Indecent Proposal
Posted on Thu Jul 3rd, 2025 @ 4:31pm by Commander Kevin Lance
1,539 words; about a 8 minute read
Mission:
The days of our lives
Location: Hvalset Fjord
Timeline: Current
on:
{Mead Hall, Hvalset Fjord, Greenland)
It took a while but Kevin was able to deduce that that main purpose of the event in the mead hall was the cooking of the boar that Mira had killed, along with a couple of more to ensure no one went hungry at the wedding feast. The drinking and revelry were just distraction to make a boring task much more interesting.
Drinking came first. Horns clashed. Homebrewed mead flowed like a minor river. Kevin, never a particularly heavy drinker, tried to pace himself, but every toast ended in a chorus of “Skål!” and someone refilling his cup with laughter in their eyes and mischief in their beard. The stimulant Shen had given him was destined to thwart their attempts to get the groom blitzed and through the afternoon Kevin’s only reaction to the alcohol was a slight tingling in his fingertips.
The mead hall was filled with voices swelling in various songs. Half the assembly bellowed old folk songs Kevin didn’t know the words to, but by the third round he found himself shouting along, wildly off-key but grinning like a madman. The lyrics were indecipherable, but the themes were clear: love, war, goats, and glory. Shen eagerly contributed with drinking ditties from their Academy days and thrusterball team chants, to the evident delight of Thor and all of his kin.
Arm wrestling emerged spontaneously, with a rickety wooden table slammed into place like a battlefield altar. Kevin was dragged into the fray by an aunt with forearms like wrought iron and encouragement like a battle cry. Already strong to a superlative degree, the stimulant coursing through his body gave an explosive release that was impossible to resist and more than a few of his future in-laws walked away from the table rubbing their wrists and dorsum of the hand. He beat all comers and after nearly a dozen victories, the aunt declared him “acceptable husband material”. The others nodded solemnly as if Kevin had made a rite of passage.
He wasn’t as successful at axe-throwing. The movements were strange to him and his initial throws were wildly off mark. He had, thanks to the stimulant, the advantage of being almost cold stone sober where his opponents were drunk to varying degrees. This levelled the competition field quite a bit and with repetition, Kevin’s aim grew better such that by the end, he was in the top five while Shen, somehow, managed to place first.
“I am going to relieve myself,” Kevin told Shen.
“You want me to come along to hold it for you?” Shen retorted sarcastically.
“No,” Kevin replied annoyed, “just letting you know where your charge is going.”
“I’ll alert the Admiralty,” Shen snarked before returning to his mead.
Kevin shook his head and departed the mead hall. The privy was around back, so he circled through an alleyway between the mead hall and the adjacent building. He wondered where Mira was and what bachelorette traditions she was enduring. Knowing her, they had something elaborate planned and she had told them to bugger off. The thought brought a smile to his face. The sooner the ceremony and wedding feast were over with the better.
He returned following the same route but while he had been alone on the trip to the facilities, now there were five of Thor’s larger kin blocking the way. Time for another father to son-in-law chat, Kevin wondered as he remembered the last private conversation Thor had had with him almost three years ago.
But Thor was nowhere to be seen. Instead the smallest of the five stepped forward.
“Kevin Lance.” The utterance of his name was more a statement than a question.
“Don’t pretend that you don’t know who I am,” Kevin retorted, “and I don’t care who you are.” He stepped forward but the other four Vikings closed ranks on the speaker effectively blocking Kevin’s way.
“Be that as it may,” the speaker continued, “I am Olaf and I am the better man.”
Kevin snorted. “That remains to be proven,” he challenged.
Olaf ignore this last from Kevin as he said, “You will leave Hvalset Fjord immediately or suffer the consequences.”
Kevin blinked at the demand. “Consequences?” he asked, “Has it escaped your notice that I am to marry Mira today?” Or whenever Thor determined that there had been enough pre-wedding festivities.
Olaf waved away Kevin’s questions with a hand. “Oh she will be marrying today but not you.”
“What?”
