Christmas Magic - Chapter 4

"Treat a man as he is and he will remain as he is.

Treat a man as he can and should be,

and he will become as he can and should be." - Stephen R. Covey

Harley and his men were about half-way through the city of Heiligenstadt, and so far there had been no incident, nor any wayward look toward the two large black, unmarked cars. People were busy doing what they needed to do and did not spare a second glance at them, for which he was grateful. He did not want to get into any sort of a firefight with people the Captain might know, and be upset about their untimely demise. They obeyed all traffic patterns, signals, and gave right-away to those who had need of it. So far, so good.

OOOOOO

Astrid walked down the street with thoughtful steps. She had always felt like Axel was a burden in her life, at least after the agreed upon time. She had been asked to carry the child for another, who could not, and had agreed. The timeframe was for less than a year, she was to be cared for fully, and paid handsomely at the end of her time.

She had held up her end of the bargain, and had also agreed to go beyond to finish weaning him for the next two years, as his actual mother was still ill. Astrid was not trained to do anything else, and had not had a single plan for her future, only some vague thoughts about running a day care, or doing elder care.

Once Axel had been born, and she had fulfilled her longer nurse-maid duty, the thrice damned Illumidas had seen fit to invade Earth and start a war that decimated the Earth, winnowed its people down to less than a third, and worst of all, had taken the Lady as she attempted to save the Harlock clan.

Astrid remembered that she had been awakened in the dead of night by the Lady, and told to flee with a loyal retainer by the name of Raymond. She had been told to rename the child, and that Raymond should take the last name of Schlutenheim. They should pretend to be husband and wife until the Lady sent for them. She feared for the child's life, given his family name.

They had fled to Berlin, to hide among other people. No one would remark upon them there, as so many were trying to survive and could not spare a thought for yet one more strange couple with a small child in the city. Raymond had cared for both of them, drawing on the funds the Lady had set aside, and his own talents as a supplement. He also organized the training that Axel was to do, and spent a lot of time educating the boy in reading, math, and science. He also worked with him on rudimentary fighting skills. Odd skills those were, she thought - tumbling exercises, running, bow hunting, yoga, and some self-defense.

She had returned when the war ended, and after Raymond had died. He had told her before he had died what to do if something should happen to him, gave her the gold key, the letters, and instructions for what to do at the bank in Heiligenstadt. He had died of a heart attack a scant month following this revelation. In previous times, he could have been saved, but with the condition of the Earth, the fractured infrastructure, and medical care decimation, he did not stand a chance.

Astrid knew that she should have contacted the man listed on one of the letters she carried, but hadn't wanted to. He was a Priest, and she didn't believe in anything beyond herself. She had gone by the Castle Kirke where the Priest had lived, found it leveled, so it was likely a moot point. The priest was probably dead, but she never asked anyone about him. And so, she had tried to go it alone, with the money she had left, and had looked for work. She had found some work as a cleaning maid, which she could do while Axel was occupied with the schoolwork that Raymond had laid out for him a year before. They were now at an end of the prepared lessons. She had no idea what to do next and had sharply told Axel to leave her alone when he had asked for more to do.

She had met Erich within a week of their return, and had fallen for his good looks, smooth tongue, and grand plans. She had been naive regarding his intent, and she regretted her stupidity and lack of self-drive. She really should have done better by both herself and Axel.

When Erich had pushed the boy out into the night with nothing but the rags he allowed the child, she had added Raymond's old coat to the top of that, and had allowed him to be sent away. She was a complacent fool, she thought bitterly. She had wanted someone, anyone else to take care of her burdens, and not require much of her; she didn't like to work. Yet, Astrid had worked so hard to please Erich, and had been resentful of the time she had had to spend with Axel. He still grieved Raymond, and still thought of him as his father a year after the fact. This had also annoyed her.

She sighed. What an idiot she was. After he was gone, she realized just how much she truly did love the boy. When had that happened? She had promised herself that she would not love him, for she would have had to give him away. Yet, he had snuck into her heart.

She was crossing the street and noticed a handwritten sign on a wall. It read: "Come to Celebrate Christmas at the Christmas Eve Service at the Small Chapel, December 24 at 22:30. Father Anselm will give the homily and communion."

