“Deal. I’ll be right back.” Sally made a beeline through the small horde of Russians packing the restaurant, definitely not dissuaded by a bunch of drunk soldiers.
“So Hannah, while Sally is gone, let me take a look at what you brought us.” Aleks opened the package, found a small box under the padded wrapping paper. She opened it, and gave a little gasp. In the box were two small pure silver Russian Orthodox Crosses, each overlaid on a small sword.
“I figured a symbol of your faith and the steel to back it up would be a good symbol for your sons. The chain is silver metal also.”
Behind it was a small set of crossed flags, Russian and U.S., made to suspend from a gold chain, also included. Aleks looked at Hannah.
“These are much too fine. Please, I can’t accept these for my trolls, or for me.”
“Keep them until they get older. Then let them decide. I made them for your sons as I know they’ll have a special place in our future. And you already have.”
Torbin looked at the pieces. “You are wasting your talents on private presents for us, Hannah. As much as we appreciate it, you could be making a small fortune on the open market.”
Hannah shrugged. “I’m already rich. Thanks to you and others, like Uncle Johann and the Commissioner, I have a second chance at life. And a second family who loves me. What type of riches could be better than those?”
Torbin carefully examined her. Here was a young lady who had survived unimaginable horrors in the Pits, by all rights should be ate up with bitterness. Yet, all she seemed to want to do was create things of beauty for her friends, in addition to the occasional bladed weapon. Her soul shined through like no one else’s, other than maybe Abigail’s. Torbin stepped closer and slowly hugged her, kissed her on her forehead.
“I consider it an honor that you say I and my wife are part of your friends and family. We met due to a selfish desire on my part for revenge, nothing noble.”
Hannah hugged back. “Does not matter the reason. Only the result matters.”
“Now, I have a big lump in my throat,” Torbin said.
“And I have another little sister.” Aleks was trying not to tear up. Time to start toughening up again, and not wear her emotions on her sleeve. She needed to be tough as the steel Hannah alluded to.
With that, Hannah hugged Aleks. “I’ll take as many new extended family members as I can. The bigger the family, the better.” Hannah’s statement expressed the reality of the current human family structure, post-Strike, post -Invasion. Unrelated people, having lost most, sometimes all of their blood related family members, banding together in new family units. These new units were based on love and affection between people who came together due to the horrible results of the Squids Infestation, and harvesting. Everyone adopted everyone else, whether you had any common bloodlines or not. Basically tribal in nature, they allowed for those completely alone to be alone no longer. Now, everyone could have a support system, no matter what had happened to your parents, siblings. If you said you were now sisters, then you were.
Brynhildr moved a bit closer. “May I hold one of your sons?”
“Why, of course. And Rolf can hold one also. I’d like them to get used to the presence of friendly people from both genders.”
Brynhildr picked up Tristan, and Aleks handed Gage to Rolf. The tall blonde woman broke into a large grin, her eyes twinkling. “Such a fine son. He must have Viking in him from somewhere. Some of my ancestors made it to Moscow. Maybe we are distantly related.”
“Keep acting like that and I may ask you to babysit them, Brynhildr.”
“Job permitting, you won’t have to twist my arm. This brings out a maternal feeling I had forgotten about.” She looked at Rolf, who was also grinning. He held Gage as if he were holding his own son.
“You seem a lot more comfortable holding babies than I do,” Torbin interjected. “I keep thinking I’m going to squeeze something too hard, or drop them.”
Rolf smiled at Torbin. “Before the Squids arrived, Gunnar and I used to babysit our young cousins. Young ones like these are not as fragile as you think. And these sons… they have strength already. They would be fine Thor’s sons, fine young warriors.”
“Well, they’re American on my side. I’ll let you discuss the rest of their family back ground with Aleks.”
Rolf suddenly looked up at Brynhildr, and said something in Norwegian. This elicited a short barking laugh and some comment in return that sounded a lot like, ‘Do not be foolish.’ Rolf repeated what he had said, adding more words. Brynhildr fixed Rolf with a firm look.
