Chapter One
It was two weeks before Christmas on the small colony of Far North, located on a planetoid orbiting Terra 2, and everything that could possibly be going wrong, was.
Early that morning, Liza Hawthorne had discovered evidence of the black fur fungus in the last untainted stand of their Christmas tree forest.
When she’d got back home, she’d been so upset that she’d lost track of time and burned the apple pies she’d been cooking.
And to top it all off, Santa Claus had just fallen off the roof of the Hawthorne family bed and breakfast with a resounding thud. Now his robot reindeer were hauling the sleigh through the sky overhead, leaderless, circling in an endless loop.
“Want me to get that?” Her grandmother set down a tray of sugar cookies on the kitchen counter. She was short and rotund and dressed like Mrs Claus, wearing a red velvet dress that was trimmed in white fur.
Liza sighed. “Nah, you finish up the baking. I’ll deal with it.”
She threw on her red jacket, grabbed the control stick off the kitchen counter, and ran outside, her boots crunching in the crisp, white snow. She stomped over and glared at the Santabot, which lay on its side on the front lawn, smoking and sizzling.
Why did this have to happen now? Everything else looked so perfect.
The Weather Control Station had deposited a fresh layer of sparkling white snow overnight, the perfect consistency for making snowballs and snow angels and snowmen. A dozen three-foot-tall, pointy-eared Srilaa aliens, dressed as elves, were gathered by the candy-cane fence. They were waiting to usher in the customers half an hour from now, when they officially opened.
Behind the ten-bedroom bed and breakfast, the pine tree forest stretched out to the horizon. Most of the trees near the house were still untouched by the fungus, giving the appearance of a serene, happy winter wonderland.
Liza shook her head impatiently and thumbed a few buttons on the control stick. The reindeer and the sleigh glided to a graceful stop on the ground.
The Santabot’s head swiveled, and it stared up at her with its merry little button-like eyes, wreathed in wrinkles.
“Ho, ho, ho,” it rasped. “And what doyouwant for Christmas, little boy?”
Little boy? Great. So Liza had been genetically gifted with small boobs. She didn’t need a run-down piece of machinery to rub it in, thankyouverymuch.
Liza snorted. “I want a Santabot that works. And one that can tell what sex I am, you cheap Andromedan knock-off.”
“Well, if you’ve been good all year, and done what mommy and daddy told you— you— you—” Santa’s voice trailed off and it lay there, twitching and sparking.
Damn the timing. Even if she could get an off-world specialized bot mechanic there fast enough, she couldn’t afford it. Her family’s bed and breakfast was just about running on fumes, like all the other colonists’ businesses. After the black fur fungus had infected all their trees, the entire colony had been forced to declare bankruptcy.
But there was still a trickle of tourists coming to visit the famous Christmas Colony in its final weeks, and she and her family needed every last scrap of business they could rustle up. The Santa sleigh ride was their most popular attraction, and now it was kaput.
“Stupid second-hand bots,” she yelled, and kicked him in the head.
“Did she just kick Santa?” a horrified child’s voice cried out.
She looked up, and her heart sank. A family was standing at the gate, staring at her, mouths hanging open. They’d arrived early. The Srilaa were gathered around them, hoping for candy canes. They were a race who needed massive amounts of glucose to survive. Liza’s family paid them in sugar, the only currency they would accept, but they always wanted more.
In fact, her family did a thriving business just selling candy canes for children to feed to the Srilaa…or they had in previous years, anyway.
“Is Santadead?” one of the other children wailed. “We’re not getting any presents this year?”
“Who will feed the reindeer? Will they starve?” another little voice piped up.
“No presents and the reindeer will starve!” the first one howled, and now they were all hysterical.
“Santa’s fine! He’s just got a…a fever! That’s why he’s sparking! Mrs Santa’s going to give him some Cure-All now. Come back tomorrow; he’ll be feeling better!” Liza called out with forced cheer. What a liar she was. There was no way Santa would be working tomorrow.
The family members gave her one last appalled look and turned and hurried back to their rented hovercraft. They scrambled in, the door sealed shut, and they shot off like they were being pursued by a Denubian Ranthar in heat. Great. Just great.
“Question,” said her younger sister Geneva’s hologram, appearing beside her. “Did you seriously just kick Santa in the head? Are you trying to tank our business on purpose?” Geneva was currently off-world. She was attending business school on the tiny mechanical moon that orbited Far North.
Liza stared at her.
