A Christmas Miracle on Dewdrop

Copyright

©

PennameWombat November 2020

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This is my late-but-hopefully-not-too-late entry for the 'Winter Holidays 2020' contest. Per the rules it's a complete story but it does take place in a universe shared by at least one other work but familiarity with that story won't be necessary to fully enjoy this one.

Note: lightly edited from original submission. I've fixed some typos and removed a stray author's note that had been left in. No major changes.

One note, this story does have plenty of erotic moments but a limited amount of actual sex - but not a zero amount. If you're looking for something truly down-n-dirty, this might not be the tale for you.

*****

Part One

A Star in the East

The night air was cold and still. Sirena sat on the stage that raised her slightly above the half circle of her audience and the note she sang from her mouth harmonised with a series of chords she released through her throat. She scanned the listeners and a few sets of eyes widened as she trilled an improvisational set of chords to the traditional seasonal song. The clear, chill air this time of year allowed her songs to carry without the interference offered by summer's heavy air and scattered applause and hoots filled the air as she brought the song back to its base and eyed the knot of youngsters seated just in front of her. Their parents nudged and whispered into their ears for them to join in on their traditional chorus before her favorite section of the song as she held the chords until most of the parents had caught her eyes and smiled.

She stilled her throat and let the note fade. A quick breath and her arms rose to kickstart thirty young voices.

'

The boys of the NYPD choir... Were singing Galway Bay... And the bells were ringing out... for Christmas Day.

'

Sirena smiled as she held the last word and her choir devolved into croaks and laughter before a new round of applause and hoots drove the youngsters to more energetic laughter. She caught the eyes of her friend Beatrice on a rock at the back edge of the crowd, who smiled back tiredly. Her friend's infant had just passed its second month and their matching blonde hair glowed red with the reflected light from the Sister as the baby suckled. Knowing this was also Beatrice's favorite section she kicked up her cadence.

'

You're a bum... You're a punk... You're an old slut on junk... Lying there almost dead on a drip in that bed...

'

A breath. Words. Short, simple words. But so mysterious. It was the season of fairy tales but most were for the storytellers, Old Chaucer and Crone Shelley and their acolytes. Not for her. But this was the

Fairytale of New York

and was for her and her fellow singers. So different. Not about a maiden and dwarves and wolves, whatever those were. But about Pogues. And Sinatra. Whoever they were. Whatever a new york was. Like an old york but new? Galway Bay existed, it was on the other side of Madagascar and good for hunting but no one lived there. But it was nothing special to have its own song.

'

You scumbag, you maggot... You're cheap and you're haggard... Happy Christmas your arse... I pray God it's our last...

'

As the last of the stanza approached the parents readied her choir. Some of the little ones bounced on their rocks in excitement.

'

The boys of the NYPD choir...

'

Serena's voice faltered as her eye was drawn to the night sky. The youngsters managed to continue only momentarily.

'

Were singing Galway Bay... And ...

'

The ruddy fist-sized ball of the Sister stood as a three-quarters crescent just left of directly above the assembly and a third of the way toward the zenith and its brightness washed out all but a couple of bright stars in most of Serena's field of vision. She was well used to those two,

Sharky

and

Shamu

heralded the time of year and they both twinkled to the right and above and below the Sister.

And almost perfectly framed at the centroid of the triangle made by the three was a sudden bright light. Few of her people knew or cared much about astronomy beyond basics for calendar keeping and the appearances of

Sharky

and

Shamu

in the eastern sky signalled the annual holiday season.

But Sirena's singing skills brought plentiful gifts and freed her from many mundane tasks so she'd filled free time with Old Melon, their artificer, and astronomy was a hobby of his. He'd taught her the names of stars and to not fear the flashes of meteorites that blazed through the sky when the Sister burped and sent forth dust and rocks. She knew comets and the great dots of

Taranis

and

Manannan

that Melon had taught her were worlds like theirs but much further from

Swegl

and she'd seen they both had sisters of their own, although those were so much smaller than the Sister.

This bright light was none of them.

It was new.

It was closer than its escort of stars. But far past the Sister.

