Ragnarock Read Free

looking down in horror at the body of the young man who'd been so excited and enthusiastic about archeology, who often burst into his office with some new idea or discovery he wanted to discuss. Gregor would never become the scientist he'd dreamed of being. The bloody hammer dropped from Goronay's nerveless fingers, hitting the floor with a thud.
    "Gregor." he whispered. "Dear God, dear God, what have I done?"
    Goronay wrenched his gaze away from Gregor's body and turned back to the broken ruin of the clay tablet, and what lay gleaming within it. He knew what had happened. He could feel the chip, useless and burnt out, nestled into the jack implanted into the skin behind his ear. Already he hungered for another taste of what it contained. His masters would be waiting for him, the strange, dark men who came to him in the night. They would be waiting for him to do their bidding and they would reward him with power and glory once again.
    Part of Goronay was sickened by what he'd done. He wanted to find some way to wake Gregor up, to fix what had gone wrong. But it was too late for that. He returned to the tablet and brushed away fragments to reveal its contents, then wrapped it in plastic and cloth to protect it. The doctor placed his precious bundle inside his briefcase, then pulled his hat down over his eyes and went to the trailer door. For the first time, he was grateful for the rain and the darkness.
    As he opened the door and slipped out into the night, he realized that the gods had not sent the rain as a sign of their displeasure. They had sent it as a sign of their favor, to help their new servant fulfill his task. It was time, time for Ragnarok to come.

1
    "We're a go, Talon. They're moving out."
    The voice sounded from the subdermal induction speakers implanted in Talon's inner ear. He subvocalized through implanted pickups.
    "Roger that." he said. "Here we go, team. Get ready."
    Talon sat in a darkened alleyway astride a sleek red, black, and silver Yamaha Rapier, its engine humming quietly, the lights off. He wore a dark motorcycle helmet with a visor that concealed his face. The visor was equipped with electronics that lit up the alleyway as bright as twilight. A close-fitting leather jacket would protect him in a spill, and the ballistic cloth lining would do the same against small-caliber rounds. He also wore wrist-length black gloves and battered-looking jeans over black biker boots. All that kept him from looking like any other street biker were the ornate dagger at his hip, the sheath tied down to his left thigh, and the design on the side of the Rapier. Not the familiar Yamaha logo, but a complex Celtic knot in chrome next to the name "Aracos" written in graceful lettering.
    Talon twisted the accelerator, and the engine revved with a whine.
    "Would you please stop doing that?" said another voice in his head. This one didn't come through his headware speakers. It spoke directly into his mind.
    "It relaxes me ." Talon thought in reply. " We've got to be ready to go as soon as they get here."
    "Well, it's annoying me," the voice said tartly, "and it's completely unnecessary, anyway."
    Talon smiled and patted the side of the motorcycle's gas tank, releasing his grip on the accelerator.
    "Okay, okay." he said quietly, out loud. "Have it your way."
    "Thank you, I will." the voice said with a note of smug satisfaction. "Isn't it nearly time?"
    Talon nodded and focused on extending his mystical senses outward, through the brick and concrete walls, through all the physical obstacles in his way, allowing him to see the nearby intersection as if he were hovering a short distance above it, with a clear view of all the approaching traffic. Even this late at night, there were a fair number of vehicles on the road. Cambridge was part of the Greater Boston metroplex, and Boston was a city that rarely slept. Most of the cars were electric models following the city's GridGuide system, which provided them with power and kept