servants, Odin, it's unbecoming. You do know we could have done much worse had we chosen, don't you? We are attempting to be merciful."
Odin gave the barest of smiles. "I do know that we soundly defeated you in your latest attack, despite the numbers you sent against us. Perhaps this is why you have brought your demands directly to me, instead of announcing them over the battlefield as you did once before?"
"I confess that our joint Svartalf-Vanir attack did not go as planned. But these things happen in war. Had we elected to send more reinforcements, things would have ended differently. But our goal, thus far, has not been to destroy you. We wish not for your destruction, unlike what your son wished for Jotunheim, I remind you, but for your cooperation. Our attacks have been small, limited, even inconsequential in the larger picture, little more than additional messages. You have barely tasted the devastation we can – and will – rain down on you, if you refuse what we ask. And yes, though we did not fare well in that attack, our commanders tell us you did not fare well either. You have already taken heavy losses. How much loss can your realm endure before your people hunger for peace?"
Odin allowed his smile to grow, though it remained tight and stern. He had caught the slight emphasis on the word "hunger," and wondered whether Gullveig had done it intentionally or subconsciously. "So you admit you've been deliberately targeting our food supply."
"I admit only that in war, damage is done," he answered, his expression guarded.
Not intentional, then. "You act with such dishonor and count on our own honor not to respond in kind. We have not destroyed your fields or targeted your silos. In fact, we have not raised one hand against you, except in our own defense."
"If your fields and silos have been harmed, that is unfortunate. What would be more unfortunate is the loss of every last one of your warriors if you do not change course. Your strategists surely have informed you how greatly we outnumber you? What will you do then, Odin? Would you continue in your arrogance and intransigence? Send your women and children to continue the fight? Three sounds from a ram's horn, that is the signal, is it not? For the women and children to take up arms?"
Odin fixed Gullveig with a stare to make most men wither, but the Vanir King remained unaffected. Odin broke eye contact first, as he turned to head back up the dais to his throne. His turn was slow enough to catch the beginnings of a triumphant smirk on Gullveig's face.
"If you refuse to see reason, then I suppose I should take my leave," Gullveig said with Odin's back to him.
"You're right. I suppose you should. You were right about something else, Gullveig," Odin said as he reached his throne at the top of the dais and turned to look out over the cavernous throne room. He tapped Gungnir against the gold beneath his feet, sending a heavy thud echoing through the hall. "A throne room is never empty."
Gullveig narrowed his eyes a moment, then spun on his heels to leave, only to abruptly fall still, confronted with the silent stares of nearly 400 war prisoners tightly clustered in front of the newly raised thick gold columns to the side, mostly Dark Elves and Vanir, with a smattering of Light Elves and Fire Giants, and a handful of Nidavellir Dwarves. "What trickery is this?" he demanded, slowly turning back toward Odin, who now sat on his throne.
Thor then stepped out from behind two Vanir, his red cape swirling about his ankles as he maneuvered his way out front. Gullveig saw and held his position, looking between Thor and Odin, glancing over the men gathered behind Thor.
"No real trickery, King Gullveig. Just a bit of magic. You did not request a private audience, and we did not wish the presence of so large an audience to distract you from your discussion."
"But you knew I assumed-"
Thor quickly interrupted. He had been listening to Gullveig for far too long. "We are at war. Assumptions are foolish. We assumed that while we were still at peace you would not bring someone with you to emplace magic that you knew would kill our innocents."
"We gave you a deadline, and we did nothing until-"
"Unless you're here to make reparations for the deaths and the grave injuries you caused, we do not wish to hear anything more from you on this. We have something else to discuss instead. These men behind me, these worthy warriors of other realms, were given a choice. They could swear on their honor not to participate in any further attacks against Asgard and be permitted to return to their homes and families, or, if they could not in good conscience make that oath, then they would remain here, imprisoned for the duration of the war but well-cared for. Those you see here chose to go home in peace, and they have simply been waiting for your meeting with the All-Father to reach its end. You may depart with them now. I trust you'll be able to see that those not of Vanaheim reach their own realms." Thor bit the inside of his cheek to hold back the grin that threatened to overtake his face. Speeches were not his strength, but this one not even Loki could have said better, he thought. Well…perhaps, he then allowed.
