A Feast I Don't Like in the Least
By Rob Morris

DECEMBER 24TH, 2366

The Tekri Ambassador received the last report from his aides. He smiled at Captain Picard, as they sat in his ready room. He was a tall, well-built man, and he knew this to a degree that tested, but never truly broke, the captain's already-fabled resolve.

"Tell me, Picard-where is that mewling child?"

Picard refused to react.

"Ensign Crusher was, as you requested, removed from both Bridge Duty and his regular quarters. He is currently keeping entirely to a very large room that contains not a single one of his possessions. You shan't see him about while you're here, Mister Ambassador."

The Ambassador read off his list of demands he had made. Demands that one and all, Picard had acceded to as per his orders, the better to fully accommodate a possible Federation applicant.

"The children's drawings were all removed. The images of the red-suited saint were taken down as well. The oddly strung lights and popped corn are gone. The milky, oversweet beverage is nowhere in sight or smell. Those decorated trees are simply gone. Religious imagery kept to quarters, well out of public view. Very good, Picard."

The Tekri kept on smiling. Picard nodded.

"All as you demanded, Mister Ambassador. One would never know that it was Christmas on the Enterprise, to look around here."

The Ambassador laughed.

"Weakness."

Picard shook his head in confusion.

"Weakness in what, Mister Ambassador?"

He gestured dismissively at the captain.

"Weakness of your people and culture, Picard. You gave in with no fight. It speaks poorly of you."

"Sir, we did what was asked of us. I fail to see how that indicates weakness."

The Ambassador shrugged.

"Simple. You gave up Christmas. I have observed that it is a great boon to those who believe in it. To the secularized, it is a happy indulgence. To the strict religious inerrancy advocate, it is a polluted pagan festival meant to mislead the faithful. To the nihilist, it provides welcomed proof to their view that all others are deluded, greedy fools. To those of other beliefs, it is something that must not be allowed to subsume what they hold dear. This holiday, this Christmas, the beliefs that surround it and the ramifications of those beliefs in effect are your culture in microcosm, Picard. Yet you gave it all up, no questions asked."

Picard stood up behind his desk, calm and collected.

"Mister Ambassador, you are wrong. You see, from Herod to the Caesars to the Puritans to the reductionists, someone somewhere is always removing the things from the holiday. Well, the things don't matter. The people, and what we keep in our hearts cannot be taken down, and I defy you to try. Christmas and all its attendant surroundings are stronger than your temporary ability to make them invisible. We readily surrender our egg nog, our trees, our debates about commercialism, secularism, and the possible forcing of one belief over others not because our culture is so weak. It is because that culture, as glimpsed by you through a prism of red, green, silver and gold has no great need of baubles, lights, shiny trinkets and long receipt lists. They are but one pattern of choice we make, as we quite gratefully celebrate charity, brotherhood and peace as ideals and as goals."

The Ambassador shook his head.

"Nonsense. The appearance of the decorations and gifts tell your people that this holiday and all its attendant challenges are about to begin. Without those publicly displayed religious objects, your atheists and cynics can't start to object. If there are no images of Saint Nicholas, your purists and fundamentalists can't complain of secularism. If there is no bustle of purchasing, your merchants can't balance their financial foolishness the rest of the year. If there are no presents, your children will sulk, and then turn on you all like rabid dogs. And for those handful who honestly wish to celebrate and keep the holiday's higher ideals amid a sea of rampant nihilism and then rampant exhortations to divisive hypocrisy? Well, they will lose that one vital lifeline to what little joy this life offers. You and your people killed Christmas, Picard, and you did it merely because we insisted you do it. We will take this into consideration as we seek more worthy allies."

Picard looked one last time at the Tekri Ambassador.

"I feel so very, very sorry for you. Transporter Room-beam the Ambassador for the Tekri directly back to his lonely world, where random tests that reveal nothing ride brutally over the mystery that is faith. I don't celebrate it myself, Ambassador, at least not religiously. But this atheist will be damned before he'll let the likes of you spew so much as another drop of venom in its direction."

After the stunned man disappeared, Picard left his ready room, confident that Starfleet would find that he had done all he could to facilitate relations with this difficult species.

"And now-the seal is broken."

Down he went, to the large 'quarters' in which he had 'isolated' Wesley Crusher. Picard noted that indeed, no trace of Wes's many and various possessions were in evidence. Between the many trees, gifts, decorations, and sealed containers of every imaginable type of edible, there was simply no room for them.

"You stood guard well, Mister Crusher. Our treasures were kept safe during the boarding. Are we ready to resume?"

Crusher had checked his figures a thousand times. No way was he screwing this one up. Those kids were scary when roused. And the adults were even worse.

"Just hit the switch, Captain."

Picard did, and around the ship, crewmembers and civilians watched in abject wonder as the drawings of children appeared again on walls across the ship. Trees laden with decorations both ancient and exotic appeared back in the precise spots they vanished from. Gifts went back to their sacred hiding spots, and tables with treats galore set themselves up in an instant. Picard smiled.

"Well. It seems that the spirits have done it all in one night."

Crusher checked on the various transport points. It had gone as planned.

"Just don't let anyone know that I had any larger role in all this than anyone else, sir."

"Oh? Why ever not?"

Wes opened a spare container of non-syntheholic egg nog, and poured them each a drink.

"Let's just say that I know certain people who couldn't handle a report with a title like 'Wesley Saves Christmas'. Joyeux Noel, Captain."

Picard raised his glass.

"So To Us All, Ensign. So To Us All."