“Aleks, would you mind if I gave you your son back? I must be rude and discuss something in private with Rolf.”
Aleks cocked an eyebrow. “Of course. Here, husband, take Tristan. Rolf, please hand me Gage… Thank you.” With that, Brynhildr grabbed Rolf’s massive arm and pulled him to the opposite corner of the room. They were soon involved in a serious and animated conversation.
Torbin glanced over and saw Young Hannah beaming.
“All right, smartypants. You’ve been learning Norskie. What’s up?”
“Aleks probably has some of it figured out,” Hannah answered with a twinkle in her eye. “But Rolf suddenly started talking about wanting and having children. He alluded to Brynhildr and him both being of good…how you say, breeding stock.”
“My, isn’t that a romantic way of putting it,” stated Aleks. She looked at Torbin. “You men have no concept of timing, of patience. It’s all hey, let’s throw it out, see if it sticks to the wall.”
“Hey, wife, you forget who came to whose room the first time. And the second. And how I began to…”
“Hush. That is not important. What else exactly did they say, Hannah, dear? My Norwegian isn’t all that good.”
Hannah kept grinning. “Brynhildr told him not to be foolish or joke about that, she was not in the mood. Rolf said he was not joking, he was serious. And now they are over there, being serious.
The three looked over to the serious conversation between the two tall American Vikings. Brynhildr, despite her height, had to look up a bit to stare directly into Rolf’s eyes. Which is what she was doing as they talked back and forth. Rolf gently took both of Brynhildr’s hands in his larger hands and began to gently rub them with his thumbs and fingers as he spoke. Brynhildr was reduced to one and two word answers as Rolf demonstrated serious speaking skills no one had realized he had. Rolf was known to be a joker, good with a weapon, and a bull in battle. The Great Communicator? Hardly. Until tonight.
Brynhildr blinked her eyes a bit, a sign that emotional tears were forming. A statuesque Wagnerian Shield Maiden she might appear to be, but she was still a human with feelings. She began to nod her head up and down. Then she threw her arms around Rolf’s rather massive neck, and proceeded to kiss and hug him as if she was about to ravish him on the spot. He returned the favor, the two large people wrapped in a very loving embrace.
Aleks began to cry a bit. “Oh hell. Sorry, Hannah. I’m just still trying to get over all these emotions from being pregnant. I didn’t use to blubber as much.” Torbin produced a handkerchief for Aleks to dab her eyes with.
“You are definitely learning, my husband. I do so love you.” She crushed Torbin in an embrace.
“Oof. Being pregnant did not make you weak, Aleks.” He tilted up her head and kissed her. “You, my dear, are one special woman. And I am one lucky man.” Aleks kissed him back, a big wet eyed smile on her face.
“Yes, you are lucky. Never forget that. Now if you could go and round up Sally Reid, Ichiro, and Abigail. I think they were all hijacked by the Russians.”
As Torbin went to the other side of the restaurant, Rolf and Brynhildr walked back to Hannah, Aleks, and her sons. The two Vikings were holding hands, smiling.
Aleks grinned at them. “I know that look, my friends.”
“Yes, Aleks, you do,” Brynhildr answered. “I just never guessed it would happen to me so soon, just starting a career, killing Krakens…”
With that, Brynhildr began to act like a little school girl, giggling, holding his arm. “As you have probably figured out, Rolf and I are basically betrothed now. He gets to
come up with a ring, I get to come up with a dowry.”
“No you don’t. I have a lot of money saved from my military service. We need no dowry.”
“Please, it’s tradition. I know you wish to take care of me completely, get me barefoot and pregnant. But just remember who I am.”
Rolf displayed a well-used sheepish look, then answered. “Yes, Shield Maiden, slayer of many. Arrester of many others. Special Assistant to the Commissioner. Driver in rickshaw races. Mistress of all that she surveys.” With a quick motion, he grabbed Brynhildr and swept her off her feet, cradling her in his massive arms as if she was as weightless as a feather. She began to scold him in Norwegian, demanding to be let down. Then, the large female warrior began to giggle again, kissing him, and literally trying to snuggle up next to him. With someone a lot smaller than Rolf, given Brynhildr’s size, it would have looked ridiculous. But with him and her, it looked like two young high school students snuggling after the Friday night football game.
