The Federation Tribune - Christmas 2005

[Rob Versteegt]

                  ==== The Federation Tribune ====
                       ==== Christmas 2005 ====


Got a question? Visit the Newspaper FAQ!
(http://www.frontierfleet.net/lcars/newspaper/newspaper_faq)

Want to laugh at some IRC Quotes? Look at the quotes section:
(http://www.frontierfleet.net/lcars/newspaper/irc_quotes)


--------------------------------------------------------------------
Chief Editor's notes:
--------------------------------------------------------------------

Hello everyone!

First of all, merry Christmas! I hope you have wonderful couple of days...
and more, of course. Have a great time!

And now... ST Frontier Fleet is proud to present: the Christmas edition of
the Federation Tribune. It's filled with Christmas stories, Christmas
articles... well, everything that has anything to do with Christmas. I'd
say, have a look, have fun, Merry Christmas, and a great 2006!

--------------------------------------------------------------------
Wherever you are..., by Rick Clogston.
--------------------------------------------------------------------

Admiral Claus looked at the bank of monitors on his desk. All over the
galaxy, little red transwarp craft were rocketing to their destinations,
weighed down with cargo.

"How we keep it manageable is, if a culture hasn't heard of us, we don't go
there," he said to the young Federation Tribune reporter. "And, just in
case, we try our best to stay ahead of the curve. This year we added six new
worlds. The Federation - or is it the Klingons? - probably won't discover
them for another decade, but our research tells us that they're ready."

The reporter cursed himself for not even trying to sneak in a holo-imaging
camera. It was against the rules, of course, and if he'd been caught with it
he would have been immediately banished, but the simple fact was that no
one - NO ONE - was going to believe what he was seeing.

The rotund old Admiral in the red uniform smiled knowingly. "As I'm sure you
're aware, we don't often let the media this far into the complex." Then he
chuckled, and his tummy jiggled like a bowl full of jelly. "Still, I decided
that we could trust you. After all, you've always been more nice than
naughty."

The young reporter blushed and stared down at the PADD he was taking notes
on. "A lot of people will be disappointed to find out that it's technology
that helps you do this and not . . . you know . . . magic, or something."

The Admiral laughed again. "In my experience, magic is usually nothing more
than technology that somebody else doesn't understand. After all, people
have been speculating for centuries as to how we are able to get to every
known corner of creation with free presents for every child. A lot of folks
still have visions of me, by myself, in a sleigh pulled by reindeer, taking
hand-carved wooden toys house to house. A romantic picture, to be sure, but
a little unrealistic.

"Why, we had replicators back in the twentieth century. Cloaking, almost a
hundred years before that. We had to. Even up here on Earth's North Pole, we
couldn't maintain sufficient security and output even that long without it.
And as for me, my role is more administrative now than anything. Still, you
give somebody the suit, let them grow a little facial hair, and nobody knows
the difference. Except Mrs. Claus, of course," he said with a wink.

"I'm curious, though," said the young man. "How do you -"

"Excuse me a minute," the Admiral said. He tapped a screen on his right,
studied it for a moment, and then leaned into a desktop microphone in front
of him.

"Elvis," he barked. "Are you going to be able to get through that ion storm
in the Denaurius belt?"

=/\=No problem, big guy,=/\= came the silky voice of the pilot. =/\=I'll get
these goodies through without getting them all shook up. You just have that
peanut-butter-and-banana sandwich waitin' fer me, y'hear?=/\=

The Admiral laughed heartily. "Okay, I'll take your word for it. Claus,
 out."

The reporter pondered what he'd just heard for a long moment.

"Elvis?" he asked finally.

Santa chuckled again. "It was rough, getting him to give up the silver jump
suits, but he's turned out to be one of our best guys. Why, without him, we'
d have never opened up the Romulan Empire."

"So you literally go everywhere?"

"Absolutely. The Ferengi Alliance was a tough nut to crack. Any thought of
gifts, given for free, was repugnant to them. We had to be very stealthy for
a long time, but there was considerable grass-roots response. In the end, I
like to think we paved the way for Grand Negus Rom's reforms. Lessee . . .
We were going to the Gamma quadrant before the wormhole was discovered. You
every try to think of a proper gift for a changeling? The Borg were easy,
compared to them. Why, we deliver toys and treats to places the Federation's
never heard of! I'd tell you where, but then . . ." He smiled, but there was
a different look in his eye.

~Gulp.~ "This all raises the inevitable question . . . How do you do it? I
can't even begin to imagine how big your research facility must be. And,
starting from where you did, with a handful of elves on ancient Earth, how
you've managed to stay ahead of the Federation, the Klingons, the Romulans,
all these technologically advanced societies . . . Quite frankly, it's a
little unbelievable."

The old Admiral spread his arms wide, taking in the command center. "Many
have said so, and yet . . . here we are."

He studied his young guest for a time, and then seemed to come to a
decision. He rose from his seat and gently placed an arm around the young
man's shoulders. "You know, back in my village, when I was a boy, I was
shown a little bush that grew near the riverbank. My Uncle was sort of a
village Shaman, and he told me that the elves in the forest took care of the
bush, and had showed it to him years before.

"The bush grew a special fruit; a little berry, that when you bit into it,
you received knowledge beyond imagination. Now, I know that you might think
that it was some kind of psychotropic compound, but it wasn't that at all.
It actually opened a subspace trans-time rift, through which information
from the future could be gathered. There was only one of these bushes, and
it was very jealously guarded by the elves.

"The problem was, if anybody ever used the knowledge for selfish gain, the
elves would uproot the bush and replant it in another place, making it
impossible for that person to find again. My uncle had decided that the flaw
in the elves' plan was that they always gave the new location to a grown-up.
He was taking it upon himself to show it this time to a child; me. He warned
me that the elves would only allow me access to the bush as long as I used
the knowledge I gained for the benefit of others.

