TELKAN FORGE WORLDS

So... everyone goes through this?

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MANTID FREE WORLDS

Eventually. We're not sure what the criteria is.

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TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS

To be honest, we're not even sure that the Terrans are the originator of the system.

The idea that the system existed, or the mechanisms already existed, and the Terrans repurposed them for something else and this is a side effect is a popular theory among Treana'ad scientists.

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AKLTAK SOARING WORLDS

Everyone here did this?

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RIGELLIAN SAURIAN COMPACT

Well, Puffies in Winter Wonderland is extremely popular.

We had our special. A rabbit creature tried to replace our eggs with jeweled copies. It was defeated by The Soviet Swark, a legendary Rigellian hero.

CRUSADE

MOMMA LIZZIE CAME HERE TO CHUG PRE-WORKOUT AND FIGHT A PUNK ASS WANNABE HIP HOPPER.

AND BABY, IM ALL OUT OF CREATINE

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Yup, that's the one.

See, even Crusade has seen it.

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CRUSADE

IT IS AN EXCELLENT TALE OF PHYSICAL PERFECTION AND PERSONAL DRIVE!

MANY OF THE WARBOUND ENJOY THE CONTEMPLATION OF ITS THEMES!

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BobCo has products for all the Santa Enjoyers in your [species specific family unit] or [atypical species specific family unit] to give or enjoy this year!

"CEASE YOUR CORPORATE PRATTLING AND INDUSTRIAL HAWKING. I DEMAND A RESOLUTION TO THIS EPIC TALE OF..."

Including this brand new, never seen before, GENUINE Christmas snowglobe, fresh from the Warfather Saves Christmas! Comes complete with podling choirs, purrboi purring, and a direct song-link to the broodmommy phasic songwave!

".... I WANT A BILLION! I WILL MAKE IT STANDARD ISSUE FOR ALL ARMOR TROOPERS AND WARBOUND!"

LEE>I love this guy!

KEN> I know, right? He's great.

AKL>what are we whispering about?

HAT WEARING AUNTIE

My people had two so far.

It is odd. Something about seeing your people take part in a seasonal holiday after millions of years of little more than toil feels good.

The greenies love Turkey Day. Well, everyone loves Turkey Day, but the greenies really go nuts for it.

One of the ways a queen can lose control quickly and have the hive mind disrupted is trying to remove Turkey Day.

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TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS

Well, yeah. I mean, free turkey and stuffing and mashed potatoes and nineteen different flavors of ice cream.

My people would declare war over someone trying to take away Turkey Day deep fried turkey and mashed potato ice cream or, worse yet, trying to take away the yams, marshmallow, and holiday gourd flavored ice cream.

There would be rioting in the streets.

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GREAT GESTALT OF GREAT THOUGHTS AND GREAT IDEAS FEATURING THE GREAT LANAKTALLAN

Does it not bother all of you that you have willfully embraced everything from the Nine Nights of the Universal Diving Feminine to The Feast of Sacrifice to Fireworks-Firearms-Firewater Day to the Pure Brightness Festival?

What of your own holidays? Your own celebrations?

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TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS

Not really.

I mean, we have P'Thok's Birthday that's a big one. Three days worth the partying.

We all have our holidays separate from the dizzying myriad of Terran ones.

But tell me, did your culture have holidays or festivals?

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GREAT GOOGLY MOOGLY AND LANKYS TOO!

Very rarely. Usually the newer species to join the Unified Council would possess them for a few hundred years before they would be discarded.

Culture is largely a waste of resources and does nothing to advance science or society.

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HAT WEARING AUNTIE

I'll tell you what.

You name a single advancement to science or society that your cultureless homogenized group accomplished that none of us did and I'll buy each of you all, all multi-trillion of you, those new BobCo leg warmer socks that display your Nebula-Steam achievements.

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...

...

...

HAT WEARING AUNTIE

That's what I thought.

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WE NOW RETURN TO Warfather_in_a_Winter_Wonderland(REAL)[uncut][480p-upscaled-720p].avi.exe BROUGHT TO YOU BY BOBCO, CREY INDUSTRIES, AND GURDY'S DUCK OIL! ALREADY IN PROGRESS!

