Life is a paradise for the privileged on Odin Prime. Dr. Shea Tristan, a loyal Statesman and Chancellorâs niece, learns firsthand how broken the state is when she falls into the hands of Shadow- the stationâs most dangerous criminal organization. A disgraced Valkyrie named Victoria Hammond and an emerging threat among the stationâs most vulnerable force Shea to confront her motherâs shameful past. Shea will question everything she knows about herself, her notorious family, and the state that once protected her.
Life is a paradise for the privileged on Odin Prime. Dr. Shea Tristan, a loyal Statesman and Chancellorâs niece, learns firsthand how broken the state is when she falls into the hands of Shadow- the stationâs most dangerous criminal organization. A disgraced Valkyrie named Victoria Hammond and an emerging threat among the stationâs most vulnerable force Shea to confront her motherâs shameful past. Shea will question everything she knows about herself, her notorious family, and the state that once protected her.
Thirteen hours. Dr. Shea Tristanâs twelve-hour shift had ultimately run long when a wounded peace officer had burst through the emergency room doors of her hospital wing. The young man was top priority med-transported and needed immediate attention, yet Dr. Tristanâs replacement had yet to show in the twelfth hour of her already-exhausting shift. So, despite the ache in her bones and the drowsiness clouding her muddled thoughts, sheâd prepped for emergency surgery.
âDonât worry, Mrs. Jeffries, your husband made it. Heâs going to be alright; His Fortune Shines,â Dr. Tristan had said to the patientâs sobbing, woeful wife in the waiting lobby after forty-five tiresome minutes in the operating room.
The peace officer had taken a serrated knife to the abdomen while trying to break up a scuffle between two rival gang members in the Middle sector. He was lucky to have been med-transported in time. Few were as fortunate. The surgery ran longer than sheâd anticipated, but he wouldâve been lost if the med-transport had arrived only five minutes later.
Patients suffering more gruesome injuries occasionally rolled into the emergency room, particularly when Shadow and the Trinities were directly involved. A peace officer had been lost just the week before after sheâd attempted to arrest a Shadow operative caught selling smuggled cigarettes from the Dome. The officer had taken a knife to the throat and died within minutes. Dr. Tristan hadnât been the doctor on call, but sheâd come into the hospital that night and found the mourning silence in the halls unsettling. Gang-related violence had become too common over the past few cycles, and although it twisted at her heart to know that another life had been lost, she couldnât afford to let it distract her for long. Too many people, patients and their loved ones alike, depended on her to remain focused.
Sheâd been so exhausted and focused on saving the poor officerâs life that sheâd forgotten to wash herself after the surgery. She reached to shake the distraught wifeâs hand with the manâs blood speckled and dried on her pale skin. It took a moment of examining the horrified expression rising across the womanâs plump, flush face for her to realize the unfortunate mistake.
Two more shifts, then I can crash in bed all weekend. She closed the office door shut behind her. Her fingers reached to flip on the lights, hesitated, and then dropped again. Her eyes ached. Dark. Dark is better.
She pushed herself forward and plopped down in the chair behind a small desk in the corner. Her office, though cramped and no larger than a common patientâs room, was wonderfully peaceful and quiet.
Sitting brought relief to her sore feet. She leaned back against the chair, stretched her arms high above her head, and parted her lips to yawn. Her heavy gaze drifted to the computer screen, and she blinked her weary eyes. The small, flashing envelope icon in the bottom corner caught her attention, and she sat up and scooted the chair forward against the desk: an intramail. She clicked the icon and smiled when she recognized the sender.
Shea,
Hey sis, I know weâre only supposed to use the intramail for official business, but I wanted to remind you that today is Dadâs birthday. Heâs not celebrating itâyou know how he isâbut I think itâd really make his day to hear from you. Itâs been rough out here lately at Apex, but donât overthink itâI donât want you to worry.
Hope youâre doing well. We love and miss you.
- Charles
âOh, noâŚâ
A wave of guilt rushed over herâsheâd forgotten her fatherâs birthday. Whether it was due to her busy schedule or mere absentmindedness, she wouldâve let the day pass by unnoticed had Charles not broken official comms-protocol to remind her. A simple intramail message wouldnât assuage her guilt at this point, and although it was against practice to use the ministryâs computers and intramail for personal use, she nevertheless slid open the cover to the webcam built inside her monitor.
âSorry, Uncle Alex,â Shea said, motioning absentmindedly toward a portrait of a young, stately gentleman hanging from the adjacent wall. âOne personal intramail wonât hurt, will it?â
The blue light at the top of her monitor flickered to life when the webcam activated. Her smile waned when her face appeared on the screen, illuminated by nothing more than the pale glow. Not only was Shea exhausted after her thirteen-hour shift, but the arduous hours had visibly taken their toll on her. Dark circles enveloped her tired, drooping hazel eyes and her long brown hair, originally drawn back in a bun at the base of her neck, hung loose to frame her slender, weary face. The longer she peered at her own image, the more she yearned for sleep. She imagined looking at herself through that wifeâs eyes and figured she may have had the same reaction under similar circumstances; Shea wouldnât want Dr. Tristan to be her physician either, if she looked as terrible as this.
Shea rose from her chair and strode to the sink in the adjacent restroom. She didnât bother switching on the ceiling lights, and instead groped for the faucet handle to twist it open. The water chilled her skin when she rinsed her fingers and leaned forward to splash her cheeks. She yanked on her hair tie to release her messy bun before re-collecting the thick hair into a neat ponytail. Returning to the desk, she strained to smile against her exhaustion. She took a breath and pressed âRecord.â
âHi Dad! I know, I know, we arenât supposed to use intramail like this, butââ she greeted, then began to sing. âHappy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Da-ad!â Her voice faltered against the dryness in her throat.