Wonderingly, she stared at the sign. She brought up one of the letters in her bag to look at the name. Father Anselm. Unusual name. Could it be the same one? She wondered, if so, he had to be ancient, for the one she had met all those years ago was already old. She would find out, she thought. She put the letters back into her bag and looked at her chronometer. She had time to do what she needed to do.

OOOOOO

Father Anselm had come up with some worn, but clean clothes for the boy to wear, mostly near his size, out of the meager donation bins. It used to be that there had been so much in them that he had had to send things to distant places for use. No longer. Everyone had to work hard to maintain whatever they had; things were patched, worn, handed down, and used again. Very little extra came to him any longer.

So Axel wound up being clothed in some patched, faded and worn jeans that they only had to roll up a bit, and a shirt that was short sleeved, and a bright purple. There was a worn yellow hooded sweatshirt that was stained with ink in the pocket, but was still serviceable.

They had found some socks that were meant for a man, but Harlock had cut the toes off with his boot dagger, and made new toe pockets for the shortened pair with a needle and thread. The stitches might not have been done with the same expertise of Widow Schulte, Harlock thought, but it would do. There were no new shoes available, but Harlock had cleaned the ones up that the boy had to the best of his ability.

"I'm impressed," said Father Anselm. "I didn't know that your abilities also included mending."

Harlock huffed. "It isn't always easy to find new things to wear as a pirate. It's not like I can go into any store, that might still be operating, and buy something new to wear. Besides, I'm taller and thinner than most, so it is a challenge for me in that manner, too. I get my clothes made for me now by a very nice Amish lady in North America. She has taught me to reuse what is available to me. And she makes me chocolate chip cookies when I visit her." Harlock smiled at the thought of his beloved cookies, and their maker, whom he had come to cherish.

Father Anselm was intrigued. The Amish had unusual ways; he had studied them and their beliefs before the war. "Amish lady?" He inquired. "How did that happen?"

"Long story, and I need more time to tell it than what I have now. I am sure that my crew is quite alarmed by my disappearance. I had acknowledged that it would be unwise for me to travel alone, even here." Harlock sighed.

Father Anselm chuckled, and wagged a finger at Harlock's nose. "So you promised them that you wouldn't leave the Arcadia, yet here you are..."

Harlock shot back, "No, I didn't promise. I just said that I understood their concerns," he said defensively. "I knew I would be fine, if I got back before full daybreak." Harlock dropped his mending into his lap and he crossed his arms over his chest. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I wanted to surprise them with a tree. They have been wanting a real tree for Christmas, and that I did promise to them." He stuck his squared off chin in the air. "I got one, too. A nice one."

Father Anselm nodded, "Ah, yes, I do remember one attached to a strange platform out the back door. It is a monster of a tree. Are you sure it will fit in the Arcadia?"

Harlock nodded. "Yes, it will. I'll have to set it up in what the crew calls the cathedral room, but it will fit." He cocked his head to one side and smiled his slightly crooked half-smile. "Chimneys we don't have, but a tree will be decorative and cheer them up. Besides, they smell wonderful." He tied a knot in the thread when he got to the end of the sock. He bit the thread off, and held out the mended socks for Axel to put on. The boy complied.

OOOOOOO

Axel listened with wonder about the Arcadia and its Captains' plans for Christmas. He would never have thought that a pirate would even care about Christmas, much less want to play an organ, nor be on friendly terms with a Priest. How strange things were! He sat quietly, wondering what else he would learn about the strange, sad, and scarred man in front of him. Even more amazing was the wisdom he could hear in the old priest's words. He had been told by his mother that all religion was for the weak-minded, but he doubted that either of these two men could be counted among those who were weak!

He was tired, somber, and afraid. What was to become of him? All had been alright as long as his father, Raymond had been living. Things had fallen apart after his death and their subsequent journey to Heiligenstadt. And then the awful step-father had moved in, and his life had taken a decided turn for the worse. His own mother had looked on him with a lack of warmth once Erich had come into their lives. Food had become scarce, and his only comfort had been reading the lessons that Raymond had prepared for him. As his food had lessened, his ability to do the tumbling and active part of his training had had to stop by necessity.