CRUSADE

SILENCE!

The armor was lifted up into a repair rack that was painted in red and white swirls. The chains were painted gold and silver. Crawling all over the armor was small little people, working with tiny fusion torches, hammers, prybars, and other tools. Watching them, Vuxten shivered under the blanket.

The heavyset Terran woman with a kind face had stitched the wounds and now was stitching up his adaptive camouflage uniform. She looked up, saw Vuxten staring at her, and smiled.

"It's all right, dear," she said. She shook it out. "My husband's job can be dangerous, so I am very well versed in repairing things," she smiled. "When I help plan his route, I try to ensure that my husband can receive medical care after bringing joy and celebration to war torn areas."

Vuxten just nodded.

A glance showed that 471 was still talking to the male. The icons were moving so fast they were a blur to Vuxten. He looked back at the snowglobe and the pink golfball on the table before lifting up the hot cocoa and taking another drink, wiping away the whipped cream and marshmallow from his muzzle when he was done. He could feel his injuries healing up with the memorable sting and slight hunger of quikheal.

He had to admit it tasted better and didn't take as long.

"There you go, dear," the woman said. He handed Vuxten his top then picked up the uniform trousers, setting to work.

She'd spray stained areas then tap them with a wand, pulling up dust that glittered and twinkled, then spray another spot. When she was done, she picked up the uniform and turned the legs inside out before starting to stitch the smart cloth back together.

"A fine story indeed, Inertia," the man said, reaching down and patting 471's head. "Such sights you witnessed during that sojourn."

471 flashed some icons then scurried over to Vuxten, climbing up the chair and sitting on the back, looking over Vuxten's right shoulder.

The man, Mister Claus, came over and sat down.

"How is this real?" Vuxten asked after wiping his muzzle off again.

Claus simply shrugged. "There are many answers. Some, you are not prepared to deal with, others, well, others are simple."

"Can you tell me at least one?" Vuxten asked.

Claus lifted up a cookie, dipped it in his cocoa, then took a bite. He looked thoughtful as he chewed and Vuxten took another drink of his cup.

"Terran children, well, all children really but Terran children especially, are immensely psychically fueled. Phasic power flush, so to speak," Claus said. "It's undetectable unless you know what you're looking for. But it's that power that involves their very lives."

"To a child, the world is a magical place," Missus Claus said. "There is wonder even in the shimmering of bathwater."

"A child believes something with all their heart," Mister Claus said. "Individually, it really isn't that much. Enough to let them jump a little further, run a little faster, be a little stronger, when they really need it, but not much else."

"All right," Vuxten said, thinking about seeing Terran children with bright amber eyes.

"Individually, not much," Mister Claus said. He pointed at the snow. "Individually, a snowflake isn't much. But you combine millions, billions, trillions of children, all believing with all their heart in something, it goes from a snowflake to an avalanche."

"So you're empowered by the belief of children?" Vuxten asked, slightly suspicious.

Mister Claus nodded. "Always have been," he said. He shrugged. "Tinkerbell was brought back to life by the belief of children after drinking poison."

Vuxten roughly remembered seeing a scantily clad winged human on a tank called "Tinkerbell" that had "Tinkle Tinkle" written on the main gun.

"She's real?" Vuxten asked.

Missus Claus nodded. "She was over this summer, borrowing glitter. Fairies love glitter."

Vuxten sighed. "But where did you come from?"

Mister Claus leaned back slightly, taking another bite of his cookie. After a moment he answered. "Where legends are born, Vuxten. Where legends are born."

"But that doesn't answer my question," Vuxten said.

Mister Claus nodded. "Even though you too have been there."

"I have?" Vuxten asked.

Missus Claus nodded too, turning the uniform pants right side out and checking her seams. "Yes, dear, you have. I believe they call you 'The Warfather', do they not?"

Vuxten flushed slightly. "Yeah. I never asked for it."

"True legends never do," Mister Claus said. "Even if nothing else were to come to pass, you forced Krusher to flee, and he will never forget that. When he lists off his battles to his next foe, your name will be up there with the others, just as Kalki and Daxin's are."

Vuxten sighed. "I never wanted any of this. I just wanted to protect people, just help them survive."

