Page 2 of Berserkr
I showed my displeasure by forgoing a tip. I didn't like being judged. Especially not by strangers who knew nothing about me - or about the identity I was wearing today. Laurel Knight, 28 years old, investment banker from London, looking for a quieter life with a Scottish hunk.
I snapped a quick picture of the cupid logo and sent it to Nicole. I'd exchanged my phone for one of the magazine's burner phones, so I might as well use it.
"Good luck," came her instant reply.
I swallowed the snarky response and walked into the dating agency. Two desks sat below another oversized cupid, but only one was occupied. A grey-haired woman with boobs I couldn't help but be jealous of got up and smiled at me.
"Laurel? My name is Pam and I'm one of the co-owners of Hot Tatties."
I shook her hand. If Pam was a people trafficker, she certainly knew how to act. She had a friendly grandma vibe, the sort of woman who'd squeeze you against her ample bosom and feed you biscuits. She did not look like someone who had any illegal dealings going on in the background. But one thing I'd learned in six years as an investigative journalist was that looks could be deceiving. In fact, they almost always were.
Pam led me into a smaller room in the back, this one luckily without a kilted cupid. I took a seat on a blue velvet sofa while she made us some tea. I almost laughed when she came back with a plate of ginger snaps.
"So, you're here today because you filled in our online questionnaire and we think you have high chances of landing a match in our database," Pam said once she'd sat on the old-fashioned armchair opposite me. "I should point out that we're currently undergoing some rebranding. In the past, we mostly focused on Scottish matches, but now we've had a big influx in Scandinavian men looking for love. Think Vikings, beards and axes."
"Axes?!"
"The group of men our agency works with is very attached to their heritage." Pam looked like she was about to say something else, but then shook her head and handed me a tablet.
This had to be a scam. Why would a group of Scandinavian hotties use a Scottish dating agency? But there was only one way I'd find out the truth.
I went through the questionnaire at record-speed, making up things as I went along. Laurel Knight liked knitting, betting on horse races and listened to Grime music. Her favourite colour was turquoise, and she liked her steaks raw. Some of the questions were very random, but I enjoyed coming up with ridiculous answers for my fake persona. Once I was done, I handed the tablet back to Pam.
"Now I just need a quick DNA sample. Spit in this tube and I'll send it out with this week's batch of samples later today. We'll have a result in about a fortnight, although that doesn't mean that we'll immediately find a match for you. I like to say that there's a soulmate out there for every one of us, but if they haven't registered with our agency yet, it makes them harder to find. It's why we're recruiting both lads and lasses as much as we can. Anything to ensure that our clients find their match."
"You really believe in soulmates?" I asked.
"Of course. I'm married to mine."
I eyed her sceptically. Of course, she'd say that. She owned a dating agency; she had to pretend she believed in that sort of stuff.
Pam smiled at me. "I've been with my husband for almost thirty years, but I didn't find out that he was my actual soulmate until last year, when we both took the test. We'd talked about it ever since scientists discovered the tiny DNA marker that identifies soulmates. My hubby and I both agreed that we'd be fine if we weren't real soulmates - after all, thirty years is a long time to get to know each other. We'd been through a lot together and knew our relationship could withstand it. But we also weren't surprised at all when the test came back positive."
I needed a moment to process all that. She was either the world's greatest salesperson, or she really believed in her agency's test. If that test could really identify soulmates, it was revolutionary. I'd get the front page just for that, even if there wasn't any human trafficking involved.
"Why isn't this all over the place?" I blurted.
"What do you mean?"
"If you can find soulmates, why aren't you doing media interviews? Why haven't you been given the Nobel prize for medicine? Why isn't there a queue outside?"
The older woman chuckled. "Because we like things the way they are. Until we employ even more people, we're at capacity. We do a bit of advertising, but word of mouth is mostly enough to keep our database full of eligible singles. If we got more publicity, we'd be unable to cope with the demand. The lab we use can only process so many samples each week. But you're lucky, after a bit of a backlog they're finally back on track, so your result won't take long. I'll get in touch if - no, when - we find a match for you."
It couldn't come soon enough. Not because I wanted to find my soulmate. Because this was the biggest story of my career.
2
Rune
Peritus was a strange planet. From afar, it didn't look all that different fromJörð, the planet I'd once called home. Now, Jörð was gone forever, destroyed in a natural catastrophe almost three rotations ago. All I had left was the memories. Looking down at Peritus brought some of them to the forefront of my mind.Towering cliffs, dewy grass swept by a morning breeze, the sound of warriors training for the coming battle... I pushed the memories down. It was no use.Jörð was gone. Our home now was the Valkyr, the ship that had saved us from certain death when the rest of our species had perished. Only about a thousand Vikingar still lived, strewn across the galaxy. For a while, it had looked like we were close to extinction, but then everything had changed.
The blue and green planet below, Peritus, was our salvation. In return for brides from the native Peritans, we now guarded the planet, protecting it from pirates, scavengers and slave traders. So much had happened in the past rotation that it was hard to keep up. Our captain, Njal the Bloodthirsty, had not only found a mate, but had impregnated her. She was expecting the first Vikingr-Peritan-hybrid ever to exist. Njal didn't let his mate out of his sight, which is why I was now Acting Captain of the Huginn, the sister-ship to the Valkyr. It was a strange job, one I'd never desired. I was a berserkr, a highly trained warrior, not a leader. Dealing with the day-to-day affairs of the Huginn was giving me a constant headache. I craved to return to how life had been. Bloody battles, the joys of victory, horns upon horns of ale to celebrate our feats. We'd been the terror of the galaxy, feared by traders far and wide. Now, we'd somehow become stuck in the same routine. I hated it.
The males who'd been given Peritan mates were happy. The rest of us weren't. Every day, I had to deal with fights that broke out amongst the unmated males. The Huginn was home to both Vikingr-Peritan-couples as well as those males who'd not found a mate yet. The Valkyr was used for introducing Peritan females to their prospective mates as well as getting them used to being in space. Peritans were a long way behind Vikingar when it came to technology. They'd barely even invented space travel. It was a miracle our two species were compatible. If Njal and Steff weren't the best example, pregnant after only a few weeks together, I bet I would have had to break off a lot more fights.
Me, stopping fights. It was ridiculous. In the past, I would have joined in, crushing noses and breaking bones to my heart's content. Now, I had to pretend to be responsible. I hated being in charge. Njal had been an easy Captain to follow. He was brutal when he had to be, but he was also fair. His rulings were predictable. Anyone who went against him suffered the consequences, but those following him were rewarded at every turn. We'd never lacked for plunder. Our raids had been legendary. Now, all that was in the past. Instead of causing trouble, we had to prevent it. I laughed to myself. Had we somehow stumbled into a parallel universe?
A familiar island came into view. This was where most of our females came from. It had all been a massive stroke of luck - although Njal insisted that his hamingja, his spiritual guide, had led him. Either way, we now worked with a dating agency in a tiny country the natives called Scotland. They had a lot of peculiar words in their language. Peritus was Earth and Peritans were humans, which was incredibly confusing, even after months of interacting with Peritans. Why couldn't they use the same designations the entire intergalactic community used? Maybe stubbornness was something as ingrained in them as it was in us Vikingar. The females I'd come to meet so far all liked to speak their minds, Steff in particular. She didn't care that her mate was the Captain and in charge of not just one, but two ships. To her, he was just a male who could be bossed about. The rest of us found their interactions highly entertaining, but I always wondered how I'd deal with my own mate, if I ever found her.
