A Fantastic Holiday Season: The Gift of Stories by Kevin J. Anderson Page A
Authors: Kevin J. Anderson
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snuffled, “okay, I think I get it. Maybe. Mom, Dad, Tessa, I don’t want them to be sad. And they’d be sad if I was gone. And now that I’m here, I am realizing here is gone too.”
Astronaut Nick said nothing, he merely squeezed Jimmy’s shoulder.
“Take me back to Mars, please,” Jimmy said.
Nick wordlessly opened his sack, and let Jimmy crawl in.
Sunlight.
A new day.
Jimmy rolled out of his bunk and came to rest lightly on his feet, his balance a bit unsteady. He’d spent much of the night enjoying Ceres’ gravity. Being suddenly back in Mars gravity was unsettling. But also, strangely, for the very first time, comforting too.
As if on cue, Mom’s head poked into the compartment.
“James, dear,” she said, smiling, “wake up and come see! It’s magic!”
Jimmy pulled himself up and walked—thud-footed—out of his chamber and into the family living and dining area. The heady smell of freshly-baked bread hit his nose, and Dad had put some music on the surround sound speakers. Something cheerful, with bells in it. A tune Jimmy suspected he’d heard before, but couldn’t quite place.
“Good morning, Jim,” Dad said, perched over by the bubble window. “You really should come see this.”
Jimmy walked slowly over and then leaned into the window, his eyes scanning about.
There were space-suited figures wandering around outside. Adults and children alike. A thick blanket of white fluff covered the ground to a depth of several centimeters. One of the adults was wadding a packet of the snow in her hands, then playfully flung it at one of the children. Promptly, all of the children stooped to collect snowballs of their own, and almost immediately a spectacular multi-target barrage of hurled projectiles ensued.
One of the children saw Jimmy and his parents looking out through their bubble. The space-suited child loped over to stand at the window.
Tessa waved at Jimmy, and Jimmy—cracking a wide grin—waved back.
“You ought to go out with them,” Dad urged with a smile.
“Can I?” Jimmy said enthusiastically, his head rapidly clearing.
“I don’t know,” Mom said, suddenly getting a better look at Jimmy in the morning light. “Your eyes are puffy and it looks like you’ve been crying. Do you have a cold?”
“I’m okay,” Jimmy said. “Really. I’m alright. Let me go rinse up and use the latrine, and I’ll be fine.
“Well … okay,” Mom said.
Five minutes later, Jimmy was at the same observation dome where he’d stood the night before—or thought he’d stood the night before, when Astronaut Nick had first made his acquaintance. Ten minutes after that, Jimmy was outside in a suit of his own, running in the kangaroo-hop fashion all the other children had learned to adopt since coming to Mars, until he too was engaged in the great snowball war which had come to the slopes of Olympus Mons.
When things quieted down, Tessa and Jimmy found themselves paired off and walking over to the landing pad where the big shuttles ordinarily touched down.
Jimmy hadn’t dared speak a word of his experience to his new friend. He wasn’t sure she’d believe him—because he wasn’t sure he’d believe him, either. The memory of the prior night was already becoming soft around the edges, and tinged with the flavor of dreams. Of course it wasn’t possible that Jimmy had actually ridden in a hyperspace sleigh back to Ceres, when the journey from Ceres to Mars, and vice versa, ordinarily took weeks. Even when Ceres and Mars were closest to each other in their orbits around the sun.
But then Tessa pointed to something up on the pad.
She and Jimmy loped up to see what it was. They found what appeared to be a large, green-and-red, striped stocking, containing numerous thin, red-and-white striped sticks, each wrapped in plastic. There was a little colorful hand-written tag attached to the stocking that said: For Contessa and James, soon-to-be best friends. Merry Christmas, Nick.
“Do
Astronaut Nick said nothing, he merely squeezed Jimmy’s shoulder.
“Take me back to Mars, please,” Jimmy said.
Nick wordlessly opened his sack, and let Jimmy crawl in.
Sunlight.
A new day.
Jimmy rolled out of his bunk and came to rest lightly on his feet, his balance a bit unsteady. He’d spent much of the night enjoying Ceres’ gravity. Being suddenly back in Mars gravity was unsettling. But also, strangely, for the very first time, comforting too.
As if on cue, Mom’s head poked into the compartment.
“James, dear,” she said, smiling, “wake up and come see! It’s magic!”
Jimmy pulled himself up and walked—thud-footed—out of his chamber and into the family living and dining area. The heady smell of freshly-baked bread hit his nose, and Dad had put some music on the surround sound speakers. Something cheerful, with bells in it. A tune Jimmy suspected he’d heard before, but couldn’t quite place.
“Good morning, Jim,” Dad said, perched over by the bubble window. “You really should come see this.”
Jimmy walked slowly over and then leaned into the window, his eyes scanning about.
There were space-suited figures wandering around outside. Adults and children alike. A thick blanket of white fluff covered the ground to a depth of several centimeters. One of the adults was wadding a packet of the snow in her hands, then playfully flung it at one of the children. Promptly, all of the children stooped to collect snowballs of their own, and almost immediately a spectacular multi-target barrage of hurled projectiles ensued.
One of the children saw Jimmy and his parents looking out through their bubble. The space-suited child loped over to stand at the window.
Tessa waved at Jimmy, and Jimmy—cracking a wide grin—waved back.
“You ought to go out with them,” Dad urged with a smile.
“Can I?” Jimmy said enthusiastically, his head rapidly clearing.
“I don’t know,” Mom said, suddenly getting a better look at Jimmy in the morning light. “Your eyes are puffy and it looks like you’ve been crying. Do you have a cold?”
“I’m okay,” Jimmy said. “Really. I’m alright. Let me go rinse up and use the latrine, and I’ll be fine.
“Well … okay,” Mom said.
Five minutes later, Jimmy was at the same observation dome where he’d stood the night before—or thought he’d stood the night before, when Astronaut Nick had first made his acquaintance. Ten minutes after that, Jimmy was outside in a suit of his own, running in the kangaroo-hop fashion all the other children had learned to adopt since coming to Mars, until he too was engaged in the great snowball war which had come to the slopes of Olympus Mons.
When things quieted down, Tessa and Jimmy found themselves paired off and walking over to the landing pad where the big shuttles ordinarily touched down.
Jimmy hadn’t dared speak a word of his experience to his new friend. He wasn’t sure she’d believe him—because he wasn’t sure he’d believe him, either. The memory of the prior night was already becoming soft around the edges, and tinged with the flavor of dreams. Of course it wasn’t possible that Jimmy had actually ridden in a hyperspace sleigh back to Ceres, when the journey from Ceres to Mars, and vice versa, ordinarily took weeks. Even when Ceres and Mars were closest to each other in their orbits around the sun.
But then Tessa pointed to something up on the pad.
She and Jimmy loped up to see what it was. They found what appeared to be a large, green-and-red, striped stocking, containing numerous thin, red-and-white striped sticks, each wrapped in plastic. There was a little colorful hand-written tag attached to the stocking that said: For Contessa and James, soon-to-be best friends. Merry Christmas, Nick.
“Do
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