Santa Claus Is Leaving Our Planet

This year, for my annual Christmas story, I had the story trigger to write something about Santa Claus. So, I did. I recorded my process and progress on Twitter using the hashtag #RLWriting. Below is the fruit of that labor for your Christmas enjoyment.

One note before we begin. I made 8 allusions to a popular TV program. I also made some overt references to more than two TV shows as well. Your mission, should you chose to accept it, is to determine which of the overt allusions is the one I used, and what are the other seven allusions I made. See if you can locate all eight for that TV show. On or shortly after Christmas, I'll provide the allusion key so you can determine how many you found.

And now, for the story:

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Dad eased back in his comfy chair. “And this is one of my all time favorites.” He flipped a couple of pages in his well-worn book as the fire crackled, casting smoke up the chimney. The four stockings hung from the mantel, competing with the Christmas tree for their attention.

Samantha drew her knees to her chest and propped her feet against the edge of the couch. She knew what was coming. The same song that always followed that comment: Santa Claus Is Coming to Town. He sort of sung-read it William Shatner style every Christmas Eve that she could remember. Dad had all of Mr. Shatner's records. She, being fifteen years old, had listened to Dad's rendition around fourteen times. He must have sung it when she was a baby too.

Samantha glanced at her younger brother, Andy. His freckled face lit up and he sat tall in anticipation of what was to come. At least he was eager to hear it again. But he'd only heard it nine times so far. Then again he watched the “Ninja Force” movie over—

“Santa Claus Is Coming to Town!” Dad smiled as he studied their faces for a reaction. He had the uncanny ability to act like this was the first time he'd ever read it to them. He seemed to enjoy it more than they did. Mom was noticeably absent.

Andy clapped. “Yay! Read it like Captain Kirk.”

Well, maybe not more than Andy.

Dad smiled as he glanced down at the book, as if he didn't have it memorized word for work years ago. He read in his baritone, sing-song voice, “You better watch out, you better not cry, better not pout, I'm telling you why.” Dad's eyes scanned the book's page. “Santa Claus is leaving . . .” Dad's forehead wrinkled and his mouth fell open. “. . . our planet?”

Samantha straightened her back and widened her eyes. The big guy had actually done it.

Dad rechecked the front book cover. He reexamined the rebellious text. “How did this get changed?”

Andy sighed. “Dad, he has to come before he can leave. Besides, a planet is cooler than a town.”

“But that's not what it's suppose to say. Someone’s changed the words.” He ran his fingers through his salt and pepper beard. “This must be someone's idea of a joke. And I can guess who might be behind it.” He rose from his chair. “Sally!” He paused, waiting for a reply that didn't come. He was not amused. “Sally!” he yelled louder as he headed for the door.

He turned to his children before he exited the room. “You two go to bed now.”

“Aw, Dad!” Andy blurted out.

Dad pointed at Andy. “Bed. Now.”

“Yes, sir,” they both responded in unison. When Dad was like this, one argued with him only if they enjoyed pain. Besides, mom didn't change the words; Santa did. If Samantha didn't have so little time, she'd entertain the thought of slipping to their bedroom door and listen in on the ensuing argument.

Dad left the room. “Sally!”

Andy fell back in the couch, slapping his left hand on the armrest. “No fair.” He scooted to the edge and prepared to head upstairs.

“Andy?” Samantha flipped her hair over her shoulders.

“What?”

“I have a mission for you, should you choose to accept it.”

“A mission? Can we do this later? What if Dad comes back and finds us still here?”

Samantha glanced at the door. “Dad will be busy arguing with Mom for at least thirty minutes. Besides, this can’t wait.”

Andy scooted back on the couch. “Alright, but it will be your fault if we’re caught. So what is this ‘mission’?”

“It involves Santa.”

He laughed. “Santa? Like you've met him?”

“I have.”

“When?”

“Last Christmas morning. Woke up early and caught him eating the cookies.”

“Really?” Andy leaned in.

She cast a who-dares-question-my-words roll of her eyes to the ceiling. “Yes, really. He gave me a mission should he end up taking an offer. He didn't say how he would convey that he'd taken it, but the change in the song's words are obvious.”

Andy huffed. “What's obvious?”

Samantha shook her head and sighed. “That Santa Claus has left Earth to start Christmas on a planet far, far away; and he wants me to do the mission he gave me.”

“What mission? You don't mean you're going to deliver presents all over the world for him?”

She chuckled. “Hardly! I'm not Santa Claus.”

“Then who's going to do it for him if he's not here?”

Samantha shrugged. “He said he'd already taken care of that. Don't know anything more.”

Andy cocked his head. “Then what did he want you to do?”

Samantha scooted closer to Andy and leaned in. “He said it was top secret, and that I should tell no one.”

Andy crossed his arms and squinted his eyes at her. “Really? You can't be serious.”

She gazed at the ceiling. “Of course, if you help me on this mission, then I suppose I'll have to tell you.”

He frowned for a moment. “How can I do that not knowing what it is? What if it is hammering a nail into a toy on Santa's assembly line? Boooriiing!”

She huffed. “Okay, I can tell you this much. I'm going to be a present.”

The corners of his mouth turned up. “Does that mean I get to tape you into a box?”

“Something like that, about the size of a phone booth, I’d suspect. Plus you'll get to ride in Santa's sleigh.”

He grinned. “Cool! I'm in!” His eyes grew beady. “Are you going to be a slave for someone?”

“A slave?” She shook her head. “Get real! I'm going to be a friend to someone.”

“Who?”

“Don't know. He said I'd find out when I arrive, but I’m sure it will be someone I can be best friends with, who shares a lot of my interest and desires.”

“You mean someone like you.”

Samantha stared at the floor. “Is that so bad?”

Andy sighed. “I suppose not.” He hopped off the couch. “So when do we go?”

“Sometime tonight. The sleigh will come for us. That's why we need to get ready now. No telling when it will show up.” She rose from the couch and headed to the stairs.

Andy followed, but then stopped, glancing at the door their dad had left through “But what about mom and dad? Won't they freak out when we aren't here in the morning?”

Samantha face-palmed her forehead. “Did you forget? Santa's sleigh is like a time machine. Santa could be the Doctor for all we know.”

