I'll be home for Crashmas
No matter the Terrain.
I'll be home for Christmas
If only on the Dream Plane.../

--The Martin Classic Crashmas Carols Library


Danziger, John

Solo Advance Scout #42

Day 4

Oh man, my dogs are barkin’. Been four days since leavin' base camp, and I still can’t say I was sorry to leave the stink of desperation and the pained expression on my daughter’s face behind.

The ‘Rail’s done.

I keep tellin’ everyone there’s nothing that I can do to fix her; we’ve driven the engine straight into the hard, arid ground. Still, I’m sure that hasn’t stopped Walman from tinkerin’ away back at camp. The Rover’s not taking to kindly to towin’ her, either, and with the ATV long gone in that ditch to the east, the walkin’s been takin' it’s toll on everyone.

The blazin’ hot days and near-freezing nightly temperatures we’ve been suffering since we hit this stretch of desert have left the group sick and fatigued. Once Uly’s sniffles turned into a full blown cough I finally did what had to be done. I went and plopped us all down, indefinitely, next to that one lonesome tree in the barren horizon. Must be nearly a hundred clicks back by now, that tree.

The ‘Rail couldn’t have picked a less inhabitable place to breath its last gasp. Luckily, Julia and Bess have managed to find a scattering of edible plant life. They taste like piss, but Eden Advance better get used to ‘em, cause the rations are nearly down to nothin.’

We’ve been through hard times. Even before we lost…before we found the Anson’s ship, and we always manage to get by. Just wish they’d all stop moanin’ and groanin’ about how miserable they are. Promised ‘em I’d figure something out to get us movin’ again, didn’t I?

Aw, hell. They’re just scared.

Me? I’m shankin’ terrified. Sorry, Adair, but that’s exactly what I am. Terrified I’m gonna get ‘em all ki--

"True to Daddy, come in! True-Girl to The Wandrin’ Mechanic, come in Wandrin’ Mecha--”

“I’m here, True-Girl.” Danziger shook his head, both at the nickname he’d seemed to have acquired and to shake the Gear loose of his wind-tangled curls. “Wish you’d all stop callin’ me that. I’m not wanderin,’, I’m scoutin’. And thinkin’.”

“I know, Dad. You’ll figure it out. But we figured something even better out, and when you get back in three days--”

“True-Girl…it’s been slow goin’ in this heat, Baby, and I--”

The shimmering, grainy Gear transmission of his daughter rolled her eyes and promptly interrupted.

“And when you get back in THREE days, guess what day it will be?”

Unconsciously picking up the pace of his dragging feet, Danziger found himself giving in to his daughter’s excitement. He hadn’t seen her smile like that in quite some time.

“What day will it be, True? I‘m puttin’ you on audio, sweetheart, can‘t see where I‘m goin‘ with the glare.”

True’s exuberant expression, dulled by the cool shade of their tent, exploded into the blinding gold of the landscape before him, and he raised a hand to shield his eyes.

Danziger checked his coordinates again, as he’d been doing more and more frequently with the paranoid certainty that he was lost. He really wished they’d stop using the word wandering. The last time he’d been alone on a stretch like this one, he’d nearly frozen to death. Burning up didn’t seem like a much better alternative.

Besides, just cause he made these scouts, didn't mean he enjoyed them.

“It’ll be Crashmas Eve, Dad! And you’ll be home just in time! We started getting ready first thing this morning, and everyone’s helping! Bess found a way to make that solar blanket with all the holes look like tinsel, and--”

“True-Girl, slow down! What are you goin’ on about?" He didn’t remember packing everyone’s common sense when he'd left camp, but apparently that’s why his kit was so heavy. What on earth were they thinking about Christmas for at a time like this?

"Did it occur to anyone that we’re smack in the middle of the summer here? By the Station calendar it’s July, Sweetheart, and hoofin’ it through the desert, I tend to agree. The lunar year isn’t the same on G889 as it is on the Stations, True-Girl, Yale taught you and Uly all about it, remember?”

This was all he needed.

With a pang in his heart, he found himself reciting “the words.” The ones he’d fallen back on every December on the Stations, when the upper levels brought out the Synth-Trees and the Perma-Snow. On G889 he would never have to worry about earning another credit for his daughter and she could have her fill of actually trees and biting, frozen snow, but that didn’t mean there still weren’t things he couldn’t provide for her. Twenty-Two light years away, and things hadn’t really changed that much after all. He was still a father who had nothing to give to his daughter.

“The Danziger’s don’t do Christmas, True-Girl." He swallowed hard. "You know that. We don’t need presents cause we love each other--”

“All year long, yeah I know. I didn’t say, Christmas, Daddy, I said Crashmas. According to the G889 calendar, “ He winced at the sarcastic tone that crept in, making it clear she wasn’t as stupid as he’d made everyone at base camp sound, “It’s three days until the one year anniversary of when we landed!”

Danziger shook his head again, swinging the eyepiece back in front of his face to find precisely what he’d been dreading. His daughter was beaming from ear to ear. He hated being the voice of reason when she got all hopeful about things like this. It was the Synth-Cat all over again.

“So let me get this straight, True-Girl.” He sighed, reminding himself to go easy on her. “Eden advance wants to celebrate the day the Roanoke lost orbit and we all plummeted from space in an overfull escape pod? Honey, don’t the, uh, adults think that this might be a little…disrespectful to all the people who didn’t--”

“Daddy, that’s the point! It’s the perfect new holiday! And we got to invent it! It’s a day to honor and remember all the people that died so that we could colonize here and save the syndrome kids and all the people on Earth, and everyone else! And it’s also the day we show thanks for how grateful we are that we survived, and all the things we get to have on this planet! And there’ll be songs about how the Terrians help us and how we trade with the Grendlers, and--”

“True baby, we’re going through a tough time right now. We can’t spare any of this, we’re runnin’ out of rations and the--”

“Bess is going to come up with a way to make whatever we’ve got taste extra special, and the spare fuses we took from the ATV’s headlights before we dumped her can go on the Lonely Tree, that’s one of my jobs. At New Pacifica, every family will have a Lonely Tree in their unit on Crashmas, and--”

“Those are parts, not decorations! We’re not decorating any trees, True. Tell Bess to switch onto this channel, wouldya?”

“Dad, this is a good idea! It’s making everyone so happy, and Magus and Morgan keep coming us with all these ideas for games--they‘re on the Songs and Games committee…”

As his daughter babbled on about Baines rigging the compressor to make-- just a little--snow, he found his temper rising. Had they all lost their minds? It was one thing for the children to get swept up in such a crazy idea, but it was entirely something else when the adults were wasting precious time and supplies on such nonsense.

“Bess, True-Girl. I’m not gonna ask you a third time, Sport.”

True huffed and the screen went abruptly black, causing Danziger to blink for a disoriented moment. He flipped the eye piece back violently, knowing better then to look into Bess Martin’s puppy dog eyes when she started to whine about how this would be such a good thing. For the children. Lately, she always involved the children, and it was tearing him up. She’d tell him to let the Edenites have their fun, for True and Uly’s sake. She’d look all sad and…girlie and he’d give in. No way.

Give people enough time, and they’ll figure you out. It seemed Bess and Julia- hell, even Magus- had discovered in recent months that arguing him into the ground didn’t hold a candle to batting their eyelashes and watching him squirm.

Since he’d taken charge of the group, it seemed that he pretty much did the same thing he’d always done. Tough love, forward motion and full stomachs were old hat for him. It was worrying about how everyone was feeling that he’d been largely spared in the early days, before the Ansons.

He didn’t like feeling responsible for making sure Julia got some sleep, for calming Morgan down or keeping Uly distracted. He’d been a good father to True, but that didn’t mean he wanted 12 more children. And another kid. What Uly needed was the one thing Danziger had ever taken away from him..

He’d find a way to get her back.

He doubted if Eden Advance even knew what kind of a toll a celebration like this would have on a child who’d spent exactly one hundred and four days without his mother. Hell, were any of them even aware of what caliber of holiday celebrations Ulysses must have grown accustomed to growing up as heir to the Adair dynasty?

Furious, he stomped on angrily to nowhere, refusing to fall victim to Bess’ feminine wiles this time around. Fiercely hitching his pack, Danziger came perilously close to knocking the Gear clean off his head. He shifted to catch it, nearly pitching straight forward as the ground at the toes of his boots began to dissolve beneath his feet.

Falling backward to keep from falling down, Danziger found himself perched on the lip of what appeared to be a very dark, very smelly underground cavern. Definitely a Grendler warren.

“John Danziger, I don’t want to hear one word out of your mouth. We’re having Crashmas and that’s it. We voted. That’s final. You know the rules.”

Bess‘ voice rang in his ear without warning, and as he tried to catch his breath after his near tumble, the last thing the mechanic expected was a dressing down. Scooting back from the widened crevice, Danziger found it impossible to hold his tongue.

“I don’t seem to recall being part of this vote, Mrs. Martin, “ he slipped the dig in pointedly, using the bureaucrat’s surname as an epithet He remembered too late, with chagrin, that he'd always lacked the full measure of his intimidation over Gear. Especially sitting on his ass in the dust.

“And I don’t think the voting system applies to blowing all our rations on a party when were stranded in the middle of the shankin’ desert!” he continued forcefully.

Bess was angry, but Danziger was angrier. He no longer cared if anyone was unhappy. He just wanted to be damn sure they all stayed alive.

“I’m not blowing the rations, Danziger. I wouldn’t do anything so rash! And the decorations are all temporary, they can all be put back in their place.”

“It’s not that simple Bess! Half rations doesn’t make a holiday meal and you know it. What are you trying to pull?” He didn’t give her a chance to reply. “All those bulbs you’ve got my daughter stickin’ in that poor tree only need a strong gust of wind to shatter, and those are parts we cannot afford to lose!”

He edged towards the perimeter of the pit, trying to make anything out in the darkness. His eyes felt snow blind from the sun’s reflection on the ocean of sand.

“And why the hell is Baines using the water rations for snow? What does Yale have to say about this?” Taking a deep breath, he tried to get control of his anger. When he spoke again it was in a gentler tone.

