Hammer of the Gods

by B. D. MacCallum

A loud whistle split the air; Thor had not realized the music had stopped until he heard the sound. He looked up to see Iona, Mikki and Jennifer standing shoulder to shoulder, with grins covering their faces. Iona blew him a kiss and pushed a button on the remote. The music started-up again, with the three of them dancing and singing to Do you wanna touch me?. Bryndis laughed so hard, she nearly sprayed tea everywhere.

  It seemed Iona had informed everyone onboard what happened between them last night, and they thought it just as funny as she did.

  I should kick every last one of them off my ship, Thor mused. I wonder how much they’d laugh then?

  The musical number came to an abrupt end, the three women hurrying to the table, as Christelle entered with the breakfast cart. The little French woman’s food had that effect on people. Christelle was followed close behind by her sous-chef, Dominick, a robust man with graying hair, bushy eyebrows and a thick mustache that covered his upper lip, pushing an identical cart. The smells of strong café and freshly-baked pastries immediately filled the dining room as they were wheeled next to the large round table.

  Both chefs were the perfect picture of their chosen profession in their immaculate white jackets and tall chef hats – though Christelle’s was a bit taller, even before she had tucked her long auburn hair underneath – as they waited for the women to be seated before serving.

  Iona settled into the chair on Thor’s left, Mikki to his right. Jennifer sat next to Bryndis, eyeing Thor warily. Even after three and a half years onboard, she was still wary of Thor’s temper when the joking started. Thor had no idea why? It was not as if he threatened to beat the women… too severely.

  Iona placed a hand on Thor’s arm. When he looked, her fingers flashed; “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

  “Yes, you did”, he said gruffly, then smiled. “But, you wouldn’t be you, if you didn’t”

  “I am angry, though,” Mikki exclaimed. “I thought I was the one you secretly wanted.” She batted her lashes, and the rest of the women giggled like twelve-year-old girls.

  Mikki was attractive, and was even pretty when she smiled. Most of the time, those bright-green eyes stared with the wild look of a caged animal; daring you to creep closer to the bars. The inch long scar on her left cheek took nothing away from her. If anything, it added an allure Thor thought sexy, but he always did have a thing for dangerous women. Physically, the woman was in great shape; she ran for miles every day, and could even give him a difficult time in the ring. Too bad she continually dieted like she was trying to make weight for her next fight, keeping her on the verge of being boney.

  “Ah, Mikki,” he sighed, shaking his head. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You’re the one I secretly fear.”

  This time the women roared with laughter; Christelle even stopped placing the breakfast on the table to wipe a tear from her eye. Dominick snickered and shook his head. I thought, at least, he would take my side.

  “You’re a very good man,” Mikki said, patting his hand with a condescending smile. “A good man, but a poor liar,"

  You have no idea how well I lie. Sometimes, I even fool myself. “You don’t think I’m afraid of Bryndis, do you?”

  Bryndis shook her head. “No. You say what you need to make me feel better, just like you do with everyone else. It’s the promise Iona holds over your head that keeps you on edge. I swear, for someone so intelligent, you act so ignorant. Live well, and be at peace.” Softly she added; “as much peace as life allows you, my friend.” She cleared her throat. “Now, everyone play nice… for the rest of the day, at least.”

  The room fell silent at the reference to the date. Thor forced his gaze to the trailing seagulls. The last thing he needed at the moment was to see the pity he knew filled their eyes. Everyone on board has a sad story. I’m nobody special.

  Christelle poured the café au lait as Dominic finished setting out the pastries. Then together they passed out the steaming bowels of heavenly goodness.

  Thor closed his eyes, taking in the smoky aroma. He took a sip. The hot liquid was sweet and bitter at the same time, and filled with complex notes that were difficult to describe. He pulled a croissant free from the pile, breaking it in half before taking a bite. He had often thought Christelle should be worshiped like a goddess for the magnificent meals she prepared, and Dominick should be worshiped for his croissants alone.

