Chapter 81: Morning in Tromsø

Cole woke up on the cot in the medical room before dawn. The camp was still quiet. After the Arctic showdown, most of the fighters needed rest, and the only sound left in the whole base was waves hitting the breakwater.

Marcus was already out in the open yard.

He gripped a training knife with his one arm, working through chopping drills on a stack of sandbags. Losing an arm had actually forced him to break the habit of relying too much on brute strength. Every strike landed on the seam of a sandbag, precise and controlled, nothing wasted.

Cole walked to the weapon rack, pulled out a training knife, and squared up against Marcus. "Let's go a few rounds."

They sparred for twenty minutes in the early morning light. The sharp crack of training knives echoed across the empty camp. A few early risers passed by, stopped to watch for a moment, then quietly moved on.

After the session, Marcus caught his breath and said, "After the triple fusion, my whole rhythm changed. Used to fight like an animal. Now I fight like a machine — every bit of force goes exactly where it needs to go, nothing extra."

Cole smiled, then nodded toward the water.

"When the guard changed at four this morning, one of the sentries told me there's a clone body floating outside the harbor breakwater. Probably drifted out through the ice cracks after the Crow's Nest collapsed. More are likely on the way. I already had two safety nets set up around the outer harbor."

"Cut the sentry rotation from four hours to two," Cole said, putting the training knife back on the rack. "We've got wounded in there. We've got civilian medical staff. We can't afford any more incidents."

Marcus nodded and headed toward the harbor.

When the sun came up over the grey-blue horizon of the Norwegian Sea, Ingrid wheeled Gunnar out of the medical tent. Gunnar was holding a freshly printed telegram. He handed it to Cole.

"The Norwegian sanctuary got back to us. They're willing to take in all the scattered wolf clan survivors across Northern Europe, but they need at least two weeks."

"There are too many scattered outposts. Some are out on the Finnish Lapland ice fields, some are in the boreal forests of northern Sweden, and the farthest ones are in the Westfjords of Iceland. In winter, the only way to reach them is by snowmobile and radio. Also, a hunter patrolling the Finnish border reported finding a strange set of tracks outside an abandoned cabin — nothing like a normal person would leave. I've flagged it as an unidentified lead for now, waiting on Heinrich to take a look."

Cole took the telegram and skimmed it. His eyes dropped to Gunnar's wheelchair.

"That chair needs to go. I'll have Rockefeller's logistics get you a new one."

Gunnar grinned. "Make it electric. I'm tired of being pushed around."

Ingrid rolled her eyes behind him and wheeled him off toward the supply tent.

Cole turned and headed to the critical care ward.

When he got there, Sophia was still asleep. Her white hair spread across the pillow, her lips pale, but her breathing was steadier than yesterday. The heart monitor traced a slow, steady line.

Cole sat down beside the bed, took her hand in both of his, and stayed there for a long time.

After a while, Sophia slowly opened her eyes. She looked at him and smiled faintly.

Cole smiled back.

"Heinrich cracked part of the second layer of the hard drive. Not the council member list — communication records. In the forty-eight hours after Odin died, activity on the Nine's internal channel tripled. They're debating who takes the third seat. They haven't picked anyone yet."

"Also, someone's been using Odin's old authorization codes to send orders across the Nordic region, trying to take over his territory."

Sophia listened quietly, then said in a low voice, "You want to move while there's a power vacuum — clear out the remaining Volchatnik outposts in Northern Europe?"

Cole nodded. Sophia looked uneasy.

"But just clearing outposts isn't enough. If the Nine are already fighting over one seat, they're not a unified front. We need to find out who had bad blood with Odin, who wants to swallow his territory, and who voted against him. The cracks inside the enemy — that's our way in."

Cole looked at her. She'd been awake for less than two minutes. Her voice was still thin and weak. And her mind was already mapping the power structure of the Nine.

"I'll have Heinrich keep digging."

Sophia gave a small nod and closed her eyes. She didn't have the strength for long conversations. Cole stayed beside her, took her hand again, and rested it on his knee.

At nine in the morning, Heinrich came walking fast from the direction of the communications room. He'd pulled another all-nighter. His eyes were red, his beard three days past due, but he looked more wired than the day he'd pulled the Nine's records off the hard drive.

He handed Cole a tablet. The screen showed a set of translated and sorted communication fragments. Most of the content was still garbled, but several key phrases had been flagged.

"First, they still haven't chosen a successor. Second, one phrase keeps coming up in the discussions — 'Nordic regional asset takeover.' Someone's moving on Odin's territory. More than one group, by the looks of it."

Heinrich swiped to another set of data. "Third, I tracked the signal source sending orders on Odin's old authorization codes. It's on the Norwegian coastline — an abandoned Volchatnik communications relay station."

Cole thought for a moment. "Whoever it is, Odin's old territory is our next target. Before anyone fully takes it over, we're going to knock out every last outpost in Northern Europe, one by one."

"I'm already mapping all known Volchatnik positions in the region." Heinrich pulled up another map. "Give me forty-eight hours. I'll have a full priority list for the sweep."

Cole nodded, then added, "One more thing. Gunnar mentioned those unusual tracks near the Finnish border — not a normal human gait. Help him run the data. See if it lines up with the drift path of the clone remains."

Heinrich noted it down and left.

At dusk, Cole stepped out of the command tent for some air.

From down by the water came the familiar squeaking of Ingrid pushing Gunnar's beat-up wheelchair. They'd stopped at the edge of the breakwater. Gunnar was gesturing at something with his one good hand. Ingrid was listening, head down. She shook her head, then nodded.

Cole stood in the tent doorway watching them.

Marcus came back from the harbor and stood beside him.

"The nets outside the breakwater are up. Sentries are on the new rotation. Harbor's secure."