Earth: A Rendezvous with Destiny Chapter 27: Little Saint Nick, a star wars fanfic

Private First Class Jacob Gregory "Jake" Meyer - Fireteam Alpha, Second Squad, First Platoon, C/Charlie Company, Second Raider Battalion "Carlson's Raiders", Second Raider Regiment, Second Marine Division, II Marine Expeditionary Force, United States Marine Corps

Fort Duqua Dar - Quadrant G-19, Coruscant, Coruscant System, Core Worlds, Republic Space, "The Galaxy"

12:24:15 ATC / Tuesday, December 24th, 1968 - 15:00/3:00 PM

Jake now somewhat regretted volunteering for the third watch when it came to the arguably dull yet vital sentry duty, his experience formerly as a Military Policeman, United States Marine Corps Military Occupational Specialty 5811, aside, as once the afternoon shift was completed he got dragged into the occasional verbal political quarrel.

Marvin Huett, the New Dealer, was ideologically opposed to the economic theories of Milton Friedman and off-time became an unofficial political debate club between the Goldwaterite and the New Deal zealot ingrained with notions that getting rid of Franklin Delano Roosevelt's programs to go back to the economic years of Silent Cal would somehow reignite the Great Depression at least within the United States, maybe globally, but that was just only one disagreement among many shared between them.

"Do you have a cousin named Patrick, Jake?"

"What about him?" Meyer asked suspiciously.

"Oh, nothing. He just seems to not be able to let go of his teddy. I overheard Staff Sergeant Cameron earlier."

"I see." Jake wasn't going to permit Marvin to start talking smack about his relatives in addition to the staunch political differences between them. Politics were one matter but family would be crossing above the threshold and therefore the Hoosier decided that the best course was to lead the conversation astray. "He had that stuffed animal since he was an infant and just like Linus from The Peanuts, he symbiotically attached to it. Hell, out of separation anxiety he was practically pleading for Aunt Shannon to ship it to him at basic when the lucky one got drafted and sent to Fort Knox to become a tank gunner."

"Jesus. A tank gunner who can't grow up."

"Can you see why I don't usually talk about family, especially the eccentrics?" Jake groaned. "You know, just to change the subject somewhat as it's the season, Christmas was always special to me, not only because of family sitting around the fireplace and tree layered with ornaments but knowing that even if the world went to hell, there's always someone willing to bring joy across the globe."

Jacob Gregory "Jake" Meyer

Acton, Franklin Township, Marion County, Indiana, United States of America, North America, Earth, Sol System, Milky Way Galaxy

Thursday, December 24th, 1953 - 11:45 PM

Six year old Jake stirred out of the covers to head downstairs to grab a glass of water as he was thirsty.

He pulled down the handle of his door slowly, taking care to not give off even the slightest sound.

Upon opening the door, the boy noticed across the hall that his parents were still in bed, cuddled with one another, dozing.

Jake tiptoed down the hallway before cautiously treading down the steps, taking care to avoid the known creaks and he paused midway to check on yet another potential hurdle, not wishing to disturb Opa's rest.

From the middle of the stairway, Jake in his blue/green striped pajamas and nightcap spotted the patriarch, Great-Great Grandfather Wilhelm, passed out on the recliner, the now ancient veteran of the 32nd Indiana 'First German' Volunteers was known to sleep through even the roaring stampede from a herd of Elephants but the boy knew that even so, even with Urgroßvater slumbering, he still shouldn't risk rousing the other members of the farmhouse awake and thus still crept downward carefully lest he desired his mother to give him an earful.

Entering the kitchen, befuddled as to why the lights were on when they were shut off before bedtime, Jake's eyes widened as unexpectedly there was in fact someone else who was awake in the household, though certainly not a relative!

The man's cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow and the beard on his chin was as white as the snow!

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath!

He had a broad face and a little round belly that shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly!

Jake immediately recognized the person he was facing, why for it was none other than the legendary Saint Nick!

"Ho-ho-ho!" The visitor uttered. "What are you doing out of bed, young man?"

Before Jake could respond, Santa seemed to determine why the youngster who should be under the covers sleeping was stirred awake and not because of attempting to take a peek at Weihnachtsmann placing goodies in the stockings, nevermind presents underneath the tree.

"Ah." Claus recognized instantly the reason and retrieved a glass from the cabinet to fill up with water from the sink.

Jake took a sip and without another word spun about-faced to head back upstairs, knowing that the caller still had quite a night ahead, a route to follow, and an inflexible timetable to complete. "Night, Santa."