“Alright you two. As Torbin would say, get a room.”
With that, Rolf flashed a large smile and deftly set Brynhildr down. He kissed her forehead, she grabbed his ears and forced him to kiss her mouth. Rolf let loose with one of the happiest laughs Aleks had heard in a long time. Something very special was happening.
Hannah went up and hugged them both, talking to them in Norwegian. Rolf picked up Hannah and swung her around, then set her back down. She giggled and blushed.
“Rolf, please go and find us some cheese and meats,” Aleks asked. “And some cider to drink until Sally Reid returns with the vodka for some toasts. I wonder where she has gone?”
In fact, at the far side of the main room in the restaurant, Sally was surrounded at the bar by a group of boisterous and horny Russians. Just as she pushed one set of hands away, another set tried to glomm on. She had been around the proverbial block, and had dealt with aggressive men before. But here, there were so damned many of them.
She had talked the bartender into a literal carafe of vodka. It might be cheap bar vodka, but it was vodka. As she laid some cash down, the Roman hands and Russian fingers began vying for her attention. She smiled, said excuse me, pushed hands away, tried to make an escape. But she was blocked in.
Then she heard a firm but definitely female voice sound off in Russian. She looked toward the source and say a beautiful blonde young woman with shoulder length hair in a nice evening skirt with a matching jacket. She did a double take as she had only seen her on TV or photos in uniform. But even in feminine attire, Sally could see the physical power and presence of Abigail Young.
“Captain Young. I did not recognize you.”
Abigail gave a small smile as she pushed in to join Sally near the bar. “Yes, Aleks Smirnov demanded I dress up for her children’s christening. Getting used to high heels has been…interesting. Though a four inch heel on the instep seems to get a man’s attention.”
Abigail looked at Sally and the cast on her arm. “You’re the reporter that Torbin injured.”
“Yes. I’m trying to get back to his wife’s table.”
“Follow me.” Abigail began to push physically and verbally, trying to form a path out for Sally.
Unfortunately, several Russians were either so drunk or so stupid they did not recognize My Lady of Cold Steel. They tried to push back.
“Please. Gentlemen. Let my Comrade and I through. We need to return to Major Smirnov’s table.” Despite her native sounding Russian, Abigail’s request did not sink in. One soldier made the mistake of grabbing her butt cheek. He collapsed to the floor holding his family jewels in a silent scream.
A large figure suddenly began to push his way through to the two women.
“Move aside. Captain Young wishes to leave,” Rolf’s voice loudly proclaimed in English as he shoved his way through by shear strength. Russians began to loudly protest in both their native language and in accented English.
“Hey, don’t push.”
“Who do you think you are, you big oaf?”
“Stop pushing me or I’ll…” A large fight was about to ensue.
“Comrades! Stop!” A well-recognized voice boomed out. People froze in place as they recognized Senior Training Instructor Stalin.“This evening is for the celebration of the christening of two new children of Mother Russia. The sons of Major Aleksandra Smirnov, a daughter of Russia. Who dares to disrupt this sacred affair?”
Noise suddenly stopped, other than the clinking of glasses from behind the bar. One Russian soldier staggered up to Stalin, fell in to him. In a blink of the eye, the offending person was flat on his back, only semi-conscious.
“And this young lady in the beautiful vestments is My Lady of Cold Steel. You dare to offend her? In my presence?”
The next thing that happened was everyone was trying to apologize all at once. The group of inebriated Russians began to part as if they were the Red Sea and Abigail was a female Moses.
A somewhat disheveled Ichiro then appeared next to Abigail. “You disappeared while they were teaching me the Cossack dance. Tell me next time.”
“Sorry. I saw that Ms. Reid needed help getting out from the clutches of a bunch of drunk men. I just acted.”