“Have you even thought about the effect this could have on Uly? How he’ll feel celebrating without his--”

“It was Uly’s idea, Danziger. It was Uly’s idea to celebrate this date and his health and our survival on this planet.“ She audibly sighed in Danziger’s ear, and he could already feel the walls of his resolve slipping.

Fishing out his Luma Light in the hopes seeing clear to the bottom of the cave, he braced himself again for the onslaught of Bess’ charm. Once again her answer surprised him.

“He wants Morgan to help him write a carol for his mother, a song for people to sing when we reach New Pacifica that tells about how her strength and…sacrifices made the colony possible. I haven’t seem him this excited in months, Danziger. He doesn’t want to miss her anymore, he wants to celebrate her.” She sighed again, and the anger in her voice was back. “And we’re doing this, John! We’re doing it, and you’re going to be back here at camp in three days and you’re gonna celebrate Crashmas with us, and that’s it.”

“Well, I’ll try to make it back in time then.” He grumbled sourly, lying on his chest to lower the flashlight into the cave.

“Trying has nothing to do with it, Danziger. I’ll see you in three days.”

“Yeah, listen Bess, I just found a--”

“Better get walking Danziger.” She added brightly before ending the transmission.

Droolie the Grendler

Had a kindly, bumpy gait

When he came to play

He brought toys to trade

All the kids could hardly wait…

--The Martin Classic Crashmas Carols Library


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Help me, Bess! I need you to be my muse, here!” Morgan threw his arms in the air frantically before continuing to fan the data pad back and forth in front of his face. He reminded Bess of the figure in the photo that she knew still hung on her father‘s wall. Great Grandmother Klempt, with her hair in ribbons and piles of crinoline at her feet, frilly fan in hand. It just figured that she’d leave Earth for the Stations and find herself married to a Southern Belle.
“Morgan, honey, maybe you shouldn’t do that particular song.” Bess didn’t look up from her sewing. She was attempting to use the rest of the tattered solar blanket to make a cape for Uly’s Crashmas character of the Terrian Prince. “It’s kind of annoying, anyway…” she added under her breath. She didn’t want to upset her husband, but there was only so much holiday music a person could take.

Morgan had been taking his job of “Crashmas Celebration Liaison to the Arts” very seriously, and while Bess found it endearing, her chat with Danziger the day before had soured her Crashmas spirit, just a bit.

As much as she was furious with John for his constant morbid pragmatism, he certainly did have a very good point about things getting carried away. She’d already found herself using more rations than she'd originally planned, and it seemed that the entire camp had found themselves caught up in Crashmas Fever. It was all Eden Advance had talked about for days, and even though they really didn’t have anything else to do, per se, she was sure there were more important things they could be doing.

“I have to do this carol, Bess, it’s a Christmas--”

“Crashmas, Morgan! Two very different holi--”

“Crashmas Staple! I have to make sure I get all the staples in. And I want to make sure that I get everything we‘ve encountered covered, every evil little creature and psychopathic, metal masked freak and penal colonist--” Bess cut him off with a cluck of her tongue.

“Morgan, this is supposed to be a positive celebration! Maybe you could refrain from using the word evil in the actual songs--”

“They’re not just songs! They’re carols! This is the oral history of Eden Advance at it’s finest, to be passed down through the generations! Don’t you see, Bess? I am single handedly responsible for creating the myth structure of an entire planet! Now just give me a word that rhymes with Koba!“

Bess plopped the unruly pile of metallic fabric into her lap with a huff. She glared unrelentingly at her husband in stony silence until he finally took the cue to calm himself down.

“I do not know a word that rhymes with Koba, Morgan.” She stated calmly. Her husband rolled his eyes dramatically, his wispy hair sweeping left and right with every pass of the pad. “I don’t think there is a word that rhymes with Koba, and even though I appreciate that you want to get your--”

“Carols!”

“-- exactly right, honey, I’m still not quite sure why you’re insisting on using the tunes from Christmas songs.” Morgan raised a finger. “Carols! They’re two different holidays is all.”

As he rose from his stool, Bess couldn’t help but notice the familiar lofty gleam in her husband's eyes. Back on the stations, it was reserved solely for talk of moving to the Luxury Level, or for those rare times he actually got to use the phrase “Official Government Business” on someone other than herself.

“These carols are iconic, Bess. Everyone knows the tunes, they can’t help but know them with the way they were piped in through the Station Speakers! It makes sense to use them so that we can all join in! Plus, Bess, you know I work much better in a…verbal arena. My musical skills are--”

“Morgan, sweetie, you’re an excellent drummer! I’m sure you could come up with a whole set of--”

“There’s a reason I’m a drummer, Bess. Does the phrase “tone deaf as an absolute vacuum” ring any bells? I believe that was Danziger’s precise--”

“It just feels to me like these carols are…taken, Morgan.” She couldn’t help but add, “By another holiday. Which is nothing like this one.”

“I know, Bess. I know, I know! Just look at it as a way of…joining traditions! People in New Pacifica will be singing these songs with their families long after we’re back on the Stations eating Christmas cookies, they have to be easily accessible!” He paused for a moment, looking suddenly bereft. “Oh, remember those cookies with the little green--”

“How about ‘Kyle the friendly Koba had a very deadly claw?’” Bess suggested helpfully, picking up her sewing to close the subject before Morgan could get any further down the slippery slope of baked goods.

Morgan shot up stiffly, frozen for a moment before nodding more and more enthusiastically. Snapping his fingers for inspiration he slowly began to speak.

“And if…he ever….shoots you, it’ll be…four days until you THAW-- BESS YOU ARE BRILLIANT!” Finishing in a rush, he swept Bess to her feet and planted a kiss on her lips. She chuckled, the last vestiges of Danziger’s pessimism finally floating away.

Deepening her husband’s embrace, Bess felt in her heart that this celebration was exactly what everyone needed. If Crashmas could turn her fussy husband into a hard working, muse-worthy poet laureate, then mushy old John Danziger didn’t even stand a chance.

He had just better make it back on time, or Bess was going to personally introduce him to Kyle the friendly Koba.

You’re a vile one, Mr. Z.E.D..

You’re a meany, weenie fright!

Your mouth is full of microchips

Your pants are way too tight.

Mr. Z.E.D.


The three words that best describe you are as follows,

and I quote:

“Zero. Emotional. Defects.”

--The Martin Classic Crashmas Carols Library

Danziger, John

Solo Advance Scout #42

Day 5

If there’s one thing worse than trekkin’ across a burning desert, haulin’ a crate the size of an ATV behind you like a pack mule, it’s doin’ just that with Jingle Bells stuck in your head. True’s been buzzin’ my gear every five minutes, it seems, with another brilliant piece of Crashmas joy that I don’t quite have the heart to ignore.

Doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.


She tells me Walman and Magus have been writin’ a pageant that pretty much everyone at camp is dead-set refusin’ to be in. I don’t know what’s more frightenin’; the thought of Drone Drama or the fact that they’ve all pretty much given up on the ‘Rail. I know I was hard on ‘em, insisting that they were wastin’ their time where there was nothing to be done, but part of me was proud of them for tryin.’

With all these lights and decorations they've been talkin’ about, it’ll be wonder if the ’Rover’s got any juice at all by the time I get back. I just hope no one’s decided to hang the solar panels as ornaments, cause they were a bitch to repair after the I trashed ’em the last time. Or rather, the Evil Terrian trashed ‘em.

Whichever.

Trouble is, no one seems to realize that everythin’s on its last leg. The converter takes three times as long to reach capacity than when we got here, the Nav-Dash on the Transrover is a few too many letters short of the alphabet, and we’re switchin’ fuses between the medical equipment like old fashioned light bulbs. We’ll be runnin’ out of stuff sooner rather than later, and there’ll be no way of replacin’ it. I just wish they’d take more care, is all. Save me a few gray hairs.

Uly’s been buzzin’ me just about as much as True, and he’s so proud to be helping Yale to create all the characters of Crashmas. The Edenites are all being singled out for their special traits, and there’s somethin' nice about the fallen heroes along the way, Eben, O’Neill, the Ansons… You’re there too, Adair, only you’ve got a more important part. I don’t wanna spoil it for ya.

Next year you can hear it for yourself.

“Ulysses the Crashmas Prince to Danziger the Edenite Hercules, come in, Danz--”

“That’s enough of that, Uly.”

Danziger once again found himself fighting to stay calm. The constant holiday chatter, however adorable, was tugging at his last nerve, and the strain of the crate on his back was about all he could take at the moment.

The container must weight more than him, he figured. At least as much as Walman had when he’d broken his ankle in that sinkhole and Danziger had carried him back to camp. And he couldn’t get it open, that much had been obvious as soon as he’d gotten it into the light. All six panels had been soldered shut, and it would take a laser to get them apart.

Still, the Metallic ID read EA #1657, so he figured it had to be something they could use. Hell, it might even actually be an ATV. If it was and he’d lugged the thing fifty miles, he might never hear the end of it from Alonzo. Who wasn’t Alonzo anymore, apparently, but the Valiant Sleep Jumper Messenger.

Like Flyboy’s ego needed that.

Danziger snorted, tugging extra hard on his Bio-Cord rig in deference to show just how inappropriate all this holiday business was.

“John, you won’t believe it! Morgan wrote a song about how Mom pulled that worm bullet right out of your guts!”

Uly hadn’t spoken so many words together in such along time that Danziger had been getting most of the real Crashmas information from him. It was so damn nice just to hear him going on about something that Danziger couldn’t bear to cut the kid short. True was another story, altogether.

He’d made it abundantly clear after the seventh chorus of ‘Grendler yells, Grendler yells, wailing all night long…’ she was hereby restricted to a strict 'two carol a day' limit. She was insistent that he learn every song so he wouldn’t be behind when he returned, and since he hadn’t exactly bothered to tell anyone at camp about his findings, he was having trouble imagining that he’d be any where close to camp in two days.

He’d been traveling as fast as he could with the cumbersome crate, but the heat hadn’t let up any and he was pretty much burned out.