"In the hundreds of years since, I've always tried to remember that. The
elves grew to trust me so much that, when my good works attracted the
attention of others, they helped me establish this place, and also helped me
with my work. Obviously, the continued consumption of the berries has also
extended my life, far past that of normal humans.

"And as our work has progressed out into the galaxy, I have seen the good we
intend to do being reproduced in the most far-flung places. Whatever power
it was that produced the bush, they must be happy with what we've done with
it, because we've been blessed at every turn.

"Today, that bush grows in a back corner of our hydroponics bay. Now, you
can write all this down if you like. All that I ask is that you consider the
larger implications when you do."

"Oh, I'll write the story . . ." A wry smile creased the young reporter's
face. "And I won't complain when they don't believe a word of it."

The old Admiral and the young reporter shared a laugh. "By the way," the
young man said, "what do you call the fruit of the bush?"

"Why . . . Rodden-berries, of course."

They chatted a while longer, and at last the two, now friends, bade each
other farewell. As the young man walked toward his shuttlecraft, the old
Admiral called out to him.

"Before I forget," he said, "I know it hasn't been that long since I was
visiting you, and I wanted to tell you something . . ."

"Go on," said the young man.

"Well . . . You know that sled I gave you four years ago?"

"I remember."

"I know how badly you wanted that snowboard . . ." The old Admiral had a
pained look on his face. "You understand, don't you?"

The young man remembered the disappointment when he saw the sled under the
tree. He also remembered how his older brother had purchased a snowboard
with his own money, and then two weeks later took a fall that broke his leg.

"Yeah, I understand," he said with a smile.

The old man smiled back. "See ya, Bobby," he said.

"See ya, Santa. And, thanks."

--------------------------------------------------------------------
Legendary Posts, by Rob Verlinden.
--------------------------------------------------------------------

Merry Christmas to you all! Since this is the Christmas edition, also a
legendary Christmas post . Actually this are two consecutive posts pasted
together. In December 2003 Ben started off a Holodeck crisis on the Odyssey
involving Santa Claus and Rudolph the Reindeer. Obviously the holoprogram
could not simply be shut down...

Subject: CEO Paul Velden

(USS Odyssey - Corridor on deck 6 - 2391.03.03, 1859)

Paul had left the party to return to Engineering and try to repair some more
systems. The less time they had to spend in a repair facility at a starbase,
the better. ~First priority is sealing the hull breach. That will be hard
while we are at warp, so that will have to be done at the starbase,~ he
thought. ~Main systems are back on line, fortunately, so I can start to
focus on the EPS manifolds...~ The reason for coming down to deck 6, thought
, was to look at the Deuterium processors. There was some minor damage to
the processors, and on his way to Engineering, Paul wanted to check it out.

When he walked past Holodeck 1, the computer console showed a program being
run. ~What's this?~ he thought as he examined the readout. According to the
computer, there was nobody inside the Holodeck. "Computer, identify
lifesigns in the Holodeck," he asked, just to be sure.

<>There are no lifesigns in Holodeck 1.<>

"Then who's running the program?"

<>That information is not available.<>

~Must be a glitch in one of the computer's subroutines.~ Paul thought. ~I'll
have to coordinate with Dacs to repair it.~ He tapped his comm badge.
"Velden to Holodeck 1. Is anyone there?"

There came no response.

~Odd.~ "Computer, shut down the program that's running in Holodeck 1."

<>Unable to comply. Program is protected by a password.<>

~The Holodeck computer systems must really be damaged.~ Paul thought and
sighed. ~More work for the Engineering crew.~ "Computer, identify program
currently being run in Holodeck 1."

<>Unable to comply.<>

Paul shrugged. ~I might as well go in and see what kind of program is
running,~ he thought. He was curious, but curiousity alone wasn't a good
enough reason to enter someone else's holoprogram. Now he had an excuse to
do so. To his surprise, the Holodeck doors didn't seem to be malfunctioning,
and he entered without a problem. ~Finally, a system that isn't damaged.~

(USS Odyssey - Holodeck 1 - 2391.03.03, 1902)

Before him, Paul could see a city square, covered by white snow. It was
cold, very cold, and snowflakes fell on his uniform. ~The lesson that I
should learn from this: curiousity only gets you cold feet.~ He looked
around the city square. There were lots of people walking around and having
a good time. On the side of the square, there were some children singing
songs... Christmas songs. In the middle of the square, Paul saw a very large
Christmas tree, decorated with lights and other ornaments.

"A Christmas program?" he said to himself. "In March?"

"Ho ho ho ho!" A muffled voice suddenly said. Paul turned around to see a
rather heavy-looking man in a red and white outfit and a white beard. He was
carrying some sort of sack, and was walking around yelling "ho ho ho" to
everybody. "And what do you want for Christmas, young fellow? Ho ho ho ho!"
the man said to Paul.

~This is getting extremely annoying.~ the CEO thought. "Computer, delete
Santa Claus."

<>Unable to comply.<> the computer replied. <>Holodeck program is protected
by a password.<>

~I need backup to tackle this problem.~ Warp core breaches he could handle,
but a holographic Santa Claus was too much.

"Velden to Lieutenant Helfrump," he said as he tapped his comm badge. "Would
you please come to Holodeck 1? You might want to see this..."

(Reply Helfrump)

(USS Odyssey - Holodeck 1 - 2391.03.03, 1908)

Paul had just wished Dacs and Nerell a Merry Christmas. The Holodeck program
was a Christmas program after all. One that they had to shut down as soon as
possible, because it was really starting to get on Paul's nerves.

