Extra:
The VIP lounge was filled with Wintermas. A string quartet played carols, a small wait-staff served a buffet, and artists had carved an ice sculpture of the Moon colony. The ice emphasized the stark Moonscape, pock-marked and unadorned with a large domed building flanked by two short, stark maintenance structures. I had to wonder again why anyone would want to live in such a desolate, dangerous place.
The lounge had a holiday buzz. The first visitors and the first Wintermas holiday celebrated on the Moon meant lots of media attention. Visi-reporters were everywhere. A big media event staged by the all-powerful World Wide Corporation, starring the Media itself and featuring the First Visitors to the Moon. WWC, host of this media event, helped build the colony, equipped and staffed the lab, ran the shuttle, and the newly refurbished Mir SpaceMall. They also controlled many news entities. It was natural synergy, a term lovingly revived by the WWC corporate types from the days when companies like Disney bought television networks so they could help promote each other’s products.
“What’s good for business is good for government” was WWC’s company line. “
Colonizing the Moon will have a political impact that will make WWC the most powerful company on Earth” was the real message.
Adding to the charged atmosphere were the cast and crew of the new Crime & Punishment franchise to be called Moon Mayhem. Many of the actors were well-known faces anybody with a decent Visi-system recognized immediately. The media were having a field day.
Extra:
“What’s good for business is good for government” was WWC’s company line. “Colonizing the Moon will have a political impact that will make WWC the most powerful company on Earth” was the real message if you asked me. But no one would. I didn’t have a recognizable face. I was the anonymous man behind the scenes and I liked that just fine.
Extra:
Santa has fallen out of favor, as has the birth of Christ. Christmas offended too many people in the world, so all the holidays around Christmas a were rolled into one huge winter celebration called Wintermas Holiday. Now everyone could participate, even with the old Pagan customs. Christmas is a part of it, but no longer the main event. Santa appears now and then in mostly nostalgic venues.
Moon Mayhem was being touted as the first show to be Visi-broadcast from the Moon itself and would open with an episode called “Whatever happened to Santa Claus?,” all part of a campaign by the World Wide Corporation to commercialize travel to the Moon and, at the same time, boost the ratings of their long-running but flagging Crime & Punishment shows.
The pilot episode would take advantage of the unique Wintermas visitors to the Moon colony by featuring Santa Claus in a sentimental celebration of the intrepid families braving danger to be with their loved ones for the holidays. The plan was to spend a few days getting stock location shots of the Moon colony for the upcoming season, cast local people for the actual Wintermas holidays background scenes, and finish up with Wintermas Day on the Moon starring Santa Claus himself. Then whisk the cast, crew, and visitors home after the celebration. The rest of the episode would be shot on Earth and edited with the Moon footage. Short and sweet.
My participation was to doctor up the script on the spot to include the producer’s, actors’, and director’s new and compelling insights. When I wasn’t doing rewrites, I would be able to roam freely, soaking up all the background material I could so I could write upcoming scripts with authority. The big issue with upcoming episodes was figuring out what possible crimes could occur in this small isolated spot in the galaxy, populated with people who were hand-picked and had high security clearance.
I took a tram over to the Intergalactic launch pad and checked my duffel bag, then off to the chaos of the VIP lounge chaos looking for Ted. I found him in a quiet corner, but he was not alone. He had with him a short, chubby man whose face lines, what you could see of them from under that bushy white beard, looked like he spent most of his life chuckling and laughing. It was also clear that he had not taking any of WWC’s anti-aging products. He seemed friendly enough, but there was something wrong about him. He seemed out of place, like a moose caught in Technopolis traffic. Besides, what with the world going to wrack and ruin, what kind of guy chuckles all the time?
Ted rose to meet me and I whispered, “That’s the guy we hired to play Santa?” Ted nodded, looked around, and waved off an approaching waiter wanting to take our drink order. As the waiter receded out of earshot, he said, whispering, “Kris Kringle himself. We were just having a word about the ... mission.”
“Why are we whispering?” I asked, whispering.
He winked at Kris and whispered to me, “The less you know about this mission, the better. Need-to-know m’boy. Need-to-know.”
I sighed. Ted could turn a trip for groceries into a spy adventure.
A Visi-reporter with a camera tech in tow oiled his way toward us. Our chubby guest grinned and nodded at Ted and abruptly stuck out his hand to pump mine like we were old friends here for a reunion. This was the camera shot the tech got.
Ted scowled at the reporter and the reporter changed direction and headed toward a group of C&P actors.
The chubby old man, still grinning, rose, nodded to both Ted and I, and trotted after the reporter to join the actors.