Gullveig took a deep breath, and his features settled back into the serene face of wisdom he was fond of projecting. "We shall all depart then. I will of course see you all home safely and out of the hands of these arrogant brutes."
The foreign warriors exchanged silent glances among themselves, the two kings, and Thor, but soon followed Gullveig as he made his long way out of the throne room. It was a strange sight, Thor thought, these 400 men and six Fire Giant women, with whose realms Asgard was at war, walking peacefully – albeit some nervously – behind an enemy king through the highest symbol of Asgard's power.
When finally they were all gone, Thor approached the throne, accompanied by Bragi who had lingered unnoticed behind the freed captives.
"A triumph, Your Majesty," Bragi said, inclining his head deeply.
"Gullveig looked like a fool," Thor added. "A man who cares neither for unarmed civilians nor for his own warriors. He as much as told them they were sent to the slaughter and abandoned, because they were meant only to send a message, not to achieve a victory."
Bragi nodded. "And he never denied he was trying to destroy our food supply. How many of his men knew this was the intention? Not many, I suspect, nor will many approve. They all know that if food becomes scarce, everyone suffers. When they attack our silos, they attack our children as much as our warriors. They will see this."
"Perhaps," Odin allowed. "But as we discussed, we may have forced Gullveig's hand. He is unlikely to send further 'messages' now. When the next attack comes, it will be bigger than anything we've seen thus far."
They had known it to be a risk, and while Thor longed to defeat the challengers outright as his father had defeated Jotunheim, he had been persuaded that in the end the wisest strategy was to convince the other realms that their cause was unjust and that they should abandon the fight.
Even Tyr, who preferred swords to words, had approved, for pushing Gullveig and the other realms to change strategies meant they were no longer playing the game they'd intended, the game they'd planned for. "It is better not to fight the enemy on his own terms," he'd said, recalling how the Jotuns had sought to keep war on Midgard and off Jotunheim, and how the enemy had been on the defensive as soon as that plan went awry.
Thor had seen the wisdom in that as well; thus far the other realms had attacked and Asgard had defended. Everything had been on their terms. Now Asgard had pushed back. Shown themselves to be beneficent and Gullveig to be cruel. He was skeptical of how much difference it would make in the end, though, for if he thought of himself, and the things he'd fought for over the course of his life, he had to admit that not all of them had been noble. On many occasions he'd cared more about the fight than the reasons. But Thor, having grown up dreaming of emulating and even someday surpassing the victorious warrior image he held of his father, was not a farmer on Vanaheim or a merchant on Alfheim or a weapon smith on Nidavellir; their attitudes were different. Perhaps it would work.
He considered these things as he climbed the stairs up toward his chambers, once dismissed by his father, briefly nodding at the Einherjar he passed along the way. He paused on the landing at his own floor, then quickly took the last flight to the top. "Is the queen in?" he asked the guard standing watch in the middle of the top step, right in front of the multi-layered invisible shielding he knew Maeva had emplaced before the fighting began.
"She is," the guard answered, stepping aside.
Thor nodded. "I'm going to gather a few things from my chambers, then come up to see her."
The guard bowed his head, then took up his previous position as Thor returned to his floor, this time striding swiftly into his chambers. He had decided he would no longer sleep in the comforts of royal finery while so many warriors camped out in rough lodgings or tents or simply under the stars. His father had stayed with his men during the Ice War, and so would he. He took a small black satchel, then pulled a brown leather cloak from the wardrobe in his antechamber, tried to fold it, gave up and shoved it inside. He eyes swept the room as he left it to take a few items from elsewhere, and they fell on a book that was out of place on a tall display case. Perhaps some twenty books in all were lined up neatly on a shelf at eye-level, all the books that he owned, for he rarely cared to read something a second time and had no desire to accumulate items that would only gather dust.