Taranis

and

Manannan

were on the opposite side of the sky so she couldn't compare directly but it was beyond the size of both. And unlike those distant worlds this light wavered and glowed, like the now calm Madagascar's tall cone did when it blew its top ten orbits ago as backdrop to hers and Beatrice's sixteenth celebration.

A thought entered her mind. But she had no memory of a star in that exact spot.

The confused voices of her listeners morphed into oohs and trilled questions as heads turned and followed Sirena's gaze. One of the mothers near the front was on the border of acquaintance and friend and knew of Sirena's hobby watching the sky.

"Sirena," the singer forced her gaze from the new light to look the questioner in the eye, "what is it?"

"It's a star in the east, Aisha," Sirena said, "it is Christmas soon."

She didn't know why a star should appear in the east for Christmas except the old stories. Aisha smiled tightly and held her little boy as Sirena caught the eye of a teen boy who'd feigned disinterest but had offered a full-throated contribution to the chorus. She wiggled a finger and his eyes widened slightly but he nodded and slid off of his rock and worked his way through the murmuring crowd until he was next to the stage. She leaned to speak quietly into his ear.

"Do you know where Old Melon's nest is?" He hooted softly.

"Good. Tell him what he's waited for since he was a boy is here."

His hoot conveyed confused acceptance but he quickly left. Sirena let out a soothing run of major chords that silenced the crowd and drew their hundred or so sets of eyes back to her.

"I have summoned Old Melon," she announced, "he will guide us. Now, the youngsters still have two choruses to go in the Fairytale. Then, in honour of the light, we'll all sing of Rudolph!"

She found her note. Was it improvisation if she'd just done it a few moments before? Whatever. The youngsters hooted and hopped on their perches, the strange light for the moment ignored.

Crossing the Black

"Receiving data from the probes now, Captain," said the voice in his earpiece, "we should have this burst soon."

"Roger, ensign, don't waste time processing it, make sure we get it all before the next burn blocks the signals. Out," Captain Gravesen took a breath as he shook his legs and walked a circle around the mostly-empty bridge and toggled his intercom, "Sheckley, those yellows in the tanks. Over."

"Just under a hundred, Captain," Lieutenant Sheckley said, "bad relay switch on first set, tanks good, replacing switch. My crew will get to the rest."

"The Endymion made it across the Black without losing anyone. Let's not start now. Give me plenty of warning. Out."

She was generally gloomy but rarely bad-tempered. And she was competent. They had ten thousand sleepers who'd combine with his one hundred strong crew once they'd arrived. The next month was the most dangerous period, twelve hours of each day alternating hour long high gees deceleration burns and hour long coasting slots to offer the meat bags relief and then twelve hours of coasting to allow the crew to eat, exercise and sleep. It wasn't only rough on his crew but on the ship itself. Most systems were multiply redundant but even now long sleep tanks had their quirks.

He hoped the fact they'd had no losses on their interstellar flight was an omen. A good omen. Long sleep was well established but it wasn't stasis and a single undetected cancerous cell when the sleeper went in could grow over a century or two of flight. And mechanical failures were an inevitable fact with ships as large and complex as star crossers. But they'd had none that had led to fatalities.

Gravesen took a slow breath and received reports from his crew of vital systems as they worked their checklists. Like with the tanks the first burn always shook a few things loose and this first break doubled the usual hour to allow them to tighten loose screws. After that the exacting gods of orbital mechanics insisted timings not be missed but as he worked down the list his mood lightened.

Despite the risks, centuries of expeditions had found fewer burns with higher gees more tolerable than a single lower gee burn that lasted months. In all cases the goal was to shed just enough of the chunk of

c

that'd carried them across empty space to allow their new sun to capture them in a slingshot to deliver them to their target planet. Another trade off. Shedding more speed meant fewer slingshots, which offered their own dangers, but kept them in the outer system longer.

"Captain."

"Go, Sheckley."

"Two sleepers have health issues but their pods are good, med AI recommends waiting until the burns are done to release and treat them. Other yellows all technical issues. We'll have replacements done with plenty of time."