"Merry Christmas, Jacob."

Present...

"Are you sure you're the sanest, Jake?" The New Dealer snickered. "You, of all people, still believe in Santa Claus?"

"I know who I saw." Meyer insisted, irked by the accusation of deserving to be placed in a straight jacket for delusions. "You can believe whatever you want, Marvin, but I'm telling you that it was none other than Saint Nicholas himself munching on a slice of Mom's always delectable cheesecake, drinking the homemade chocolate milk, and toting his sack filled with presents."

"Whatever. It might as well have been Calvin Coolidge who so happened to rise from the grave and walked all the way from Vermont to the farmhouse in that state full of hicks, Indiana, without getting spotted on the way westward."

"Not funny." Jake glared, tempted to give the arrogant New Jersey prick a well-deserved bop but relaxed.

"Still, if you think about it for a moment, how is Santa any different from Social Security? You get something in return to something, being good in return for presents compares with working most of your life then retiring to get a check."

"The spirit of giving is superior to receiving entitlement programs." Jake countered, though uncertain as the New Dealer did have a point despite the farm boy more often than not making Marvin the one to pause and think. Even with the jab, the Hoosier who was having second thoughts due to Marvin mocking his home state decided not to hold back as it was still the season of giving and therefore begrudgingly revealed the surprise. "Merry Christmas by the way."

Marvin was taken aback by the unexpected gift but accepted the small box and began shredding the wrappings, specifically a promotional wrapping with the planned logo of STAR WARS, and opened the cardboard lid to reveal a mug.

On one side of the mug was a portrait of Calvin Coolidge with the caption of 'Keep Coolidge' and on the other side was a quote by Silent Cal himself: 'What we need is not more Federal Government, but better Local Government.'

"Yeah, thanks. How thoughtful and I like it already." Marvin grumbled. "Merry Christmas."

"It's just the perfect size for a bit more Joe or Cocoa after all." Jake snickered. "I got the last laugh but, still, Moie Wiehnacht (Merry Christmas)."

"Shame that I don't have anything for you in return ya fringe."

"No need, you utopianist. Just sit out if George Wallace and his so-called victory wagon get the Democratic nomination for 1976."

"You know I would anyway." Marvin snorted. "That's like saying Reagan has a chance of becoming President in 1980 so don't get ahead of yourself, wingnut."

"Reagan in '80? While that might be the greatest idea I ever heard from your mouth, Marv, I for one think John Wayne would make for a fine President as an alternative."

Marvin rolled his eyes at the shit-eating smirk. "You're just giving ahead of yourselves, ya delusional wingnut."

"Yet we're still getting the last laugh, you tax and spend New Dealer." Jake fired back. "Goldwater will have another term, I bet the farm on it."

Private Patrick Conner "Pat" Cameron - MOS 11E10 (Armor Crewman) assigned as Tank Gunner to Don't Tread on Me, Third Platoon, B/Bravo Company, 1st Battalion, 37th Armor Regiment, 4th Armored "Breakthrough" Division, United States Army

Crondre, Condre System, Dufilvian Sector, Midrim, Republic Space, "The Galaxy"

12:24:15 ATC / Tuesday, December 24th, 1968 - 16:54/4:54 PM

"You still have that thing, Pat?" Specialist 4 Victor Edison wondered jokingly, knowing completely well long ago that the gunner wasn't going to relinquish the stuffed animal without a fight.

"It's not a thing. It's Snoopy." Pat countered the tank driver, clutching his prized possession on the bunk fondly. "Don't tell me you never have read the funnies."

"You're still something else." Victor chuckled before noticing the gunner smirking to place a discus into the record player. "What band?"

"The Royal Guardsmen." Patrick shrugged. "Who else?"

O Tannenbaum, O Tannenbaum

Do kannst mir sehr gefallen!

"The opening takes me back to Christmas up at Uncle Steve's cabin in Elkhart, a few miles away from his farm."

Patrick Conner "Pat" Cameron

Stephen Meyer's Cabin - Thirty Minutes outside Millersburg, Elkhart County, Indiana, United States of America, North America, Earth, Sol System, Milky Way Galaxy

Sunday, December 25th, 1955 - 8:00 PM

Five year old Pat could not understand what the lyrics meant even though they did in a way sound familiar. The fact that Uncle Paul and Uncle Steve were singing the carol at all was an unexpected offer but even with the barrier of understanding what the words meant, the tune still resonated.

"O Weihnachtsbaum, o Weihnachtsbaum, wi treu sind deine Blätter!"