Ted watched him go then looked around furtively and moved us into the shadows, away from the huge window with its view of the waiting shuttle and an osprey circling the surrounding salt marshes of Central Florida with a fish in its beak.
He went on in a low voice. “Watch for something…. I’m not sure what, but something. Someone who looks suspicious, who doesn’t belong.”
“How can you tell who doesn’t belong? This is an eclectic group....”
Ted, as usual, ignored me.
“To complicate matters, we have gotten an alert that data transmission will be intermittent on Eagle’s Landing. The New Galaxy Times said it was going to be caused by sunspots, but who believes in that claptrap anymore. Sounds like that resistance group. Krank and his revolutionary cronies. That lot. Nothing but trouble, you ask me. Stay on the alert.”
“Sure,” I mumbled, wondering yet again how I had been talked into this.
I didn’t remembered seeing anything in the New Galaxy Times about intermittent data transmissions. Ted knew things no one else knew. Gotta respect that, gotta fear that. That knowledge has gotten innocent people, like me, into more trouble than was good for the common man, even if it might have saved the world. As a reminder, my leg began to throb.
“What do you know of Mr. Kringle?” Ted asked in that cagey way that meant he already knew the answer. He could easily have another career as a DA.
“The casting director thought he had the perfect face to play Santa Claus?” I replied, already knowing this was the wrong answer.
“Very right, but why him? Lots of men look like the public’s perception of Santa.”
I ventured a small joke. “Because his name is Kris Kringle?” Ted didn’t even bother to sneer at that one.
I was thinking up more snappy dialogue, but Ted had already taken out his Omni, a gadget that rivaled the Visi gadgets but were in the possession of only a few well-connected scientists. Ted called up a snapshot of an old man. He was dressed in long red robes and held a long staff. That photo was replaced by another in a northern, snowy setting, another on a movie set that was from back in the last century, another more recent one taken at the WWC headquarters where a man in a beard and dressed in a suit strode confidently out into the Florida heat.
Extra:
The fact was, WWC and their C&P division’s casting director had sought Kris out and without even an audition, offered him the part. The hook wasn’t money. It was if they knew he really was Santa Claus. They offered him the part of a lifetime: Santa presiding at the first ever historic Wintermas on the Moon.
They sweetened the deal. If that wasn’t enough to get him out of hibernation at the North Pole, there was another motivating factor. They convinced him that he would bring comfort and delight to children and adults who had been separated from and missed their loved ones stationed for long periods on the Moon. That did it. Kris was in. He’d learn to act, if that is what it took to save a few kids from a boring Wintermas.
“Recognize him?” Ted asked, already knowing that I did. They were all of Kris and it was clear that the fellow in those photos that had spanned a millennium was the same man.
He went on in a half-whisper, “So far, all they have done is to disrupt things…”
“They? They?” I sputtered. “Who the heck are these Theys? Krank? He’s just a writer…”
“… but the WWC thinks this is only the beginning,” he went on right through my sputtering. “So far, the disruptions appear to be random. No big plan afoot. But the big guns at the Agency think there is a mastermind behind them, a consortium intent on upsetting the balance of power in the shaky world peace.”
“There is always someone wanting to destroy world peace. World peace is always shaky. But what does that have to do with the Moon colony?”
“What, indeed.” He gave me a pitying smile and shook his head. “There is so much you have to learn, my boy. Think about it. Each week there’s a new, minor problem for the colonists, but small problems build and it’s all heading for....”
“Heading for what? If anyone wanted to destroy Eagle’s Landing, all they would have to do is to find transportation to the Moon and blast their way through the dome protecting the colony.”
Only Ted would think that taking off for the Moon was an everyday occurrence. Or that the Theys of the world could easily smuggle in explosives.
“No,” he went on, “it has to do with a power struggle on Earth. No one in their right mind would bother to destroy what is on the Moon.”
I glanced over at Kris being interviewed and seeming to enjoy it. Except for where we were going, it all seemed so ordinary. There was safety in the ordinary. But Ted wouldn’t let it go. He was trying to tell me something and I just wasn’t getting it.
“We have gotten wind of a plot to kidnap Santa Claus.”
“Yes, indeedy,” I said sarcastically. “Kidnapping Santa would sure wreck world peace.” I looked suspiciously over at the chuckling man, a light beginning to dawn in my slow thought process.
“You don’t mean he’s …”
“He could be,” Ted said happily, “even though he looks like he came from Central Casting.” He smoothed his moustache and his eyes flickered.