The book had been pulled out so far – by a servant, he presumed, for he knew it had not been him – that its dark spine hung over the edge of the shelf. It was a small thing, and Thor was hardly obsessed with tidiness, but he didn't know how long he would be away from these chambers, and it seemed right that he should leave things in order. He reached out a hand to push the book back into place, then paused, his fingers resting on the shelf instead of the book.
"The Art of War, by Sun Tzu of Midgard," was printed in golden letters on the spine. His breath caught in his throat. It had been ages since he'd looked at this book. It had been a gift for his one hundredth birthday.
"When I began to read it, I knew I had to get it for you. The man who wrote this spoke with greater wisdom and experience about war than one would ever expect from a mortal. It's very old, considered an antique already on Midgard, and I've made sure the pages will never decay."
Thor laughed and clapped his left hand against Loki's shoulder, the book in his right. "War isn't-" "War isn't about books," he'd been about to say. But even through the copious amounts of mead and ale he'd drunk, he couldn't miss how excited and happy Loki was to present him with this gift, how eager he was to please him. The binding and cover Loki had commissioned for the book was beautiful, with its lettering burned into the stitched leather like artwork. "I'll treasure it always, Brother," he finally said instead, pulling Loki in to embrace him when he saw his brother's smile practically fill his entire face.
Thor sighed, running a finger over the spine. He had treasured it, displaying it here on his shelves with other prized possessions, but he couldn't now recall if he'd ever finished reading it. He noticed then that a narrow tan-colored leather bookmark protruded out of the top of the book. Perhaps that was where he'd stopped so long ago after growing bored. He pulled it out and opened it up to the marked page, raising his eyebrows at the underlined passage his gaze fell to, for he was surprised Loki would have given him a book with any marks in it. As an antique, though, he supposed it had had prior owners who'd been unconcerned about writing on its pages. His eyes scanned the underlined words. "It is essential to seek out enemy agents who have come to conduct espionage against you and to bribe them to serve you. Give them instructions and care for them. In this way doubled agents are recruited and used."
"Bribe them to serve you," Thor read aloud. "Give them instructions and care for them." He stared at the words a moment later. Vigdis. He hadn't seen her since she spilled mead on him. His mother had spoken to her, he knew, and had extracted the confession from her. Since then, several others had spoken with her to see what further information they could glean from her – Jolgeir and Huskol, Bragi and Hergils.
Thor snapped the book shut, dropped the satchel with his cloak where he stood, and headed back up to see his mother with a different purpose now in mind.
/
/
An hour later Thor was back in the throne room, now with Odin, Frigga, and Bragi. They had only barely begun their discussion when two notes sounded from a ram's horn in the direction of the bifrost.
"Go, Thor," Odin said, and Thor obeyed, leaving his mother to explain and expound upon their idea.
Thor ran outside, and from the top of the obsidian steps outside the palace, not far from where he'd stood when the throne room exploded, he looked out over the bridge expecting to see a portal opening, but there was none. Instead he merely saw Aesir – mostly Einherjar positioned nearby, with a group of winged cavalry approaching in the distance – racing toward the site, responding to the horn as he had. He jogged down the steps and ran to the main gate, electing not to use Mjolnir to speed his approach since there was no actual sign of attack.
The Einherjar who were already gathering parted for Thor, who quickly found the Einherjar who had sounded the attack alarm. "What happened?" he asked the man, who still clutched the horn in his left hand and had drawn his sword with his right.
The man started to answer, then looked over Thor's shoulder and paused – Thor turned and saw Heimdall had arrived – before answering. "I…I'm honestly not sure. There was a flash of light, not like lightning, it was too low in the sky for that. And then…something. It was very small, just a speck from here, I don't know what it was. I…perhaps I should not have sounded the alarm," he said, glancing nervously at the crowd that continued to grow behind Thor and Heimdall. "I thought it was an attack."
