Crashmas by SecondGuess

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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.”

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