There was no way Danziger was going to make it home for Crashmas.

By the time he’d finally managed to get Yale on Gear to relay his discovery of the warren and the subsequent cargo, he’d pretty much decided that he’d be better off not telling the tutor at all. During his search for the cyborg, Julia and her various cohorts had all but made it clear that Danziger was currently viewed as an enemy to the Crashmas campaign. Most of his attempted rationale had fallen on deaf ears.

If he told Yale about the crate, or even True, they would see it as just another ploy to get out of the festivities. He didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. He’d get back when he got back, and when they saw what he’d found, they’d either forgive him or not.

The last thing he wanted was the group using his discovery as another excuse to celebrate, and God help him if this container held anything useful in mounting this cockamamie party of theirs. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that he wouldn’t be back in time; at least they’d have something left when all the dust from this Crashmas settled.

“There’s a song about my guts for Crashmas? What’s next, Ancient Terrian Roasting Over An Open Fire?” Danziger asked, hoping he was wrong.

“That‘s a good, one! Oh Man, he forgot the Terrian Spirit, I gotta go tell hi--”

“Hey Uly, can you do me a favor, buddy?” He asked, coughing on a gust of sand.

“Sure thing!” The boy perked up so much that Danziger swung the eyepiece into position, eager to see the expression on his face. He let the rope harness fall and slumped against the crate for a breather, Uly’s bouncing face swimming into focus. The kid was damn near bubbly.

“Can you please not remind Morgan of the Ancient Terrian? I just think there are some things about a man that should be kept private. And seein’ as he’s already written a song about my insides, I’d like to leave it at that.”

“Okay.” He looked crestfallen, but only for a moment. “But the bullet song is great, John, you’re gonna love it! Don't worry, True will teach it to you before you get back!”

Danziger gritted his teeth, knowing full well his little task master would be 'round to put him through his paces before long. Dropping his head back tiredly onto the hot metal of the crate, he though again about how he'd been so worried about this half-baked party disappointing Uly. Now it seemed his absence would be the real let down.

Break time was over.

“I'm sure she will, Sport. Only, promise me it has less verses than Grendler Yells, okay?”

Uly chortled, causing a swell of laughter to rise past Danziger’s lips. For the first time in long while, Uly was himself again. His mom would be so proud.

“Oh yeah, it’s only got two or three,” the boy assured him.

“Only Three. Perfect,” Danziger panted.

“Is it really hot where you are? Let me see what you see!” Uly asked excitedly, and with another chuckle Danziger adjusted the lens so it was facing in the direction he was headed.

“Take a look at that, huh? A whole lotta nothin’.”

“Whoa…it’s so bright! You’re way far away from camp, huh? Aren’t you scared out there all by yourself?” Uly’s question was asked with awe and admiration, and. Danziger flipped him back into view, smiling reassuringly.

He did his best not to think about the Lonely Tree, which had appeared in his dreams the night before, growing not in the desert but on a gentle slope beside a forgotten Venus Class Airship.

“It’s not so bad, really. I’ve got my compass and I know where I am. I get to talk to you two knuckle brains anytime I want. And I don’t have to listen to Morgan’s songs, for another thing--”

“We have to call them carols, John.” The little boys somber tone was back. “He gets very upset if we don’t call them carols.”

Biting his lip and holding his tongue, Danziger opted for the high road.

“Well, we wouldn’t want to upset Morgan, now would we, Sport?”

“That’s his sarcastic voice, Uly.” True suddenly broke into the channel, Uly’s face shrinking to accommodate her. “Hi, Dad. I'm a princess.”

“Well, I‘ve been sayin‘ that for years, True-Girl.” He smiled with a grunt, the crate catching on the uneven ground.

“I mean in the Crashmas story, Devon is the Queen and you’re the King--”

“True, I specifically asked you two before to please leave me out of this--”

“And we already told you, Daddy, that you can’t leave yourself out of something that already happened!” She protested exasperatedly.

“She’s kind of right, John.” Uly supplied helpfully. “This isn’t some pretend story, it’s what really happened.”

Desperate for the tranquility of radio silence, Danziger wasn’t sure what else he could say at this point that would speed either child along.

“And exactly when did I become the King of G889?” He scoffed, endlessly trudging. “Musta left my crown back at the Bio-Dome, cause I can’t seem to fi--”

“When you came down into the caves to save me, Mr. Danziger.” Uly supplied bluntly, slipping up with the first name basis that John had been so adamant about. “The Terrians think of you the same way they think of my mom. You guys both speak for our group, and Alonzo is your Messenger. Yale is the Crashmas Record Keeper and he says that the equivalent humanoid socio-um…”

“Socio-political archetypal constructs, Uly. He said it seven times.” True informed him haughtily.

“I would have gotten it, True!” Uly countered, suddenly shouting it that way that only children could.

“No squawkin’ in my ear, you two.” Danziger warned tiredly.

“Yale says, to the Terrians, you and Devon you are the King and the Queen, Dad. And so I‘m a princess. That‘s what that means.”

“Okay. Got it.” The mechanic sighed. This whole thing was like a nightmare.

“I’m serious, Daddy. I don’t like your tone.” Danziger bit back the smile forming on his face. His daughter might be growing up to be a beautiful, independent woman, but she was a Danziger through and through. And she'd been spending way too much time with her old man. Uly dropped out of frame, and when he next spoke his hitching voice made it clear he was on the move.

“I gotta go, John, Morgan wants to help me with my carol for mom!”

“Okay, you go on ahead, Sport. Write her a good one, okay?”

“It’s gonna be the best one, Morgan even said!” He responded giddily, before switching off his gear brusquely.

“He won’t let anyone hear it until it’s done.” True moped loudly. “And I’ll bet it’s not the best song, just cause--”

“True, we talked about this. You know it’s important that we make Uly feel a little special sometimes.” In reality, his daughter had been a source of tireless support for the boy, but sometimes it was hard for her to see the forest through the trees. Even when there weren’t any trees.

“Hey, you wanna check out my view? Uly couldn’t believe how bright is was out here.”

“No thanks, Dad. You’ve seen one desert you’ve seen ‘em all.”

“I’d have to agree with you there, True-Girl.” He sighed, noting the coral flush in the sky, signaling dusk. “I miss you, Sweetheart. I’m gonna be home as soon as I can. You know that, right?” He spoke softly, wishing for all the world he had his cot and his pillow and his daughter snoring beside him.

“I miss you, too, Dad. It’s too quiet in the tent without you moanin’ and groanin’ all the time.” She teased, blowing him an electronic kiss with a giggle.

“Don’t let me keep you, Angel. If there’s some planning’ or somethin’ that you need to do, then I’ll be--”

“Nice try, Dad.” She interrupted dryly. “I get to teach you one more carol today and you know it.”

“If I keep walkin’ round the desert singing like a fool I’m gonna start attracting predators, True-Girl.”

“Please, Dad. We both know you’re the only fool out there, and you haveta learn this one! It’s the real best one, but I won’t tell Uly.” She reassured him quickly.

Marching into the setting sun, Danziger decided to push himself just a little bit father.

“One more carol and then it’s time to say goodnight, okay?” He bargained.

“Okay, deal.” His daughter quickly accepted the conditions, clearing her throat dramatically. “Okay, Dad, this one’s called “Oh Come Out, Ye Worm Bullet.”

“Great.”

Away in an escape pod, no time to renege!

Our Messenger Pilot has broken his leg.

The Doctor, fair Julia

Has proven her worth

By healing his wounds,

On our shiny, new Earth.

--The Martin Classic Crashmas Carols Library


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey, True! Come look at this, you’re never going to believe it!” Julia turned back to her sample with a gleeful smile pasted on her face. She’d been doing a lot of that lately, it seemed, with every crooked light and colorful scrap of fabric that was rapidly adorning every surface in camp.
So John Danziger was worried. Some things were as constant as the day was long with that man. In truth, it would be ridiculous to deny that she was guilty of the same crime, but if he could only see the positive change in the group’s morale, hear the Edenites humming Morgan's asinine songs under their breath as they worked, she was sure he’d come around to worrying a little less, too.

Trouble was, he was off on his own in the middle of nowhere, shivering on his bed roll, instead of back with the group where he belonged.

She’d gotten to know Danziger quite well in the months she’d been shoddily filling in as a sometime co-leader, and the more she'd learned, the more impressed she had become. He was an incredible father to True and the perfect support system for Uly. And for all his bellowing, he was incredibly considerate, at the oddest times, and in ways that had probably never even crossed Alonzo’s mind. Julia was as certain as always that Alonzo was The One, but a little part of her had become smitten with John.

Even if he was terminally lacking the Crashmas Spirit.

Julia could sense the dread of his imminent arrival amongst her friends, and she knew that they were worried that his disapproval would ruin the special day they had planned. But she knew full well that they were just as excited for his return, because, well…it wouldn’t be Crashmas without Danziger.

True ducked into the Med Tent. Her long braid, festively entwined with a Cameron’s abandoned red shoelace, swung drunkenly as she bounced up and down to keep warm.

“It sure is freezing out there!” She announced dramatically, biting the finger of her glove to remove it. “My dad must be moanin’ and groanin,’ just like always.” With just a hint of a rueful smile, the little girl tossed her coat to the ground and shimmies the rest of the way to Julia’s workstation.

“Wait till you see how neat this is!” Julia whispered excitedly, grateful for the subject change. True Danziger was definitely starting it miss her dad.

“What did you find? Is it a bug, or like, a cool rock or something?” Excitedly peering over the doctor’s shoulder, True scanned for the item in question. All she found was the yucky plants they’d been stuck with for dinner.

“I was running a microbial scan, and I detected something interesting in one of the plants we’ve been eating--”

“Yeah, the ones that taste like pee?”

“True, that’s disgusting.” Julia admonished, laughing nonetheless.

“Well, it’s the truth. What’s funny about the plants?” She asked, muscling her way forward until she could look into the MicroScan. Holding her at bay, Julia mocked offense.

“Stop shoving me, True! You don’t need the MicroScan to see it. Ready?” She asked excitedly, raising a small vial of jewel blue liquid.