"You did the right thing. That sounds like the same thing I saw during the last round of attacks, though I saw only the flash. I didn't stop to think about what it was. Heimdall, did you see anything else?" Thor asked, turning back toward the stoic gatekeeper.
"I have been keeping watch over the bridge since the discovery of the red cloth here and the flash you reported seeing. I saw what you saw, Folkmar, only with greater clarity. There was a burst of light, and from the burst emerged something spherical and silver. Metal. It fell a great distance, then with a second burst of light it disappeared from view. If it remains here, it is shielded from me."
"Was it a weapon?" Thor asked.
"I cannot say. I have never seen anything like it before," Heimdall answered.
Thor took a deep breath in and let it out as he turned back out to gaze down the length of the bridge. There were no flashes, no spherical objects, and no sign that either of those things had ever been visible. "You," he said, turning to the nearest Einherjar other than Folkmar, "send for Hergils. Huskol as well. And Maeva. Everyone else return to your positions. This may have been intended to distract you from your duties. Heimdall…"
"I will continue to watch, my prince," he said with a deep bow, then made his way through the crowd, which allowed him to pass through first and then fell in behind him.
Thor lingered a moment longer, worried about this strange appearing and disappearing object of unknown purpose. He could not fight what he could not see.
/
/
Loki looked up from his yellow notepad toward the door, at which he heard a loud, rapid knocking. It did not sound like Jane's knock – three raps at a more leisurely pace – and he hesitated. It was now Wednesday, April 21, a little over two weeks since his initial return from Asgard, a period of time during which he'd done little else but think, plan, make knives, and rebuild strength in his right shoulder. He hadn't seen Jane much since house mouse on Monday, and while he'd told himself it was for the best, he recognized that he missed her company. He was growing increasingly anxious and full of nervous energy that could best be brought down to more reasonable levels through a good physical fight – something he rarely clamored for, unlike some others he could name on Asgard – because throwing knives at simple stationary targets in snowdrifts and lifting weights in the middle of the night just wasn't sufficient. But if a physical fight wasn't currently an available option, he would take a round of verbal sparring with Jane as a second choice.
The knocking had stopped, but before Loki could turn back to his notepad it resumed, perhaps a bit louder. It was still mid-afternoon, not a time of day Jane often stopped by. He decided he might create difficulty for himself if he did not see who sought him and for what reason, so he stood and went over to the door. To his surprise, it was Jane who'd been knocking after all, and judging by her gear she was either just returning from outside or on her way out. Before he could ask what her incessant banging was about, she was already speaking, her hands on her hips.
"You never turn your radio on anymore, do you?"
"I don't care for the disturbance," he said, emphasizing the last word and giving her a patently false smile.
"Some things are worth the disturbance. Get suited up and come with me," Jane said, eager and wishing Loki would show some signs of haste…or movement in general.
"No. You haven't even told me what pointless activity you're trying to drag me to this time."
"I want to show you something. Just trust me, okay? Come with me."
"No," Loki repeated with a smirk.
"Lucas…"
"Don't argue with the lady, Lucas," Austin said, suddenly appearing in the doorway behind Jane. "You know what they say about all work and no play."
"Exactly. Come on. No arguments."
"Well, since it's two against one," Loki allowed, letting his face melt into something more friendly for appearances' sake. He would have been fine with forty-nine of these against one.
"Thanks," Jane said, putting a hand up for an old-school high-five as Loki stepped back into his room to gather up his ECW gear.
"Hey, how's the shoulder coming? You doing some PT for it?"
"Yes," Loki said, setting his bunny boots down on the floor. "Perhaps I can throw darts with you again soon after all." Or at you. That might be enjoyable.
"Awesome. Double the PT then. Because we don't accept bad shoulders as an excuse."
"I'm not in the habit of making excuses. Or of needing them," Loki added before bending over to pull off his boat shoes and pull on the bunny boots.