Andy nodded. “That would explain a lot.”

“From dad and mom's perspective, it will be as if we'd never left.” She waved for him to follow her. “Now come on. Let's get ready.”

The sister and brother headed to their rooms.

___________

RAP, RAP, RAP!

Samantha jerked out of her dreams and focused sleep-laden eyes toward her window. A small but worn and bearded face, topped with a green and white-trimmed cone-hat, smiled at her. The elf waved.

“Santa's sleigh is here!” She bounded out of bed, tied her shoes, slipped on her coat, then headed to the door.

RAP, RAP, RAP!

Samantha turned toward the elf. He waved for her to come.

She held up one finger. “I'll be right back. My brother's coming.”

The elf frowned. She dashed down the hall and knocked on Andy's door.

His door swung open to reveal a boy clothed with thick jeans, a coat, and heavy shoes. He smiled. “About time.”

She grunted. “I guess you knew.”

He pointed to the ceiling. “All that clatter woke me up.”

“Well then, let's go.”

They returned to Samantha's room. The elf stood with crossed arms, staring impatiently through the window. Though she couldn't see his feet, she could tell one was tapping.”

Andy's eyes bulged. “Wow! A real elf!”

She unlocked the window and pulled it open.

The elf swung his right arm wide and bowed. “Enter the sleigh, please.”

As she stepped out, the shiny vehicle—reflecting metallic reds, golds, and greens—appeared much like it had been depicted in so many stories and movies. It hovered above the ground at her second story window. Toward the front floated a long line of reindeer. Holding the reins sat a big man wearing a red coat and cap with . . .

Samantha squinted. “Hey, wait a minute. Santa?”

The driver turned around.

Samantha smiled. “It is you!” She rubbed her head. “But I thought you'd left the planet?”

He belched out a rolling laugh. “In a way I have, and yet I'm here.” He raised a hand into the air. “Time is a squishy, slimy reality. Has to be for me, you know.”

Andy stared bug-eyed at Santa once he'd stepped into the sleigh, as if in shock.

Samantha scratched her forehead. “I'm confused. If you're here, what do you need me for?”

Santa held up a finger. “You misunderstood. But that is to be expected. Not everyone is as smart as me.”

“Or thinks like you.” Samantha winked.

“Touché. But I didn't need you because I was gone. I needed you because I was going.”

Samantha blinked. “What?”

He pointed into the sky. “You're coming with me.”

Her mouth fell open. “Say what?”

Andy blurted out, “We're going to another planet?”

Santa nodded. “Now get a seat and hold on. This time-warp stuff gets a little tricky.”

“Awesome!” Andy landed in a seat and buckled up.

Samantha sat down, still processing what Santa had said. Did some lonely human on a distant planet need a friend like her? Must be.

“Here we go!” Santa whipped the reins. “On Donner, on Blitzen . . .” The sleigh lurched forward, slowly at first, but rapidly gained speed as they headed toward the clouds. They entered and plowed through the clouds for a few seconds before breaking into the clear moonlit sky above them. Santa pulled a lever, flipped a switch, spun a couple of dials, and then banged on the dash. Lights flashed randomly across the console. A huge tube, swirling with every color of the rainbow, materialized before them. Santa flew into it without hesitation.

Samantha couldn't believe what had happened. “Surely I'm still sleeping at home safe and sound in bed. This has to be a dream,” she mumbled.

“Dream on, young one. Dream on.” Santa's “ho, ho” laugh resounded in her ears.

What might have been seconds, minutes, hours, or days—Samantha couldn't tell in the no-man's-land of time—ended when Santa spun a few dials, pushed down on a foot petal, then pushed the lever back up. The tube of swirling colors ended, dumping them out into a reddish sky and green clouds. Santa banked the sleigh to the right and headed downward.

As they drew closer to the ground, Samantha spotted a city lying among a forest of burning-orange foliage. The city’s tall spired buildings and bluish-tinted windows impressed upon Samantha the foreignness that they had dived into. If ever she knew what feeling like a fish out of water was about, this was it.

Santa guided the sleigh to a halt before a big building. Various aliens scurried around, glancing at them with big eyes, long necks, and lanky legs.

“Where are we?” Andy asked.

Santa turned to face the back. “Oir in the southern province of Alva. Their name for their planet is unpronounceable in English, but you would know it as Alpha Centauri. And in there,” he pointed at the building beside them, “is your mission, Samantha.”

Samantha stared at it. “What do they do in there?”

“It’s your equivalent of a cancer hospice ward. Now go on in and make a friend. I'll wait here.”

She started to step out, but paused. “But we'll have nothing in common with them. We don't even speak the same language. How am I supposed to befriend anyone in there?”

Santa threw up his hands. “Why do people focus on differences to the loss of communion? Believe me, they have many of the same desires, fears, and needs you have. Especially the need to be unconditionally loved, no matter the differences. Besides, I believe they’ll understand you better than you might think.”

Andy leaped out of the sleigh, stood by the side of it, and held out a hand. “Santa's right. I'll help you.”

Santa nodded his head. “And a child shall lead them.”

Samantha stepped onto the foreign soil.

“And remember . . .” Santa paused for effect. “. . . you're not only giving them a gift, you're getting one. This is, after all, my Christmas gift to you: the experience of true love and friendship.”

Samantha nodded. With Andy's hand in hers, she stepped into the unknown future of love.

Micro-Fiction: Slimdown Tantrum

Decided to write a "micro-fiction" story.  While there's no set definition for the term, in my experience it is a story of around 300 words or less. I've done a 100 word micro-fiction back in 2008, still on the web at the Resident Aliens blog, called, "The Battle." Flash fiction is usually defined as being 1000 words or less, by comparison.

To title my micro-fiction and use it as a prompt, I visited Foxnews.com again to find the words of the title, "Slimdown Tantrum." As I write these words, I've not even started thinking much about what the story is about. No idea at this point. The trick is to tell a whole story with scene setting, character development, and a beginning, middle, and end plot within 300 words. What follows is my attempt. We'll see how I fared. At the end, I'll relate any relevant info about the process once done.