“Do it! Do it!” True nearly shouted, bobbing up and down with excitement en lieu of the chill.

Julia tipped the vial until a few drops of the fluid showered on the small, prickly shrub that resembled a cactus covered in seaweed. Despite the dry landscape, this particular species always seemed to ooze moisture, and where the two wet compounds mingled a sudden, turquoise phosphorescence began to spread, catching each vein and soon encompassing the entire plant.

“Wow!” True gasped in amazement, and Julia found herself, once again, grinning like an idiot. “That is the coolest thing I have ever seen!”

“It occurred to me that the secretions of the plant might actually be another life form all together. We’ve seen how the species of this planet display an uncanny form of symbiosis. Who’s to say that two species couldn’t become so dependent on each other for survival that they didn’t actually exist without one another? What you see glowing is actually a strain of bacteria that converts the rays of the sun into moister to sustain the plant. It’s pretty incredible.”

“It looks like a laser show!” The little girl cooed, unable to resist the urge to poke at the iridescent sample. Remarkably, the viscous secretions of the plant continued to glow on her finger as she held it up to her face.

“I separated a sample, and it seems that the alkaline I added is enough to keep the bacteria alive for a few hours after it’s been removed. It glows because it’s reversing the very process that helps sustain the plant in the first place- it’s converting moisture into light. The phosphorescence will fade as it dries, but just imagine all the decorating we can do with glow in the dark paint!” Julia giggled with anticipation.

“This is the best discovery ever, Julia! We are gonna light up this camp so bright on Crashmas Eve that the Terrians are gonna think it’s daytime!” Wrapping an arm around the girl, Julia pulled her closer.

“Okay, c’mere, now you can look in the MicroScan.” As True did as she was told, the doctor described the distinguishing features of her specimen, and how she’d come to suspect the symbiotic relationship in the first place. Julia was careful to use words True could understand, but not to sound as though she was dumbing the whole thing down, which she knew her Junior Lab Assistant abhorred.

“They look just like all the other plant thingies we’ve found, Julia.” True sighed finally, squinting one eye shut, then the other. “How the heck can you tell any of ‘em apart? You must be the smartest person in the universe.”

“Well, that’s my job, True. I’ll bet you could tell me the name of every part in the Transrover, and you’re only eleven! Maybe you’re the smartest person in the world,” she suggested seriously. Looking up from the scope True beamed, but shook her head to dismiss such an idea..

“Naah. My dad is much smarter than me.” She reminded Julia, simultaneously reminding herself that she was miserable without him. The doctor watched as a curious series of expressions crossed the young girl’s face. Apparently she was coming to some sort of conclusion.

“What’s up, True? What are you thinking abo--”

“I need a gift for my dad,” She disclosed in a stage-whisper, leaning in furtively. Julia took a moment to digest the strange non sequitur and, before she could decide the best way to respond, True spoke again.

“I know Yale said that the Spirit of Crashmas has nothing to do with the ‘amputated tradition of--”

“I think you might mean antiquated--”

“That’s what I said.” True continued, dismissing Julia’s interruption with annoyance. “I know Crashmas has nothing to do with gifts, and it’s a time for thanks, and blah blah blah, and I know he made ‘no gift giving’ an official Crashmas rule, but I’ve been thinking about stuff. I think my dad might really need a present.”

Between her simple request and the heartfelt gleam in the her eyes, Julia had no idea how to respond to True's request.

“He does, huh?” The doctor asked softly, realizing that True would never ask for such a thing lightly. The two women had grown closer since she'd begun helping out around the Med Tent, but Julia had never been taken into the little girl’s confidence before. The doctor just hoped she could help to ease True's mind.

“Where we lived back on the Stations, there weren’t really any decorations or presents or anything, cause no one had any money for all that stupid stuff,” She began, earnestly giving Julia the facts with familiar bluntness.

Despite the fact that she had been decorating camp for two days straight, Julia could still sense the slightest trace of resentment for the practice that had been ingrained in True Danziger by years of wanting. The little girl shook it off and continued.

“I never liked Christmas. Not cause I could see all the cool toys the other kids got for presents, but cause it made my dad so mad. He never smiled at any of the stuff that’s supposed to make you smile at Christmas, and he was always tired and short-staffed cause the upper levels would need crew members to work their parties and build their decorations. It was an easy way for Drones to make a quick buck.”

Julia shuddered, she herself having been to several events where she’d been waited on hand and foot by Immigrant Workers. Would she have forgotten a man like John Danziger, if he’d ever crossed her line of vision?

“My dad never worked for ‘em," True continued, as though she could hear Julia's thoughts. "Said he’d rather get his hand caught in an unmanned disposal chute then pour champagne for the Blue Bloods.” The doctor winced again, this time at Danziger’s parental tact, “but Dad told me my mom went up to work one year when times were tough, and she stole a whole tub of real cashew nuts and three bottles of wine, and they had the best Christmas ever!”

The delight in True’s voice made it very clear what a luxury such simple items were down in the Quadrant, and Julia lost herself in the image of John, younger and carefree, reveling in such an indulgence. She could almost see him drinking purloined Merlot straight from the bottle and holding the love of his life in his arms.

Heller family holidays on the stations had been very different. All the halls were decked, the Synth-Tree festooned,her parents hopping from one important soiree to the next. Not an impersonal, functional gift left on the list, sure, but no one to really enjoy them with, either. No sense of history or tradition. She would have traded every present she’d ever received to spend a holiday with a true family, holding loved ones near and sharing the spirit together, even if it was as simple as getting cashew crumbs in the sheets.

She could hardly wait for Crashmas.

“Don’t worry, I know stealing is wrong, but that’s not the important part of the story, anyway. See, my dad always says “the Danzigers don’t do Christmas,” and when I was a kid I would get annoyed because I didn’t think it was fair. I wanted presents, and I wanted me and my dad to sing songs and eat candy, and that made him crankier than ever! I was just bein’ spoiled.” True denounced her infantile behavior with obvious distain, though Julia didn’t understand how a child with a life like hers could ever consider herself ungrateful.

“When I got older I understood that he couldn’t afford to buy me any presents, and then I felt terrible. Cause I didn’t want the presents in the first place, I just wanted Dad to laugh at Christmas, like that time with the stolen wine. I thought maybe Crashmas would be different, since it’s a different holiday and stuff, but he’s still grumpy. I guess I just thought maybe if I got him a present to surprise him, like Mom did, he would be as happy as he was that year. ” True sighed with an air of defeat. “Now that I say it out loud, it sounds kinda stupid, doesn’t it?”

Julia shook her head adamantly, thinking nothing of the sort, though she suspected Danziger’s lack of holiday cheer had more to do with Eleanor Moor than it did with stolen treats. Christmas probably had never been the same for him without her, and the passing year, with nothing to show for it, must have cut him deeper than the last. It was just like Danziger to ignore the holiday all together, unaware of how his suffering would appear to a child who’d never experienced such a loss. Julia suspected Charles Dickens was rolling in his grave.

“You know, True, your father’s been working hard to make sure everyone in camp is safe and cared for, and I think a little gift might be just the way to show him that we appreciate everything he does for us. And I think, “ she tugged the girl’s braid with affection, “that if we put our heads together, we can come up with something even better than boring old snacks. Something that will leave him no choice but to surrender to the Crashmas Spirit!”

True was right, Crashmas should be different, but the group’s dire straits had all but consumed their mechanic. Danziger needed to be reminded of everything he had, the very purpose of their celebration, and if his daughter thought a little surprise would help jog his memory then it was worth a try.

A hint of a smile curled at the girl’s cheek, and she dared to venture further.

“Really? So you’ll help me? Even though it’s against the rules?” She leapt from her seat, bouncing again.

“Well, since it seems that breaking the rules is always part of surprising your dad.” Julia winked, prompting a snort from True.

“Well, no one breaks them as much as he does, anyhow.” She conceded. “Let’s see...it should be something he needs, something useful--”

“Julia, we need you to come out here, please!”

Suddenly Bess called from outside the tent, only inches from the door. She didn’t enter, and her sing-songy voice didn’t quite match what she had to say next. “I think Alonzo might have broken his leg!”

“What?” The doctor shouted in response, quickly rising from her stool. "Again?" She grabbed her Diaglove from the table.

“What did he do this time?” True asked bluntly as she grabbed her coat by one sleeve and quickly followed Julia into the frigid dusk.

Bess was no where to be found.

Quickly surveying the camp, Julia could see a cluster of Edenites huddled by what appeared to be a giant archway, constructed from what could only be the support poles of one of the spare tents. It was draped with fabric, a mish mash of different patterns all tied ornately into bows, marking the entrance to the Crashmas festivities.

“When did that go up?” She asked her little companion absently as they both hurried to cross the distance.

“A little while ago. Bess and Denner have been tying bows all afternoon. Isn’t it pretty?” She asked excitedly, apparently unfazed by the possibility that Alonzo could be injured.

Arriving at the makeshift gate, Julia didn’t see any signs of panic amongst the crew. Walman and Magus were chuckling, securing the 10 foot tall structure with a series of BioCords, and there was Bess, cuddled up to her husband to ward off the chill while she pointed out certain pieces of fabric with nostalgic delight . Mazatl was tinkering with something, but the bulk of his attention was focused on Uly, who was practically running in circles while singing “Oh Little Town of New Pacifica.”

She didn’t see Alonzo anywhere.

“You look a little cold, Doc. Maybe I should warm you up.” Coming up from behind, the pilot wrapped his arms around her, pressing his face to her hair.

“What’s going on, Lonz? Bess said you hurt yourself, is everything okay?” Unable to turn around with his arms coiled so tightly around her mid-section, Julia strained to catch a glimpse of his face.

“Naah, everything’s fine. I just needed a ploy to get you right in this spot.” He chuckled, the vibrations in his chest warming her. “You’re shivering, Babe.” He laughed, turning her to face him and rubbing his hands over the thin fabric covering her arms.

“Well, I didn’t stop for my coat, seeing as I was led to believe there was a crisis.” Julia informed him sarcastically. Zipping her coat loudly, True scoffed.