“He did come from Central Casting,” I said. “He was hired to play Santa in the Crime & Punishment: Moon Mayhem pilot.” I glanced over at Kris working the media surrounding him. “Look at him soaking up the limelight. You’d think he really was Santa. Totally at home with the media, totally in character, just like an actor.”
Ted studied me. “I know you had an unconventional childhood.” He was right because he played a big part in my childhood and there was nothing ordinary about Ted. He worked for people high up in the UE, the world government. These people ran an agency that was so covert the organization didn’t even have a name. No acronyms to throw fear and terror into the average Earth person. I spent a lot of time with him around digs, research projects, strange journeys with missions that took us to far-flung places like the Everglades and now the Moon. How unconventional could a childhood get?
He went on. “When you were a kid, did you believe in Santa Claus?”
I didn’t want to answer. I didn’t want him to know that maybe I still believed in Santa, so I thought about changing the subject.
Just then, there was a scuffle at the entrance to the VIP lounge. Ted frowned, his moustache twitched, and he took a breath and went on. “We will work together as a team. Just like in the old days.”
My leg throbbed and I thought I heard the faint bark of an alligator.
Extra:
Space Riders Scene 2: Thom and Sara
I was torn between watching a commotion develop at the door and trying to piece together what Ted was telling me. Ted won.
“You mean to tell me we are going to the Moon to babysit Santa Claus?”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. You might have told me sooner.”
“No need. Besides. I didn’t know myself. It wasn’t until…sorry. I can’t tell you that…”
“…need-to-know,” I finished for him. Now I was frowning. This was turning out to be much more than I signed up for.
“Besides,” he went on trying to make light of this newest development, “you shouldn’t be without family over the holidays, and after all, I am your uncle.” Yeah, but not far enough removed.
He sat back and tended to his moustache again. “We’ll take care of old Santa there, act as unofficial bodyguards. We’re on a holiday mission. You are a writer for the C&P show and you will take good care of Kris, a lonely old man starring in his very first Visi-vision Wintermas special and doubling as the Moon Santa for all the kiddies. What do you think?”
“Tell me something, Ted,” I hesitated. “Tell me, on the level, is this ... is he ....”
“... the real Santa? As I said before, the less you know the better.”
Extra:
“What will you be doing while I'm pretending to be a buddy of Santa’s?” I knew better than to ask. If Ted were sworn to secrecy by some covert governmental agency, even I wouldn’t get anything out of him.
He surprised me. “Hmmm, yes,” he replied thoughtfully. “You’d better know something about what I’m up to. It’s important we keep our stories straight. I have asked Dr. Hawks to allow me to visit to check on some research with a gas called helium 3, which is found in useful quantities on the Moon. The idea is to mine it up on the Moon and then to bring it to Earth to manufacture clean energy from it.”
Nothing sinister about that, nothing that would need a world-class government agent. I said so.
“I think there is something just a little off with the research in general. The results and reports just don’t add up. They seem to repeat data we already know. Why spend all this money and Moon labs on stale research results? I’m here to find out what is really going on.”
My relief was short lived as another thought crept in to ruin the pretty picture I had of Kris in a red suit and me as hero for bringing him up to the Moon to be the life of the party. And to take care of rewriting any lines he couldn’t say or memorize. Whatever.
“I don’t like it,” I said. “I’m an observer of life, not one of those action figures who take on the bad guys, endure horrible physical pain, serious maiming, and fighting alligators and all that folderol.” I was beginning to sound like Ted.
Ted hurumph-hurumphed. “All you need to know is that this fairly unknown actor is getting the thrill of his career while he performs an especially good deed by being Santa for a bunch of stranded kids.” He meant the hand-picked family members selected to visit their parent on the Moon.
“Oh, just one more thing,” said Ted, almost too casually. “There may be a ...uh…a representative of CABEL on the shuttle. In fact, you can almost bet on it. They won’t be able to resist checking you and Kris out. Me, they already know.”
We both glanced at Kris. He had found a table of older people and some children. He said something and they all laughed. Someone pulled out portable photos of grandchildren. Except for a mean-looking couple dressed as tourists, eyeing Kris suspiciously, everyone looked like they belonged on this trip.
The photo exchanges and happy chatter was interrupted by an escalation of the commotion at the door to the VIP lounge. A scruffy guy was being escorted forcefully out of the room, “Whaddaya mean I got bumped! Bumped? Who gets bumped from a shuttle to the Moon?”
Ted glanced over at me and had the grace to look uncomfortable. He shrugged and grimaced. It was clear who had done the bumping.
The scruffy guy left with a huge security guard’s help. Ted disappeared into the shadows and out of the lounge.