"Thank you, Paul and the same to you." Dacs said in response to Paul's
'Merry Christmas'. "I'm surprised to see you playing with Santa Claus
though."

"What?" Paul hadn't anticipated this question. "No, I'm... this isn't...
He's not..." he sighed. "I'm not playing with Santa Claus. This all just
happened!"

"What do you mean, it just happened?" Dacs asked.

"The Holodeck was running a program while the computer said nobody was
inside. I couldn't shut it off either. So I went inside to investigate."
Paul paused, to make sure the others knew that what he said next was
important. "I was not playing with Santa Claus. This annoying hologram just
followed me, and I can't get rid of him." He sighed. "Could be a computer
glitch as well."

"Maybe the computers were affected by the probe and this is a residual mind
control program. After all..." Dacs said as he turned to face Nerell, "some
of us are still singing."

(Reply Nerell)

Paul laughed. "I suppose it could be possible that another probe has
attached itself to the hull... one that takes over all Operations personnel
and makes them sing Christmas songs," he said laughing. "You'd better watch
out, Dacs."

(Reply Helfrump?, Nerell?)

"What's the plan sirs..." Nerell asked.

"I don't know, actually," Paul said. "The program is either malfunctioning
and refuses to be turned off, or someone left it running, and didn't get
back to shut it down. It's protected by a password, though, so we might have
to bypass some systems."

"Hohohoho!" the Santa Claus interrupted the conversation again.

"Oh shut up." Dacs said looking at the hologram over his shoulder.

"First thing we should do is switch off this annoying character," Paul
sighed. "or maybe the snow. It is quite cold in here."

"Okay," Dacs agreed. "Computer Arch!" They looked around to see where the
arch would appear, but no arch appeared anywhere. "Who started this program
anyway?"

Paul didn't know. He hoped Ensign Nerell would be able to find out, and
looked hopefully to the AOPS.

(Reply Nerell)

Paul looked at Dacs. "Or we could try to use our computer override codes as
Chiefs of our departments to shut this program down. Should save us a lot of
work."

"We've got to find a control panel or something." Dacs replied. He walked
around trying to find one, but was interrupted by a singing snowman.

"Silver and Gold, Silver and Gold" it sang.

~What is that supposed to mean?~ Paul thought. He didn't know a lot of
Christmas stories, after which this program was clearly modeled. He tried
not to pay too much attention to these weird holographic characters, but it
wasn't easy; the Santa Claus followed him wherever Paul went.

"Why isn't the computer responding?" Dacs asked.

"I have no idea." Paul replied. "There must be something wrong with the
voice command pathways in this Holodeck..." then, suddenly, he realized what
that meant. "Computer..." he began. "Exit."

There came no response. "Computer, shut down program." Nothing. "Freeze
program." Again, no response. "Computer?"

The computer stayed quiet. Only the howling of the wind, the hohoho-ing of
Santa Claus and the humming of Nerell's Christmas songs could be heard.

(Reply Nerell)

To make matters worse, the Santa Claus hologram still wouldn't get away from
Paul. "Could you please leave me alone?" Paul asked the hologram, as he was
rubbing the bridge of his nose. He felt a headache coming up.

"Hohohoho! Merry Christmas." came the annoying reply.

"Have you found a control panel yet, Mr. Nerell?" Paul said desperately.

(Reply Nerell)

"There has to be one somewhere..." Paul stopped mid-sentence as he noticed a
large building just  ahead. They had to plow to the snow to get there, but
it would be much easier to find a control panel in a warm building, than to
search for it in the cold snow.

"Tell me," Paul said to the Santa Claus. "What is that building over there?"

"Why, that is my Elves toy factory of course. We make all the presents
there, for under the Christmas trees of all the children in the world." the
hologram replied. "Well, not all children of course. Only those that have
been nice this year. I keep a list, you know. It's hard work. I have to
check it twice too. But it's my duty; I got to find out who's been naughty
or nice."

Paul sighed. "Enough already." He turned to Helfrump and Nerell. "I bet we
can find a control panel of some sort in that 'Elves factory' over there."
He pointed at the building. "Besides, it's probably a lot warmer in there
than it is out here in the snow..."

(Reply Helfrump, Nerell)

~Remind me never to go to Earth's North pole again...~

(Reply Nerell, Helfrump, any)
(Posted by Ben Versteegt)

--------------------------------------------------------------------
"My arms are killing me,"
 --------------------------------------------------------------------

"My arms are killing me," said the human.

"That is an illogical statement," observed the Vulcan. "It would be
impossible for your arms, without your consent, to do you bodily harm.
Especially, considering the position you are currently in."

"What he means," growled the Klingon, "you stupid, green-blooded,
pointy-eared freak, is that hanging from this wall, bound by iron chains
attached to his wrists, is causing him great physical distress! And he is
not alone in that!"

"Well, of course he's not alone-"

"Don't bother," said the human. "I learned long ago that explaining a joke
to a Vulcan is an exercise in futility."

"You mean . . . you were joking?" asked the Klingon.

"Well . . . no, but I was . . . oh, never mind."

"Kahless must truly despise me," said the Klingon, "to have me hanging here
with a Vulcan and a Human."

"Speaking of which," said the human, "how long have we been here?"

"I don't know," replied the Klingon. "Three or four days, probably. If we at
least had a window . . ."

"I would estimate that it is three Federation-standard days, and seventeen
hours, since our captors placed us here," said the Vulcan. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, it's just . . . If it's three days, than tomorrow is Christmas."

"What's a Christmas?" asked the Klingon.

"Ah!" exclaimed the Vulcan. "I can answer that. It is a holiday, widely
celebrated among the Humans of the Sol system. It began as a religious
observance; the Mass of Christ."

"And just how does a Vulcan know so damned much about Humans?" barked the
Klingon.