“I knew they were making it up! Bess sounded too happy. Plus, there’s no way you’d be stupid enough to break your leg three times.” With these parting words of wisdom, she shook her head and ran off to join Uly.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, True.” Alonzo called after her, shaking his head with laughter.

“I would have suspected something myself, but you do have a pretty impressive history of femoral injury.”

Teasing Lonz had always been one of Julia’s secret joys, and he growled with playful anger, just as always. It gave way to giggles as he attempted to maneuver the woman in his arms until he had her directly under the archway.

“What are you doing?” Julia asked, bewildered, still firmly trapped and along for the ride.

“I wanna show you something, Doc. Look at that.” He whispered, pointing straight up with a devilish grin.

Julia looked up to discover what looked like a rather large tumbleweed, suspended from the center of the trellis by a shiny silver bow. They’d been encountering these plants throughout the arid regions of the planet, and while it looked like a bundle of sticks and underbrush, she’d been able to ascertain that it was actually a living form of flora, despite it’s unsightly appearance.

This whole thing was just getting odder and odder, and Julia hated feeling confused.

“How did that get up there?” She questioned, and the pilot laughed again, taking her face in his hands.

“We put it there, Jules. It’s an old Earth tradition that Bess thought we should revive.” He leaned into her, attempting a kiss, but he pulled away distractedly to study the incongruous decoration.

“How strange! It looks like--”

“Shh. I know what it looks like. It’s not plant that matters, it’s the tradition that comes along with it.”

“And what would that be?” Julia asked exasperatedly, finally meeting his eyes. The heated twinkle she saw there left her with no choice but to indulge him, whatever he may be up to.

“We’re calling it Thistletoe," he whispered, "And when two people find themselves standing underneath it, they’re supposed to kiss.” With a wink, he leaned in again.

This time his lips wouldn’t take no for an answer.

In the winter we will find a campsite

Set up tents and learn to call it home,

And when it snows and we’re surrounded in white

I bet that we’ll all miss the Biodome.

Dinner rations

We’ll acquire

As we meet ‘round the fire

To face unafraid, the route to be laid

Trekking on to New Pacifica.

--The Martin Classic Crashmas Carols Library

Danziger, John

Solo Advance Scout #42

Day 6

The thing about the desert is it’s too shankin’ quiet. Back at camp, all I ever wanted was some peace and quiet to hear myself think. Hell, I used to lie under the ‘Rail sometimes with nuthin’ to fix, just so everyone would leave me alone.

'Specially you.

Now that’s pretty much all I’ve got. Quiet. And a crate that seems to get heavier every time I put one foot in front of the other. I guess it really is possible to get too much of a good thing. Never thought I’d have to worry about that before. Figures.

It’s worst at night. I was startin’ to feel like Martin, jumping at every little rustle and bump in the night, but travelin’ straight through helps. I know you’d kill me for doing something so dangerous, but as far as I can see I’m the only livin’ thing out here, and it’s much cooler travelin' after the sun has set. Besides, my stupid decisions don’t seem so foolish with out you to remind me that I’m a moron.

Too damn much of a good thing, Adair.

So draggin’ this cargo back to camp by myself is the latest in a long line of piss poor decisions I’ve made since settin’ foot on this rock. I figure it falls somewhere between leavin’ a camp where they’d rather have parties than eat next week and that time we went looking’ for water, when I kept refillin’ your canteen with mine when you weren’t lookin’. Never told you about that, but I guess I’m tellin’ you now. As always, Stupid lives to tell the tale.

Should be me, in that CryoSleep tube. Just like it should be me up there in that Neuro Support Unit. Lived my whole life bein’ expendable.

But here I am, trudgin’ away. Makin’ bonehead decisions.

I keep remindin’ myself not to push to hard, I’m eatin’ and sleepin’ as best I can, but there’s some sick and twisted part of me that actually thinks he can make it back to base camp in time for this damn holiday. I have to remind myself that I don’t really want to; that the last thing I need right now is some silly distraction. Luckily, my back’s been doing plenty of complainin’ that I’m not as young as I used to be. Keeps me from thinkin’ about that kid of yours, and how I promised him I’d make it back in time.

I don’t know how they’re doin’ it, to tell the truth. I know I’m too much of a cynic. I don’t pride myself on that, but I figure Eden Advance needs someone lookin’ for problems before they happen. I was countin’ on Julia to keep everyone under control while I was gone, but even she’s head over heels for this Crashmas nonsense! I guess there’s no talkin’ sense into any of ’em.

Tell me how you did it, Adair. How you could always smile and have such high hopes for our future on this planet? How you brought out the best in every member of the group, even Martin? Tell me why you had such faith that I could do this in your stead.

A distant howl far to the south startled Danziger out of his reverie, and he stopped short, holding his breath, listening for any hint that the creature was coming closer. There was nothing, only the low moaning of the wind as it whipped across the barren landscape.

Shrugging against the cold and adjusting the straps of his makeshift harness, and strode forward again, the Luma Light hanging from his belt casting drunken shadows as it bobbed against his hip. He couldn’t be sure why the dark was bothering him so much, whether he was going soft or if it was the fact that-- forty miles to the east-- his daughter and his friends where wrapped in the soft glow of the firelight, warm and unafraid.

Raising a hand to his temple, he turned on his Gear, the echo of his own voice unsettling in the stillness.

“You still awake, True-Girl?” He asked the void of darkness, his self-consciousness heightened.

“Am I gonna get in trouble if I say yes?” She responded in a near whisper. Just as Danziger had suspected, since the sun had set he’d managed to lose track of time. Flipping open his compass, he could see that it was definitely past her bed time.

“Naah. It’s not like we’re packin’ up camp first thing in the mornin.’ Can’t sleep, huh?” He rubbed his eyes, physically exhausted despite the apprehension coursing through his system. It was just the wind. He was alone and everyone back at camp, including his insomniac daughter, was nestled all snug in their beds.

“Not really. It’s too quiet in here, Daddy. It’s making me feel lonely.” She admitted in a small voice.

“Why don’t you move your bunk in with Yale and Uly, Sweetheart?” He asked gently, his heart weighed down with an anchor of guilt over leaving his daughter alone for so long.

He’d tried to insist that she do so anyway, not liking the idea of her sleeping without someone to watch over her, but True had put up such a fight he’d finally conceded; with Yale and Bess’ assurance that they would make sure she kept the bunk in order and didn’t spend all night playing in VR. He’d also cornered each and every crew member and extracted solemn vows all around that whomever was on night watch would peek into the Danziger tent every hour during rounds.

With so much talk of Eden Advance’s godforsaken Crashmas celebration, he realized it had also been nearly a year since Gaal has made a vie for his daughters affections. So much had changed since those first few harried weeks planet side, and yet they still plagued his thoughts every second he was away. The slightest wisp of those memories-- True spouting Gaal’s lies as though they were gospel truth, sneaking off from under his nose, falling from a galloping horse-- still chilled him to the bone.

As if night in the desert wasn’t already cold enough.

“Dad, I told you, I’m not a baby. Besides, Uly mumbles so loud in his sleep he’s almost as annoying as when he’s awake.”

Danziger snorted. His daughter was in one of her moods.

“Besides, I’m just not sleepy. And when I am, I’ll sleep like a baby without you snoring.”

Coughing on a gust of grit, John took up arms for the unending battle waging between father and daughter. Since the very first night they’d landed on G889, the Danzigers had been sparring over whether or not he snored. It had become an argument fought so hard, and so often, that the rest of Eden Advance had begun to take sides. He was pretty damn sure True was winning.

“I do not snore, True-Girl! How do you know it’s not you snorin’ anyhow?”

In Danziger’s ear, the affronted snort was so loud it made his nose itch.

“Um, when I wake up it doesn‘t stop, Dad! And if you’re not awake, and I am, then it’s clearly you!”

Usually when his daughter picked this particular quarrel, Danziger knew it was because she was mad about something else he’d done to upset her. He figured he’d better just play along like he always did, and she’d come ’round to what the real problem was before long. Besides, he was the first to admit that the “Ways Daddy Pisses Me Off” list was probably a mile long, lately.

“Could be snorin’ from another tent. Lonz is a fog horn--”

“It was you!”

“Could be that Koba of yours, he looks like a snor--”

“Daddy, it wasn’t Kyle, it was YOU!! Why are you always so stubborn!”

Danziger pursed his lips, growling a bit at True’s livid outburst. He didn’t mind if she was upset, especially if he was to blame, but he didn’t like her tone one bit. They should be able to talk about this just like they did everything else.

“Sweetheart, what is it?” He asked gently, resisting the urge to flip his vid piece into place. He just couldn’t stand to see her cry, not when he was too far away to wipe her cheek, and he could hear the tremor of tears beneath her anger.

“I wish it was tomorrow and that you were here. Even if you do snore, you’ve been gone for too long, Daddy.”

Danziger bit his lip, widening each stride, taking less time to recover after each pull of the rope. He felt like a criminal letting his daughter go on believing that he’d be home on time, so the physical labor seemed fitting, somehow. He was getting closer, at least. He only had about thirty-five clicks to go, but the distance seemed insurmountable when he suddenly felt so alone.

“I know, Baby. I miss you, too. I promise when I get back, no more solo scouts, okay? I’ll stay put, Honest Aces. And I’ll get us back on the road, too, I swear. I’ll think of somethin.’” He cleared his throat, desperate for his words to be true. “I’ll figure it out.”

True seemed to soften, sensing her father’s turmoil. Danziger always hoped, but rarely assumed, that she understood why he left her behind at times like this. The reasons he abandoned her to sit and worry, while he starved to death or froze to death or got a shankin’ worm bullet stuck in his gut. He knew it wasn’t right, but sometimes it had to be done. It wasn’t fair to the kids by a long shot, though. Especially when he was currently the only…parent.

“I know you will, Dad. You’re the smartest person in the world.” Danziger smiled whistfully at his daughter’s candor. God, he loved her. “And I don’t mean to be grouchy, but I just wish you were back here, and then I could sleep because the next day would be Crashmas. It won't be Crashmas without you, Daddy.”