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"Thank you for flying Angel Flights." The perky stewardess tugged her miniskirt uniform down. "We handle the space race so you don't have to." She plastered on a smile. "We'll arrive at Moonbase Gama in five hours. "

Her smile morphed into a sympathetic frown. "Unfortunately, slimdown is in effect to escape Earth's gravity. Did anyone bring any unchecked luggage?"

The nine passengers glanced at each other. No one spoke up.

The stewardess bit her lip. "If not, someone will have to take another flight.  Who will volunteer?"

Several stared at a man in a black business suit and dark glasses. His frowned. "I'll lose millions if I miss my meeting."

A lady in a knee-length skirt held her daughter's hand. "We're attending a funeral."

Each passenger gave excuses to stay.

"What about you, sir?" The stewardess pointed at a man in the back.

His eyebrow twitched. "I need to go. Meeting someone."

"We'll throw in first-class treatment if you wait."

He jumped from his seat, whipping out a small pistol. "I'm not getting off." He pointed the gun at the lady and her daughter. "You two, bye bye."

They stared at him a moment before sliding into the walkway.

A shot rang through the cabin. The attacker collapsed to the floor.

The business-suited man, a gun in his hand, flipped out a badge. "Space Marshall. Sorry, but we had to flush him out. He's wanted for treason."

The stewardess sucked in a deep breath. "Against Earth?"

"No." He pulled a necklace off the corpse. The human image faded into a cross between an octopus and a hamster. "Mars." He replaced the necklace and pulled out a pen. "I need you to all look this way."

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Spent about 10 minutes figuring out what to write. Another 50 minutes writing it. Ended up around 360 words. I then spent 25 minutes editing it until I got it down to 296 words, an 18% reduction. Not the greatest story in the world, but fun. Hope you enjoyed it as well as taking a peak into my process writing it.

Final score: 296 word micro-fiction written and edited in 1.5 hours.

Facing the Cave

This flash fiction story originally appeared in MindFlights. The magazine is no longer active though the story still shows up. This is one of my allegorical fantasies.

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"And though countless have tried," the bard said to the tavern audience, "The dragon that never dies continues to devour all who come to its cave."

Galak clapped with the people but noticed Sir Humblart, his teacher and friend, stared as if into another world. When Galak saw Sir Humblart's jaw set, he knew the story had stirred a desire in his master. Galak took another gulp from his stein in hopes of numbing the rising fear.

Sir Humblart rose from his seat. "Come, Squire. We have a dragon to slay."

The bard laughed. "Didn't you hear me? This dragon is death itself. No man can defeat death."

Sir Humblart smiled and his eyes lit as they always did when he would say something of importance. "Correct: no man can if no one attempts it."

"Attempt away! The dragon is always hungry." Laughter erupted from the patrons.

Sir Humblart nodded. "And if I return from death, then what?"

The bard stumbled over words, then blurted out, "I'll believe that when I see it!" More guffaws arose.

Sir Humblart downed the last of his ale and motioned for Galak to follow.

After grabbing supplies, Sir Humblart led Galak through the forest toward the undefeated foe.

"Sir, I have your sword," Galak said.

Sir Humblart didn't turn his head. "I'll have no cause for such weapons. Keep hold of it. You will need it."

Their feet crunched the dirt and dried leaves on the forest floor as they pushed toward—what? His death? Galak watched the armor-clad knight marching resolutely to face the monster that had sent so many to hell's gates. No hint of fear twitched across his face. No evidence of second thoughts surfaced in those coal-black, unblinking eyes.

In due time, they entered the clearing where the dragon's cave bore into the mountain. Strewn across the knoll lay scorched armor and rusted swords. Bones rested thick across the grass, piled by the cave opening. Many lives had been spent attempting to destroy the dragon.

A roar erupted from beneath the earth, and the ground shook. Smoke belched from the entrance as if dust long undisturbed exploded from its cloisters. Mournful cries underlay the horrific noise; Galak wanted to cry with them.

Galak fled behind a tree as he watched the beast burst from the cave and land a few feet from Sir Humblart. A mélange of greens and browns shimmered in the sunlight on its hide. The slender body tapered to a tail, which whipped to and fro. The other end held aloft a neck three times as long as any man's body. At the end of the neck, a broad head examined Sir Humblart with fiery eyes, and a forked tongue lashed the air.

"Sir, flee before it's too late," Galak yelled out.

Sir Humblart turned to Galak. "To free them, I must die." He faced the dragon, his feet together, lifted his arms as if to fly, and cast his head forward.

Now Galak knew his master had lost his mind. Perhaps the villagers brewed a stouter ale than they realized. He cowered behind the tree as a deafening roar caused him to cover his ears in pain. But he couldn't remove his gaze from Sir Humblart.

The beast's head dove, and its open mouth scooped in Sir Humblart. Its head flung back. Galak watched as a bulge slid down the dragon's neck. Apparently satisfied with its meal, the dragon lumbered to the cave.

Galak's stomach twisted, and bile rose up his throat. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks. Then he remembered: he still had the sword. He could yet save his master and friend. An attempt likely ending in death, but love demanded no less. He steeled himself, unsheathed the weapon, drew himself to his feet, and prepared to charge.

The dragon halted before reaching the cave. A mournful cry shattered the air, and the dragon thrashed about, as if attempting to throw an invisible rider. It spun and writhed until another shriek filled Galak's ears. He fell to his knees; the sword dropped to the ground.

The dragon teetered and fell over onto its side with a ground-shaking crash. Galak peered at it, but the dragon no longer moved.

The ground rumbled until a blast of air exploded from the cave and twirled into a vortex. Galak swore he heard joyous singing within the gale. The bones around him rattled before the swirling wind sucked them into its grip, and they flew beyond the mountain and into the sky.

The pull of the music and push of the wind encouraged Galak. He crept toward the beast, eying it through wind-whipped hair, ready to flee, but it did not move. Not until Galak came close enough, did he see a bulge pushing against the skin.

He gasped and stumbled in haste to retrieve the sword. He raced back to the carcass and swung the sword two-handed upon the base of the neck. Green blood spewed forth, and with it the dragon's body vomited out Sir Humblart, covered in chunky, pea-green slime.