"Du grünst nicht nur zur Sommerzeit, Ne auch im Winter, wenn es schneit."

"O Weihnachtsbaum, o Weihnachtsbaum, wi treu sind deine Blätter!"

"What is it with German?" Ashley wondered. "I thought Uncle Paul and Uncle Steve were going to sing 'O Christmas Tree'?"

"To be fair, sis, 'O Christmas Tree' is of German origin." Nicole revealed. "Though I thought it was Tannenbaum?"

"Even so, didn't we fight a war or two against Germany though, Nikki?" Amy inquired. "You're the brains after all so you should know."

"Yeah, Nikki, I thought Uncle Paul fought the Nazis." Natalie added, just as confused. "Right Tim? Sean?"

Before Nicole could offer her input, another sibling decided that he had a better explanation and to offer his seven brothers and sisters in total words of wisdom.

"Wilhelm fought to preserve the Union. Not all Germans are Huns and Nazis, Amy, Natalie." The eldest of the eight siblings at twelve years of age, Scott, interrupted his four sisters and three brothers with reasoning. "It's like saying all Scotsmen eat Haggis."

"But Aunt Becky makes it occasionally." Sean pointed out.

"Nevermind. The point is you should judge people by their character, not their skin, heritage, culture, and traditions." The firstborn upheld before glancing at the youngest, Patrick, appearing as if he was thinking of him especially. "I know it will be a while for you all to understand, but while the world will never be perfect, we still can do better."

Present...

The news had come out in the First World War

The bloody Red Baron was flying once more

The Allied command ignored all of its men

And called on Snoopy to do it again

Was the night before Christmas, Forty below

When Snoopy went up in search of his foe

He spied the Red Baron, fiercely they fought

With ice on his wings Snoopy knew he was caught

Christmas bells those Christmas bells

Ring out from the land

Asking peace of all the world

And goodwill to man

"From that day onward, I understood what Scott was saying: While people will disagree no matter what, whether politically, culturally, religiously, or whatsoever the exact disagreement is, we can still do better."

"Your eldest brother, the cannon cocker, is a wise man." Victor nodded. "More folks should take in that piece of advic-" The pair were cut off by the sound of two separate gunshots followed by a hail of laser fire. "What the-"

"Imperials." The pair's CO revealed as he and the loader, Corporal Arnold Manning, rushed inside, the barrel of the M14A2 rifles was warm judging by the condensation. "We finally have some expected guests coming."

"Well, I guess it's time to spring the little Christmas Surprise, I mean trap we were tasked for."

Sergeant Jayyos Lolfir - Second Squad, Second Platoon, Besh Company, 1298th Engineer Battalion, Third Brigade, 981st Infantry Division, Imperial Army

Crondre, Condre System, Dufilvian Sector, Midrim, Republic Space, "The Galaxy"

12:24:15 ATC / Tuesday, December 24th, 1968 - 17:02/5:02 PM

"Alright, keep your eyes peeled." Jayyos reminded his subordinates. "We're supposed to have an armor unit somewhere in this compound."

"This appears to be a little cramp to hold an entire Armor Battalion with their blasted tanks, more like four men."

"You might be right, I only see four cots and one stove here."

The ten-man Imperial Combat Engineer detachment - a full-strength Imperial squad - scoured around the semi-permanent living quarters to see if it was all clear yet it just seem to be suddenly abandoned by the occupants which were further emphasized by the annoying lyrics coming from the primitive soundbox.

The Baron had Snoopy dead in his sights

He reached for the trigger to pull it up tight

Why he didn't shoot, well, we'll never know

Or was it the bells from the village below?

Christmas bells those Christmas bells

Ringing through the land

Bringing peace to all the world

And goodwill to man

Particularly irked by the tune conceived by uncultured barbarians, Corporal Flyeroo shot at the primitive soundbox only to fail as the music still played.

The Baron made Snoopy fly to the Rhine

And forced him to land behind the enemy lines

Snoopy was certain that this was the end

When the Baron cried out, "Merry Christmas, mein friend!"

The Baron then offered a holiday toast

And Snoopy, our hero, saluted his host

And then with a roar they were both on their way

Each knowing they'd meet on some other day

Christmas bells those Christmas bells

Ringing through the land

Bringing peace to all the world

And goodwill to man

"Kriff! How do you even stop this accursed thing!?"

"How about you turn it off next time?" Lolfir reasoned, flipping off the switch. "It's just more of this damn kriffing Life Day nonsense as Edict GR-1NC4 covers."

