A Royal Christmas in Space

Book 1: Chapter 6

Finally, Wheldon's staticky voice burst out over the tiny intercom. "Your Highness! Thank goodness you're alive! Are you alright?"

"I'm unhurt," Drak said. "Where are Nova and Bubby?"

"They're with me," Wheldon replied. "Not a scratch on either of them. Everyone is accounted for, except, I'm sad to say, Plucky Smythe."

"I have her," Drak informed him. "She's safe with me. Wheldon, I counted seven enemy combatants. Do we know how many others are onboard?"

"Security is conducting a room by room sweep as we speak," the personal secretary said. "If the R.A.L.F. are still on the Oligarchia, we'll find them."

"And damage to the yacht?" Drak asked.

"It's substantial but not catastrophic," Wheldon answered. "It's best if you stay where you are for the time being, until repairs can be completed."

"Very good," the Prince said. "Report back when they're done." Then he switched off the intercom.

"So..." Pluckie glanced around, but there wasn't much to look at. There was some cleaning supplies on a shelf and an old iMop in the corner. Mostly, her view was obstructed by the handsome galactic despot holding her in his arms. "We're going to be here a while?"

"Appears so," Drak said. "The maintenance teams work fast. It won't be too long."

"Good."

"Yes."

It felt like Pluckie should say something else to keep the conversation going. "Nova and Bubby are safe. That's a relief."

"A big relief." He exhaled and his body seemed to relax some. "I'd be lost if anything happened to them."

"You're raising two remarkable children." She thought back to their earlier conversation before the Ralfie attack. "I didn't mean to imply that you're a bad parent or anything. I think you're a great dad, just terrific."

"Thank you," he said. "Everything I do, I do for them, so they'll have a better life than I had."

"I can see that," Pluckie said.

"So they can have bigger space yachts or subjugate more people across more solar systems," Drak continued. "If they torture dissidents, it's because they want to torture dissidents and not because they have to."

"That's all any parent hopes for their children."

"I suppose so."

There wasn't much to say beyond that. They stood in silence for a minute, then two minutes. For each passing second, Pluckie grew more aware of how their bodies pressed together. The worst part about it was that she kind of liked it.

"Do you..." Her eyes searched the tiny room again, desperate for another topic to talk about. "Do you have your masks custom made specifically for you or do you order them online?"

"I have an armorer on staff at my palace," Drak said. "He makes all my helmet masks."

"Oh, that must be nice."

Drak nodded perhaps a little more vigorously than called for. "It is. It's very nice. Custom made means a better fit. It's much more comfortable than if I bought off the rack."

"I bet." Pluckie had done her part. If Drak wanted to talk, he was going to have to find the next topic of conversation.

"So, you like cookies," he said.

Pluckie wasn't sure if it was a statement or a question, so she responded with neutral, "Uh-huh."

"That's unusual."

"It's not really," she said. "Most people, I find, like cookies."

"How did you learn to make them, holiday cookies?" That was definitely a question.

"My parents taught me," she answered. "It was part of our Christmas traditions."

"And what were those?" Drak had fully committed to keeping the conversation going. "Your Christmas traditions?"

"Cooking, shopping, wrapping presents." Plucky placed her hand over her necklace and lost herself in the warm memories filling her heart. "Christmas Day we'd gather around our virtual TV and watch the Christmas Spectacular together. My favorite part was seeing the Christmas Queen wear her crown. I miss that."

"What does it matter if it's the Christmas Spectacular or the Saturnalia Spectacular?" Drak asked. "It's still spectacular. Am I right?"

Pluckie couldn't exactly tell a member of a ruling family that she didn't agree with him. Drak had yet to scratch his public execution itch. "I suppose."

"This year's Spectacular," he continued, "is going to be the best one yet. We've got two famous gladiators battling it out to be the Saturnalia Queen. And we have the best popular music singer in the galaxy performing. I heard you like Xhia."

"I do." She smiled up at him. "I'm a huge fan. She sings my favorite song, Christmas Across the Stars."

"Well, she's not going to sing that," he said. "I forbade her from singing that, but she's debuting a new song for the occasion, a Saturnalia song. It's going to be great. It's going to be better than that old, tired Christmas song."

"That's what you don't understand." Pluckie couldn't keep the words inside her any longer. She had to set Drak straight. She had to explain to him how Christmas was never tired or old.

On the darkest nights of the coldest days, Christmas was a warm light to guide the way. It was gifts of joy, camaraderie and love. It was a chance at rebirth. Above all else, Christmas was magical.

It didn't matter to her if she was disagreeing with a member of a ruling family. It didn't matter if her words offended him and he ordered her immediate and painful execution. He needed to know the truth.

"Your Highness," the intercom's squawked behind her.

"What is it, Wheldon?" Drak asked.

"Repairs have been completed and the yacht swept for enemy combatants," Wheldon said. "It's safe to move about the ship again."

"Oh thank God." Pluckie couldn't grab the door release fast enough. Now that she'd had some time to think about it, it did matter to her if Drak ordered her immediate and painful execution. She pushed her way out of the little closet, leaving him alone with empty arms.

The corridor looked amazing. No one would have believed that less than an hour ago, laser beams shot through the air and blood splattered across the floor. The plate glass window was replaced. The golden walls were freshly polished. Even the coral floor had been scrubbed and waxed.

"I better get back to my cabin," she said, "and you'll want to reunite with your children."

"Plucky." He stepped out of the closet and caught her by the arm. "You were going to tell me something."

Prince Drak looked so handsome in the light of the newly refurbished hallway. She wasn't sure if it was the black chrome on his helmet, the armor plated gloves on his large, sturdy hands, or the mirrored visor that hid his eyes from view, but she was sure there was no man in the universe more gorgeous than him.

And it broke her heart that he would never understand the magic of Christmas.

"It doesn't matter," she said, trying her best to keep the sadness out of her voice. "Go find your kids."

She walked away from him then and didn't look back.

Drak waited. He stood in that hallway and waited for her to glance over her shoulder so he could say something. What he was going to say, he didn't know, but he couldn't bear to see her so sad. He had to find the right words to cheer her up.

But she never looked back and he was so lost in his own thoughts, he didn't even notice that floating outside the window, in the cold void of space, were the bodies of seven R.A.L.F. soldiers and one fully intact Ming vase.

END CHAPTER SIX