Sighing in defeat, Danziger flipped his vid piece into position, his puffs of breath in the cold night air fogged the image of his daughter, who had apparently been wearing her vid piece all along. It was dark in their tent, but True’s hair glowed like a halo, illuminated by a far off Luma Light.

“True-Girl…” He began, his voice barely a whisper, his stomach wrenched with hunger and longing.

“Are you still walking, Dad?” She asked with surprise. Danziger nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Heaving another foot forward, he cleared his throat again, another nervous habit courtesy of the godforsaken wind.

“Just makin’ up for a little lost time.” He bluffed, tossing the comment aside, hoping to drop the matter now that he’d lost his nerve. There was still time; there was still a chance he could make it.

“You really don’t like Crashmas, do ya, Dad?” True’s soft inquiry pushed him out of the frying pan and into the fire. Despite his desire to allay his daughter’s apprehension, Danziger just didn’t have the energy to have this conversation again. “Why does it bug you so much? You should be happy, Daddy, Crashmas is making everyone else so happy!”

The pleading in her eyes reminded John of her mother, trapped outside the airlock; of Uly when Danziger had gotten down on one knee and told him it was time to keep moving; of Devon asking him to promise he’d take care of her kid.

“True, Baby,” clearing his throat for a third time, Danziger found it impossible to dislodge the lump in his throat. He cold only hope there was a way for her to grasp the grown-up feelings that were plaguing him. “Know when you said that it wouldn’t be Crashmas without me?”

Furrowing her brows, True nodded in silent affirmation.

“Well, I know exactly how you feel, Sweetie. You're right. It won’t feel like Crashmas unless the whole group is together, and I…” His words faded off, his parched throat catching on the words and eleven year old just wouldn’t understand. John's eyes watered, fixed on the uneven ground as it passed beneath his feet.

“It’s okay, Dad,” True whispered tenderly. When he looked up to meet her gaze, Danziger discovered that maybe his daughter was aware of more than she’d been letting on. “Everyone misses Devon, and everyone is sad that she’d not here with us, even if they’re pretending their not."

Despite his yearning for honesty between he and True, the hardened cynic in Danziger demanded to be let out, to deny that Devon Adair had such power to affect him. Swallowing hard, he couldn't decide if True was referring to the group this past week, or her Old Man, who'd been trying his best to feign denial for the last three months. Before he found the nerve to ask, True continued.

"But that’s part of what makes Crashmas so special! Like when Uly says you can’t change something that already happened, but this time we can. 'Cause when the families at New Pacifica celebrate Crashmas, they’ll celebrate the first time, when we celebrated for Devon, and the Second Crashmas, when she came home! So it turns out you were right, we will be able to change what happened. But you're still a big part of it.”

Danziger felt a single tear escape from the corner of his eye at the optimism in his daughters words, and at the thought of the return of the woman who she’d learned it from.

“True…" He didn't like the tremor in his gravelly voice one bit, "it could be a long while before--”

“Listen, Mister,” she cut him off quickly. “Daddy,” she spoke calmly, “I’m gonna tell it like it is, okay? Because I know you feel crummy now, but you’ve got no reason to, cause this is what’s going to happen. Can I proceed?”

Danziger was impressed at the negotiation skills she’d no doubt picked up in Yale’s classroom, if not slightly dismayed that his daughter was about to read him the riot act.

“Fire away,” he allowed with trepidation.

“Okay, you’re gonna come home and stay here, cause you called honest aces, and you’re gonna tinker around for a little bit and storm around camp thinking, and thinking and snoring and then thinking some more, and one day you’re brain’s gonna do that thing when it hiccups and you come up with the perfect solution to get us moving again. You with me so far?”

“Affirmative," he replied weakly.

“And then more time’s gonna pass and Alonzo’s probably gonna break his leg a couple more times and bad stuff will happen, and good stuff will happen, and then one day Julia’s brain is gonna do that same hiccup thingy and she’s gonna figure out how we can wake Devon up.” The strained expression on her father’s face made it clear that even though he wasn’t able to respond, he was getting the picture. “I know sometimes you think you can’t figure it out, Dad, but you always do. You always save us, Daddy, okay?”

“Okay, Baby.” Danziger whispered, the desert stretching out in front of him. He figured it was a good, clear night to walk under the stars.

Gentle Mary was a child

Terrians had raised her.

There she stayed, out in the wild

To mankind a stranger.

Such a girl in such a place,

At home beneath our new Earth,

Will guide Ulysses to Mooncross,

And show the Terrians our worth!

--The Martin Classic Crashmas Carols Library

The dusk was just settling in as Cameron and Uly paraded through camp, singing “Oh Come, All ye Stranded,” to summon the troops to the official Crashmas Eve festivities.

The song, an alternate to Uly’s favorite, “Oh Come out, Ye Worm Bullet” had been deemed the official official version of the song by True, who was hoping that Baines and Walman would forget the supplemental lyrics before her dad got back. He hadn't been too happy with the original version.

Trouble was, he should have been back already.

True sat alone in front of the small fire, barely burning until they would start the celebration by making a bonfire to symbolize the crash. Her dad was going to miss the lighting ceremony. He was going to miss everything.

The air around her was imperceivable, one of those strange nights when it felt to be the exact same temperature as she was. Her dad always called them “Rosie Days” cause no matter how hard he worked, he never managed to break a sweat. He’d always bust into their tent at night proclaiming that he still smelled like roses.

True knew he was kidding. Her dad had never smelled like roses in his life, but even so, she wished he’d walk into camp right now so she could give him a huge hug, and bury her face in his crazy hair. She’d settle for the licorice-tang of axel grease and Dad Sweat as long as it meant he was back. It was probably much hotter out there in the desert, anyway.

Bess had spent the morning trying to assure her that her father would make it back, and at first True had believed the Earth-Res was telling the truth. They had even ventured to the outskirts of camp to draw arrows to guide her dad home with the cool green goo Julia had discovered.

As soon as the sun began to set, however, True knew if he wasn’t here now, he’d have to stop and make camp soon. She wished she’d had Jumpers; her eyes kept playing tricks and the lingering heat kept making ripples on the horizon. Finally, Bess had gently insisted that they go back, and make the best of the Crashmas celebration.

Sighing again, True rested her chin on the bulky, oddly wrapped parcel held securely in her lap. Her father had tried to warn her that he wouldn’t be back in time, but she hadn’t wanted to face facts, and now all she wanted was for everyone to leave her alone, and let her mope.

The stupid Crashmas parade past by her again, this time having accrued Walman, Baines, Alonzo and Bess. Uly had been pestering her to march all evening, but True refused to budge. Besides, this carol was starting to bug her; it had way too many verses.

If her dad was here, he’d probably be rolling his eyes already.

“Hey True, you sure you don’t wanna march?” Separating himself from the passing processional, Alonzo plopped down next to the young girl, and True did roll her eyes then, hugging the package closer.

“Why won’t everyone just leave me alone?” She asked exasperatedly, but the pilot could tell her heart wasn’t in it. Putting an arm around her, Alonzo gave her a little squeeze.

“Your dad’ll be back tomorrow, Hon, you’ll see,” he offered softly, smiling ruefully at True’s expression of utter dejection. Her chin sunk deeper into the wrapped parcel, making the solar blanket it was wrapped in crinkle and complain.

Julia had confided in him that True was planning a special surprise for her father, although she refused to tell him what it was. Alonzo was sure that Danziger’s absence from the Crashmas Eve party was only adding insult to True’s injury.

“What have you got there?” He inquired carefully. Alonzo was half expecting a flippant Danziger answer, but a part of him sensed that maybe True had had all the mothering she could take from Julia and Bess over the last few days. If she couldn’t have her dad, maybe she just wanted a friend.

He’d known True Danziger briefly when she was a baby, and then again for a spell at six or seven when he and John had found themselves paired up for a quick six month jump to the Alpha Point barge. Although he’d never been all that good with kids, he definitely had a soft spot for John’s little girl.

Alonzo had known Danziger himself way before True, when the mechanic was fresh out of the military and full of piss and vinegar. When he ran into John years later, on a mandatory two year jump-break, he’d found a broken man trudging into a station dive, toting a baby in a pack close to his chest. It was as though Lonz was meeting a different person altogether.

His old friend Johnny had come leaps and bounds since those dark times, but he was still scarred, still different. True had grown into quite a young woman, and Alonzo knew she was the reason behind every move her father made. So, when John went scouting and solemnly caught his eye and said, “Take care of my kid.” Alonzo knew, maybe better than anyone else, how much Danziger needed her to be safe.

“It’s supposed to be a secret, but I guess it doesn’t matter anymore.” True mumbled, shifting her weight to kick at a pebble resting at the toe of her boot. “It’s a gift for my dad. I know Yale said no presents, but I don’t care. He just needs one.”

Alonzo chuckled a bit, nodding his head in agreement. Squeezing True a little tighter, he felt her give in somewhat and rest her head against his chest.

“I think you’re exactly right, True,” he assured, kicking at the pebble himself when it bumped his shoe, passing it back. “Your Dad’s sure gonna be happy to be home. It’ll be soon, you’ll see.”

“So you’re not gonna blab that I’m breakin’ the rules?” She asked, a small hint of a smile teasing the corner of her mouth. Alonzo laughed, tugging on her braid as he’d seen Danziger do with affection more times than he could ever count.

“Not if you let me in on the plan,” he leaned in furtively, checking to make sure the area was clear. “What’s this big secret present you and Julia have been working on?”

True pulled away shyly, chewing on her lip dramatically. She twirled her long braid around her finger, and if Alonzo didn’t know better he’d say she almost…flirting with him. That was a new development, one he didn’t want to ponder much more deeply, but at least he’d managed to temporarily distract True from missing her father.

“Weeeeelllllll, I dunno. Julia and I swore an oath…”

“Well, I’ll swear it, too, then!” He played along enthusiastically, drumming his hands on his knees in anticipation. “C’mon, you gotta tell me, you know I can’t stand secrets!”

True giggled a bit, her teenaged persona slipping back to her normal tom-boy self.