  After serving, Christelle and Dominick filled two of the four empty chairs. Thor knew Julia would be on the bridge this morning, and would, most likely, remain there until they docked. He had no idea where Else could be, however, which was strange; that woman would not miss a meal if the ship was sinking.

  “Where’s Else?”

  Bryndis smiled. Thor had known her for nearly twenty years. He knew every smile of hers, from the flirtatious to the shy; though he had rarely seen the latter. This one said she had found a way to make him regret many, many things. “I’ve sent her on… an errand.”

  He must be more tired than he thought to completely overlook the missing helicopter. Living with these women must be eroding his mental capacity.

  “Pass the sugar, please,” Lindsay said over a mouthful of raspberry tart. Thor handed her the sugar bowl, and she dumped nearly half of it into her café. The young woman stirred her drink, tasted it, and then spooned-in more sugar. Lindsay had been doing that – much to Christelle’s dismay – since their recent visit to Paris.

  Christelle was visibly mortified, but said nothing as she witnessed the assault on her pride, yet again. Two days ago, Lindsay suggested the béchamel needed more salt, and everyone thought Christelle’s head was going to explode.

  “I like café crème better!” Lindsay announced. She kept her slate-gray eyes fixed on Christelle. “It was much better than this.”

  “The only difference between café au lait and café crème; you pay for the café crème,” Christelle said with a bemused smile. “Other than that, they are exactly the same.” She nodded slowly, a far-off look in her emerald eyes. “But I know what you mean. It tasted much better to me, as well.”

  For an instant, a deep sadness etched the French woman’s face, disappearing as quickly as it came. She stood smoothly, and rubbed her hands together. “Tomorrow morning,” she said smiling at Lindsay, “I shall make you something special, oui. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get busy.” She turned without another word, and was gone.

  Thor eyed Lindsay, and sighed. He would spare her from embarrassment for the moment, but he would have another talk with the young woman about watching her manors, later. If it did not take this time, she would have to go. Keeping peace on a ship filled with strong-willed women was difficult enough without Lindsay throwing out an insult with every other breath, whether she meant to or not.

  Dominick groaned as he rose. “No rest for the wary, it seems,” he said with a voice as deep as a well. “I suggest all of you work-up large appetites. Christelle had planned a grand lunch for today. I suspect those plans have just been revised to a feast fit for a king.” The man is right. Christelle will take Lindsay’s words to heart, and her pride will take over.

  As if by magic, the chef produced a small glass filled with an amber liquid. “A little something for your head,” he said placing the glass in front of Thor and clapping him gently on the shoulder.

  Maybe he’s on my side after all.

  “What is that?” Bryndis demanded, already knowing the answer.

  Dominick smoothed his salt and pepper mustache with a thick finger, and shrugged. “It’s just a little cognac.” He tried to sound meek, but it was a poor attempt. The man actually believed that every ailment in the world could be cured with an endless supply of the stuff, and doubted the sanity of anyone without the same belief.

  Bryndis, however, did not share his ideas, nor cared if Domenic thought her insane. Her eyes burned with a fire that would melt glass. “Stop it!” she snapped. “Thor finds every excuse to medicate himself with alcohol, without your encouragem
ent.” She took a deep breath. Her eyes flickered to Thor, then back to the aging chef. “I know you’re just trying to help, but you’re not.” Her voice was calmer, but her eyes still shot daggers. “Keep a cork in that bottle whenever Thor is around, or I swear I’ll – ”

  Did she just call me a drunk? “Ah, ah, ah,” Thor wagged a finger at Bryndis. “You’re forgetting rule number one: Never piss-off the person preparing your food.” He chuckled to himself as the rest of the women stared wide-eyed at their half-eaten breakfast. He pulled a croissant from the platter, and took a large bite from it… if, for no other reason than to prove they had not been poisoned. I should’ve pretended to choke. That would’ve served them right.

  Dominick straitened, stiffening his chin. “That sounds like a very good rule to me!” He spun on a heel, and sauntered from the room.