Crondre, Condre System, Dufilvian Sector, Midrim, Republic Space, "The Galaxy"

12:24:15 ATC / Tuesday, December 24th, 1968 - 17:02/5:02 PM

"Well, I guess we now officially know they don't like Christmas." Pat muttered while unhinging the Type V folding stock of his M14A2 rifle along with the front and rear foldable pistol grips of his issued weapon.

"Yeah, what a bunch of Scrooges."

"Shhh…" The tank commander, First Lieutenant Mitchell Gromley, ordered his three men as he racked back the charging handle of the MG-3 machine gun.

"Respectfully, sir, why do you get to have fun with the buzzsaw?"

"Quiet until three." Gormley chastised, aiming down the sights of the ripper and waited for half of them to pass by before unleashing the infamous storm of lead. "Merry Christmas you Space Brits!"

Crondre, Condre System, Dufilvian Sector, Midrim, Republic Space, "The Galaxy"

12:24:15 ATC / Tuesday, December 24th, 1968 - 17:05/5:05 PM

"Merry Christmas you Space Brits!"

"Take cover!"

Four of the Imperial infiltrators went down when the burst went up, the shear rate of fire from the slugspewer astonishing the saboteurs, being significantly greater than the latest rotary-barrel assault cannon in use by Imperial Assault Troopers, even the ones equipping Republic Commandos under the enemy's SpecForce Division!

"Fall back and regroup!" The Sergeant ordered before falling to an aimed rifle shot, the cohesion gradually breaking down due to the unanticipated ambush.

First Lieutenant Mitchell Lee Gormley - Commander of Chieftain Tank Don't Tread on Me, Third Platoon, B/Bravo Company, 1st Battalion, 37th Armor Regiment, 4th Armored "Breakthrough" Division, United States Army

Crondre, Condre System, Dufilvian Sector, Midrim, Republic Space, "The Galaxy"

12:24:15 ATC / Tuesday, December 24th, 1968 - 17:12/5:12 PM

Gormley paused his firing as the surviving half of the enemy took shelter behind whatever cover was available despite being a kill zone. Unluckily for the Imperials, they weren't aware of an obscure tunnel that would permit two of the Americans to box them in from the flank.

"Cameron? Prepare to chuck Snoopy in front of the bastards."

"What!?" The Gunner was slackjawed by the request from his CO, not believing his ears.

"It's an order, not a suggestion, Private!" Gormley insisted.

Patrick reluctantly flung his toy toward the Imperials, the devout Roman Catholic praying to God, the Savior, and even the Virgin Mary that Snoopy would not be struck by a shot from the enemy's laser weaponry.

Crondre, Condre System, Dufilvian Sector, Midrim, Republic Space, "The Galaxy"

12:24:15 ATC / Tuesday, December 24th, 1968 - 17:15/5:15 PM

"Grenade!"

The surviving remnants of the Imperial strike team ranked no higher than Corporal jumped flat down to the snow, seeking shelter from the expected explosion. Seconds ticked by only for the lack of a small boom to cause cautious curiosity among them.

"Was that a dud?" One of the Imperials wondered before taking a glance "That's no grenade, lads. It's a toy!"

"A what!?"

"One of the Earthlings threw a pathetic stuffed creature." A third laughed out of disbelief. "An idiotic toy meant for children to enjoy!"

Crondre, Condre System, Dufilvian Sector, Midrim, Republic Space, "The Galaxy"

12:24:15 ATC / Tuesday, December 24th, 1968 - 17:25/5:25 PM

"Alright, that tears it." Cameron growled, intent on shooting the Space Brits from the flank for mocking his friend.

"Manning? Go with him, we'll take them from the left." Gormley ordered the loader. The First Lieutenant lifted the caliber converted MG-42 and hoisted it with one hand grasping on a leg of the bipod, preparing to storm the trapped Imperial 'guests'.

Mitchell watched as Manning followed the annoyed Private to envelop the visitors, before shaking his head out of denial. 'He really needs to grow up.'

Crondre, Condre System, Dufilvian Sector, Midrim, Republic Space, "The Galaxy"

12:24:15 ATC / Tuesday, December 24th, 1968 - 17:35/5:35 PM

"You really are one insane Irishman."

"I'm partly of Scottish extraction too." Pat growled. "Cameron isn't an Irish surname last I checked."

"Fair point." Austin relented.

