Vikingland:

Introduction:

This is the story of one such operator, and his adventures. Let me just paint the scene for you, dear audience. Imagine a modern country, in an ancient land, sparsely populated, and with an attitude of independence. Imagine the ancient Vikings, and extrapolate it to their modern descendants. Consider the military dictatorship of the old world, with the weapons and technology of today, and with the same Vikings in control. Now add a mix of dissidents of different kind, The Scanian independent movement, the Saami Republic of Lapland, the mercenaries of the "Viking Brigade" that occupy the island of Gotland and the Loyalist Party hoping to free the former ruler of the Federation and bring about the destruction of the military rule. Then you are getting close to the situation in the Royal Scandinavian Federation, and now we will drop you down into the volatile soup, and may you never have to experience the same situation yourself.

Chapter one:

It was an ordinary morning. The old buzzer alarmclock sounded like it would explode any second. Lars was just about to pick up his contraband Beretta 101T, and shut the clock up permanently, when the circuitry inside decided it had made enough noise for one day. Groaning, Lars Falk stretched, and stood up, flicking the light switch on. The naked lightbulb shed its cold light over the small, underground room that was his world right now. The flophouse owner rented out the room for hard cash, as the business of dealing with SINless people was highly illegal.

Lars wondered where he would get the cash for this weeks rent, but hoped that he would be able to get the spares for his cyberdeck today. If Skorpan was true to his promises, the new and stealthed MPCP, stolen from a SecuDeck, was ready today. Then Lars had some means of income again. He put his faded jeans and Royal Oil T-shirt on, and yawned again. Lars had been lucky so far. Since he had helped the landlord to get a pirate cable Tri-D connection installed last week, and helped to unscramble the coding of the channels from time to time, he had been able to get a room for himself. But he had to pay for it of course, in hard cash. Last weeks rent was accomplished by a little raid on the bank that held the account of the landlords ex wife. Cleaning out her account really helped Lars to get a good standing with the Dwarven landlord, and the money was just enough to pay for the rent, and some pocket money. But then the deck had taken a beating by the IC of the bank. The rest of the money had to go to the new MPCP. Typical, the life of a lowlife such as Lars was never fair.

Lars shook himself out of the reverie, and pocketed the Beretta before he left the room. The padlock was just for show, as no one with any determination would stop long before cracking the lock. But the tiny note nailed to the door might stop the most. "Beware, the tenant is armed and desperate" it said in Swedish and Euro-English. The gutter trash moved away from him, as he made his way to the outside. They paid with whatever scraps of money and pick pocketed trinkets they could get for even this sorry excuse of a living. Lars thought that he might end up without a room like the others soon, if he did not hit big soon, not a nice prospect.

The morning traffic was heavy as always. The big beltway round Stockholm was elevated, and the noise from the vehicles was distant, but constant. Fumes from cheaper gas burners created a haze that all but shielded the sun from the inhabitants of the southern suburb. Fortunately, the government had continued to build subway stations throughout the capitol, and those jam-packed trains swallowed up most of the commuters going into the city for work. Brandbergen station was only a few blocks away, and Lars steered his steps towards the gates. Inside the station, the customary Military Police guards sat behind a counter and studied the commuters as they passed on their way to the trains. Sometimes, they singled out a hapless citizen to hassle. Lars knew that he would be in deep drek if he got caught, but put on his most bored expression possible. A soldier looked straight at him, but did not find anything warranting a reaction, and Lars was through.

The Dwarven Deckmeister Skorpan lived in a small shop close to the square Medborgar Platsen. He was trained in the Snapphane School, a dissident group from the southern tip of Sweden. The train heading towards the station was as crowded as usual, but Lars did not mind, as the crowd gave him an opportunity to find some more cash, if he was lucky. Spotting a lady in foreign looking clothes, and a street map peeking out of a half closed shoulder bag, he knew he had found a likely target. But something about her was just not right, so he hung back. A punked-up girl with bright orange hair and cut-of coveralls took the bait instead. Lars saw her expertly using a bump in the track to brush up against the lady, and quickly reaching inside the bag with her other hand to snatch the purse from the ignorant tourist, when she gave a shrill scream, and seemed unable to take her hand out of the bag. Two formerly bored looking men standing close by seized her shoulders, and one of them produced a badge.

"This is the Secret Police, You are under arrest. Come with us."

The young girl could do nothing but scream, and the foreign lady reached into her pocket, and thumbed the release button on her Hand-Trap® device hidden in the bag. Lars winced; he had been close to put his hand into that inviting bag, and would have got his hand caught up in that hellish device. A small firm had made a boom last year, producing a small and effective device to stop pickpockets by using a number of tiny probes attaching themselves to the hand, and then producing a nerve stimuli similar to have the hand on fire, or doused in potent acid, or similar, popular way to inflict virtual damage. It immediately immobilises the owner of the hand, whether it is a real or cybernetic hand. Now even the police had them. Scary. The policemen and their caught perpetrator left the crowded car at the next station, but the foreign lady stayed on, and smiled at the rest of the passengers, and armed her device again. A young girl in the ministry of Information Guide uniform was discussing the attack with the foreign Lady. Lars noticed the golden insignia, and the black patch underneath, and pegged her for a VIP guide.

