After what seemed like an eternity, both the world and Makepeace's stomach stopped twisting. Bitter cold slammed into him. Obviously, he had been transported...somewhere. The landscape was silent and frozen. Packed snow and ice crunched underfoot, with tiny ice crystals swirling in a breeze that he might have considered gentle had it not been so horribly frigid. It was night here, and hard, bright stars glittered in the velvet black sky.
The elves pulled out some high-powered flashlights to illuminate the way, and started walking. Makepeace received another shove from behind, and followed his abductors. It seemed pointless to argue the issue. He was woefully underdressed for arctic conditions. The harsh weather pierced straight through his BDUs, and he was shivering violently. Left to his own devices, he would surely freeze to death.
The elves didn't appear to notice the cold. Fortunately, though, they did notice that their prisoner was already suffering from exposure. Someone threw a blanket over Makepeace's shoulders and tied it in place. It helped a little, but he really needed something a lot heavier, like a snowsuit and parka. A woolly hat would be nice, too.
After traveling less than a hundred meters, they came to a tall marker pole set in the ground. Red and white stripes ran along its length, and a printed sign was mounted near the gold ball at the top.
Makepeace stared at the ornate script. "The North Pole?" he said, incredulity overcoming his chattering teeth. In his misery, he'd forgotten that this was all just a demented hallucination. He wished he'd snap out of it, already.
"Home sweet home," Commander Tinsel said. "Come on, it's all downhill from here. Metaphorically speaking, that is." He tapped a few buttons on a hand held device, took a few steps, and vanished into a shimmer of air.
Makepeace considered what little he knew about the elves, and decided that a variation of their "stealth field" was probably at work here. He walked forward, hoping it was warmer inside the camouflage screen.
In that wish he was disappointed. The landscape remained frozen, the air bitterly cold. However, a village straight out of a children's story nestled just down the previously unseen road. The cozy houses looked like they were made of gingerbread. Icing glistened on their cookie-shingled roofs, and candy ornamented their walls and white picket fences. Warm, golden light blazed from sugar-pane windows. Tall candy canes lined the streets, with glowing lanterns hanging from the crooks.
Beyond the village lay an enormous fortress of ice. Its massive, crystalline walls loomed over the town. Towers, parapets, and flying buttresses soared high overhead. The structure radiated imperviousness.
"Let me guess," Makepeace said. "We're going to the Fortress of Solitude over there, right?"
Tinsel said, "You got it, buddy. That's Santa's Ice Palace."
"Some palace." Just looking at the ice-blue monstrosity made him feel even colder. "Any chance of visiting one of those nice gingerbread houses, instead?"
The elves laughed, not kindly. Jingles sneered, "I suppose you want a guided tour of Christmas Town, too."
What kind of twisted Santa Claus lived in a forbidding place like that fortress, with Christmas elves like these evil SOBs? Makepeace gave himself a mental shake to dislodge those thoughts. No sense handing his delusions any fodder for more nightmares.
The elves hurried him down the main road and through Christmas Town. Even on closer inspection, the fantasy houses appeared to be made of sweets. Still, they did look warm and comfortable. He idly wondered how the builders had insulated the gingerbread and candy from the intense cold.
All too soon, the group arrived at Santa's Ice Palace. Guarded by stone-faced Christmas elves, its immense, double doors swung wide open at their approach and closed up behind them with a loud, reverberating boom. Inside was a great, cavernous hall, in which noisy crowds of elves, fairy tale reindeer, green-skinned humanoids in bizarre costumes, and even a few ordinary humans rushed about.
Despite the unfortunate circumstances, Makepeace was actually rather relieved to be inside. For all its frozen external appearance, the interior of Santa's Ice Palace was pleasantly warm.
The commando party split up, half the group taking the equipment and the Reindeer's Horn to the left. The rest of the elf commandos hustled Makepeace through the crowd. Makepeace noticed that no one seemed particularly surprised to see armed elves dragging a bound prisoner around Santa's palace. That didn't bode well. The elves took him down a corridor, and into a side room.
The small chamber had a fireplace on one wall, with a toasty fire already burning. Desiring a closer acquaintance with heat, Makepeace started to walk over to it.
"Hold on there, cowboy," Tinsel said. "You stand over here. Lieutenant Edgar, go let the big guy know we've arrived with his package." The elf lieutenant nodded and took off.
Edgar? "For Christmas elves, you guys certainly know a lot of American colloquialisms," Makepeace said. "Are you sure you're not just figments of my imagination?"
"You shut up and stand still. I'm going to untie you now, but we've all got stunners aimed right at you, so don't go getting any funny ideas unless you like twitching on the floor."
Makepeace didn't care for the idea at all, so he stood passively while the elf commander removed the blanket and then the licorice whip bonds. He rubbed his wrists, more out of reflex than due to any pain or numbness. The licorice hadn't been that tight, and he hadn't been tied very long. There weren't even any red marks on his skin. It did feel good to move his arms and shoulders again, though.
"You know, this is really starting to get to me," he said, feeling a little giddy. "Will you finally tell me why you kidnapped me? What do you people want?"
"Sorry, pal, but the specifics are Santa's business," Tinsel said. Not a trace of regret marred his pixie face. "Santa wanted to chat with a space traveler from your universe, that's all I know." He gave the word "chat" a nasty emphasis.
"My universe?" Maybe Makepeace wasn't hallucinating, maybe this was real. Could he truly be in a parallel universe? He hadn't traveled though a quantum mirror, as Doctor Jackson had once done, but it seemed that the Reindeer's Horn had served the same purpose. And yet, who could believe in a universe dominated by warped Christmas personages? Nevertheless, he figured he'd better start taking things more seriously, just in case. "Just what makes you think I'm a space traveler?"
"For starters, you don't seem too terribly surprised to hear you're in a completely different universe," Tinsel said, lifting a cynical eyebrow.
"Since I'm pretty sure I'm dreaming, nothing weird's going to surprise me. What else you got?"
Tinsel rolled his eyes. "We saw you and your friends arrive through an artificially generated wormhole. Obviously, you came from another planet. That makes you people space travelers in anyone's book."
"Got bad news for you, but my people didn't build those wormhole devices. We call them Stargates, by the way. Another race altogether created them."
"Tell it to Santa Claus," Tinsel said ominously. "And believe me, you will tell him everything he wants to know, one way or another. Everyone does."
At that moment Lieutenant Edgar returned. A troop of uniformed palace guards had accompanied him. The captain of the guard stepped forward. "Santa wants to see his new guest right now," he said, pointing at Makepeace. He added, almost apologetically, "You too, Commander. He wants an accounting of the mission from the horse's mouth."
"Show time," Tinsel said. "Take my advice, pal," he said to Makepeace. "Be polite...and be cooperative."