In his acid-seared hand, Sir Humblart held a heart the size of a grown man's head. He arose and cast a bright gaze upon Galak.

"No man can escape death. It can only be defeated from within. And now, I have destroyed it." Sir Humblart cast the heart into the cave.

Galak's pulse quickened as Sir Humblart's eyes pierced through him. The master turned and proceeded down the path to the village.

Galak followed, as he had always done—but now, through death to life.

The Call of Nature

Since a lot of my early short stories/flash fictions were on sites that are no longer active, I thought I would post them here. This story was my first accepted story, back around May of 2006, and was published in Raygun Revival on February 2007. I've also included in my anthology, Ethereal Worlds. Enjoy.
~~ R. L. Copple

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The metal hanger, which housed the Z-14X prototype space plane, shined in the moonlight just beyond the barbed-wired fence. The moonlight reminded John of the sun. He couldn't wait to see it against the blackness of space.

The security fence gloated, "Just try to get through," but it hadn't counted on someone who could simply fly over. It hadn't counted on—Moth Man.

The only real ability John possessed: he could fly using the soft wings on his back. That and the fact if someone ate him, they would die of toxic poison. "A lot of good that would do me. Why couldn't a radioactive spider have bitten me? Why a moth?" he had often wondered.

Yet now the wings came in handy. He lifted himself into the air. Wind flowed through his hair as he bounced though the cool night over the compound. Soon he sank to the ground beside the hanger.

John peered into the window and saw the craft bathed in dim moonlight:  a black shell, adorned by four wings well back on the craft, spread out in an "X" pattern. Just as his web research had revealed. Touted as the first plane to fly successfully out of earth's gravity and into space, it looked the part.

A growl sounded. He swung around to see a German Shepherd baring its teeth. He froze. I could probably fly away before he reached me. He prepared to launch.

"Freeze!" A uniformed man swung around the corner, brandishing a rifle pointed straight at John. He froze again.

I might be able to escape the dog, but not the bullet. "Sorry, can you tell me how to get to the Hilton? I seem to be lost."

He didn't buy it. "Up against the wall, hands high." The dog threatened with a low rumbling growl.

John complied, what else could he do? As he followed the officer's orders, his black and gold tiger-moth wings came into view.

"What the…" The officer moved closer and felt the wings. He rubbed the wing dust off his hands with a grimace and then patted John down for weapons.

John saw his opportunity. He swung his wings hard, hitting the officer in the head. The hit and wing dust disoriented him. John's fist landed a hit squarely on the back of his neck. The guard dropped unconscious. John launched himself into the air before the dog could reach him. The Shepherd's snapping jaws just missed John's dangling foot.

The barking dog now broadcasted the fact that an intruder had penetrated the compound. John no longer had time for subtleties. Landing on the roof, he kicked in the skylight.  It shattered open, and he winged his way inside.

Now, where did they store the plutonium fuel rods? John swung around and spotted them, in a box labeled as such along the wall. He grabbed a handful and flew to the cockpit. Once inside, he inserted all but two fuel rods into the power receptors and initiated the injection process.

By now, several guards filed in the door, guns encircled the ship. The engines had power, so John increased the throttle. The plane lurched forwards. Gunfire echoed in the hanger. Warning shots, hoping it would scare John into stopping no doubt. They didn't want to riddle their craft with holes. Not until they had no other recourse.

Doing a standard take-off would take too long. John thought about going right to the nuclear escape engines. Such force, designed for airborne ignition, could tear it and him apart from a near-dead stop. He had only one viable course of action.

He braced himself, then hit the ignition switch. The Gs slammed him into the seat. He struggled to maintain consciousness. The metal groaned under the strain. The plane shot forward and ploughed through the hanger doors. Scraping metal sounds echoed through the cockpit. It bounced along the ground. A fence raced toward the plane. John pulled back on the stick, already speeding past 200 knots. The prototype shot upward. The Gs squished him as if a giant hand pushed on his head.

As the plane cleared the buildings and the land quickly receded, John cut the ignition and switched to standard fuel. His field of vision returned and his face reshaped to its rounded state like a baby fresh out of the womb.

John glanced at the escape-engine fuel gauge. The stunt had expended a third of what he needed to escape earth's gravity. He inserted the other two rods. The solar panels should keep life support going as long as needed. John didn't expect to return anyway.

John released manual control to the computer. The escape engines fired. Again he sank into the seat. The craft angled higher. The blue sky receded. The stars brightened, looking like white sand dusting a black void. The horizon shifted to a curved surface rimmed with the sun's golden silhouette.

Suddenly, a ray of sunlight broke over the earth's rim, bathing John in awe. Its beauty filled his mind. The light entranced John; its song called to him.

Time suspended, the shinning light against the blackness of space filled all desire. Before, John had flown as high as his wings would let him but the sun remained out of reach. Now, he could soar until he soaked in all of its beautiful light.

John pulled a disk from his pocket and held it before his eyes. He had pre-programmed the flight path:  a one-way trip to the sun. His gaze moved back to the enveloping fireball. He could hold back no longer. John slid the disk into the ship's computer. It responded with beeps and a message reading, "program accepted." The engines adjusted the trajectory.

Did John know it would kill Him? Yes. But he didn't care. He could not rest until he took in all the glorious radiance his body could endure.

"Why couldn't I have been bit by a radioactive spider instead?"

---

Check out Ethereal Worlds for more short stories.

Operation Christmas Gift by R. L. Copple

Jeremy stared blankly at the video screens stretching across the Titan station's wall as they scanned Earth's video feeds for crimes in progress. Glimpses of Christmas trees flashed across them as the world he called home, almost a billion miles away, prepared for Christmas the next morning.

"BJ, do you think we'll see Santa from here?" Bridget turned to watch Jeremy's eyes.

He barely cracked a smile. That would certainly get his mind off all the events of the past year. "No, Sis, I seriously doubt it." Jeremy met her eyes. Her short, brown hair brushed her shoulders. "Santa operates under the radar."

She huffed. "You make him sound like a bad guy."

"He does break into people's houses."

She slapped his arm. "To give stuff, not take it."