  After breakfast, Thor lounged in a chair on the sun-deck, just outside the dining room. His eyes were closed, the rays of the blazing orb in the sky soaking in, warming his skin. He puffed on a Cuban cigar, made exclusively for him for smuggling the tobacco farmer’s granddaughter into Miami. They were something else Bryndis disapproved of, so he limited himself to two per day… while she was around. If Bryndis realized he burned through the seventy boxes he receives each year, she would have a stroke!

  He felt a little guilty sitting around when there was so much to do – he still had not checked-out Ann after taking that nose-dive on the loading ramp yesterday – but he was exhausted. Lately, he was spreading himself too thin, and trying to do too much at one time, like a juggler working frantically to keep more balls than he could handle in the air. Sooner or later, those balls were going to come crashing down on him.

  Thor only hoped he survived when it happened.

  The music started again, the girls returning to their dance lesson, and dishes clattered as the table was being cleared. They were comforting sounds to him, the sounds of home, such as it was.

  Fingers brushed lightly through his hair. There was no need to open his eyes to know it was Bryndis; the woman had been pushing hair from his face since he was a boy.

  “I’m a grown man, Bryn.”

  “I know,” she said softly. There was sadness in her voice, and she kissed the top of his head, just like she did nineteen years ago. The only difference, this time, she was not holding him to her bosom like a baby, while he cried like one at the loss of his parents. “You have been for quite some time now. That doesn’t mean I worry about you any less.”

  “You worry too much.”

  Bryndis slid a chair next to him and sat down, putting her bare feet on his lap. “And you don’t worry enough.”

  “I worry about you,” he said, applying pressure to the ball of her foot with his thumb until he heard it crack. He repeated the process on the other foot. Bryndis sighed, and wiggled her toes. She really should stop wearing those high-heeled shoes.

  “I apologized to Dominick.”

  Thor laughed. “You know I was joking about him poisoning us.”

  Bryndis looked over her shoulder to be sure she could not be overheard. “It’s not him I’m worried about; it’s Christelle. She’s been acting strangely the past few months.”

  This was another example of Bryndis worrying too much. Sure Christelle spent six years in a mental institution for killing her brother, then serving his cooked flesh to guests in her restaurant. It was true she would still be there if Thor had not helped her escape, though Christelle’s brother got less than he deserved. If a few people never looked at a steak the same way again… that is life.

  There was never any doubt in Thor’s mind that Christelle would do anything but be the best chef possible. “C’mon, Bryn, you don’t really think she’s going to do anything, do you?”

  Bryndis sighed, adjusting herself in her chair. “No. I suppose, if she was going turn all of us into casseroles, she’d have done it years ago. Even you have to admit she’s been distant and short tempered the past month or so.”

  “Of course she is!” Thor snapped. “Any one of us is free to leave this ship whenever we want, to go wherever we chose. Not her, she hasn’t left the ship without being disguised and ready to make a run for it in years. How would you feel, watching the rest of us leave for Reykjavik; knowing you couldn’t go without risking being put back in a Hel-hole?”

  “I wouldn’t.”

  “Nor would I. So cut the woman a little slack.”

  Thor opened his eyes. The seagulls were gone. Evidently, the birds had realized there was no free meal to be had here, and abandoned the wake of the fast-moving ship for easier pickings.

  From the corner of his eye, he caught the glimpse of Mio Cain, his two-hundred pound Neapolitan Mastiff, lumbering towards him.

  The massive charcoal-colored brute was quite a sight, and appeared to be a breeding experiment gone horribly wrong. Covered head to tail in wrinkles, Mio had enough excess skin for another dog half his size. His face was just as bad. Folds of drooping fur nearly covered the dog’s blood-shot eyes, and loose, low-hanging jowls swung from side to side as the animal walked, but Thor loved him, nonetheless.

  Mio licked Thor, spreading a thick coat of slobber over the right side of his face. Judging by the smell of Mio’s breath as he panted near Thor’s nose, Christelle had obviously given the dog liver for breakfast. That woman spoils you. Thor scratched Mio’s floppy ears, and the animal moved on to lick Bryndis’ toes before lying down beside the chair.