"I am a graduate of Starfleet Academy. You may refer to me as 'Commander Y'
maha'."

"You mean, you used to be a Starfleet officer?" asked the Human.

"I still am," said the Vulcan. "I am on an undercover assignment, the goal
of which was to infiltrate your crew."

The human's eyes grew wide. He stared at the man he had trusted all this
time. "You mean . . ."

"I believe the terminology you would use would be that I am 'a cop.' Your
smuggling operations have been attracting attention for some time now. It
was felt that a Vulcan would be more likely to engender your trust, as we
have a reputation for not practicing deception."

"It worked," said the human.

"I am sorry, Roland, but it was necessary."

"I guess it's the least of our problems."

"I wish to hear more about this Mass of Christ," said the Klingon.

"A Mass is a religious ritual," explained the Vulcan. "Some of these types
of ceremonies are dedicated to a specific saint or prophet, Christ being the
primary among these."

"And just who is this Christ?"

"Hmmm . . . I suppose I will have to defer to you, Roland."

"Well, let's see . . . Christ was, well . . . he was a person who had a
significant influence on Earth society. Much like Kahless the Unforgettable,
or Surak of Vulcan."

"A mighty warrior?" asked the Klingon.

"A great thinker?" asked the Vulcan.

"A little of both, and more," said the human.

"How could he be MORE than Kahless?!?" the Klingon asked incredulously.

"I don't know . . . I guess my people NEEDED more. He was a lot more than
just a warrior, or a philosopher, or a teacher. He claimed to be the living
embodiment of the creator of the universe. Supposedly, he had the mind and
spirit of God himself, encased in a simple human body. He was subject to all
our pains and desires, all our temptations and experiences, and it is said
that he lived his entire life without ever failing to live up to the highest
possible standards."

"An admirable feat, to be sure," said the Vulcan. "Still, how could he
possibly be the physical incarnation of a being powerful enough to have
created the entire universe?"

"The best proof he gave was that, on the third day after he died, he came
back to life."

"How old was he?" asked the Klingon.

"About thirty years or so," said the Human. "You see, his unwillingness to
compromise his moral standards aroused the anger of the leaders of his
nation, and he was executed. Rather painfully, from what I understand.
Anyway, he was placed in a tomb, and on the third day, he reappeared."

"That would make the claim rather hard to dispute," said the Vulcan. "Just
out of curiosity, what was the basis for his moral code?"

"Oh, boy, that's a good question," said the human. He thought about it for a
minute, and then said; "I suppose the best explanation was written by one if
his disciples; God is love."

"Hah!" said the Klingon. "I think I could follow a leader like that. One of
passion, and physical gratification."

"Decidedly illogical," said the Vulcan. "How could a moral code be rooted in
one single emotion?"

"Oh, it's not emotional love that it refers to," said the human. "It's more
like . . . like a lifestyle of self-sacrifice. The act of giving, without
expecting anything in return. If he has a primary teaching, it would be that
everybody should think of the well-being of others over that of their own,
and trust the Creator that He would care for the individual doing the
giving. He promised that his spirit would remain with us, to guide and
strengthen those who believed in Him. It is why we celebrate the anniversary
of his birth in human form as the Christ-mass. You've got to admit, it's a
very high calling."

"Mmm . . . Very high, indeed," said the Vulcan.

"One that, I'm afraid," the human said softly, "I have fallen woefully short
of. Although, it might be time to correct that mistake. Have you noticed how
long we've been talking without interference from our guards?"

"Now that you mention it . . ." said the Klingon.

"It might finally be time for . . . this!" The human stretched his fingers,
slid them under the shackle on his wrist, and pulled a thin rod of metal out
of his sleeve. "Now, my intention, when we finally were left alone for a
while, was to pick the locks on my chains and make my escape. Of course, it
would be more of an act of love and trust if I were to give it . . ." He
stretched out his fingers with the lock-pick in them, ". . . to you."

The Klingon looked at him wide-eyed, and then stretched out his fingers and
snatched the lock-pick. Feverishly, he thrust it into the lock on his
shackles.

"What made you do such a thing as this?" he asked.

"Well . . . I guess I owe you," said the human. "After all, you were the
last person I swindled. It's the least I can do to try and repay the harm I'
ve done. As I recall, Christ himself personally forgave a thief, while he
was being executed."

"It is a logical choice," said the Vulcan. "After all, Roland is too short
to reach up and free us, and you are best suited to overpower our guards."

"You have no way of knowing if I will set you free," said the Klingon.

"I am at your mercy," said the human. "It is only right that I place my
trust in you, and no more than I deserve if you leave me here. All I would
ask is that you take Y'maha with you."

The Klingon finally got the shackle holding his wrist open, then swung
around and began working on the other. A minute later he had dropped to the
floor, a free man. He stretched his arms, but was unable to reach the other
two men with the lock-pick.

"No matter," he said gruffly. "Soon, I will have the keys, and a couple of
bodies that I can use as footstools. I will return for you, my friends, and
soon we will celebrate this Christ-mass together!"

"That would be very kind of you," said the Vulcan.

"By the way," said the human, "what is your name?"

"I am Korg," the Klingon said with a toothy grin, "son of Moog."

"Well, I thank you in advance, Korg."

"I know," said Korg. "Your arms are killing you. My arms will soon be
killing somebody else."

Stealthily, he crept up to the door . . .

--------------------------------------------------------------------
Star Trek: The Next Generation: Christmas Revelations, by Ben Versteegt.
--------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear reader of the Federation Tribune,

What you are reading now is *not* the story I have written. As usual, I got
a bit carried away, which resulted in the story being too long to appear in
the Tribune (think 8000 words or so). I wouldn't want to make the reader go
through all the trouble of skimming 17 pages of text, so that's why I'm
placing this note here instead of the story.