Jeremy felt his gut sink. "Christmas took my life from me. It took our parents from us." A year ago, he had parents, a normal life. All gone now. All because he had received that stupid helmet for Christmas, had put it on, had become involved with another world's battle, had saved them, then had become the hero who saved Earth from the revenge of the Similarians, but only after they killed his parents. A year later, his life turned upside down, the world moved on as if nothing had happened. He played virtual superheroes instead of living a normal life. Another Christmas came, but without the Mind Game this time. But he still had the hero game going.

She slumped in her seat. "I was trying not to think about that."

"Hey, Bucko."

Jeremy swung around to see Mickey stepping up behind him. "Hey, Mick. What took you?"

"Family returned late from a Christmas Eve service. Said I wanted to go to bed right away, like I couldn't wait until tomorrow." He smiled. "But I don't have to."

Jeremy raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, you don't have to wait?"

Mickey slapped Jeremy on the back. "Because I have Astro Man right here. Just use that xray beam of yours and I'll know what they are tonight!"

Jeremy shook his head. "Mick, you're crazy."

"Oh, come on. I'm hoping they snagged the latest game--"

Jeremy jumped out of his seat. "What? Another game? Are you crazy?"

Mickey grimaced. "Bucko, what's the deal. It's just a video game."

Jeremy rubbed his forehead. "That's what we thought last year. Just a game. A game that stole my life from me."

Mickey's eyes grew wide. "Ah, of course. Christmas would be triggery for you. I'm sorry."

Jeremy sucked in a deep breath. "Forget it, Mick. It's all I can think about right now."

"What you need is some action. Anything on the vids tonight?"

Jeremy shook his head. "Christmas Eve is pretty quite all over the world it seems."

"Santa," Bridget's voice rang out.

Jeremy spun around to Bridget. "What?"

She pointed at a video screen. "There's Santa. And he's breaking into a house."

Mickey slapped his hands together. "There's our action. Let's take down Santa."

Jeremy held up a hand. "Mick, this is suspicious. Think about it. How would a live camera crew know about a break-in to a home as it happens and be there to record it?"

Mickey shrugged. "Happened to be in the right place at the right time? They've probably called the cops, but are filming it for the drama."

"Maybe." Jeremy stared at it a bit longer. "Aren't there movie plots about Santa stealing things?" Micky stared at him. Jeremy called out, "Computer, find movies where Santa steals." A screen went blank and then a list of titles appeared. The highest rated link read, "The Adventure of the Wrong Santa Claus" in 1914. Related links followed it.

Mickey read the results. "Are you saying the Zorians are behind this? Else I'm not following you. Santa thieves have been around forever."

"Yes...I mean, no. I doubt it is a Zorian. But it still makes me suspicious."

"Okay, so maybe it's a trap. Maybe it's not. And if it's not, guess who loses?"

Jeremy ran his fingers through his hair. "Yes, you're right. But stay together. My gut is saying something is wrong here."

"Agreed," Mickey responded.

Bridget jumped from the chair. "Sure, but we'll be virtual. We can't get hurt."

Jeremy stood. "Then as you say, Mick, let's do this."

Mickey grinned. "This will be good for you. You'll see."

Jeremy entered the coordinates. "Suit, appear as Astro Man."

The room faded and a breeze blew across his chin sticking out from below his helmet. The half-moon cast a dim glow over the residential neighborhood. A street light flickered a few yards to the right. Activity buzzed to his left where a camera crew recorded the house, waiting for the thief to exit. A siren blared in the distance, indicating the police were indeed on their way. Mickey was probably right. They would save someone's Christmas from being stolen and make some kids happy, at least.

Mickey appeared beside him as Blue Nova. Jeremy could barely make out the blue-green suit, blue briefs, and dark blue cape in the moonlight.

Bridget materialized as Rainbow Girl to his left. Her sparkly mask flaring at the end reflected the meager light.

Jeremy caught her eye. "Rainbow Girl?"

She smiled. "You catch 'em. I'm make 'em cooperative."

Jeremy nodded. "Sounds like a plan. You stay out here. Blue Nova and I will grab this guy." He turned toward Mickey. "I'll use my blinding flash on my gun, and while the crew is blinded, race in there and grab him, bring him to Rainbow Girl, and she'll make him giddy with cooperation."

Mickey saluted. "Sir, yes, sir!"

"Mick!"

"Lighten up, Bucko. Have a little fun with this. You're way too wound up."

Jeremy pulled his gun out and set it for the light blast. "You should never let your guard down. Assume nothing."

"It's just a lone Santa thief. What could go wrong?"

"I hope your right." Jeremy pointed the gun toward the camera crew. "Hide your eyes. On three. One, two, three!" Jeremy squeezed the trigger and a blast of light lit up the area. The camera crew rubbed their eyes and swore in the quiet neighborhood. Within a second, Mickey flashed back with a squirming man in his arms. Mickey dropped him on the ground.

"What the--" The man stayed on the ground.

Bridget extended her arms and flow of rainbow colors enveloped the man.

Santa's eyes blinked and a grin spread across his face. "So much for my Christmas. But that's okay. I'm happy anyway."

Jeremy pointed to the street. "Go sit on the curb and wait for the police. Give yourself up when they arrive."

"Oh gladly I will. I was so bad to try and steal...you."

Jeremy's eyes widened. "What did you say?"

The back of the news van flung open. A line of soldiers carrying automatic rifles streamed out the door. Jeremy raised his gun to set it for shields, but before he could, a rain of bullets spread over them. He could feel the bullets hitting him. He would have called out to exit the suit, but dying in the virtual body would accomplish the same thing. This did appear to be a trap, but what trap? They would wake up and come back again. Apparently they didn't know much about how virtual bodies worked. But why did the army set this trap?

As life ebbed from the virtual body, he saw Mickey drop out of nova speed and fall to the ground. He hadn't reacted fast enough, despite his super speed. He felt himself falling onto the grass as blackness swept over him.

Jeremy jerked his eyes open. He tried to focus, but the ceiling he saw was not the stucco of his uncle's house at the top of a Montana mountain. Instead, polished metal greeted his eyes. He pushed himself up.

Thick hands wrapped around his arms and another pulled the cowl off his face. "Commander, Operation Christmas Gift has been completed, sir."