Pat leaned his back against the ice and clutched an M26 fragmentation grenade while his brother-in-arms and fellow tank crewman, the loader, aimed his M14A2 at the goosesteppers from the other corner, taking care not to extend the twenty-two inch long barrel beyond the edge of the manmade cave.

The tank gunner unpinned the explosive and flung it to a decent spot in between where some of the Imperials were congregating with the intent of nailing at least four within the five-meter lethality radius.

"Grenade!"

Pat initially fired off a short, controlled burst from his weapon, five 150 grain 7.62 x 51mm NATO projectiles striking wildly off target.

Realizing that it was on Automatic, Pat switched the selector to Semi-Automatic and aimed once more, striking one of the Imperials in the head, killing him instantaneously with a thirty caliber projectile before moving on to the next target and shot the enemy twice center-mass of his torso.

The superiority of precisely well-aimed rifle fire under the American military doctrine, adhered by not only the Jarheads despite their recent accomplishments at Camp Perry but by the United States Army as well, had been vindicated ever since World War I, nevermind ever since the nation's founding, and saturation fire, also derisively referred to as 'Spray-N-Pray', would never be accepted if experience fighting beside Republic forces and against the current enemy is anything to go by.

And even if there were elements within the United States Army loathing the 'Gravel-Bellies' despising the 'Cult of the Rifleman' and deriding 'the Camp Perry Long Range Target Mafia' all adhering to the doctrine, retired Brigadier General Samuel Lyman Atwood Marshall recently confessed openly to Congress that the percentages in his already discredited report Men Against Fire: The Problem of Battle Command were made up from thin air and the testing by Norman Hitchman were criticized for using personnel from the United States Army's Engineer School instead of Infantry when studying the effectiveness of long-distance rifle fire in combat, with the statement of 'no combat occurring over three hundred yards' being grossly exaggerated as more often than not the American Infantrymen and Marines in the current war against the Sith Empire were engaging from beyond five hundred yards whenever and wherever the terrain permits; the retaking of the Jedi Temple on Tython, Kuat, and even here being among some of the few exceptions.

'Thank God we never adopted that Stoner trash.' Pat reflected with a smirk. "You're surrounded and reinforcements are arriving! Surrender now!"

Specialist Jairgust Tirmerr - Fireteam Three, Second Squad, Second Platoon, Besh Company, 1298th Engineer Battalion, Third Brigade, 981st Infantry Division, Imperial Army

Crondre, Condre System, Dufilvian Sector, Midrim, Republic Space, "The Galaxy"

12:24:15 ATC / Tuesday, December 24th, 1968 - 17:55/5:55 PM

"You're surrounded and reinforcements are arriving! Surrender now!"

"Time to surrender." Jairgust sighed before raising his hands. "We surrender!"

"No, we can't. They're bluffing!"

"They have the advantage and we entered their nest." The Specialist attempted to reason with his female comrade. "You want to live?"

"Coward." Weltro spat, reaching for both her pouch and her blaster pistol. "At least I'll go down with a fight you disgraceful scum."

The Specialist's eyes widened as he noticed Sheba was pulling out the volatile charges from their protective cylinders, in fact, he realized that she was going to shoot the charges and take everyone with her.

"Sheba. Don't do this." Tirmerr pleaded. "Are you willing to waste Detcharges on four Earthlings?"

"It's still four less the Empire would need to kill later." Weltro concluded.

But before she could finish removing the first pack, the suicidal comrade was riddled with bullets from behind, the miraculous timing preventing an implosion, nevermind a vicious cave-in.

"Anyone else?"

Crondre, Condre System, Dufilvian Sector, Midrim, Republic Space, "The Galaxy"

12:24:15 ATC / Tuesday, December 24th, 1968 - 18:00/6:00 PM

"No." The first cooperative Imperial accepting his status as a Prisoner of War replied. "I would be careful by the way. One of us was going to take us all with her."

The First Lieutenant nodded, his men's eyes still glaring for any sudden movements from the trio especially after the warning. "Secure that pack."

Manning cautiously walked toward the corpse, the muzzle of his rifle trailed at the POWs' direction in case they attacked by surprise, and knelt down, using his free hand to gently tap the explosive back inside the case.

"Well, I bet you were disappointed. This is just the picket line." Gromley revealed with a wicked grin. "The main garrison is farther back but I won't say anything more."

"Though, of course, we do have ways of making you Space Brits talk." Cameron smirked as he removed his M6 Bayonet from the scabbard for emphasis while clutching Snoopy fondly in his left arm. "Such as stuffing frozen potatoes up somewhere...unpleasant before making you do KP peeling the rest for dinner."