The real story, however, can be read at the web edition of the Federation
Tribune. Just click the following link (this one:
http://www.frontierfleet.net/lcars/page/1527) and enjoy my story! Before you
read it, though, you should know that it takes place in between the TNG
episodes "In Theory" and "Redemption, part 1" of the fourth season. Of
course, knowing that it is 17 pages might discourage you a little, so here's
a teaser to, hopefully, get you to want to read my story.


Stardate 44977: nearly 17 days after the Starship Enterprise's ordeal inside
the Mar Oscura dark matter nebula, the ship returns to Starbase 260 after
rescuing most of the passengers and crew of the transport ship Kumer, which
had been stuck in the very same nebula two days ago. Saddened by the loss of
their ship and their families, the survivors have a hard time dealing with
the situation.

Not only is it Stardate 44977, but it is also December 24th: Christmas Eve.
When Captain Picard resurrects an ancient tradition, Lieutenant Worf
struggles to find his place in this distinctly human celebration, while
Lieutenant Commander Data searches not only for the meaning of Christmas...
but also for the meaning of love... or of the lack of it.


Interested? Hop on over to http://www.frontierfleet.net/lcars/page/1527 and
enjoy the story.

--------------------------------------------------------------------
An Academy Christmas, by Rob Versteegt.
--------------------------------------------------------------------

Admiral Robert Baine walked over the Academy campus. He walked around the
campus a lot: every day at least an hour. Not only did he enjoy it, but he
also found it easier to talk to Cadets when he was just walking around.
Indeed, talking to others in his office might be more official, but that was
exactly the point: it was *too* official. No Cadet dared to enter without a
dress-uniform, so to speak.

No, out here he would be able to talk with Cadets much easier. In fact, he
had gotten the idea of what was about to happen here, from a Cadet during
one of his walks. Oh yes, Cadet Ahrmell'ah was a Cadet with lots of ideas.
She would go far in Starfleet, or so Baine predicted. In fact, Baine would
not be surprised if this Cadet would get a Command of her own, one day.

Her idea had been an interesting one. From what Baine had heard, the idea
was simple, and that was which made it so fantastic. She had reminded Baine
of the obvious fact that it'd soon be Christmas: An Earth holiday, which was
celebrated throughout the planet, every Earth year at the same time. Baine
knew about this of course: every year, he'd give a Christmas show, in which
he -and some willing and/or unwilling instructors or Cadets- would play the
classic story of Charles Dickens. This would always be lots of fun, since
Baine always played the part of Ebeneezer Scrooge. And, in his opinion, he
did it pretty well. Sometimes he would make faces to the audience, doing
something which the players hadn't rehearsed. . . and everyone would laugh.
This year, he had decided to offer the person who played the ghost of
Christmas future -a Vulcan Cadet whom Baine had managed to convince to play-
a drink. That would indeed make the audience go wild. . .

However, Ahrmell'ah's idea had changed everything. Her idea was to change
the way the Academy celebrated Christmas year after year, and to do
something original for a change. If that wouldn't work out, they could still
play that play. Of course, Baine had been curious as to what Ahrmell'ah's
idea entailed. The Cadet hadn't wanted to be specific, but she had asked for
access to certain controls. Reluctantly, and after some more explanations,
Baine had given her that access. However, she would have to let Instructor
Creenan accompany her. It was of course standard policy never to give Cadets
total access to whatever control here on Earth. . .

When Instructor Creenan had heard about the idea of Ahrmell'ah -which Baine
still did not know that much about-, she had been delighted. Ever since that
day, about two weeks ago, Baine had seen Creenan walking around with a
bright smile on her face. And whenever the Instructor met with Cadet
Ahrmell'ah, the sound of both giggling would fill whatever room they were
in. This promised to be something. . .

Well, it was Christmas Eve now. December 24th, 2391. Baine hadn't gone home
yet, even though it was well past duty-hours. No, he had been asked to stay
here. Asked of course, by Instructor Creenan. Apparently he would play a
part in Ahrmell'ah's plan. Well, whatever it would be, he was prepared for
it.

Or so he thought.

It was at this moment, that the usual pleasant sea-breeze which usually
brought a visit to the Academy Campus -thanks to Earth's Weather Control, of
course- changed into an icy storm. Baine, shocked by this sudden and
unexpected change in weather, looked around to see several Cadets stand
frozen in their places. Not by the icy wind though, but by surprise.
Although if they would stand still for much longer, they *would* freeze
because the icy winds. . .

"Everybody!" Baine shouted out, trying to get his voice over the icy winds
which were now turning into a blizzard. "Get inside!" If people would stay
outside in these beautiful -and usually blessed with a comfortable
temperature- gardens, then they would certainly catch a cold, or worse!
"Inside! Quickly!"

A few icy moments later, Baine was the last one to go inside. What was
happening here? It was freezing out there, and there was snow falling down
in the well-kept lawn. Was the weather control system broken? Had there been
a power failure somewhere? Baine didn't know. He shook his head, and turned
to Commander Royek, Head of Academy Security, whom he had asked to check if
everyone was inside. Apparently, everyone was present. . . except Instructor
Creenan and Cadet Ahrmell'ah.

A smile appeared on Baine's face, when he heard this news. Of course. They
were behind this sudden change in weather. But for what purpose? Why would
they make this night the coldest night the Academy had ever seen? Was this
part of their plan? Was this plan worth freezing all Mr. Green's flowers to
death?

Baine did not know. What he did know though, was that it was nearly time to
go to sleep. Tomorrow was Christmas Day, and with or without Instructor
Creenan and Cadet Ahrmell'ah, and even with or without Baine's play, it
would be a great day. There were festivities planned: a Christmas meal, for
instance, where Baine would give a speech. A speech about what Christmas
meant for him. And he was *not* going to let some cold night practical joke
of an Instructor and a Cadet get in the way of that.