“You can’t tell anyone, Lonz. Comprende? Especially not Yale- especially, especially not Uly! I want my dad to be surprised, and everyone knows you’re a blabbermouth.”

Alonzo nodded seriously, holding up a hand as though he was in a Council courtroom.

“I, Alonzo Matteo Guillermo Solace, hereby do solemnly swear, on my title of Senior Cryogenics Navigation Chief for the Stations Astronautical Commision, and on my honor as a friend of John Danziger, whom I respect and admire both for his expertise as Senior Operations Chief and for his undoubted ability to whoop my ass in any physical or athletic competition--” True burst out laughing, and swatted his hand back into his lap.

“Okay, okay,” she giggled, leaning in closer for her big confession, scrunching her father’s gift closer to her chest to make room. “It’s a pillow.”

Of all the items True could have possibly named, Alonzo hadn’t expected something so mundane and practical as a pillow. True’s obvious exuberance didn’t falter, however, so he was assuming there was something more to it.

“And? What else,” Lonz prompted, when it became clear she was relishing his ignorance.

“It’s just a pillow, but it’s his pillow. Julia and I made it ’specially for him.” She smiled widely, swinging her legs.

“You’re holding out on me, aren’t ya? What’s so special about this pillow?” The parade was approaching them again, this time with almost all of the Edenites in tow. Alonzo noticed True’s slightly longing glance and wondered if she was realizing what fun she was missing, or if she was just thinking about her dad again.

At the tail end of the pageant, with flowers in her hair, Julia shot him and indulgent smile. She’d been teasing him earlier, when he’d been grumping that she’d spent nearly all of the night before with True instead of him, that he didn’t have a fatherly bone in his body. Luckily, she could see the change in True’s disposition, and decided to keep on marching, rather than poke fun at his efforts.

“Well, Julia said that I should try to think of something my dad really needed. So I was wishin’ there was a way I could build a cot that was big enough so his feet didn’t hang off the end, so he wouldn’t be tossin’ and turning and snoring all night--”

“To wake the dead.” Alonzo supplied jokingly, throwing his hands in the air with exasperation. Pretty much everyone in camp had been woken, at some point in their journey, by John’s foghorn sounding in the silence of the evening.

“Exactly! And that’s when Julia had her big “A Ha!” moment and figured the whole thing out.” Distracted again by the oncoming horde, True impulsively jumped from the log where she sat as the processional trooped by, carefully placing her dad’s present on the ground next to the log, positioning it just so.

“They’re just gonna keep on singing this shankin’ song until I march.” She proclaimed loud enough to be heard by all, shaking her head in exasperation, and she stomped off to join the parade without another word.

Alonzo chuckled as the little girl high-fived Julia as she passed, and with a pat on the butt to herd True in line, Julia peeled away from the group and sat, out-of-breath, in the spot her partner in crime had just vacated.

“Turn’s out children are human after all, huh?” She chided, pinching his side and giggling when he grabbed her, careful to steer their horseplay away from True’s precious parcel.

“You can rag on me later, Doc. Right now, I just want to know what’s so damn special about this pillow.” He settled the doctor more or less in his lap, and she smiled wide as he weightlessly lifted her.

“So she told you the secret, huh? I think someone might be developing a crush…”

She stroked his cheek, seemingly free as a bird with the celebration almost afoot.

“Well, I only got as far as “special pillow” before she finally gave up and joined the death march.” She smacked his arm. He stole a kiss.

“I figured it out, actually, it’s kind of ridiculous I didn’t think of it before. When True mentioned his snoring, it occurred to me that maybe John wasn’t just denying that he snored--”

“Which he does--”

“Of course, but that doesn’t mean he snored before. So I decided to take a peek at his charts and and compare them to the scans I made after we crash landed, and it was right there, staring me in the face, a total misalignment of the C4 and C5 brachial vertebra.”

“Obviously.” Alonzo sardonically added, reminding her with a raised eyebrow that he had no idea what she was talking about.

“Well, after the crash we all suffered from various symptoms of whiplash. Because John was leaning forward over True at the moment of impact, I diagnosed his as particularly severe, but John being John he just shrugged off the pain. Eventually the muscles in his shoulders and neck adjusted to the strain, and I figured he’d just he was healing. His symptoms were gone.”

“So he’s got a crook in his neck that’s making him snore?” He asked, judiciously removing Julia from their embrace as the procession turned back in their direction.

“Basically, and when he gets back I’ll observe him to check for any evidence of sleep apnea or a breathing problem, but I think it’s a simple matter of re-training those muscles. It was a snap to mold some IntelliFoam from the old fashioned first aid supplies to Danziger’s precise measurements, since it’s not like we use that for splints now that I’ve found the bone healer recipe. It‘ll open his airway, and take the pressure off his spine.”

As the group pulled closer and began to stake out their favorite spots around the fire, True ran over to collect her cargo, and plopped herself in between the adults as though she’d never left.

“Thank God that part’s over.” She confided in them both, sounding eerily like her father. Alonzo casually removed his hand from Julia’s back pocket and scooted down to make room for the girl.

“An anti-snoring pillow, huh?” Alonzo teased her quietly as True nodded discreetly, talking out of the corner of her mouth, so as not to be spotted. Alonzo thought it was sweet that True didn’t seem to realize that there was no missing the giant present she held in her lap, and that pretty much every Edenite had quickly deduced exactly whom it was meant for, though everyone remained shrewdly silent.

“Julia said it’ll be like sleeping on a cloud, and it’ll finally shut him up. Even still, though, I just want him to feel better.” Alonzo nodded in agreement as Bess arrived behind them and hefted True, gift and all, off the log between them and into a position on the other side of Julia, where she joined the girl, stroking her hair.

“Come over here with me, Broody Betty!” The Earth-Res teased as she kissed True’s cheek affectionately. “Let’s leave the two lovebird’s alone and start this celebration off right, okay?”

True nodded, every last trace of her good humor gone. It was time to begin Crashmas, and her Dad wasn’t here. Bess’ heart went out to her, and her anger at Danziger‘s failure to keep his promise spiked. She and True had been trying, without success, to get in touch with him on Gear all day, but of course he had his set turned off. Bess hoped he was feeling guilty, and not just being a stubborn mule.

Clearing her throat dramatically, she quieted the scatted rabble that had broken out around the fire and called the group to order.

“Okay, everyone, as you all know, Crashmas Eve doesn’t officially being until we light the bonfire, which is meant to symbolize, well…”

Beside her, Morgan stood as though she’d called his name in class, moving dramatically towards the large pile of twigs and sticks yet to be added to the flames.

“Allow me, Darling.” He interrupted with a resplendent flourish of the hand. “The Crashmas Bonfire is meant to symbolize our fiery arrival here on G889, and the wonder we all felt, wherever we landed, when we left our escape pods to find fresh, clean air amongst the smoke.”

As if on cue, Walman and Cameron let out a cheer, and the excitement quickly spread into a small round of applause.

“Now, in keeping with the memory of that first evening planetside, we decided that it should be John Danziger’s job to ignite the hearth, since he built our very first campfire, and so many more to keep us warm and safe on this new and strange planet.” Morgan paused to cast True a sympathetic glance, and he felt heartened to see that the entire group missed Danziger as much as John’s own daughter did.

“Now, Danziger hasn’t really been happy about this whole Crashmas thing, and you all know that he can’t be here tonight because he’s out scouting our way, keeping guard and plotting our course. Although we all miss him very much, it seems fitting that, despite the fun that he’s missing, our Crashmas Guardian is vigilant until the end.” Grabbing the end of a long branch, he held the end into the flame until it caught. Walking deliberately, as though he was in a wedding procession, he crossed the circle until he stood in front of True, chin slumped in her hands.

“The Crashmas Committee thinks it is only just and right that, because of her impressive abilities to spread the Crashmas spirit and still keep everyone in camp in line as only a Danziger can, True be named the new Keeper of the Crashmas Flame!”

Alonzo and Julia let out a huge cheer of approval, which led to a strange series of barks and hoots from the Ops Crew, clearly pleased with Morgan’s gracious speech and True’s shocked smile.

“Really?” She asked, carefully taking the burning branch from Morgan’s hand.

“Light’er up, True!” Magus exclaimed, whooping and clapping even louder.

“Do it, True! Light it! Light it!” Uly squirmed in Yale’s lap, flapping his Crashmas Cape like bat‘s wings. With another quick peck on the cheek, Bess wordlessly placed True’s tinsel crown on her head, and steered her slowly towards the pyre.

With a final glance into the vast expanse of darkness the bled from camp in all directions, True gently touched the fire to the tinder. As the glow of the flames deepened and then began to expand, she glanced around to see Eden Advance, cheering and laughing, even as they came to celebrate the loss of their Leader.

Even as her dad spent another night alone in the wilderness.

“Do you think the fire will get big enough for my dad to see it?” She asked Bess quietly, taking the woman’s hand as she tossed her branch into the fire.

“We’ll just have to see to it, how about that? We’ll build a fire so big it’ll be brighter than the Northern Star.” Bess whispered back, leaning down to kiss the top of True’s head. The two of them lingered for a moment, watching the splendor of the flames, the entire group hushed by the warmth and beauty.

And so the first Crashmas began.

It came upon a Crashmas clear,

That glorious fire so warm,

To light the darkness, banish fear,

And keep us all from harm.

Peace on G889 this night,

Lit by our Guardian King,

Give thanks, survivors, and pave the way

Oh Jamestown, settlers bring!

---The Martin Classic Crashmas Carols Library

Danziger, John

Solo Advance Scout #42

Day 7

It feels like a Thursday night to me, Adair. Not that I’ve got the slightest clue what day it would be, if we were still usin’ the Station week plan, but this particular night-- and this downright eerie stretch of desert-- just feels like a Thursday, is all. So close to the weekend you can almost taste the beer, but miles to go before you sleep.

It’s not like I ever met a Drone that didn’t have a second weekend shift on some cargo hold countin’ crates, or watchin’ some blue-blood kid who’s parents couldn’t be bothered to take the family on their family vacation. But there’s just somethin’ about that hopefulness, that expectation of respite that you can’t shake.