She hesitated, and then spoke again with feigned levity. âMy singing voice hasnât improved over the cycles, clearly. But happy birthday, Dad, I hope youâre at least doing something special with Charles today to celebrate. I wish I was with you two at the facility, but I know you wouldnât have it.â
She wavered for a moment and sat in silence, her smile weakening. âI just miss you two, is all. Itâs been hard lately without you guys. Iâm one of the newer physicians on staff here at the hospital, so theyâre assigning us the longer night-shifts that no one else wants. But Iâm holding up alright. If Mom handled it, so can I. The house is quiet without you two stomping around, though.â
Shea glanced up at the clock on the wallâ11:35. Her warm, soft bed at home beckoned to her the longer she stayed seated in that office.
âIâll write to you soon, Dad, I promise. Tell Charles I say hello, and that I love him.â She strained to smile through her exhaustion. âI love you both. Take care out there and stay safe.â With a wave, she ended the recording. Her smile dropped and she sat motionless staring at the screen, waiting for the message to send.
A knock at the office door startled her. Shea slid the computer webcam lens shut.
âWho is it?â she asked, rising from her chair.
âItâs Brad, open up,â a man answered from the other side, impatient.
Shea took a deep breath before opening the door with a strained, wide smile. âDr. Wilson, to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?â
Dr. Wilson, a tall, jowled, middle-aged man with dark graying hair, eyed her up and down with a scowl. âYou look ghastly.â
And youâre a colossal dick. âJust finishing up a shift, actually. On my way home now, if thatâs alright.â
âSure, not a problem. Youâre free to go home right after you visit with Secretary Willis.â
Shea stared at him, stunned. âBegging your indulgence, Dr. Wilson, but Dr. Mohan is scheduled to take over and can make the visitââ
Dr. Wilson raised his hand to silence her. âSecretary Willis asked for you specifically. He is a Statesman, and is a good friend of your uncle. It would mean a great deal to this department, and me as your supervisor, if you paid Secretary Willis a visit.â
Shea bit her tongue against the ire rising through her chest. Her smile tightened. âOf course. Iâll head that way immediately.â
Dr. Wilson offered a polite nod and turned to walk away. âPlease do, Dr. Tristan. His Majesty Guide Us.â
âMay Strength Remain.â Sheaâs voice remained calm despite herself, and she turned back to shut the door behind her. She marched down the hall, silently cursing her supervisor beneath her breath.
***
A white laundry transport pulled through the security gates outside. It backed into the narrow delivery dock beneath the Ministry of Health and Wellness and idled for a few moments before stabilizing clamps latched onto its bumper. The driverâs door slid open. A young man stepped out and rounded to the rear of the vehicle, all while darting nervous glances over his shoulders. He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow and clapped his palm twice against the side of the transport.
The rear double doors slid open and a figure clad in dark clothes, face obscured by a gray scarf, hopped out onto the bay carrying an empty duffle bag.
âYou know the drill, Trev. Keep her running, I wonât be long.â The woman checked the time on her wristwatch and strode across the platform toward the ventilation shaft. The driver had already begun lifting heaps of soiled sheets from the damp bay floor and heaving them into the back of the transport.
He glanced anxiously over his shoulder. âDonât keep me waitinâ, alright?â
She didnât respond, and he watched her disappear into the shaft, leaving him standing alone among the mounds of dirtied linens. He glanced around again and jumped at the announcement blaring from the nearby speakers:
âBe advised, scheduled rainfall set to begin in ten minutes. Be advised, scheduled rainfall set to begin in ten minutes.â
He shuddered and bent down to hoist another armful.
What do you do when everything about your life is lived for the glory of the State? How do you find yourself when you canât know yourself beyond what the government tells you? For Shea Tristan, sheâs never actually had to think about these things. Born and raised as a privileged Statesman, itâs clear that sheâs never known hunger, never known want and that sheâs bought into the Party Assemblyâs line completely.
It only takes one action to make an illusion crumble, though, and Valkyrie is the story of that fall from grace.
This bookâŚwasnât the journey I expected it to be. When I selected it, I expected a bog standard space opera that would be entertaining and light, but nothing too different from my usual fare. In a lot of ways, it was just that.
However, I didnât expect the author to play with themes of sexuality and transgender issues in such a subtle yet intriguing way that played into the larger arc at hand. It made the central relationship conflicts all the more interesting, particularly with regards to how Shea viewed the people of the Anchor and Victoria herself while creating a caricature of religious fervour and moral strictures in a highly stratified society.
The themes of the book were a bit heavy handed at times, but it was clear that Ludwa put a lot of thought into building the rules and laws that govern Odin Prime and how they would converge to create the situation that spirals out of these pages. That thought is what elevates the book from standard science fiction into something that stands out for how it hands questions of morality and whether or not the world is black and white.
If science fiction is about pushing new boundaries and exploring new worlds, Ludwa takes that to heart. One doesnât need to go far in her Odin Prime to enter a new space and the boundaries are only as much as our characters place on themselves.
If you like your soap opera full of politics and philosophical questions that donât bog down the narrative, then this is the book for you. If anything, Valkyrie is a taste of what can be done with a few ideas well done and I, for one, hope for more in the sequel.