*****

Admiral Robert Baine woke up in the middle of the night. He had been
sleeping in his quarters here on the Academy, but this bed was nothing like
the one he shared with his wife, Sandra, back home. It was too bad, he
figured, that Sandra would be alone at Christmas. . . that just didn't feel
right.

He sighed, and decided that it would take at least an hour for him to get
back to sleep again. He might as well open his eyes and look at the time. So
he did. His eyes opened, and he leaned to the side to look at the
chronometer. But instead of a chronometer, he found. . . an animal, licking
his nose!

"Wowa!" He shouted, backed off, scaring the poor animal. A reindeer. That
was what this animal was called. But. . . what in the name of Christmas was
a reindeer doing in his Academy quarters?

He stood up, and only now realised that this *wasn't* his Academy quarters.
This seemed to be a stable of some sort, with hay and straw piled up there
in the corner, two reindeer standing in a separate compartment next to where
Baine's bed was, and a couple of large. . . sacks, filled with. . .
something, next to where a large cabinet was standing. No, this sure wasn't
his Academy quarters at all.

What a night. First the cold, and now this! Was this part of a practical
joke as well? Was Baine a victim of such a joke here? Christmas or no
Christmas, Baine would not stand for this! He shook his head, and was about
to walk around to see where exactly he was, when he felt something. . . on
top of his head.

Carefully, he put his left hand up to his head. Slowly, centimetre by
centimetre, he was getting close to. . . well, to whatever was on his head.
It could be anything. A Romulan brain-altering device, maybe. Or a Dominion
mind-reader. No, that was ridiculous. Neither race would be able to get
close to Earth without Starfleet noticing. Baine could be very sure that
whatever was on his head, was nothing which could harm him. And yet, he
remained cautious.

He touched the. . . well, the hat, it seemed that it was. It was soft. Warm
to the touch. It felt quite pleasant, actually. With a sudden movement,
Baine grabbed that hat off of his head, and had a good look at it. It was
red. Red and white. Baine's eyes scanned this hat, which looked awfully
familiar. It was the same kind of hat which belonged to the legendary figure
of. . .

"Santa Claus!" A voice rang out from a couple of meters further, when the
door of this stable was opened. "Oh, it's good to see that you're awake!"
The voice was familiar. The figure approaching Baine though, was not.
Although. . . was it?

"Creenan?" He asked the woman who was standing before him in. . . well, in
what Baine could only describe as a ridiculous outfit. She was dressed in
green, with red and white striped socks, protected by bright green boots
with black laces. Not only that, but the green jacket she was wearing was
the same bright green as the boots, the pants, and the. . . cap, was a
perfect contrast to the red cheeks which this woman had. "Creenan, is that
you?"

The woman smiled. "Please Sir. Tonight, I'm called Pixy, and I'm your Chief
elf. Oh, and you're Santa Claus." Before Baine could say anything, 'Pixy'
walked away again, only to retrieve some clothes from a cabinet nearby.
Those -mostly red- clothes were again in deep contrast with 'Pixy's' green
appearance. "Sir, you must wear this. You're Santa Claus, after all. I'll
take my leave now: if you're done changing, walk out that door," She pointed
at the door through which she had come in, "and we'll be waiting for you
outside. Goodbye." And with that, not leaving Baine a chance to say
anything, 'Pixy' walked away. . .

Baine just stood there, holding this costume, gasping like a first year's
Cadet who just saw the beauty of the Academy gardens. . .

*****

Two elves were standing in the large room. Well, they weren't elves, of
course. Instructor Creenan and Cadet Ahrmell'ah had dressed up in
elves-costumes. All part of their plan, of course. Both were looking at the
large doors, which connected this room to the stable where Admiral Baine had
been transported to, after the man had gone to sleep. Not exactly according
to Starfleet regulations, and if the Admiral would press charges, both could
indeed be in a very serious and career-breaking situation, but. . . well,
they counted on Baine's gentle nature. In fact, they really needed it. For
it was Baine who had to be the Santa Claus in this little plan they had come
up with.

"What did he say?" Ahrmell'ah, the Andorian Cadet, asked Instructor Creenan.
Ahrmell'ah too, was dressed in these bright green colours. "Was he angry?
Surprised? Mad? Shocked? Mad? Angry?"

"Don't worry, *Dixy*." Creenan said, addressing the Andorian with her
'elfish' name. "I've known the Admiral longer than today. He might indeed be
angry and mad and shocked at first, but after he calms down. . ." 'Pixy'
couldn't finish her sentence, since the large doors finally opened, and a
figure, dressed in red and white, with a long white beard, stepped out of
the room.

"I feel like an idiot in this suit." 'Santa Claus' complained.

*****

Outside of the large cottage, where the snow had been falling for quite some
time now, stood a Starfleet shuttlecraft. It was a normal type 9
shuttlecraft, ordinarilly used for ferrying people to and from the Academy.
An interesting feature about this particular shuttlecraft though, was that
on the sides, instead of the registery number of the ship or base this
shuttle belonged to, a large image of Santa Claus was now shown.

When Admiral Baine walked out, with his two 'elves' behind him, carrying the
sacks which contained presents, he turned around to face the two others.
"You've got to be kidding. . ." He said through this fake beard he was
wearing.

Creenan did her best not to giggle. "Sir, with all due respect," She pointed
at the shuttle, "What is Santa Claus without his sled?"

The grumbling Santa Claus couldn't disagree with Pixy the elf, and pretty
soon, all three were on board the shuttle, named 'Santa's sled', just for
this occasion. "You might be angry now Sir," Creenan said with a smile,
while she sat down in the pilot's chair, "But wait until you see the happy
faces of the Cadets whom we'll be bringing presents. You'll feel much better
then."