The three surviving Imperials gulped, not wanting to go through what was being prescribed to them even if they were unaware of the fact that it was just a ploy to get them to spew out what they were exactly up to.

"We were a raiding party to immobilize the parked tanks with explosives!" The blond one with a crew cut confessed. "The main attack won't occur until tomorrow!"

"Excellent work, men. The Colonel will be pleased." The First Lieutenant chuckled. "In fact, Edison, go ahead and inform him about our Christmas gifts."

"Yes, sir." Victor acknowledged as he walked to where the reciever was.

"Oh and wish him Merry Christmas as well while you're at it!" Gormley added.

Private Roywes Wisgau - Radar Technician, RNS Valiant, First Section, Fourth Squadron, Second Battle Group, Thirty-Eighth Fleet, Republic Navy

Aboard the Valor-class Cruiser RNS Valiant - Earth's atmosphere, above the State of Texas, United States of America, North America, Earth, Sol System, Milky Way Galaxy

12:24:15 ATC / Tuesday, December 24th, 1968 - 21:40/9:40 PM

Roywes was bored out of his wits as he and his Wookiee comrade, Rairkazza, manned the radar.

Down on the planet below, a majority of the native inhabitants were in the midsts of celebrating some holiday which in ways were eerily familiar to the galaxy, especially to Wookiees in particular, while up here the main deterrent to Imperial aggression was just a rotational fleet fresh from combat to recuperate until relieved in addition to an extensively elaborate outer and inner defense ring constructed in joint cooperation between the United Nations, the Republic Military, and the Strategic Information Service early on starting just a week after Earth officially entered the war as an ally of the Galactic Republic and completed merely three days before the raid on Korriban.

The last time Wisgau had shore leave was three months ago planetside and while he wouldn't say he was unwelcomed per se, there were stringent rules to follow and various local customs to respect in numerous nation-states.

As matter of fact, he was almost shot by a militiaman armed with a surplus .30 Caliber M1 Rifle for inadvertently leaving the city limits of San Diego as some 'Area 51' was in another state, rumored to be a top-notch military research complex located somewhere in Nevada, and the locals desired to control the flow of travel for the purpose of security, which while overbearing, was proving to be rather effective.

The astounding capture rate of Imperial spies caught trying to purchase local wear or attempting to leave the outskirts of New York City to head to Niagara Falls for sabotage was remarkable but then again the rules enacted here were emplaced and zealously enforced for a reason: Being quickly identified trying to skirt the nonnegotiable, zero tolerance, policy was asking for local authorities to try the culprits as spies and if found guilty of wartime espionage, be sent straight to the gallows.

Of course, while these 'common sense' measures meant that the opportunity for tourism was extremely limited, the crewer could agree with the sayings: 'Reasonably anyone attempting to leave authorized tourist areas to search for a facility they heard about located in the middle of nowhere is up to no good.' and 'If someone is snooping around where unauthorized, they have to be spying.'

Needless to say, forcing the Imps' information they even managed to gather to be scant and vague due to hindering their ability to spy was always a good thing even if it came at the expense of not being able to tour everywhere on Earth and grumblings from intergalactic megacorporations desiring to have access to new marketplaces and business ventures.

"You know, Razz, perhaps Coruscant should embrace a 'Quarantine Policy' there as well. If the Imperials keep sending their agents here to die per se in the desperate attempt of gaining information of wartime production and sabotaging foundries when even I don't know where I'm going, then that speaks for the effectiveness."

The technician's attention dropped back to his assigned screen when a blimp appeared, signaling an unknown presence was approaching the fleet at slower than a jet from Earth, even slower than a Starfighter, yet still coming hot.

"Houston Control, this is RNS Valiant. We read an unauthorized departure near Houston, do you have anything?"

"Negative, we don't have anything on our scope other than what's expected for tonight. You sure it's not Santa's sleigh?"

Rolling his eyes and without a word, Wisgau switched the channel to the main defense center in the region as a precaution.

"NORAD? This is RNS Valiant, we are registering an unauthorized departure near Houston, Texas, do you have any sudden flights we need to be aware of?"

"Negative, Valiant. There were reports of the Jolly Saint Nick in the area before losing sight though. Lots of disappointed kiddos tonight if we don't regain track!"

"Jokesters." Roywes grumbled. This holiday was more important than protecting secret information apparently! Nevertheless, the technician received the confirmation he needed and decided to hail the presumed Imperial spy ship attempting to flee with whatever tidbit they remarkably managed to gather in spite of the top-notch to a tee precautions.