  Thor wiped the side of his face with a shirt sleeve. He looked at Bryndis. Her golden hair was unbraided and blowing in the wind. The corners of her eyes were crinkled as she laughed and squirmed over having her toes licked. How can you be forty-five? You look exactly the same as the day we met.

  He would make the case that she was a beautiful woman, wasting her life to baby-sit a grown man, and how she should fine a good man to settle-down with, before she wastes more of it. They had, however, argued over that point so many times Thor had lost count, and he was too tired to travel down that road again this morning.

  Before Thor met her, Bryndis had been a very successful fitness competitor; she had a wall full of trophies – now kept in storage – to prove it. He went to great lengths to make sure she continued her career, until she was ready to retire. It would’ve been a shame to waste that kind of talent. Afterward, she earned a degree in physical therapy, and is now a certified dietitian as well. How, and why, she ended-up taking on the role as his personal bodyguard is a secret she continues to keep.

  Bryndis looked around, nervously. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Thor smiled. “I was just thinking how beautiful you are.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “What do you want?”

  Thor shook his head. Why does a compliment always get that response on this ship? “I don’t want anything. I was just admiring how pretty you look this morning, that’s all.”

  “Thank you,” she said, blushing. The woman actually blushed! She must be losing her edge. “You’re not going to start peeking in on me while I’m taking a shower, again, are you?” She laughed softly.

  He made that mistake only once, when he was fifteen-years-old. When Bryndis caught him spying on her, she stepped out of the shower, dripping wet, told him to take a good look as she twirled slowly, then said she would break his arm if he ever did it again.

  “I might,” he said, smiling. “Stranger things happen on this ship all the time.”

  Bryndis smiled, reaching over to brush his cheek. “What am I to do with you, little man?”

  Little man? Something was going on with her, she had not called him that in years.

  Before he could ask, Mio sprang up, his floppy ears twitching, and sniffing at the air. Mio’s deceptively dull eyes locked onto something on the horizon, and wagged his tail. Thor looked up, saw the approaching helicopter, and scratched Mio’s enormous head. The dog rarely barked at anything, but he missed nothing.

  The approaching helicopter dipped until it was just above
the surface of the water. It banked hard to the right, the rotor blades coming within inches of the waves, until it was in Mjölnir’s wake. Within seconds, the helicopter was hovering squarely over the landing pad. It gently lowered, and the wheels kissed the deck.

  In the blink of an eye, two members of Julia’s crew had the landing gear secured to the deck, and the doors opened.

  Else emerged wearing the gray flight-suit Thor had gotten her for her birthday. Her old one was a left-over from her days in the German Army, and brought too many bad memories whenever worn. Thor had told her she need not wear one at all. She contested that men are suckers for a woman in uniform, and who could argue with that? It did show-off her figure.

  She removed the brightly painted helmet, tucked it under her arm, and gave the two crew members instructions of how she wanted the rotors secured before making her way toward the sun-deck. “I hope I haven’t missed breakfast!” she shouted.

  How that woman could eat so much and look like that, is one of life’s many mysteries, Thor mused. “Did you have a good flight?” he shouted down to her.

  Else smiled, her face beaming. “The best ever!”

  Thor chucked. Else’s motto was: Any flight that ends with you on the ground, not in it, is the best ever.

  Four men, each carrying a large duffle bag, exited the aircraft. As tough as they appeared, two of the men looked ready to kiss the deck, grateful to be alive. The other two seemed less shaken by Else’s joyride… but not much. All of them followed the blonde pilot on unsteady legs.

  Mio whined until Thor said he could go to Else. The dog knew the German woman would have a treat for him; she rarely returned without one.

  “Who are they?” Thor asked Bryndis.

  “You seem to have a lot of penned-up energy, lately.” She wore the same smile as she had earlier. “They’re here to help you… expend some of it.” She did not laugh like a mad scientist from the movies, but she may as well have.

  Thor eyed the oncoming men. Each looked to be seasoned ex-military, and more than willing to use him as a punching bag for exercise, and he wondered what the Hel he did to give Bryndis the impression he had that kind of penned-up energy?