Even though he'd rather not admit it, Baine did find all of this amusing. It
was his job to be angry at the Cadet and Instructor for kidnapping him,
making use of a Starfleet shuttle without permission, and maybe even for
dressing up like a fairy-tale figure. Nevertheless, he knew they were doing
this out of -what was once called- the Christmas Spirit. It was strange to
see that an El-Aurian and an Andorian could grasp such a Human concept as
'the Christmas Spirit' better than a Human could. . .

While the shuttle started defying gravity, Baine looked at the Cadet who was
sitting in the chair next to the pilot's chair. "Cadet. . ." he started, but
was interrupted.

"Tonight, it's Dixy, Sir." Ahrmell'ah said with a smile on her face. While
it was the Andorian Cadet's plan which was now put into motion, she herself
thought that maybe they had made a mistake to kidnap Baine like this. Maybe
it would have been better if she'd have asked the Admiral, instead of
deciding -together with Creenan- that it was best to let this be a surprise
to the Academy commandant.

"Very well then." Baine replied. He seemed to accept what was happening now,
since his face no longer showed anger. This was a good thing, Ahrmell'ah
figured. "Could you at least just tell me what is going on? In all honesty,
I haven't got a clue. . ." Baine complained.

Ahrmell'ah couldn't help but grin. "I'm sorry Sir, it must be frustrating.
Let's see. . . ah yes, we are going away from the North Pole: Lieutenant
Creenan had rented a small cottage there. That's where we beamed you to
while you were asleep. I've done quite some research on Christmas Sir, and I
found that Santa Claus comes from the North Pole. So I thought it'd be best
to get you -Santa Claus, that is- there first, before going back again."

Baine rubbed the bridge of his nose, although that wasn't all that easy
because of this fake beard and moustache which he was wearing. Not to
mention this ridiculous hat. "And. . . where are we going?"

"Why Sir, that's easy." Ahrmell'ah replied. "The Academy. My research also
told me that at Christmas, people used to receive presents. I thought it
would be nice if we were to honour that Earth-tradition, and let Santa Claus
bring presents to the Cadets at the Academy. That is why we asked everyone
to stay there for the night. . . so that if they would wake up, they'd have
a couple of presents."

Now, Baine smiled through his fake beard. "Cadet. . . uhm, Dixy, I mean. . .
that's a very nice gesture. And while I do not really approve of this. . .
kidnapping, I will play along." He grinned broadly now. "It is Christmas,
after all." His grin faded rapidly though, when he thought about this. "It's
just a shame that I cannot be with my wife on this jolly day. . ."

Ahrmell'ah flashed the Admiral a smile, and then turned to Creenan. "Are we
in range, Pixy?" She asked her 'elfish colleague'.

"Just about, Dixy." Creenan replied, the same mysterious smile on her face.

"Very well then." Ahrmell'ah tapped some lights on her console, and then
turned to Baine. "Santa Claus, what would Christmas be without Mrs. Claus?"
And with that, she tapped a light on the console again, which caused the
back of the shuttle to be illuminated in blue light. There, where nothing
was before, now stood a female figure, in about the same suit as Baine was
in. Without the beard and moustache, of course.

"Sandra!" Baine said, his wide grin apparent through this beard. "You're in
on this too?" He asked his wife.

"I never miss a good party, you know that." Sandra said with a wink. "And
don't call me Sandra. I'm Mrs. Claus, remember, Santa?"

Whatever anger was left in Baine was now totally gone. He gestured to the
seat next to him, in which Mrs. Claus sat down. After making sure she was
comfortable, he turned to face the Instructor and the Cadet. "Well Pixy and
Dixy, what are we waiting for? We've got Christmas Presents to deliver!
Let's get moving!"

Creenan and Ahrmell'ah grinned to each other, and replied instantly. "Yes
Sir, Santa Claus!"

*****

The Academy grounds were no longer green with grass, filled with flowers of
every colour. No, now the whole campus was covered in a white blanket of
snow: courtesy of Cadet Ahrmell'ah and Instructor Creenan, who had adjusted
the weather control for this area.

The campus was silent: more silent than normal. This too was probably
because of the snow, or was it because of the Cadets who were all asleep?
Whatever it was, the silence was soon broken by the sound of a shuttle
approaching. To anyone who might be watching, this shuttle seemed like an
ordinary type 9 shuttlecraft, although the markings on the side had changed.
It now read 'Santa's sled'.

Santa's sled landed on the white surroundings, in what was the middle of the
campus. Again, silence filled the area, but only for a short amount of time.
When the large door opened, both Santa Claus and Mrs. Claus jumped out, both
carrying a sack full of presents: enough for every Cadet on the Academy.

"Now remember." 'Santa Claus' told his wife. "We have to be careful not to
wake anyone. It's supposed to be a surprise. . ."

'Mrs. Claus' nodded. "I know. . ." She winked at him. "Brrr. Never thought
it would be so cold here."

A smile now crept up Santa's face. "Now it seems this costume actually has a
purpose. . . it's not as cold as I thought. And besides. . ." He gestured
around. "I've never seen the Academy grounds like this. So white, and
peaceful." He nodded. "This certainly will be a white Christmas. . ."

"Oh Robert, that's so romantic." Mrs. Claus told her husband. "Maybe you
should order some snowfall every year, around this time. Not only would it
be. . . white and peaceful, as you said, but it would also let the Cadets
learn how to survive on an ice-planet." She finished with a grin.