"Attention unknown and unauthorized spacecraft, this is Private Wisgau of the Republic Navy, you are ordered to deviate from your present course and turn back for inspection or you will be fired upon!"

No answer was given to the hail and the technician was about to push the alert button to warn the entire fleet when the sight outside startled him.

Out in the freezing night, snow falling all around, was an elderly man riding in some sort of open-air vehicle that was being pulled by - unbelievably - nine flying deer, a mixture of four Fallow and five Reindeer, one of whom had a red nose acting as a guide lamp!

"Ho-ho-ho!"

It was a picture-perfect instance of local folklore and superstition being, in fact, reality, Jedi and their powers were one thing but to see something that even the Jedi believed to be only exaggeration and hyperbole was absolutely mind-blowing.

"I'm going to open the shield and permit him to land."

"What!?" Roywes exclaimed out of disbelief. "How do you know we didn't drink too much before our shift, fuzzball?"

"Because that, right there, is Santa!" The Wookiee reasoned with excitement as he sat up. "Let's welcome him aboard!"

"Now wait here you tree swinging - Hey! Where do ya think you're going!"

Hangar Bay - RNS Valiant

12:24:15 ATC / Tuesday, December 24th, 1968 - 21:48/9:48 PM

"Thanks, my friends." Santa smiled at the two Republic crewers. "Ho-ho-ho!"

"We're still going to get court-martialed for this, Razz." Roywes groaned, still denying that the furball allowed anyone unauthorized onboard even if it was with good intentions in mind.

"Relax, tomorrow is Life Day and this Christmas is coincidentally similar!" Rairkazza reasoned in a reassuring tone. "Not to mention Santa is revered as Wroshyr trees!"

"I don't think that's how it works." Roywes muttered, not buying the supposedly justified excuse for a minute. "Even if you place this Jesus instead of Santa, the comparison isn't the best."

The Wookiee huffed and flat-out ignored the complaint before facing the visitor.

"Can you please lend me a hand with making your friends' first Christmas here special?" Santa requested. "I brought along Christmas trees for every ship present after all and presents for everyone as well of course."

Before Roywes could decline, his walking carpet fellow crewer answered before he was able to decline.

"Sure!"

"I have a bad feeling about this, a very bad feeling, and the Wookiee is going to be the end of me."

Group Captain Emmryl Tepper - Captain of the RNS Valiant

Valor-class Cruiser RNS Valiant

12:24:15 ATC / Tuesday, December 24th, 1968 - 22:23/10:23 PM

"What the kriff!" The lead deck officer, Lieutenant Rhejarr Markgann, cursed, taking the words straight out of the Captain's mouth.

There were Life Day gifts under a pine tree and he didn't even know where the blasted pine tree came from!

"Mister Markgann? Assembled the crew. We're going to find out who these merry pranksters are and have them assist the cleaning droids with swabbing the deck."

"Aye aye, sir." The XO acknowledged without a beat, as they mutually shared the sentiment.

Foredeck - Valor-class Cruiser RNS Valiant

12:24:15 ATC / Tuesday, December 24th, 1968 - 22:40/10:40 PM

"Men, it has come to my attention that sometime in the past few hours, some pranksters decided it was an excellent idea to not only sneak gifts aboard but somehow managed to set up this pine on deck! This here is a safety hazard and if it's toppled the size can pierce the transparasteel viewport from within, causing the infamous vacuum which will suck us all out to meet the grisly end every spacefarer fears."

Emmryl waited patiently for a confession from the guilty party among the nineteen hundred hands but not one stepped forward, either because of embarrassment or a desire to pretend that the matter wasn't serious to warrant a court-martial proceeding.

"We'll be here all night if we have to. I'm going to investigate and pull up the holosecurity footage as part of my investigation. If you don't speak up now, the punishment sought will be the maximum sentence."

The attention of the crewers, however, was now not focused on the two annoyed senior officers of the ship but instead staring at something, or perhaps even someone, outside and one of them spoke up not out of guilt but because of awe.

"Sirs? You better look outside."

Grumbling underneath his breath, the Captain and even his XO about-faced even if they felt that it was another practical joke only for the sight before them to illustrate that it may not be the case.

"Ho-ho-ho! Merry Christmas!"

"I don't believe it." Tepper stared outside the bridge's viewport, seeing the more likely culprit with his own eyes departing from another Republic vessel. For good measure, he did rub his pupils in case it was a mirage yet the view was still occurring in reality."I just don't believe it."