Jeremy groaned inwardly. Their bodies had been captured while they were virtual. Two men on either side of him kept a firm grip on his arms, another two stood toward the foot of his bed, rifles aimed at the floor, ready to use. No doubt another two stood behind him.

A higher ranking solider beside his bed examined the cowl. "Very interesting. I'm sure our scientist will have a field day with this."

Jeremy noticed the American flag attached to their uniforms. US military. "Earth's best scientist couldn't figure out how the helmets operated. What makes you think this will be easier?"

A smug smile creased his lips. "We've actually made progress in figuring out some of the Mind Game helmets. But we're missing a point of reference."

Jeremy squinted at him. "What?"

"Point of reference. The helmets, as you know, don't work. And even when they did, the destination was in another galaxy. But with these in hand and the destination being in the same room, they'll be able to trace the energy field being created, and hopefully come up with the remaining pieces of the puzzle."

Jeremy let himself fall back to the cot. The soldier’s hands loosened but remained firm. "No one can use the mask but me. Same with the other mask Mickey and Bridget have. They are programmed to respond only to our voices."

The man shot a stare at Jeremy. "You'll forgive me if I don't trust you."

"Be my guest." Jeremy turned to meet his eyes. "But how did you find us?"

He waved his hand. "Simple deduction. When the superhero appearances began to be reported all over the world, and you're friend and sister's personas helped in defending Earth, it became obvious that the same virtual reality of the Mind Game was at work. From there you were the most logical culprits. We tracked down your locations and set the trap to grab you."

Jeremy stared at the wall. He should have foreseen this possibility. "Why, though? Why revert to kidnapping us?"

The soldier stuffed the cowl into his pocket. "Control, Jeremy Goodhue. The Army likes to have control over situations. And I didn't suspect you'd approve of us gaining that control. But if we can duplicate this technology, our forces would be invincible. We can fight wars on the ground without losing a life. With a legion of virtual Blue Novas to speed in and hit the enemy before they even blink, we could maintain control for decades. Centuries even. Can you imagine the progress? Can you see the peace we could uphold?"

Jeremy knew he didn't want to tell the man anything else. Let him think he could succeed. As soon as the Zorians caught wind of it, they'd shut off the virtual energy going through the wormhole and that would be that. No more superhero days for himself, Mickey, and Bridget. But then again, that didn't sound so bad. He wouldn't mind putting the whole thing behind him, and salvage what he could of his life.

"Peace?" Jeremy breathed deep. "By killing?"

He smiled. "Youthful idealism. I'm afraid the world is a dangerous place. Some people only understand one thing. Brut force."

Jeremy grumbled under his breath, "That's what all bullies think."

"What?" The Commander stared at him for a couple of seconds. Then turned and headed for the door. He paused as he opened it. "By the way. Merry Christmas, Jeremy." He left and shut the door behind him.

Jeremy groaned. "We may have killed Rillian, but his spirit lives on."

___________

The Commander returned to the room after an hour had passed. His face grim, he faced Jeremy lying on the cot. "You were right. We have to use you to get the mask to operate. Come with me." He turned on his heels and headed to the door.

Arms pulled Jeremy off the cot. He stumbled along beside the soldiers as they exited the room and marched down the hall. The Commander stopped in front of a door and pointed at the window.

Jeremy moved to look in, keeping his eyes fixed on the Commander's stoic gaze. He peered in and saw Uncle George sitting on a cot, coveralls and hat as if they'd snatched him while he milked the cows.

"Just want to ensure your cooperation. If you resist or try anything foolish, it won't go well for your uncle, sister, or friend."

Jeremy met his gaze. "We're United States citizens. What about our constitutional rights to due process? You can't threaten us like this."

A smile cracked on his lips. "To the government, the Congress, and the Constitution, we don't exist. You'll have a hard time suing an organization that doesn't exist."

"How do I know you have my sister and friend?"

The Commander nodded down the hall. They stopped at the next two cell doors. Bridget sat on the cot rocking her feet under it. Mickey circled his cot as if deep in thought. "Satisfied?"

Jeremy nodded, and followed the soldiers down the hall, a right turn into another hall, a left, and a few doors on the right, they entered a room. Waist-high tables lined the walls. Chairs sat scattered in front of them, and soldiers worked on different projects. Centrifuges, Bunsen burners, test tubes, microscopes, and various other lab equipment littered the table-tops.

But in the center of the room stood a dentist-like chair fastened with heart monitors, IVs, and a foil ring that swiveled off the top of the chair's back, as if it would fit on someone's head. A moveable light hoovered over the chair. Jeremy guessed the light wasn't to get a better view of one's mouth.

The soldiers jumped to their feet as the Commander strolled to the center of the room. He patted the chair. "Lay down here."

Jeremy didn't see he had any other option. So he crawled into the chair and laid his head against the back. Jeremy watched as the Commander reached onto the table where one soldier stood at attention, and picked up his cowl. He saw Bridget's and Mickey's masks laying beside it.

The Commander held the mask in front of Jeremy. "You will put this on, then appear in this room as one of your characters. If you do not appear here, I will order the termination of one of those we are holding."

Jeremy's jaw dropped. "Murder?" He had to be bluffing.

"Oh, it would be an accident. Your Uncle falls off the mountain. Your sister drowns in a lake. Your friend shows up in an automobile accident while walking home. All after we terminate them and plant the evidence. We could even implicate you in their deaths if we wished. Now you don't want their blood on your hands, do you?"

"Investigators would know they didn't die that way." Jeremy gritted his teeth. "You couldn't get away with such things!"

The Commander stared into Jeremy's eyes. "We have, we are, and we will again. Now are we clear?"

Jeremy bore into the Commander's eyes. If the man was bluffing, he couldn't tell. Nor could he take the chance he wasn't. "You're clear. I'll cooperate."

"Good." He handed Jeremy the cowl.

Jeremy slipped it over his head and leaned back. The ring was snuggled down upon his head. He whispered in hopes they wouldn't pick up they words, but the mask would. "Suit, appear here as Astro Man."

The room dimmed, then reappeared, except he now stood to the side of the chair watching his body breathing in front of him. Feet scurried behind him. "Hand's up!"