Now, his stomach was full, he was warm, and was shown true decency by two types of persons he had been taught by his mother, and then stepfather, to fear and distrust. Priests and Pirates; it was all very confusing. He wondered what would become of him. He was drawn to the two of them, their care for him, and yearned for that care to continue, but he didn't know if that was possible. His father, Raymond had told him to judge people by what they did, not by what they said. His father had been seldom wrong, he would see what these two did by watching them.

OOOOOO

Harlock turned and looked at Father Anselm disbelievingly. "Play the organ on Christmas Eve? Whatever are you thinking, old man? That will endanger you, me, the townspeople, and well, everybody!" Harlock's face told of his incredulousness. His brows threatened to climb up off of his forehead, his eye(s) were wide open, and he looked shocked. His hands were to either side, palms up, as he leaned in to the Priest.

Father Anselm looked at Franz sternly. "They are your people, Franz. I am their Spiritual Leader, and you are by default and succession, their Temporal Leader. If they knew you came home, and didn't speak to them, or hold some sort of abbreviated court, they will believe you have abandoned them. You are the Harlock."

"Abandoned them?" Harlock shook his head. "No, I haven't abandoned anyone. I've been expelled from Earth, exiled to Space, and pronounced guilty of treason, not obeying given orders, and court-martialed to boot. By staying away, I keep them safer than if I came openly, stayed, and fought for what should have been mine." He sat dejectedly on the hassock. He slumped a bit, with his head bowed. "And yet, when they are in trouble, even the ones who hate me, I come to help as I can."

Father Anselm came behind him, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "No, Franz, they aren't safe without you. And the truth is known of your efforts to those who actually try to hear the truth. There is much political spin and media misinformation regarding you. Yet, even those who curse your name, hope that you will come to defend them in their hour of need. The name Arcadia is painted on walls in the worst hit areas, not as a curse, but as a prayer for hope. Often, it is painted right next to your wanted posters."

Harlock snorted.

Father Anselm continued on, "All people pray for freedom, Franz. Even those caught up in their own webs and lies." He sat on the coffee table in front of Franz, and looked in his eyes. "I may help them find their Creator, and help them to ask for freedom from their sins, but you, you must remind them that Freedom during life is still possible, that you still do care for and watch over them, albeit at a distance. Tell them yourself why you feel that you can't return."

He took Harlock's right hand in his, and patted the signet ring he wore on his index finger, drawing Franz's attention to it.

Franz looked down at his hand. This ring, the ring passed from father to son for almost a hundred generations minus one, marking them as the Harlock, each in turn. His own father had given it to him before his last mission out, and Franz had known then that his father had not thought that he would be returning alive. It never left his hand, except when he washed his hands. It reminded him who he was, and why what he did was important. He did have rent to pay.

Harlock looked up at the Priest. "I'll consider the idea," he said, "But right now, I have to return to the Arcadia before they come looking for me, guns blazing."

OOOOOO

Harley was almost through the city. They had had to backtrack a couple of times; there was still debris in the streets that they had trouble passing, even in float cars. Two more streets, and then some open space to the GPS coordinates that kept calling to him. The beacon hadn't moved. That was either a really good sign, or a really bad one. He couldn't decide.

As he rounded a sharp corner, He reacted late to the sight of a pedestrian in the road in front of him. He stomped on the brakes, but he did not have quite enough time to stop before hitting her. She held several bags in her hands, and put up her hands as if to ward him off. As he hit her, the bags flew, and several papers and letters scattered out of the bags across the snow strewn street.

His speed was low enough to not cause her death, but she was injured by the car; she was unconscious. He came to a stop, got out of the car along with the other four men. Harley ran to the woman and knelt beside her. Her eyes were closed, and she was limp, like a discarded rag doll in the street. Some of the other men went to retrieve her belongings. One had gotten the medic kit from the car.

"Is there a hospital here?" One of the pirates asked in a low voice.

"No," said Harley. "It got bombed out." He opened the kit and took out the medical scanner, scanning her body from head to foot as Dr Zero had trained him to do. She had a broken pelvis, which would heal with care, but no great internal injuries. Contusions of spleen, liver and lungs; also a concussion he noted, she had a leaking vessel in the brain; that needed immediate attention. He raised up the scanner and pulsed in a code for stasis of the injured areas and placed the scanner on her. It would keep her stable until they got her to better care.