A loud Santa-like laugh emerged from Baine's lips in reaction to his wife's
comment, while he stepped forward towards the Academy entrance. However, his
laughing soon stopped: sirens suddenly started howling, spotlights went on,
and a localised forcefield was activated around both Clauses. "Freeze!" A
voice came from the darkness of the Academy. "Who goes there?"

Baine blinked, although this too was difficult to see through the costume.
"It's Santa Claus! Ho ho ho!" He bellowed. "We're here to bring some
presents to Cadets who have been nice!" He paused, recognising the voice who
had been talking. "Have you been nice this year, Royek?"

The lights inside the Academy went on, and the Main Entrance Doors opened,
revealing a team of armed officers and Cadets. This team was led by the man
Baine had just addressed as Royek. With careful steps, the team stepped out
into the snow, surrounding the two Clauses, and the shuttlecraft. "Who are
you?" Royek, the Tellerite in charge of Academy Security, asked.

"It's me, Baine." Santa Claus replied, removing the beard from his face.
"Now please Royek, we're participating in an Earth tradition known as
Christmas. It's supposed to be a peaceful tradition, and it certainly
doesn't involve having phaser rifles being pointed at Santa Claus." He
smiled. "So please, put those things away, will you?"

"Stand down!" Royek ordered his men, only to turn back to the Admiral and
his wife. "Well Sir, I'm sorry, but I didn't know you would participate in
this. . . when I came by your quarters to get some information, I discovered
you were gone. Transported away! I quickly put the Academy at high alert,
and I was ready to move out with a Security Team, when you suddenly landed
here. I quickly ordered the Academy lights to shut down, making it seem as
if we were unaware of your coming." He smiled faintly. "Which, in
retrospect, we were. I'm sorry Sir, but you could have told me about this. .
."

Baine smiled as well, now looking at the shuttle where his two 'elves' were
being escorted towards him and his wife. "Believe me, if I had known about
this advance, I would have told you Royek. Let's just say it came as a
surprise to me as well. . ."

The force-field around Santa Claus and Mrs. Claus was quickly shut down,
while quite a number of curious Cadets made their way outside. "So much for
a surprise. . ." Creenan whispered to Baine. The Admiral could see that
she -and with her, Cadet Ahrmell'ah- was disappointed about this.

"Cheer up Lieutenant, Cadet." Baine said, putting his beard back on. "It's
Christmas, remember?" He put a hand on his wife's shoulder, and smiled. "So
what if it's not a surprise. . ." He turned towards the Cadets who were
coming out of the Academy, admiring not only the snow, but also the unusual
people in these unusual costumes. "Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas!" Baine
shouted. "And guess what? Santa Claus has brought you all some presents! So
why don't we all just go inside where it's warm, and we'll get this party
going!"

With a loud cheer, the Cadets came towards the four people, and started
carrying them on their shoulders. With that, they turned around, walking
towards the entrance of the Academy, towards the Main Hall. And the rest of
the night, nobody would go to sleep: the Christmas Party was on.

*****

The following morning, December 25th 2391 according to the Earth Calendar,
Instructor Creenan walked by Admiral Baine's Office. She could see that the
Admiral was just finished making some calls to Starfleet Headquarters,
Starfleet Security and the UFP Council, to apologise for any inconvenience
he and the others had caused. . . and of course to wish them a Merry
Christmas.

When Creenan entered the Office, Baine leaned back in his chair, rubbing his
eyes. Last night had been. . . tiresome, to say the least. Of course, it had
been fun. It had been a great experience for everyone involved. Except maybe
for Starfleet Security, who had nearly embarked on a rescue mission to find
Baine. . .

"Well Lieutenant." Baine said, seeing the woman come in now. "That was quite
a plan you and Cadet Ahrmell'ah came up with. You do know that kidnapping a
Starfleet Admiral is against the usual regulations, right?"

Creenan frowned for just a moment, but then smiled. "I didn't think you
would mind, Sir. And I thought correctly, am I right?"

Baine showed a smile as well. "You are, Lieutenant. Just. . . next time,
please talk to me about this first. I don't like being part of something
without me knowing about it."

"Of course Sir." Creenan replied, looking out of the windows to the white
landscape outside. "Beautiful, isn't it?" She asked. "You don't mind that
we're made some changes to the weather control system, Sir?"

Baine shook his head, still smiling. "I don't, Creenan. The gardener, Mr.
Green, might. But I've already told him that you and Cadet Ahrmell'ah will
help him repair all the damage." The smile on his face only grew. "I hope
you don't mind?"

The smirk on Creenan's face gave Baine the impression that she had already
expected something like that. "Of course not Sir." She replied to him. "I
figured as much."

A pause followed. A long pause, in which both the Admiral and the Lieutenant
looked outside of the window. There were a couple of Cadets outside, tossing
snowballs, of making snowmen. They were enjoying themselves: that was all
that mattered to Baine. It was Christmas Day: they should indeed be having
fun..

Instructor Creenan broke the silence, after a minute or two. "Sir, my
apologies for not letting you play Ebeneezer Scrooge in the annual Christmas
play. I know that meant much to you. Still, now you got to play Santa
Claus." She paused for a moment, but quickly went on. "If I may Sir," she
asked with a curious look in her eyes, "which did you enjoy playing the
most?"

Baine smiled, and looked at the Instructor. "Merry Christmas, Lieutenant."
He said, tapping the light on his desk which let the doors go open.

Reluctantly, Creenan backed off. Baine wasn't going to answer her, Creenan
knew. "Merry Christmas Sir." She said, walking out of the Office.

When the doors closed, Baine opened one of the drawers of his desk. In it
lay the Santa Claus hat. He grinned, and put it on, while turning around to
look at the snow, and the Cadets having fun there. "Merry Christmas." He
murmured to himself. "To each and every one of us. . ."

The End.

=====

MERRY CHRISTMAS!
And have a great 2006.