He looked down at his cocoa. "We are a small people caught between titans engaged in an apocalyptic struggle."

"Do not lessen your people, young man," Missus Clause said, folding the trousers neatly. "Your frame might be small, but your spirit brought you here first, out of all of those recently found. Your people possess great strength, great gifts."

"Big surprises come in small packages," Mister Claus chuckled.

Vuxten took the uniform and dressed quickly, without concern. He even put on the socks Missus Claus handed him, feeling them warm up his feet. They had gripping pads on the bottom to keep him from slipping.

He finished just as one of the elves came up and stopped in front of Santa.

"Job's done, boss. Too close to Christmas, we didn't have any raw warsteel plating, had to make do from the old Total Tank kits," the elf said. "Same with the weapons. We had to use some old Gee-Eye Joe parts. It's as good as can be, now. Even fixed some old damage."

"Good job, Bernard," Santa said. "Looks good."

The elf gave a salute and hurried away.

Vuxten looked over at his armor and held back a groan.

It was bad enough that it had been all white and gold, with swirling inlay and old Imperium markings, but now there were spots of silver, metallic green and blue, chrome red here and there. The grenade launcher looked slightly different, the same with the missile launcher.

471 scampered over to it, throwing up a flurry of snow as he rushed through it.

Vuxten held up his hand and looked at his two fingers. There were Popsicle sticks holding his finger straight and it was bound with a checkered ribbon tied in a bow with two googly-eyes below the bow. A "bunny bandage" according to Missus Claus, who had put them on after straightening his fingers.

471 reached the armor on the lift and climbed up it. The housing opened and he vanished inside.

"Before you go, son," Mister Claus said.

Vuxten turned and looked at him.

"You didn't defeat Krusher with rage or wrath. That's impossible. Your wrath, your rage, only makes him stronger. You defeated him with songs your broodmommy's sang you when you were tiny," the Terran said. He waved at the darkness surrounding the small clearing, at the dark and cold trees. "Beyond here, just like against Krusher, isn't a test of your wrath, of your strength, although it was tested to get here and required both to defeat Krusher."

"Then what is it?" Vuxten asked.

The armor beeped and opened.

"A test of who and what you are," Mister Claus said. "Not a soldier, not a janitor, but of who you are and what you can rise up and be."

Vuxten nodded. He'd seen a few Christmas specials, mostly on AFN, but usually didn't pay close attention to them.

"Is that why the goat creature defeated me?" Vuxten asked, remembering being slammed through the ice.

Mister Claus shrugged. "My counterpart and old friend Krampus visits those on the naughty list that I deem too naughty even for coal to warm their homes. Your test against him was of your bravery, not your strength."

"And besides," Missus Claus said. "Who said you lost?"

Vuxten turned and looked at the armor, then back at the pair of Terrans.

"Thank you," he said. "For everything."

"Don't forget these," Santa said, turning and picking up the pink golfball, the snowglobe, and a long thin packet. "You'll want these, no matter how this turn out."

Vuxten just nodded, moving over and putting the objects into the cargo pouch on his equipment belt. He stepped into the armor and felt the cyberjack lock in as the armor closed.

While it was nice that the data was in green, amber, red, and silver, he wasn't sure how he felt about the jingly little tune.

It reminded him of the Holiday Banshee.

"Ready, buddy?" Vuxten asked.

--on dancer on prancer-- 471 said. --ride or die buddy--

Vuxten nodded, looking around.

At the far side of the clearing he saw two candy-canes stuck into the snow in front of a gap in the bushes. He waved at the pair of Terrans as he jogged toward the obvious exit. His suit was warmed up now and he was glad for the heat even though it faintly smelled of cinnamon and cloves.

As Vuxten ran through the gate Missus Claus looked up at her husband, who stood beside her, one hand on her shoulder. She put both of her hands over his.

"Do you think he will succeed?" she asked.

Santa Claus nodded. "I got a good look at the boy. He'll do just fine."

WE WILL RETURN AFTER THESE MESSAGES!

CRUSADE

STOP WITH THIS SENSELESS INTERRUPTIONS!

I DESIRE KNOWLEDGE OF THE OUTCOME OF THIS TITANIC STRUGGLE OF THE TELKAN PEOPLE!