Austin laughed, exchanged a mock handshake with Jane, and continued on his way. Jane worried that with Austin gone he would no longer feel the need to consent to joining her, but he didn't react to his departure.
"What new and exciting energy readings do you have to show me now, Dr. Foster?" Loki asked when he emerged from his chambers with boots and Carhartts and Big Red, gloves and liners and head coverings hanging out of his pockets.
"Nothing yet. Check back with me tomorrow. I launched another probe this morning with some improved software from a friend, and I'm really excited about what it might find."
Loki barely heard anything past "launched another probe," and Jane got to the heavy metal door separating the berthing wing from the rest of the station before realizing Loki was no longer beside her. He hurried up then and leaned down to be able to speak quietly while still glancing through the porthole window in case anyone tried to enter. "You sent another probe to Asgard?"
"Uh-huh. I want to find out what all those gravitational fluctuations inside Yggdrasil are. I brought the probe right back, even shortened the return time to two minutes instead of five."
"They might have seen it, Jane. They're at war. They would think it a weapon of some sort."
"It doesn't look anything like a weapon. And no one was around the entry point."
"What do you know of what looks like a weapon to the Aesir, mortal?"
Jane narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh, I don't know. I'm thinking hammers and swords."
Loki opened his mouth to contradict her, but found that of course he could not. Still, he wasn't going to concede any points to her over this. "You see a handful of weapons from Asgard and think you know everything that exists in the Nine Realms? You shouldn't have done that," he chided. Despite her shorter stature, a giant red coat hanging open, and all the other layers giving her a bulky figure, he suddenly thought that her stubbornness and unwillingness to listen to reason – to simply obey – might make her more similar to Sif than one might think.
"Too late now, I did it. And the data's being converted and analyzed now."
"It was foolish. And wasted effort. I already know what those fluctuations are."
"What?" Jane asked, stunned. "How- But-"
Loki took her elbow then and opened the door, leading her out into the main corridor; someone else had been approaching from the other end of the berthing wing.
"Hey, Jane, Lucas, you coming?" Zeke asked, stepping out of the bathroom.
"Yeah, Zeke. We'll be there in a minute," Jane said with a big smile that immediately disappeared when Zeke moved on and she turned back to Loki. "The galley. Now."
/
Have you learned anything about the South Pole, Antarctica, or the US Antarctic Program from this story? Do you have a greater appreciation for the work done there and what it's like to live in such an extreme environment? Please consider dropping me a line (via review or PM, whatever you prefer, this isn't really a review thing necessarily but whatever works for you) and telling me about it. I'm considering applying to the USAP Writers & Artists program. I highly doubt they'll be interested - generally folks are writing non-fiction stuff based on their time there and not, ahem, fanfiction, ah because I forgot that part, if selected they actually send you to Antarctica. Like, for a short time in the summer season, no 8-month-plus winter stays for that! In any event, I figure trying never hurt anything, and my best bet is to make the case that with this story I've raised awareness of what happens on Earth's southern-most continent.
And now back to your regularly scheduled programming.
Previews from Ch. 60, "Aurora Australis": Loki and Jane talk and talk and talk. If you don't like Loki and Jane talking, you probably won't enjoy the next chapter! Sigh, Loki's ginormous ego is such a front (mostly). Loki opens up a leeetle bit about some stuff.
Excerpt:
Jane looked up at him in confusion, only his left eye visible to her as he stood in profile and covered in neck gaiter, balaclava, and hat. "Why would an aurora make you think the Avengers were going after you?"
Loki turned back to her for a moment with an identical look of confusion behind his gear, then gave a huffing exhale which promptly created ice crystals on his balaclava. "The Avengers. They're no real threat to me. You keep forgetting that you aren't alone in the universe, Jane."
Thanks as always for your reviews/comments/questions/favorites/follows and a warm welcome to new readers! You are all a great encouragement for me.
