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.
Story Notes:
A/N: This is a story I thought up last year, but couldn't seem to get around to writing before December had come and gone. This year I'm prepared, because even Eden Advance needs a little holiday cheer! Enjoy and Happy Holidays! Thanks to FCB Allison, as always, for the constant prodding in the right direction. With a taser.
I own nada. No characters, no songs, no original plot devices. But I've been told I've got moxie.
I own nada. No characters, no songs, no original plot devices. But I've been told I've got moxie.