Seems to me I’ve been a fool. I’ve been thinking’…this whole shankin’ Crashmas idea might just the thing to keep everyone goin.’ I’m wishin’ I hadn’t fought them so hard; been such a spoiled sport.

True’s gonna have my hide when I get back to camp. Unless my ticker gives out before I get back, haulin’ this pain-in-the-ass crate. Or unless the pain-in-the-ass crate happens to be full of cats, which seems unlikely.

I know we don’t have the supplies for this, or the time, or the energy, or a million other things. We’re in dire straits, and if I have to be a killjoy to keep us all alive, well, what else is new. I know you’d be grateful that I’m only thinkin’ of the longterm ramifications here.

Trouble is, I know you’d be just as excited about all this Crashmas nonsense as everyone else.

And to tell the truth, even I’m wishin’ I could be with ‘em all now, singin’ stupid songs and wearin’ that crooked crown your son made me. Instead I’m out here, bein’ stubborn and lettin’ the kids down. Feelin’ like it’s Thursday.

Danziger plodded along, shutting out every ache, pain and pang of loneliness to focus on one thing: he would make it back tonight, for True and for Uly.

He’d been away from camp only about a day longer than expected, but his constant travel these last two days meant his supplies were suffering. His rations were gone, which was the least of his problems. Danziger hadn’t lived a day of his life without the familiar, almost comforting gnawing of hunger in his gut, and he could certainly go a day or so more. He was out of water, too, but it didn’t worry him.

He was going to be back soon.

His first Luma Light was completely burnt out, and his back up was fading fast. Because he was constantly pilfering bits and pieces of circuitry, the group been reduced to only one generator to charge all of there renewable heating and lighting sources. If Danziger could’ve had his way, he would have brought a pocket genny with him, but the last one had been retrofitted to supply the ATV long ago. Lotta good it did them now.

As it was, his gear and the dwindling Luma Light desperately needed recharging. He hadn’t anticipated so much usage, that his daughter and Uly would be constantly buzzing him to share the Crashmas spirit. He hadn’t anticipated Crashmas at all. How could he?

Despite his normally flippant habit of keeping his gear powered down anyway, tonight of all nights he longed to check in with his daughter, to assure her he was on his way. The thing was pretty much useless, unfortunately, and had been since early morning. He’d switched it off to conserve the last gasp in case of an emergency.

His manual compass would be just fine, he figured. After his ill-fated winter scout last year, he’d taken to carrying it with him at all times, just in case. Danziger knew where he was going. He just wasn’t sure how much further he had to go. And walking in the dark did nothing for his nerves, or his morale.

Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs, he decided to stop for a moment and rest a spell. He took several deep breaths, rubbing his eyes before scanning the horizon.

The last thing Danziger expected to see was…well, anything. But strangely enough, he did.

He couldn’t get a good look at what he was seeing, it would flit in the corners of his vision, something on the horizon, an amber glow about a click, maybe a click and a half ahead. His visibility was shit, despite the twin half moons and the relatively clear sky, so he fished out his jumpers, cursing under his breath as he squinted at the function panel in the warbling flicker of the Luma Light. Finally, he gave up and just every button. None of ‘em worked, which meant even his damn BiNoc feature was out of juice. Danziger figured it couldn’t matter.

There was light somewhere up ahead, and that was where he was going. John wasn’t even gonna let himself hope the glow was coming from camp but, as he fitted the harness over his sore shoulders, he found no amount of reverse psychology could stop the second wind he was experiencing.

He trudged forward with a newfound strength that seemed impossible, keeping his eyes on the ground in front of him. He was wary of losing his footing, or tripping over an obstacle obscured by the darkness, but more importantly he couldn’t bear to acknowledge how far he still had to go. A watched pot would never boil, Bess always said, and the horizon would never get any closer, no matter how long he watched..

He needed to distract himself from the passage of time, he needed to channel his energy on the task at hand and stop counting every footstep. But he was so damn tired, and he’d had so much time alone to think that he just couldn’t stand any more introspection.

Grimacing, not liking it one shankin’ bit, John Danziger did the one thing he could think of to pass these final, unbearable miles.

“Grendler yells, Grendler yells, wailin’ all night long…Oh how great to stay up late and listen to their song…”

Verse after verse, left foot after right foot, Danziger’s cracked and dry voice rang out across the desert. Any time he got the urge to pause and survey the horizon he’d steel himself and simply sing a little louder, until he trailed off to clear his throat against the dust and realized there was an echo singing back.

Stopping short, he held his breath and listened, and there it was again…only it wasn’t “Grendler Yells” at all, it was another song that True hadn’t taught him. He swallowed hard and tentatively raised his head, only to discover that the dim glow he’d spotted hours back had roared into a blazing bonfire, only about a half-mile ahead.

John couldn’t make out the members of Eden Advance, nor could he ever discern the shapes of the tents against the contrast of the blazing pyre, but with his stillness it became clear that the lone voice being carried on the wind was that of Uly.

And was singing his mother’s song.

Oh holy flight! Towards all mankind’s salvation

It is the flight of a strong woman’s dreams

Damning the slight of righteous indignation

She stole away from the Council’s cruel régimes.

With faithful crew, to cure her Syndrome child

Through space they flew, Until beyond repair!

Fall to the earth! Breathe deep the air so mild!

Oh flight divine, Oh flight of Devon Adair!

Led by the sights of her Pilot, brave and daring,

With tow ‘ring strength from her Guardian and his Scout

Her loyal Crew, Liaison overbearing

Her faithful Sage, Her Doctor’s hard-earned clout.

They traveled afar until they found the ocean,

On Shooting star, came the children to be healed!

Fall to the earth! Oh breathe the air so mild!

Oh flight divine, Oh flight of Devon Adair!

Oh flight divine, Oh flight of Devon Adair!

Blinking back the sting of tears, Danziger tugged with all his might, desperate to be with his friends, to sing and celebrate and eat and finally be home.

To hell with the rations, to hell with all of the worries and doubts and worst case scenarios that kept him from enjoying what he did have. He didn’t want to miss anymore than he already had! He wanted to be there when Bess lit the Lonely Tree; he wanted to plant one on Julia under the Thistletoe just to see the look on Lonz’ face! He wanted to sit by the warmth of the fire and laugh until it hurt at Walman’s Crashmas play, with True and Uly perched on each knee. John found himself grinning like a fool, musing that, years from now, children would lie awake in their beds, safe at New Pacifica, and listen for The Guardian to come bearing gifts. True was right; their journey was the story of Crashmas, and they’d better get it right.

And he’d made it home after all, just as she had insisted he would, and whatever was in the godforsaken crate would help them persevere, Danziger just knew it. They’d find a way to keep moving and they’d find something that grew here in this strange place that would nourish them..

And, most importantly, Danziger mused as he drew almost close enough to feel the radiant heat of the flames on his face, the would find a way to bring Devon back to them. For the first time, despite all his reassurances to the group and Ulysses, John Danziger actually believed in his heart that this was true.

Because it was Crashmas Eve. And despite all they lacked, John Danziger would see to it that Eden Advance never ran out of hope.

Epilogue: The Twelve Gifts of Crashmas



On the first day of Crashmas a Grendler gave to me,

The parts for a new ATV.

On the second day of Crashmas a Grendler gave to me,

Another DiaGlove,

And the parts for a new ATV.

On the third day of Crashmas a Grendler gave to me,

Three new tents,

Another DiaGlove,

And the parts for a new ATV.

On the fourth day of Crashmas a Grendler gave to me,

Spare converter coils,

Three new tents,

Another DiaGlove,

And the parts for a new ATV.

On the fifth day of Crashmas a Grendler gave to me,

FIVE CASES OF SPIROLINA!!

Spare converter coils,

Three new tents,

Another DiaGlove,

And the parts for a new ATV.

On the sixth day of Crashmas a Grendler gave to me,

Synth-Spice Ingredients,

FIVE CASES OF SPIROLINA!!

Spare converter coils,

Three new tents,

Another DiaGlove,

And the parts for a new ATV.

On the seventh day of Crashmas, a Grendler gave to me,

Seven pocket gennies,

Synth-Spice Ingredients,

FIVE CASES OF SPIROLINA!!

Spare converter coils,

Three new tents,

Another DiaGlove,

And the parts for a new ATV.

On the eighth day of Crashmas, a Grendler gave to me,

Nav-Beacon panels,

Seven pocket gennies,

Synth-Spice Ingredients,

FIVE CASES OF SPIROLINA!!

Spare converter coils,

Three new tents,

Another DiaGlove,

And the parts for a new ATV.

On the ninth day of Crashmas, a Grendler gave to me,

Surplus winter clothing,

Nav-Beacon panels,

Seven pocket gennies,

Synth-Spice Ingredients

FIVE CASES OF SPIROLINA!!

Spare converter coils,

Three new tents,

Another DiaGlove,

And the parts for a new ATV.

On the tenth day of Crashmas, a Grendler gave to me,

Ten Gear headsets,

Surplus winter clothing,

Nav-Beacon panels,

Seven pocket gennies,

Synth-Spice Ingredients

FIVE CASES OF SPIROLINA!!

Spare converter coils,

Three new tents,

Another DiaGlove,

And the parts for a new ATV.

On the eleventh day of Crashmas, a Grendler gave to me,

Zero-Unit Upgrades,

Ten Gear headsets,

Surplus winter clothing,

Nav-Beacon panels,

Seven pocket gennies,

Synth-Spice Ingredients

FIVE CASES OF SPIROLINA!!

Spare converter coils,

Three new tents,

Another DiaGlove,

And the parts for a new ATV.

On the twelfth day of Crashmas, a Grendler gave to me,

A dry shower unit,

Zero program upgrades,

Ten Gear headsets,

Surplus winter clothing,

Nav-Beacon panels,

Seven pocket gennies,

Synth-Spice Ingredients

FIVE CASES OF SPIROLINA!!

Spare converter coils,

Three new tents,

Another DiaGlove,

And the parts for a new ATV.

--The Martin Classic Crashmas Carols Library