Chapter 11
Kostopoulos sat back in her chair, arms folded across her beige jumper, eyes shut as she listened to the choir singing "Joy to the World". They had been practicing in the chapel and Father Gomez felt they were now ready for a more public performance. Kostopoulos thought they were a little off-key, but good nonetheless.
There had been peace and serenity to the rec room since McQueen had left for her excursion assignment, for which Kostopoulos had been grateful. She wanted everyone to feel included, of course, but there had to be a sense of decorum to proceedings. Festivities must be conducted properly, after all.
The choir - a mix of civilians, Starfleeters and MACOs - concluded their song and Kostopoulos joined in with the dignified applause from the audience.
"Feel like stepping up, Colonel?" Father Gomez asked from the chair next to her, a beaming grin across his narrow features.
"I don't sing," she told him plainly. "By all means though, give us another."
Gomez chuckled. "I think the children are getting bored now." He nodded to where a group of kids, all under ten, sat on the floor, idly looking around or playing with decorations, while their parents chatted amongst themselves at the nearby tables.
Kostopoulos appreciated their short attention spans, but thought that they could do with a bit more discipline in that regard.
"One more," she said to Gomez. "Do they know 'Good King Wenceslas'? I haven't heard that in years."
Gomez smiled and nodded. "Okay then." He got up and went over to the choir to prepare them.
Kostopoulos closed her eyes again as they began singing the slow but upbeat carol.
When they were about halfway through, however, they were interrupted by a booming voice.
"Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas!"
Everyone turned to the main doors, where Ambassador Mamao'lani stood in a Santa costume - big, red coat with white trim, matching hat with bobble, and a bushy white beard. A sack was slung over his shoulder to complete the ensemble.
Next to him stood Commander McQueen in a green and red elf outfit, including a similar hat with a bell on the tip. "Look, kids! It's Santa!" she shouted. "All the way from the North Pole!"
The children all cheered and ran over to Mamao'lani, who sat himself on a chair. The adults in the room all laughed along, some taking pictures on their padds, except for Kostopoulos, who sighed.
She should have known things would turn chaotic again soon.
"I hope you've all been good boys and girls this year!" Mamao'lani shouted, putting on a 'jolly' voice. "Come on up and tell Santa what you want for Christmas."
A semi-orderly line of children was formed, partially due to their awe of Mamao'lani-as-Santa, and they each took turns sitting on his lap and detailing their Christmas wishes, receiving a gift of a candy cane from McQueen afterwards.
Kostopoulos watched on in frustration. She had enjoyed receiving presents for Christmas as much as any child, but this type of materialism is what degraded a religious holiday to the point of ridicule.
She needed to say something. Maybe Patel was right; McQueen wasn't doing any of this intentionally, it was just her ignorantly cheerful way. So Kostopoulos marched over to the scientist.
Mamao'lani noticed her approach. "My, you're a big girl!" he said to her. "And what do you want for Christmas, my dear?"
Everyone had a good chuckle, and Kostopoulos smiled thinly. "Too much to list, 'Santa.' For now, can I have a word with your… elf?"
"Uh, sure," said McQueen, moving aside.
Kostopoulos led her out of both the rec room and earshot of the others. The bell on her ridiculous hat jingled as she moved.
"Everything okay, Colonel?" McQueen asked.
"Just… try to reign in the 'holly-jolliness,' alright, Commander?" she said, maybe a bit too firmly.
McQueen blinked. "E-Excuse me?"
"This is an important, solemn occasion for some of us, and you're making it into a parody."
"I… I'm sorry if you feel that way, Colonel, but I didn't mean to offend…"
"You should have ran it by me first."
McQueen's usually pleasant features twisted in ever-so-slight outrage at this. It was the angriest Kostopoulos had ever seen the upbeat woman.
"You're not in charge of… of… Christmas!" McQueen said. "I kinda need a bit of 'jolliness' right now, if you must know. So does the Ambassador. So do those kids, by the look of them!"
Kostopoulos scowled. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that it's more like a funeral with tinsel in there! People are supposed to have fun at Christmas!"
Kostopoulos shook her head. She was fed up with arguing. "Fine. Do what you want."
She slowly walked off, leaving McQueen to jingle back into the rec room.
Kostopoulos eventually found herself in the base chapel, alone. Everybody concerned about the holiday was probably in the rec room having much more of a 'fun' time.
Her temper having cooled off, she sighed and looked up at the statue of Jesus hanging on the cross at the back of the small chapel. He almost seemed to be judging her with his eyes.
"Don't you start," she said.
"I'm sure he'd have a lot to say," said a voice.
Kostopoulos almost jumped out of her skin, thinking for an absurd moment that the voice had a divine origin, only to turn and see the perfectly mortal form of Father Gomez approach her.
She made to stand, but he gestured for her to remain seated, joining her on the short pew. His arrival was timely; he had no doubt heard about her conversation with McQueen, or just intuited it after she hadn't returned.
She spoke before he could. "I know what you're going to say, Father. Something about tolerance and forgiveness and turning the other cheek."
"Ah," he said. "Then my work here is done."
She shook her head. "Why do I have to be the forgiving, tolerant one? Why can't McQueen? She's the one… imposing. Making a mockery of our faith."
"Commander McQueen is celebrating the holiday in her own way," said Gomez. "And it's made a lot of people happy. No harm was meant by it. Quite the opposite. Would you exclude her because she doesn't follow our ways?"
"Of course not. But why can't she just do things properly? Respectfully."
Gomez leaned back in the pew. "When I was a niño in the seminary, I asked one of my tutors how we could reconcile a belief in one true God in a galaxy filled with alien life, each with their own different beliefs, none of which coincided with ours.
"I was just being a young upstart, trying to stump an old man…"
Kostopoulos looked at him incredulously. "You?"
He chuckled and nodded.
She smirked briefly. "Go on then, what did he tell you?"
"He said that God does not want to test our love for Him but our love for each other. If everybody thought the same, that would be too easy."
Kostopoulos exhaled. "Yeah, He likes to make things difficult."
"I prefer to think of it as… 'interesting.'" Gomez smiled. "But you're a smart, worldly woman, Ana. You know all this already. It's not a difference of opinion that's got you riled, is it?"
She let out a long sigh and hung her head. Deep down, she knew he was right, and she had been lying to herself. It was time for confession.
"I'm the youngest of four kids, Father," she started. "Married to the military, no children except the men and women under my command… I've never gotten to be 'in charge' of Christmas. When I'm not on assignment, I usually spend this time of year at my parents' or one of my siblings' houses. It's always someone else who gets to decide on the decorations, the food, the music…
"I though this year could be different. That we could do it my way. I guess… I guess I saw McQueen as taking that away from me."
Gomez let this hang in the air a while before speaking softly. "You should tell her that."
Kostopoulos snapped around to glare at him. "What? As an apology? I told you, Father, I grew up with three older siblings - I don't apologise first."
She got up and stormed out, leaving Gomez looking up at Christ and sighing.
