At Christmastime, there are many carols sung. In this instance, the 'Carol Of The Bells' gives way to the 'Coventry Carol' as the holiday serves as grim reminder.
As Sharp as Any Thorn
By Rob Morris
DECEMBER 25TH, 2153
They entered the greenhouse. T'Pol looked at the tree. Gingerly, she placed beneath it tiny figurines of 21st-Century Terran children who saw no Christmas trees, only a hideously bright flash.
"It would do him good to see how fine and green a place it is."
Travis brought out a carved replica of the class of trading freighter his family had made their whole lives. It represented children who had to flee a world with vast tracts of land no longer capable of supporting them.
"When a man is no longer there, he leaves an awfully big hole."
Phlox placed a stethoscope, its severed line reattached, under the tree.
"Herod commanded that no aid be given the fallen, else the healers would also fall. These are also the words of Colonel Green, on this day that is now merely to be known as 1225."
Trip held up his arms, as did once a man who cried the simple word *Enough* when the cold sunless winds were at their peak.
"This is no more a *Purification Colony*. As Presiding Officer, I forbid anyone to hold someone else here against their will, or their faith. If ordered to do so, I will refuse and act against the issuing of this order, which I say is unlawful. If one is to leave now, they will be applauded for bravery, not taunted with words like heathen and pagan. I will not recant these words. So go ahead and fire."
Hoshi held out her opened palms.
"You say these words are not meant for all that live. You have erased the records, and burned the books, and kept the words memorized unto you and yours. You think that only prayers, directed by you elite, will undo the blight we poor stupid things have brought upon the Earth. We will find other copies. The mystery of faith will not be held in certain places, by literati who bear a shield of nuclear ignorance."
Reed bit his lip, then spoke.
"All the people you have rid yourselves of, on this little island of ours. All the ones who didn't belong. How dare you petty things that murdered and who abided the murder of your neighbors make bold, passionate entreaties to one of the only real kings ever to decide it was alright not to be born in a palace? Have you even asked for his forgiveness? Or that of those you made to vanish? Well, you shan't have mine. You ask me to remove the Gunpowder Day mask I wear? Remove yours, first. Happy Christmas. England Prevails. Or are those merely more of my riddles?"
Captain Archer completed the circle.
"We won't feast, while supply lines, haunted as they are by pirates and slavers, are cut off in the remote areas. We won't feast while the rad zones are still yielding up a harvest of walking dead, terrorizing those in the unfortunate border regions. We give thanks for life and the hope of tomorrow, for that is all we have."
All turned to the specialized hybrid of conifer tree that was genetically bred to clean the tainted rad zones. Phlox plucked a needle, the first such tree being a gift from his people, when they learned of the planet still in need of cleansing and rebirth. Archer kept on.
"See this pine tree that somehow grows golden apples that glow. See the pears whose skins are like hulls that must never be pierced. See the sprouts of the holly and the ivy. Remember well that first Christmas after the bombs came, when a simple world-wide audio hook-up, punctuated by hours-long bursts of static, let anyone who still held on to any kind of faith that it was alright to do so. Remember when the light from the Star Of Bethlehem shone even through the mushroom clouds that dotted the Earth like a dead log. Remember on this, the century mark of the time a world very nearly destroyed itself."
The tree kept well its deadly inner light, and most of the crew departed. T'Pol and Archer remained.
"Captain? Before first contact, our observers described a celebration of great joy. Will this holiday ever be joyous again?"
Archer shrugged.
"People remember, then people forget. It takes on new meaning, and then it seems to lose all meaning. It seems inclusive, and then without warning it is once again decried as typical of the narrow view of one faith. The green reminds us of giving and new birth. The red reminds us of the death that comes from covetous greed, and of ignoring what we know to be true. Red and Green. Holly And Ivy. Beautiful in many respects, but as sharp as any thorn. They're both always with us."
They would both live to see a time of renewed conspicuous consumption and of forgetting all the 'old badness', which wasn't really what it was, but that's what it was called. Both also knew that the pendulum would swing back, and so enjoyed themselves, each in their own way, for what time they had.
The holly and the ivy,
When they are both full grown,
Of all the trees that are in the wood,
The holly bears the crown.
O the rising of the sun,
And the running of the deer,
The playing of the merry organ,
Sweet singing in the choir.
The holly bears a blossom
As white as lily flower;
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ
To be our sweet Savior.
The holly bears a berry
As red as any blood;
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ
To do poor sinners good.
The holly bears a prickle
As sharp as any thorn;
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ
On Christmas day in the morn.
The holly bears a bark
As bitter as any gall;
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ
For to redeem us all.
The holly and the ivy,
When they are both full grown,
Of all the trees that are in the wood,
The holly bears the crown.