It's going to be one of those nights, Christmas Eve or no. My back is howling of the weather changing, and my pain meds are long gone, so I will get no sleep. So, I sit at the entrance of the cave, just out of sight of the patrolling guards, looking up and out at what I know to be Arus, and remember other Christmases...
My mother found out Keith and Lance were both planning to stay at the Academy for Christmas the year we graduated; they had both broken up with their girlfriends, had no family to go to, and did not wish to intrude on Hunk's family or mine. Well, Mamma was not having that. "You bring them HERE, Erik Sven. Those boys are NOT staying all alone at that Academy. Bring them with you." I would disobey orders from Marshal Graham himself before I disobeyed Mamma; had he met her, he would have agreed. So, with some . . . persuasion, Keith and Lance caught the shuttle from Garrison to Oslo with me on Little Christmas Eve, December 23rd. It took some reassurance from both me and Mamma that they were in fact welcome, but they finally relaxed. We decorated the tree, went to Christmas Eve services, and had Christmas dinner before heading back to the Academy on the 26th. Lance told me later it was the best Christmas he'd had since his folks were killed, and thanked me for making him go, as did Keith.
Last Christmas . . . last Christmas was our first on Arus. Coran and the Princess had never heard of it, but they did their best to make it special for us. Hunk designated himself to pull together a reasonable Christmas dinner from the meager supplies we had, Lance and I went out and found a tree, Keith, Pidge, and the Princess scoured the Castle and came up with bits and pieces of things that could be used for decorations. There was no question of presents, of course, but somehow that did not matter. It was a wonderful Christmas, just to be together and have a moment of peace. None of us knew what was waiting just three weeks ahead, when Haggar would ambush Lance in that square, and our . . . family would be shattered.
A touch startles me out of my memories; a whiff of perfume keeps me from pulling my blaster on Romelle. "I woke up and you weren't in bed," she says softly, coming around to sit at my side. "What's wrong?"
I refuse to tell her how much I hurt, physically and emotionally. She looks to me to be strong for her, and I cannot let her down. "Just. . .tinking, elske." I wrap my arm around her and pull her close to me; she feels the cold much more than I do, and tells me that I am her own personal heater. "It is Christmas Eve on Earth and Arus, and I miss my broders, my teammates."
"Chriss-mas?" she repeats, puzzled. "What is Chriss-mas?"
I have to chuckle; cannot blame her for mispronouncing a word she has never heard before, especially when she's getting it from ME. "CHRIST-mas, elske. Und it is a lot of tings. It started out as a celebration of de birt of de son of de Christian God, und still is dat to a lot of people. But . . . it is a lot more. . ." I stop and think for a minute; English still does not always come easily to me, and I want to get this right. "It is family, de people you love, just. . .celebrating being togeder. . .letting dem know how much you love dem, " It hits me then, that nearly all the people I love have either passed on or are far away from me, all but this one who is most precious.
She tilts her head, trying to process what I'm telling her. "It is a religious festival, then? Or a feast?"
"A bit of bot. . ." I start telling her what Christmas customs are, first from my own culture, then those traditions taught to me by my teammates and friends. Each custom has its own memory attached, far more emotional than I expected, and soon tears are spilling down my face in spite of myself. Romelle doesn't ask questions, bless her; she just crawls into my lap and wipes them away, holding me as I give in to the ache of what I have lost, what has been taken from me. "Min bror, Mamma," I whisper into her hair, rocking with her. "Min gud, I miss them, elskede."
"I know," she says softly, leaning up to kiss me. "You'll see them again, you know you will. I'm here, I love you. . .we are our own family now."
I return her kiss, feeling her love for me, and mine for her. She is right; we are our own family now. And though Mamma is gone, Keith and the others are still here, still in my heart. As I think that, and nestle Romelle closer in my arms, our transceiver sputters to staticky life. "Sven? Are you there?" Gud I himmeln, that's Keith's voice!
Romelle scrambles out of my lap, and we both hurry to the set. "Ja, I am here, Keit. Vhat's wrong? Do you need help?"
"What, we can't just call? We have to need something? Gee thanks, Sven," Lance's sarcastic drawl, and it triggers the tears all over again.
"Of course you can call, but. . ." I shake my head. "Vhy take de risk? If ve are caught. . ."
"Won't happen; Pidge has this encrypted three hundred ways to Earth and back." Keith again, all serious Commander. "But. . .we remembered how much Christmas always meant to you, and we had to call, to let you know you were thought of."
"We love you, min bror," Lance chimes in softly. "God jul, and we'll see you and Romelle soon. Stay safe."
"Elsker deg ogsa," I manage, swallowing hard and squeezing Romelle. "Merry Christmas. . ."
"Yeah, Merry Christmas, Sven. We can't keep the link up any longer. . ." Keith's voice dissolves into a burst of static, but it doesn't matter. Those few minutes were the best Christmas present I have ever gotten. And as Romelle coaxes me to lie down beside her, pain forgotten, I know Lance was right. I will see them again. This war will end, and we will have the old promise of "Peace on Earth, good will to men". . ..