Author: Julian Miles, Staff Writer

The scream of fighters passing overhead fades. Silence resumes. The three sat at the undamaged end of the table return their gazes to rest on the woman sitting at the other end. Minutes pass. Finally, the middle one of the trio speaks.
“I’m not sure ‘you’re late’ adequately covers this.”
The one on the left adds.
“Good point, Virgo. Maybe ‘treason’? What do you think, Runcie?”
The right-hand one shakes their head.
“No, Shane. More likely ‘cowardice’.”
The woman smiles.
“The thinking behind those three sentences is reason enough for my tardiness.”
The Virgo raises a finger.
“I’m thinking it’s more about the cost of Project Bifrost.”
The woman whispers.
“Money or power. Every time.”
Runcie leans forward.
“What?”
She looks up.
“Have you read the report?”
Bemused glances are exchanged. Shane replies.
“My people prepared an executive summary. The short version of it is: you failed.”
The woman bursts out laughing.
“The failure lies not with Project Bifrost.”
Bemusement turns to astonishment, then scorn. Runcie points at her.
“We brought you in on a frankly ridiculous proposal as part of a worst-case scenario initiative. Three years later, the worst case is rapidly becoming true. Yet the initiative we spent trillions upon can offer nothing to save us.”
The woman shakes her head.
“Project Bifrost does. The criteria are very clear. You have chosen not to meet them.”
Virgo shakes his head.
“That nonsense? I fail to see how suicide gets us anywhere, unless you’re working for the other side.”
She brings her hand down on the table so hard they hear it crack. Splinters of wood spin away from fingers sunk into the tabletop.
“Then listen well: the concept of immortal warriors has fascinated those obsessed with war for as long as man has had gods. Project Bifrost proposed that the mythical rainbow bridge is, in fact, a novel variant of an Ellis-Deutsch wormhole. It further proposed that establishing a link from our world to the one regarded as, or containing, the mythical destination Valhalla would yield a near-inexhaustible army of hardened veterans for the principals to draw upon.”
Virgo snorts derisively.
“Ignoring the obvious limitation that if the place exists, the beings who oversee it might have a few things to say about us borrowing their army, not matter how righteous our cause.”
The woman nods.
“A factor taken into account by the offering of whatever war being fought here as an extension of the training regimes legended to be performed every day by those in Valhalla.”
Shane shrugs.
“A good idea, that.”
Runcie chuckles.
“So, you covered all the bases and made your variant wormhole. Why am I not seeing Viking berserkers with XM7s rolling the opposition up like a rug?”
“You know why.”
Virgo sighs loudly.
“Suicide again? Pathetic. This failure will ruin your career, Professor Gefna.”
She stands.
“Gefna gave everything to save those she worked with. Such dedication persuaded me to come here.”
Virgo leaps up.
“Hold on. If you’re not Gefna, just who are you?”
She waves her hand dismissively.
“One final time: the criteria are clear. Will you rise to meet them?”
Virgo grins nastily.
“One final time: suicide is not an option, woman.”
Her eyes start to glow.
“You refuse to prove your worth as leaders of warriors in the same way you expect of them. Thus, you offer nothing. Therefore nothing shall be given. I, Valfreyja, have spoken.”
She vanishes.
Shane slumps back in the chair.
“That could have gone better.”
Runcie throws a pen at him.
“Oh, shut up.”
Virgo runs a hand through his hair.
“Well, fuck.”