Jeremy raised his hands. He saw fingers wrap around his gun and then yank it from its holster. The soldier held the ray gun in his hand. A slight smile spread over the man's lips.

Jeremy nodded at the gun. "Careful with that, dude. Whatever you do, don't pull the trigger."

The Commander jumped to the soldier and pulled it from his hands. He turned it over as he examined it. "Why? What would happen."

Jeremy forced a grin to stay hidden. "Trust me. The last thing you want to do is pull that trigger."

The Commander continued to scan the gun. "Sargent, start the energy trace from the body to the virtual body."

"Sir, yes, sir." Several of the men turned back to their work.

The Commander lifted the gun's barrel and rested it over his extended left arm. He pointed it at the far wall where stood a two-feet thick titanium three by three foot wall. A blackened area covered the center of the metal wall as if lasers had hit it countless times.

"Sir, do you think that is a good idea? We should interrogate the prisoner first to know what it does."

The Commander turned and stared at the officer for a long five seconds before responding. "You're out of line, soldier. This is a ray gun. This dial on top sets the strength. Anyone can see that."

The soldier shrank back to this table. Another officer called out, "Yes, sir. But I saw--"

The Commander ignored the officer and pulled the trigger. The last setting Jeremy had used being the light blast with the camera crew, the room filled with a blinding light. Rifles clattered to the floor as everyone hid from the light.

Jeremy, protected by his helmet's visor, dove to his ray gun falling from the Commander's hand, caught it in midair, spun around, and landed on his back. He flipped the gun to the stun ray before anyone could regain their sight or respond, and spun himself around on the floor, dropping everyone in the room with a series of thuds and clanks.

"Suit, appear here as Inviso Dude." The room darkened and returned with the bluish glow of the invisibility field. He leaped to his feet and grabbed Bridget and Mickey's mask from the table, then scooped up his own body lying in the chair and flopped it over his shoulder. "Man, I've got to lose some weight."

Jeremy stopped by the Commanders unconscious body. "I told you, you didn't want to pull that trigger." He wondered if the Commander had ever read the story of Briar Rabbit. And he thanked God that the Commander was numbered among the men who didn't think they needed to read the instructions.

With the invisibility field cloaking both his virtual and real body, he stepped through the door, down the hallway, and into Mickey's cell. He pulled Mickey's mask from his pocket and threw it onto the cot.

Mickey stopped his pacing and jumped. "What the..." His eyes widened. "Bucko?"

"Put it on, Mick, grab your body once you've gone virtual, and then hold onto me. I'll extend the invisibility shield around you so we can walk through the door."

Mickey flopped onto his cot and yanked the mask on. "Suit, appear here as Blue Nova." Blue Nova materialized beside the cot. He pulled his body onto his shoulder, grabbed hold of Jeremy's arm, and became invisible. Jeremy headed for the wall and they stepped into Bridget's cell.

"Sis, put this on." He threw her mask onto the cot. She smiled and jumped up clapping. She put on the mask and became Comet Girl. Jeremy knelt down and pulled Bridget's limp body onto his other shoulder. "Hold onto me everyone. We have one more person to get. They walked through the next wall and into Uncle George's cell. Uncle George latched onto the chain of people. Jeremy could feel the energy drain on him. "Quick, though this door. I can't hold the field much longer."

Jeremy kept his focus on the energizing the field as they entered the hallway. They released Jeremy, causing Bridget, Uncle George, and Mickey holding his body to become visible again. Jeremy breathed easier.

Mickey glanced down each hallway. "Now how do we get out of here? Wherever here is."

The sound of footsteps sounded down the hallway. Jeremy frowned though no one could see it. "I think they've discovered my breakout. Mickey, give me your body and do a quick recon. Knock out the soldiers coming, and find out where the way out is."

"You're wish is my command." He slipped his body to Jeremy, who piled it on top of his own. Jeremy thanked Holbreth for giving Inviso Dude super human strength.

Mickey sped away into a blur. Jeremy motioned to the rest. "Follow me this way. Comet Girl, scatter some knockout comet dust behind us. Mickey won't be affected by it because he's going too fast."

She nodded. "One dose of sleeping dust, coming up." As Jeremy led Uncle George down the hall away from the coming boots, Bridget extended her hand and scattered dust into the air as she walked backwards.

Sounds of grunts and guns clattering to the floor echoed down the hall. Jeremy doubted they ever saw Blue Nova hit them. Uncle George glanced back. "Is he all right?"

"He's fine. Don't worry about him." Jeremy rounded a corner to find four soldiers pointing rifles at them. Before Bridget could follow him, Jeremy yelled, "Back!" Bullets whizzed harmlessly through him. "Comet Girl, send dust this way."

Bridget stuck her hands around the corner and showered the men with dust. They collapsed onto the floor. Jeremy said, "It's clear." The pair followed him again.

A steel door loomed in front of them. A blue streak stopped in front of Jeremy and Blue Nova appeared. "It must be this way. I checked a few hundred bunk rooms, eating rooms, bathrooms, rec rooms, laboratories, cells, etc., and they were all dead ends."

"Very well." Jeremy stepped through the door and examined the area beyond it. A hanger greeted him dotted with jets. Multiple soldiers worked on the aircraft and guarded the area. A big door that Jeremy bet led outside stood on one side of the massive walls.

Jeremy stepped back into the hallway. "This is certainly the way out. But there are a lot of soldiers on the other side of this door. I'll step you through, Blue Nova, then you can take out as many as possible while I break a hole through this door and we can escape."

Mickey nodded. "Let's do this."

Jeremy held onto Mickey's shoulder until he was through the door, then released him. He watched a moment as Mickey zoomed from person to person, knocking them out with a hit to the head. Jeremy pulled back into the hallway.

"Suit, appear here as Astro Man." The hallway faded to black immediately returned, but seen through the visor of his helmet. "Now I'll use my gravity ray to blow a hole in this door. Stand back, you two." He reached for his gun.

"Halt!" the Commander's voice rang out.

Jeremy jerked his head around. His gut twisted at the sight. The Commander stood, arms crossed, surrounded by ten soldiers pointing rifles at Bridget, himself, and Uncle George.