I checked out the group around Kris. One grandmotherly woman was even flirting with him. Maybe Ted was right and one of these innocent-looking people was a CABEL spy. Most people had never heard of CABEL, but I knew it from a short and unhappy time when I was an employee. Even now, the mere mention of CABEL made me uneasy.
Everyone was chatting happily and the noise in the lounge was reaching festive levels. Everyone, that is, except two tow-headed children, playing quietly with their personal Visi-screens, off at a separate table. The girl, who was younger, around ten, looked up wistfully at the others having a good time, but the boy, with a stern look of one who was two years older than his sister and therefore in charge of her, kept her at the table with him.
I wandered toward the two kids. I peered over the shoulder of the boy and watched him play a game. He was good. It was a new game, based on chess, but with real holographic people and lots of action. No one got killed or maimed. They were just tagged out, like chess pieces. Judging by the newest releases of Visi-screen games, the world was just about ready to make a break from the violence. The last decade, with its children dying needlessly in school wars that seemed like playground games turned violent, had given way to a new pacifism throughout the planet. It was this pacifism and the attempt at Earth unity that made the Moon colony possible.
“May I play?” I asked him. He didn’t look up, but his sister did.
“He’s not supposed to talk to strangers,” she offered.
I smiled. “I’m Han,” and I offered my hand across the table. “I bet you aren’t supposed to talk to strangers, either,” I said. She took my hand and shook it carefully.
“But we’re not strangers, now,” she said solemnly, shaking my hand more firmly. “I’m Sara. This is Thom. We’re on our way to the Moon to see my father.”
“Sara ...” Thom shot her a warning look, but she went on, happy to be talking to someone.
“We’re going to meet him at the space station...”
“...maybe,” cautioned Thom, not looking up from his game.
“You know the one that used to be the old Mir space station? He is going to fly the rest of the way with us. We’re going to have Wintermas together and see Santa Claus and everything.”
“Sara. Mom said I am in charge of you,” he looked me over, frowning, “and I say you are not to talk to anyone until we meet up with Dad.”
“Where is your Mom?” I asked. The children looked at each other and exchanged some secret sign.
“Couldn’t make it, I guess,” I said trying to fill the silent gap and not wanting to pry too much. But I was interested in any anomaly connected with this trip, to protect Kris and the rest of the passengers. Not that these kids could be the bad guys, but they could be unwitting dupes in some terrorist scheme.
“No,” said Thom unexpectedly, “she wouldn’t make it,” and he went back to his game. Sara also clammed up, though she looked up as if she wanted to join the other children at Kris’ table. Thom was not going to let her.
I inspected Kris’ table, where he was happily chatting with the ladies he met in the lounge. Sara looked over also. The tourist couple was still there, asking questions. Lots of questions.
Sara eyed the tourists. “They sure don’t look like Moon travelers to me.”
I had to agree. Nobody wears Bermuda shorts into space. The woman was most interested in knowing the details of the Wintermas party and what Kris’ role in it would be. Kris seemed to handle it just fine, chuckled a lot, and smoothly changed the subject to grandchildren. He even signed a few autographs. But I wondered. Spies come in all shapes and sizes.
The tourists strolled by our table. The man was too close to us, crowding our space. Sara instinctively grabbed for her pink bag, which she had slung over the back of her chair just as the man bumped into it. He mumbled something that sounded like an apology.
Sara’s face scrunched up in outrage. “That man. He tried to take my bag!”
I made some comforting noises and assured her that he had just lost his balance, that he didn’t mean anything by it.
“He deliberately got too close,” she insisted. “I could feel him tug at my bag.”
I looked at Thom for support, but he just shrugged and went back to his game. “I’m sure it was a big mistake.”
Sara folded her arms, hugging her bag close.
“Aren’t you going to do something?” She was clearly over me and my passive side. Thom paid no attention to either of us. He was involved with electronic battles of his own.
“Are you a grownup, or what!” demanded Sara and I had no answer. I know I should do something, but surely there were people around more qualified to take care of this. It didn’t matter to Sara, though. All she could see was this young man unwilling to help out a fellow traveler.
I took her arm gently. “Maybe I could take you to the security office.” Sara pulled away from me and gave me a slight shove as if to rid herself of unwelcome baggage.
I looked around for someone to help and saw the tourists near the stage area where the string quartet was seated. Their music was making no inroads over the media noise. The tourists peered around the curtains masking the backstage area of the small raised platform. When they got back to Kris’ table, they said some things to those still there, waved, and left the VIP room.
When I turned back, Sara was gone.
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