"Good job, Sheckley. Give me the all clear when you have it, out."

A double chime sounded ship wide and yellow lights did two slow strobes.

"Captain, sir."

"Ensign, go."

"We have the data from the probes, we'll have full analysis after the next burn."

"Any indication of radio or other artificial transmissions?"

"No, sir. The star and the two gas giants are loud and proud, but nothing else high powered. Doing more detailed analysis during burn."

"Right. Summaries to science heads and tell them fifteen minutes after the burn finishes they're with me."

"Sir."

"Out. Sheckley."

He was about to repeat when her breathy voice responded. "Captain."

"Status?"

"Last relay, sir, final checks. We'll make it."

He let his hard exhale go through his mic. He wasn't angry but a bit of put on exasperation wouldn't hurt. He scanned the status from the other departments. All green. He triggered the second warning chime and its matching orange strobe and followed its guidance to settle into his own crash couch.

He saw the last indicator go green and offered a smile no one saw.

"Captain."

"Sheckley, good job. Everyone in?" He could see individual couch status but expected his direct reports to know their people were safe.

"Yes, Captain. Buttoned up."

"Good. Out."

New chimes sounded and double red strobes showed. He felt the needles in his neck.

"Helm," he said, "burn on five."

Despite the couch and the drugs he grunted and knew that ninety nine others did as well. 10,000 more remained oblivious. The lucky ones.

Things Blow Up

The children were in full voice, any thoughts of strange lights in the sky overwhelmed by the renewed chance to sing and hoot to songs that were older than Sirena. Older than her parents. And their parents.

'Dashing from the shore...'

The perfect pitch and tones of Sirena's voice were overwhelmed by unpolished but enthusiastic participation by the youngsters as they bounced on their stone seats. Although this song, unlike so many others, almost made sense her choir knew what the words really meant.

'In a one horse open sleigh...'

A horse? Horses could pull things... but they were stupid. So, so stupid. Harmless and fortunately they were essentially inedible because they were usually so friendly and playful they'd have been eaten to oblivion. The Old Melon before her Old Melon's predecessor Old Melon had hoooked an adult one to a large piece of bark from a fallen tree, inspired by this very song. The results had apparently been so hilarious the Margarets explicitly forbade the experiment to ever be repeated.

'O'er the waves we go...'

Over the waves? That almost made sense. She looked up, the light hadn't moved. Its spacing to Sharky and Shamu maintained, even as Home spun and the Sister moved in their mutual dance. That meant it was indeed distant. But how distant?

'Laughing all the way...'

Off to her left and beyond the edge of the crowd she saw the long, grey hair of Old Melon. She winked at the boy next to him and he shivered, yes, he was indeed older than usual to attend such a concert as this, especially alone. But she now understood his reason. Sigh. He was cute but needed more orbits to be of interest to her in the way he desired.

'Bells on shark tail ring...'

Old Melon's head was turned, his eyes locked on the sky. He felt her attention and turned and smiled quickly and she nodded her head quickly without missing a note then he fussed with the bag he had with him. She turned to look at some parents and at a couple of nods they hooted softly and as a group they urged their youngsters to full voice on the final stanza not only of this song but of the evening.

Even if the words didn't say it, the children knew the real meaning was only a few more turnings until Christmas and gifts! Sirena drove the song to its completion and at the end surpassed even the combined voices of the audience to draw out sustained applause mixed with trills and hoots. Sirena held her arms up and bowed at the waist to accept the appreciation of her audience as parents and their children hugged.

She slid from the stage and smiled and accepted hugs and cheek kisses from attendees and worked her way toward Old Melon and the boy and attracted a following of those who remembered her announcement. He turned toward her and she pulled him into a quick hug, felt his shoulder bag hit her, sounds of clinking came from it. She felt the crowd behind and hid her worry.

She'd known Old Melon since childhood and she'd eventually realized that he really was a big and solid man, it hadn't been a figment of her girlhood imagination. But now. His jowls sagged and there was looseness and pallor in the skin around his chest and shoulders. She let out a slow hoot. A glance at the boy's expression of jealousy told her she'd need to shut him down sooner rather than later.