"Deactivate your virtual personas now, or I'll fire on your uncle." The Commander's eyes bore down upon Jeremy, daring him to disobey.

Jeremy glanced at Uncle George. Uncle George stared at the rifles with wide eyes and backed up against the wall. Jeremy checked on Bridget. She'd closed her eyes and bowed her head as if admitting defeat. He knew there was no way he could pull his gun fast enough to initiate the force field or take any action before they pulled the trigger. And Blue Nova, trapped on the other side of the door, couldn't help either.

"Now, Jeremy!" The Commander lifted his hand to give the order.

Jeremy held up a hand. "Okay, you win." He breathed deep. "Suit--"

A blast of light filled the small hallway. A force knocked Jeremy off his feet. His helmet's visor protected him from the light, but he flew through the air, slammed against the wall and crumbled to the floor. The helmet had protected his head from serious injury, but his body felt like it had been hit with a giant hammer. The force rebounding off the door smashed into Jeremy's body and shoved him ten feet across the hall. Every bone in his body ached, and he could barely move.

"BJ, I mean, Astro Man, are you all right?"

Jeremy felt a hand on his head. He cracked an eye open to see a blurry Comet Girl standing over him. "Was that you?"

"Uh hu. Sorry I couldn't protect you, but I felt keeping a protecting field over Uncle George and our bodies was more important."

Jeremy nodded. "I'll reset myself. Suit, appear here as Astro Man." The room faded and with it, the pain. It reappeared and now he could see clearly and felt strong. He hopped to his feet and examined the pile of unconscious bodies. "Comet Girl sure knows how to pack a punch."

Bridget giggled. Uncle George rubbed her head. "You can say that again."

Jeremy pulled the ray gun from its holster and dialed in the gravity ray. He pointed it at the door and pulled the trigger. It burrowed into the metal, and a red glow spread across the door as the beam dissolved the molecular cohesion, disintegrating a hole into the thick metal.

Blue Nova flashed to a stop in front of Jeremy. "About time. What took ya?"

Jeremy pointed at the pile of men. "Needed to clean up after ourselves."

Mickey smiled and slapped Jeremy on the shoulder. "Way to go, Bucko. That'll teach 'em."

"It wasn't me. Thank Comet Girl here. I was ready to surrender."

Mickey tussled her hair. "I should have known when I heard an explosion in here." He turned back to Jeremy. "But now what?"

"First, let's get out of here. No doubt they have cameras all over this place. We can't discuss plans here. You take yours and Bridget's bodies. I'll take Uncle George's and my body in my ship. Comet Girl can fly. We'll meet again once we are clear of this place and figure out where to go from there."

Mickey nodded. "Sounds good. Let's do this."

Bridget gave a thumbs up. "Yes. Let's."

Uncle George said, "Anything to get out of here."

Mickey picked up his and Bridget's bodies, and Jeremy grabbed his own while Uncle George and Bridget followed him through the doorway. "Watch your step. The edges of the door are still hot."

Once into the hanger, Jeremy called out, "Suit, call ship." A dark jet-like aircraft materialized in the center of the hanger. The wings slicked back and pointed upwards at the tips. The rear tale marked the shape of a V. The glass hatch raised open from the back where the ship's nose narrowed to a point and angled slightly downward. Uncle George crawled into the back seat.

Jeremy settled his body into Uncle George's lap. "Sorry for the tight quarters, Uncle."

"Just get us out of here."

Jeremy saluted. "Sir, yes, sir." Then he hopped into the pilot's seat and lowered the hatch. After firing up the space jet, it rose from the ground. Jeremy aimed the ship's gravity ray and blasted the hanger doors. A red glow spread from the center followed by the disappearing wall. Sunlight poured in as the hole grew. Jeremy shoved the throttle forward. The ship accelerated toward the door and into the air of freedom.

Jeremy engaged the radio in his suit. "Mickey, I'm going to send the government a Christmas present. Give me a minute."

"Gotcha."

Jeremy banked and came back around to the hanger door. He flipped the ship's camera on and filmed the smoke rising from the side of a mountain. As he dove back into the hanger, slowed to a stop, hoovered around, and then blasted back out, he added the following audio narrative:

"Dear Mr. President and members of Congress. What you are seeing here is the secret base of a hidden military unit, or so I've been told. They kidnapped Astro Man, Blue Nova, and Comet Girl in order to steal our power. I was told you do not know of this unit, that it doesn't exist in the books. And they threatened to ignore our constitutional rights upon capturing us. Even threatening to kill innocent civilians if we didn't cooperate. You can see the coordinates displayed on the video of the site's location. I'm sure you'll figure out how to proceed with this information. Thank you."

Jeremy saved the file, then addressed an email to the president, top cabinet members, and key members of congress, attached the video, and hit send. Jeremy couldn't help but grin. Even if some were in on the plot, now that it was exposed it would die a quick death. And if it was truly a hidden organization, investigations and prosecutions were sure to follow.

Jeremy opened up the radio. "Blue Nova and Comet Girl. Operation Christmas Gift has been completed."

"What was the gift?" Mickey responded.

"The gift of truth. When truth is born, its light forces changes. Usually big changes. Just like it did almost two thousand and fifty years ago." Jeremy smiled. "See that plateau I'm headed to?"

"Yes."

"We'll all met there. We can't return to our homes now. We'll have to take our bodies to Titan and figure out a plan of attack from there. We'll discuss the details on the plateau."

"Will do."

Jeremy focused as he angled the ship for a landing. Now he not only had lost his normal life and his parents because of these powers, he'd lost the last semblance of normalcy he had left: a home.

Jeremy felt Uncle George's hand on his shoulder. "Jeremy, you've done good. I'm right proud of ya."

Jeremy smiled. He hadn't lost everything. He still had family and friends. And that mattered more than being normal. Now that was a real Christmas gift.

"Merry Christmas, Uncle. I love you too."

The preceding story comes from the world of Mind Game, and Hero Game, the next novel in the series expected in the Spring of 2012. Click the link to learn more about the series and to discover where you can buy Mind Game for yourself or as a gift. Ebooks in all formats available.