“With you and your best man out of the picture,” Ola explained, “Mira’s hand will be free to wed. Thor will insist upon it.”
“You don’t know Mira as well as you think,” Kevin pointed out as he sized up the four bully boys with Olaf. They had been drinking in the mead hall but were mostly steady on their feet. Nursing the mead in preparation for this confrontation.
“Thor has leverage on her,” Olaf smiled, “And I have leverage on the old man.”
“I am not leaving,” Kevin stated flatly, “So how are we going to do this?”
Olaf rubbed his neck as if he were disappointed but the smile on his face left little doubt that he was happy with the arrangement. “Now, me and my friends will make you leave,” Olaf answered cheerily, “And once you have been disposed of, I will marry Mira. Don’t worry, though. I will raise your children as if they were my own.”
Kevin’s frown deepened. “Over my dead body,” he hissed.
“That is the general idea,” Olaf said as he flicked a hand towards his associates.
The first punch came fast and wild. Kevin deflected it easily, stepping into the attacker’s space and landing a tight, efficient strike to the ribs. The man grunted and stumbled back—but that was all it took.
The second came from behind, trying to grab Kevin in a clumsy chokehold. Kevin slammed the back of his head into the assailant’s nose, grabbed his arm, and used the momentum to throw him over his shoulder onto the frozen ground with a dull thud.
The third attacker came at him fast, fists flying in a wild combination of strikes—more brawler than trained fighter. A glancing punch landed against Kevin’s ribs, jolting him with a flash of pain, but he rolled with it, teeth gritted, and responded with a snapping elbow to the man’s temple. That one dropped to a knee, dazed, swaying.
Three down, or close enough. Kevin took a breath, the air cold and sharp in his lungs, chest heaving, blood hot with adrenaline.
Then the fourth man stepped forward.
Unlike the others, this one was quiet. Focused. No stagger in his step. His hand slipped from beneath his coat, and a blade caught the sunlight—small, sharp, meant for slicing, not show.
Kevin didn’t hesitate. He adjusted his stance, eyes locked, feet shifting in the snow. The man lunged, the knife flashing in a tight arc aimed for Kevin’s side. He twisted, fast—but not fast enough. The blade skimmed across his forearm, a shallow, hot line of pain.
He grunted, caught the attacker’s wrist before the second strike could land, and slammed his knee into the man’s gut. The man folded with a strained gasp. Kevin twisted the wrist again, harder, and the blade dropped into the snow with a dull clink.
He followed up with a hard shove, sending the man sprawling onto his back, where he lay motionless, breath steaming, staring up at the sky.
Kevin turned to Olaf and found the man had a phaser pointed straight at him. The distance was too far for Kevin to cover before Olaf fired at least a couple of shots.
Kevin froze. “Not very subtle. Aren’t you afraid the security sensors will register a phaser shot?” he asked, stalling for time.
“I triggered a diagnostic sub-routine that took them offline,” Olaf explained, “Wouldn’t want to be interrupted. He raised the phaser and extended his arm. Kevin closed his eyes in anticipation of the blast.
He heard the phaser fire and tensed his body. But he didn’t feel the shot hit. No way that Olaf could have missed at this range. He opened his eyes.
He caught the sight of Olaf falling forward into the snow face first. Behind him stood Roderick, the operative that Kevin knew as Shadow, who was stowing his own phaser into the tunic of his Viking garb. “This is one that you owe me,” he said nonchalantly.
“What are you doing here?” Kevin asked suspiciously but secretly relieved at the intervention.
“As I told you, Mira is important to our organization’s goals,” Roderick answered.
“And you thought that I would get cold feet?”
“Our mutual acquaintance expressed a fear that something might go wrong,” Roderick nudged Olaf’s unconscious form with the toe of his boot, “I volunteered for the assignment.”
“Why?”
“Because I am a hopeless romantic,” Roderick smiled slyly, “Go on back to the mead hall. I will take care of this mess.”
:off
Commander Kevin Lance
Executive Officer
USS Chuck Norris
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