"Sorry to wake you, Melon," she said and he hooted softly and smiled, "but this couldn't wait for morning!"

He had one of the round crystal disks in his hand, Sirena knew they magnified things. But she fretted that he seemed hesitant and his arm flexed and extended as he seemed unable to find a focus. Finally he twisted and held the crystal out to her.

"Sirena, dear girl," his voice was firm but had an odd timbre and he spoke loudly enough for most of the crowd to hear, "you were the first to see it, you should look."

She knew doubt flashed across her face but Melon's eyes offered assurance and she nodded, knew most wouldn't have seen her expression. She reached and took the crystal and twisted and held it with her arm about three-quarters extended.

"Describe it for us, if you would please," Melon said and a trill rippled across the crowd.

"It's not like a star. Not shiny and smooth like

Taranis

and

Manannan

either. It's... like a meteorite that's burning."

She let her arm drop.

"I don't think it's a supernova," she said to Melon, "I am sorry. I thought sure... but I've never seen one."

The old man shrugged his shoulders. "I agree, my eyes are not what they were as a boy, but I agree..."

"But meteorites are close, aren't they?" It was the boy. She didn't know his name. He had a familiar look, the shape of his face. But her mind was on the light. She put the crystal to her eye.

"It doesn't move," she said, "it's far. A comet?"

"It may be," Melon said, "but comets don't shoot flame."

"Can I look?" It was Aisha, Sirena and Melon looked at her, expressions behind her seemed to indicate she'd been elected by the parents and others as their rep. The singer smiled at her.

"Certainly, Aisha, come next to me," one of the other mothers put an arm around Aisha's little Benny, his eyes glittered with pride in his brave mother and Sirena put the crystal in her hand, "put your fingers on the edge and angle it so you can see. You'll need to move it a bit until the view is sharp."

Aisha's dark hair shook with her nod. Her face took on a look of concentration as her arm moved. Then she gasped and hooted.

"It's so pretty," she said, "it's yellow... no, orange... orange like when Madagascar burped fire!"

"Yes," Sirena said, "it's that color."

"Can... can I look?" It was a young man, older than the boy who remained behind Melon with a distressed expression. The requestor's voice had firmed after a shaky start, Sirena fought down her smile. He had a young woman with him, before, he'd come here to show a softness, a willingness to raise young... but now... yes, he was trying to impress his date with his bravery.

"If Aisha is done," Sirena said with a laugh. The woman trilled a signal to her child and he came to her and she held the crystal up. He laughed and clapped his hands and hooted for a moment then she handed the crystal back to Sirena.

"Thank you for the beautiful singing, as always," Aisha said and her boy added a quick hug and they moved to allow the young man and his date to approach.

Sirena handed the crystal and slid next to Old Melon.

"It hasn't moved," Sirena said to her friend, he was dear and she knew he loved her in some way. She'd have never hesitated had he approached her physically but he'd never seemed interested in anyone that way, male or female, just in his crafts and arts, "so it's far."

"That means it'll disappear soon as Home turns," he said, "but it will come back. I will bring more next night."

His voice dropped to barely a whisper. "Please remember how close it is to Sharky and Shamu and the Sister so we know. My eyes... cannot do it anymore."

She slid her left arm around his right and put her right hand on his lower arm and squeezed. She tried to think of what to say when there was a loud gasp and distressed hoots from most of the crowd. People had queued up and took turns with the crystal and handed it off but the current holder froze. She and Old Melon followed the upraised gazes.

The light was gone.

"It... it just... went out," cried the woman who held the crystal, "I... I'm sorry!"

Sirena released Melon and moved quickly. Mostly she was worried the woman would throw or break the crystal so she hugged her quickly. The material was hard to find and crafting them was an exacting art and she felt, no, she knew, doing so was in Old Melon's past.

And the New Melon? She put that out of her mind but in the guise of comforting the woman she wrapped her fingers around the crystal and slid it into her hand.

"Don't worry, please," she projected her voice and offered soothing tones through her throat, "we've seen such on the Sister. We will come tomorrow night and watch at this time."