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‘Twas the Night before Christmas, and Santa
was worried. He had not heard from his agents on the outlying planets
in over a week, and time was growing short. More frighteningly,
he could not detect his agents (Santas 810 and 811 of the Alpherian
star system) even with his magic-enhanced senses. Something has
gone wrong, terribly wrong, he thought. There were two inhabited
worlds in that star system, and for him to be unable to detect his
agents did not bode well.
Santa leaned back in his great wooden
chair, brushed some pine needles off his red trousers, and sighed.
Well, there's nothing to do but wait until we hear something, Santa
mused to himself. If necessary, his Santas on the various Earth
colonies would carry out their Christmas operations even if they
didn't hear from the Alpherian operatives.
Santa rose, stretched his big frame
and threw on his red coat. He was going to do what he had always
done when he needed to think: He would visit his now-retired reindeer.
Some two hundred years ago, when humanity had begun reaching for
the stars and Mars was first colonized, Santa had given his reindeer
their freedom, fearing that space travel would be too much of a
strain even on these magical beasts. But the reindeer stayed with
him at his enchanted North Pole headquarters, for he was a kind
and loving master, and the reindeer returned his love.
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As Santa slowly
stroked the soft fur between Donder's eyes, his thoughts went back
to that time. With his new, magic-propelled spacecraft, Santa was
able to make his Christmas deliveries to both Earth and Mars without
much difficulty. But after humanity had spread beyond the solar system,
even his magical ability to be in many places at once would have been
overwhelmed. And so, the Santa Squadron was born of necessity. Santa
chose humble (and rotund) men from each colony to represent him, and
imbued each with a portion of his God-given powers. Of course, being
the original, he was the greatest and most powerful Santa: he was
The Santa. But the men of the Santa Squadron had performed admirably,
and none had ever been late on their deliveries of Christmas joy.
Which was why Santa was now so disturbed: his men had been so efficient,
so effective, that he could see no reasonable explanation for the
lack of reports from his field agents in the Alpherian star system.
Santa’s reverie was interrupted
suddenly by the squeaky voice of his elf assistant, Ringlo.
“Boss! Boss! It's Santa 811, Tommy
Thomerson from Alpheria-1! I contacted him! He's on his way here now!”
chirped the elf frantically.
“Now slow down Ringlo! What's this
all about?”
“Santa 811, sir! Tommy Thomerson!
He's on his way here in his galactic sleigh, but he's hurt!”
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