The Japanese Officer recognized once again that this was a characteristic he would have to get used to if he stayed around Abigail. Which he was bound to do.
With Stalin in the lead, the small group made its way back to Aleks’ table in the back room.
Sally had managed to hang onto the vodka and some glasses.
“Ah, they return,” Aleks greeted them. “Well, vodka for toasts. But no food.”
“Sorry, I go.” Rolf started to leave.
“Please, you stay here, my very large friend,” Stalin said. “I will go fetch some cheese, meats and pastries. It is easier.”
“I’ll go with you.” Sally spoke before she knew what she was doing.
Stalin looked at her, a small lopsided grin displayed. ‘You wish for what Americans would call Round Two?”
Sally shrugged. “I’ve had my boobs and butt squeezed before. It didn’t kill me.”
“Come then. Even with that cast on, you can carry some snacks.” He left, with Sally in tow.
Everyone made a deferred path for Stalin as he and Sally made a path to the refreshment tables. With efficient ease the Russian soon had plates of meat cutlets, cheeses, some buffalo wings, chips and breads. Sally balanced some of them even with her arm in a cast.
“You came with me for a reason, Comrade Reid,” Stalin said in passing.
“Well, you saw right through that. You’re that Crazy Ivan people have been talking about, aren’t you? No military rank, but everyone defers to you.”
Stalin displayed a small grin. “Why do Americans always seem to like the name “Ivan” when referring to a Russian man? I have one name I go by. Stalin. I know who I am, I need no other names.”
“Sorry,” Sally apologized, “I did not mean to offend you.”
He shrugged. “No offense. I was just stating an observation of mine. But I guess you, being a reporter, the one Major Bender injured, you have some information, a ‘story’ you wish to obtain. Da?”
Sally blushed a bit. “So, I guess my broken wrist, arm in a cast is a badge of dishonor. News does get around on Malmstrom even without an official news report.”
“There is no dishonor in t trying to do your job, if being a bit too aggressive in getting the story you wished. I have been known to charge in, like the proverbial bull in the china shop. I’m just the one who usually does the bone breaking, not the other way ar
ound.”
He fixed Sally with a steady gaze. “So, what do you want to know? What is the story you are seeking?”
Sally looked into his eyes and saw blue steel looking back. That was what she was looking for. “How did you become you? An enigma, according to everyone I have talked to. Hated, feared yet greatly respected by all who are trained by you. A person who takes a Christmas dinner to a prisoner you helped put in confinement.”
Stalin saw her locking eyes with him, saw an inner strength that many did not. Decades of experience made him a good judge of characters. This woman had suffered much, but had bounced back. Much like himself. A small smile formed on his mouth.
“You have already found out much about me. Are you an intelligence agent?”
“No. Just a nosey reporter in the same mold as old U.S. print reporters were before television. Read a lot about them while trying not to freeze and starve to death. Decided if given the chance, I’d try to resurrect the breed.”
Stalin gave her a quick once over. Not a model, but a well-built woman. “Come, let us get this food back to Aleks and company. And after you are done talking with her, I’ll give you a private interview.”
The sun had been up for a while when Sally was awoken by the smells of someone cooking breakfast in the kitchen. The person was also humming a tune she did not recognize.
“Jim, are the kids up…” Her brain went back to memories of long gone mornings when she had awoken to the sound and smells of breakfast being made. Then reality came crashing in. A small sob passed her lips as the dream made her feel that love and contentment from years past. Now it was gone, with her Jim and the kids. Forever. With a final mental wrench, her mind came back to the present. And she remembered who she had brought home with her. The first time in years anyone had been invited to stay over.
Sally exited her now messy bed, found her old robe and threw it on to cover her nudity, her approaching middle age body. She then made a beeline to her apartment kitchen.
Stalin was at the stove, working on three separate pans of food at once. “You are up. Good. Breakfast is almost ready and I hate to eat alone. There is plenty for two.”
Typhoon of Steel Page 2