Lars shook his head. He knew that the Hand-Trap® had to be reset after a release, not just re-arming the device. Rearming the device meant that all the probes were rewound and then trap had to be reset, and the ignition battery reloaded for 20 seconds. Guess the salesman did not mention it to the lady, but the guide should have told her. Lars had just one more station to go, and wanted to try his luck. As the train pulled in, he put his hand into the bag, and felt the pinpricks of the probes enter his hand, but he quickly rummaged through her contents, and found a leathery case, and removed his hand as quickly as he had put it there, and left the crowded train. He put his hand and package inside his faded jeans jacket, and walked to the restroom. Inside, he found an empty stall, and entered. He chuckled to himself as he noticed that the Hand-Trap® had attached itself to his hand, and was pulled out of the bag at the same time. Without the remote control, he could not remove the many probes, but he knew that his polare Skorpan could remove them. A fully working device was worth quite a lot, so it was a welcomed addition. The leather case was locked, of course, but it held the logo of Aztechnology on the lid, and would also be worth some, if opened intact. He put it in his pocket, but kept the tangled hand inside his jacket, as he left the station.

Skorpan had once been a technician with a private Broadcasting company, but as the Military took over, the private media corporations were shut down, and Skorpan was out of a job. Since he were a real wizard with electronics and computers, he entered a shadow community and did some work on the shady side of the law. Lars had used his services a number of times by now, and knew he was good at what he did, if costly. The tiny back street shop said "Tri-D & Tech service". Lars entered the shop, and the door chime notified the Dwarven proprietor that he had a customer.

"Tjaba, polare. What do you have for me today?"

The dwarf smiled, as he recognised the lanky decker, but said nothing.
"Tjaba, Skorpan, is the chip ready?"

The dwarf nodded, "You got cash?" Lars nodded back. Skorpan motioned him inside the workshop area, and closed the door. Then Lars removed his trapped hand, and the dwarf greeted him with a low whistle.

"Looks like you got a Mark I there. Did you feel the sting of it?"

"Nah, some poor punkster triggered it, as she tried to lift some goods from a lady on tricken. She caught it fair and square, and some Silly Petes got her. The foreign lady forgot to reset the trap as she rearmed the device. I just could not pass that opportunity up. Can you open it?"

"Sure, give me a moment while I get my sequencer."
The dwarf went over to a shelf and picked up a strange looking device.

"I'll set the sequencer on randomising, and let it find the right combo. Just tell me if you get zapped or not. It should be safe, but the Mark I is a bit tricky. So you walked away from an encounter with a pair of Secret Policemen? Must be your lucky day."

Lars sat down, hoping that the zap was used up. He brought up his new case as well.
"Can you open this maglock as well?"

Skorpan whistled again.
"Been busy I see. Well, it should be fairly easy, just let me get your chip first, while you produce my fee."

Lars sighed, as he picked up his last full Certified Kred that he got out of the last data steal. Skorpan picked up a battered chip case, and opened it.

"This is a custom made beauty. It has built-in features never seen by civilians before. I got this from the Micky Pete patrol that got fried by that bomb the other night. The rebels that planted the bomb obviously raided the van before torching the remains. They only had use for the weapons, but there was a combat decker among the soldiers, and the deck was in a fairly good condition. Since you needed a MPCP chip, I used this one. I had to do some creative reconstruction and delete some control codes, but otherwise, it should look, and appear like the real thing."

Lars was intrigued.
"I did not notice any bombs going off, or any Micky Pete getting torched. Where did that happen, and what rebels did that?"

"Of course the medias cover such actions up with nonsense news. It would look bad to have the beloved Military Police get ambushed by the non-existing rebels! it happened just after 0120 on Folkungagatan. Two MP vans was trashed when they passed over a manhole, and a number of rebs rushed in and deleted the MP's with small arms. The military grade weapons and equipment stored in the vans vanished within 20 seconds, and the rebs ghosted into the night before the Rapid Response Force arrived. The stylised musket of the Snapphane movement was spray painted on the side of the vans. The Micky Pete closed of the street, and cleaned up the mess pretty quickly, stating it was an ordinary car accident."

"But how did you get hold of the stuff?"

"I got some connections in the underground, and I had some ads out for decker stuff. I try to get by any way I can. Anyway, the chip gives some added camouflage when decking military systems, and since most systems are, you will have a great use for it, well worth the cost. You got the whole amount this time?"

Lars gave him the Kred and Skorpan took it, pocketing the stick. The sequencer squealed, and the dwarf went over and checked the readout.

"I got the right code now, I hope. It may be a bogus code as well, but I think we can risk it. Hang on."
He thumbed the release button, and the probes released their grip on the hand, and retracted into the Hand-Trap®.

Lars flexed his fingers again.
"Great, it's worth something, right? I need the cash real bad."

Skorpan looked at the device. It was a fairly new model, and of Scandinavian make, not the cheap German copy. In this condition, it was worth quite a lot, to the right buyer.

"Lars, since you are a friend, I will give you 2000 Kred or 6000 Crowns. Do you want to sell that Aztech box as well, or just want a passkey opening?"

Lars had wished for some more, but any Kred is good Kred. He did not want to loose the box just yet, so he made up his mind to get it open.
"I'll take the Kred, the stuff is good for the international market, not as limited as the Crowns. If you could just open it, I will let you know if I want to sell the contents. You are first on my list, polare."

Skorpan chuckled while he fetched his maglock passkey.
"Not as if you know a whole lot of fixers, polare. But it is ok, sooner or later, I will get the stuff. I can even sell it for you.."

Lars let the dwarf open the case, but hid the contents from the fixer.
"Thanks, my friend. I'll be back later this week for some nice combat proggie. I need to update my Blackhammer to type IV, it's getting slow."

Skorpan nodded.
"I'll get on it right away, but it might cost you a bit more than you have here, so good luck with your business, and I'll see you later."

Lars walked out the shop, and decided to walk back to the subway station. He glanced in the box, and noticed that there were a number of chips with the distinctive Azzie logo on them. He had to check them out when he got home. He put them in his pocket, changed the maglock sequences to his own keys, and closed the lid. Feeling fine, with money in his pocket, he entered a street cafe, and sat down at an empty table. As he sat down, he noticed the increasing activity of the MP's. Something must have got their attention.

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