"Let's move her into the back seat of the car, and we'll have to take her back to the Arcadia. Doc Zero can treat her there. We can't do anything for her here." Harley signaled to the men to assist him, and they rolled her onto a carry sheet, and carried her carefully to the car and loaded her in.

The second car caught up with their position, and Harley signaled them over, he felt terrible about this, but now he would have to split the team, so that he could take care of his new responsibility.

"I'll need you to squeeze two more in your car; we are taking an injured woman back to the Arcadia. It was my fault, I didn't see her; the corner didn't allow either one of us to see the other." He sighed and handed them her bags. "See if you can figure out who she is, and who we should try to contact about her."

Harley instructed them to continue on to the beacon recon, and he would take the woman back to the Arcadia. He'd have to go faster than he wanted and might attract attention, but her condition warranted the risk.

OOOOOO

"Astrid Kroeger Schlutenheim," one of the men mused. "That's what her papers say. Why is that name familiar?"

"Probably one of Harlock's distant relatives. He's probably related to at least half of the town." Another one stated.

"Great. We just ran her over. I'm sure he'll be pleased with us." A third man stated glumly, as he opened a locked case, and discovered to his surprise, a dragoon. "What was she doing with this?" He wondered. He turned the weapon over in his hand. It was a very old gun, but looked to still be functioning. He glanced at the battery. It still held a charge. He looked at the other men. They all looked at the elegant but deadly weapon. It looked like an ancestor to Harlock's own Dragoon. The prickles on their necks increased.

There were also letters, one addressed to a Priest by the name of "Father Anselm." Another letter held an older style of data crystal, and a note from a geneticist by the name of Dame Allison Elberton, MD to one Lady Harlock, MD. There were all sorts of symbols on that page, and they made no sense whatsoever to the men.

There was also a document that was in German, and the name of "Franz Ahren Axel Harlock, C. was prominently in the center of the page. The men looked at each other in puzzlement. Wasn't that the Boss's full, real name? Why would this woman have something of Harlock's? Not having any answers, they decided that they would take it on to Harlock, and then get him back to the ship and let him sort it all out.

OOOOOOO

Harley took his float car, and activated a hidden control, which then turned the vehicle into a snub nosed in-atmosphere flyer. Fins came out on the sides, and directional thrusters were exposed on the back of the vehicle. He arched the flight out over the forest, and then came in low to get the small ship back to the Arcadia. He held radio silence, knowing that Kei would be tracking him.

He did some evasive maneuvers when he got closer to the Arcadia, but it probably wouldn't help very much. He was probably being tracked as a result of lighting up his flyer. They would just have to be faster and more stealthy than what would be coming after him. They were obviously going to have to move the Arcadia.

He hoped that they could extract the Captain in time. This could get ugly, very quickly.

OOOOOO

Sergeant Douro was relaxing at his desk with a donut. He stared at it dourly. It was a donut in name only, he thought. Real donuts were soft, delicious, and full of sweet, yummy jelly. This was a poor donut, but the best that could be done without wheat flour. He poked it experimentally. It didn't give. He sighed; he could probably throw it against the wall and cause a dent.

He held it up to bite into it and found it to be dense, chewy, and not at all what he had expected. He dutifully chewed and leaned back in his desk chair and put his feet up on the desk. He raised his coffee cup, that held watered down coffee. The coffee supply was weak, and uncertain, but at least this smelled like coffee.

All of the sudden, his computer went crazy. It blinked rapidly, and spoke to him, "In-Atmosphere flight, no recorded flight data. Flight unauthorized. Interrogating. No call sign listed. It doesn't respond. Instruction, please."

He hurriedly put his feet back on the ground, slammed the donut and the coffee mug onto his desk. He stared at the screen, unbelievingly. No one had a flyer. No one other than the military. Who could it be? His brain was beginning to awaken.

Douro smiled. The only other people who had flyers other than the military were the pirates, now that the Illumidas were dead. And the only pirate likely to visit this section of old Germany, was the prize of all prizes, Harlock. He eagerly tracked the signal, and entered in orders on his screen.

The video phone came to life. He looked at the screen and smiled at the General on the other end.

"He's back."

The General smiled grimly. "You know what to do."

OOOOOOO