"And he's certainly no Force-user." Master Za noted as she watched the 'sleigh' veering downward to presumably the next location after finishing his visitation. "A major and obvious one is there's nothing in the Force which can cause deer to fly, especially these deer."

"With all due respect, Master Jedi, I'm more concerned with how he infiltrated the ship as we don't have chimneys, not if he's a blasted Jedi or something!" The Captain of the vessel snapped. "This isn't a pleasure liner for some obscure holiday from a backwater of arrogant fools but a technologically state-of-the-art warship!"

A Wookiee crewer stepped forward confidently, not remorseful for his part in the affair as he himself revealed. "I just simply let him aboard after I opened the Hangar to his sleigh! He wanted to pass out Life Day gifts for everyone!"

"Neither the Captain nor I gave authorization." Markgann snarled, angered to learn that an insubordinate crewer violated Republic Naval Regulations and acted as a remorseless accomplice for the interloper. "Why don't we just invite Imperials onboard while we're at it, Private?"

"Umm...Sir? This one is for you."

The executive officer sighed and unwrapped the gift, only to see it was a toy airship he ogled at a trinket shop in Antwerp only last week but this figure, this 'Santa Claus' not only went out of his way to gift him one but also somehow knew what to get. "So this transpired across the entire fleet, not just the Valiant."

"Well, clearly something is up." The Captain muttered, clasping his hands behind to stand at ease and glance downwards outside the bridge at planet Earth. "As this world is just something else entirely."

Casivir Therin - Battlemaster of the Jedi Order / Hero of Tython

Room Number 777 - Equinox Apartments, Senate District, Galactic City, Coruscant, Coruscant, Coruscant System, Core Wars, Republic Space, "The Galaxy"

12:25:15 ATC / Wednesday, December 25th, 1968 - 10:40/10:40 AM

"Cas? You remember that train set?" Kira inquired of her husband.

"Oh, I remember. What about it?"

Kira smirked as she noticed him attempting to hide the very locomotive that was mysteriously gifted to him in the middle of the night, supposedly by a particular fabled holiday figure on Earth.

"A certain Claus with these unique Reindeer capable of flight got spotted again but the Council is still failing to reach out to him."

Cas stroked his beard, still unsure if it was wise to chase someone who was a harmless, jolly soul. "Personally, I still believe he wants to be left alone. While the Council may wish to make contact with him somehow if possible, he's reclusive and we still don't know where exactly his workshop is located other than being somewhere in the North Pole. Why he's not even a threat so..."

"Fair point. The only harm he does is trespassing private property to leave gifts and invading privacy." Kira concurred, even if the Council were insistent due to attempting to unravel why the presence of the Force was nonexistent in the Milky Way as thus far it seems the evidence is hinting at it to only occur in the Galaxy per Master Gehnso's report though it didn't necessarily mean the Order were giving up as to why it was the case. "By the way, aren't you a little old for playing with toys?"

"There's nothing wrong with collecting models, dear."

"Until you run out of space of course." Kira retorted wittingly. "Don't get any ideas."

"No promises." Cas grinned as he went back to admiring the choo-choo.

Hey, in all fairness, it wasn't like I was going to have the Galaxy miss out on Christmas and the experiences that come with it in the fanfic as the fictional Life Day created for the Star Wars universe through that, that, *shudders* perpetually infamous and horrid piece of torture, Star Wars: The Holiday Special, righteously disavowed by George Lucas himself, isn't exactly the same thing :P

And while including Santa Claus does at first glance appear to be a little anomalous for this tale, to be fair there will be some mentions of Indiana Jones's adventures and whatnot in the future but I'll just leave it at that for now.

Regardless of your thoughts at the moment, this is ultimately just something lighthearted and purposely intended as a Christmas gift to the readers of the story here :)

I would like to also wish A Merry Christmas to OfficerDonNZ, Mandalore the Survivor, BraveSeeker3, JSailer, PaladinDelta, and Squasher but most of all Merry Christmas, everyone!

Sincerely, ODST

P.S. In case anyone was wondering or scratching their heads, the Republic Naval ranks are exactly the one's canon for Star Wars: The Old Republic.

Sailors, I mean 'Crewers' are ranked as Privates, Specialists, Corporals, and Sergeants before getting to Petty Officer for some reason...

Bioware could have done Spaceman instead of Seaman or something that sounds marinerish without being directly seafaring but that's apparently how the writers of the game want it.

Oh well, it's no big deal as I'll be sticking with it for the purpose of highlighting the different military traditions / mindset for the sake of the story ;)