Discom-Rob-ulated

The pink elephants turned out in force this year. Well known to those prone to getting too drunk to stand, their primary job is to come out of the intoxicated individuals head and circle in an amusing manner. They are, in fact, built into the universe as a safety, on the basis that if a drunk is watching floating pink pachyderms, they’ll be too confused to do anything stupid (This rarely works, although it sometimes makes the person so dizzy they throw up).
Despite the fact that Mardi Gras is one of the busiest days of the year for them (After St. Patrick’s Day and Valentines Day, although they are notoriously anxious not to discuss the latter), I’ve managed to pull one away from his work for a while in order to interview him. Via careful translation, I have rendered some advice that might help you make the most of your Mardi Gras.
One other thing: The pink elephants do not work exclusively in our world. There is a variety of information here, in fact, that one prays is not from our world. Because of the fact that our readers may include residents of other universes, I have chosen not to filter this information. Use your own judgment.

1. Be careful who you give beads to: Especially If you have had a few. With sufficiently thick beer goggles, most people would proposition a lamp. Also, do not give beads to a dragon. Why? Well, it isn’t that they won’t appreciate the shiny material (unless you’re stupid enough to give the dragon plastic beads, in which case the dragon will appreciate you. Probably for dinner). But dragons are notoriously slim in the breast department. Cows, on the other hand, are an excellent bet. They’ll show you their breasts even before you give them beads. Few people celebrating Mardi Gras in India are disappointed.

2. Remember, your love life is not dead : Nor should you feel a compulsion to make it so. When it comes to the undead, remember that it’s important to know that there are major drawbacks to many dates. Vampires tend to be a little kinky, and bite. The vast majority of ghosts are dealing with unfinished business, which is rarely the lack of dates while they were alive; those who DO have this as their unfinished business probably remained dateless for a reason. And if you feel a compulsion to hit on a zombie, see number 1.

3. Designate a Driver: Because otherwise, you will get one of two ideas. One, that you should drive yourself, in which case the elephant assures me that more people then you think end up crashing directly into the lobby of the police station. Or else, you’ll take public transportation. That’s usually code for “Charged with doing a samba on a moving bus wearing nothing but an orange tutu which you’ve stolen”. You can always call a taxi, but when a guy shows up driving a secondhand patch of carpet hastily dyed yellow, who regardless of where you ask to go will take you to a sugar packing plant across town, don’t say we didn’t warn you.

4. Do not attempt to eat the pink elephant: This is important. Under no circumstances should you reach out, grab the pink elephant around the midriff and attempt to eat him. It cannot be emphasized enough that drinking heavily at Easter and mistaking him for a peep will not save you. Expect to have your mouth sneezed in.

5. Do not drink anything you cannot pronounce: This is a simple way to keep yourself from going crazy, dying, or disappearing into an interdimensional abyss. Look at the handy reference chart below.

IF THE LABEL YOU CANNOT PRONOUNCE IS…	YOU SHOULD NOT DRINK IT BECAUSE…
…A quote from the Necronomicon	See: Abyss, interdimensional
…in Klingon	This drink is invariably fatal to humans. Traditional Klingon drinks are similar to the Mexican one with the worm at the bottom, except the worm is alive and the goal is to see how drunk you can get while still being able to defeat it in mortal combat.
…In Hawaiian	This drink contains as much fruit as its supposed island of origin. The sugar in that glass will cause you a hangover that will need its own room.
… “blood”	You are in a vampire bar and should be running. Unless you’re a vampire, of course.
…Everclear	Because this particular entry can cause cerebral damage just by looking at it. Patrons ordering Everclear should be forced to say the synonym “Rubbing Alcohol” instead. Anyone still capable of doing this after the first glass should be given a medal.
...Vodka	Because vodka is Russian for “Everclear”
…On fire	Because you’re already too drunk. We’re assuming here that the drink in question is not on fire, but that the actual label is on fire. If you have reached the point where you are no longer sure where to stick the match, you should probably not get in bed with anyone.
…beer	Actually, if you are so wasted that you can no longer say four letters you are A: not very adept at swearing, and B: ten seconds from death anyway. So go ahead and drink it.

6. If you do drink too much and voices call you towards the light, don’t go: Remember your last family reunion? It’s like that, but longer, and without alcohol.

7. Do not try to text your friends with the elephant: Elephants do not like their bellies pushed. It makes them throw up imaginary peanuts all over your hand. This is your own fault.

8. When drinking, ignore all ideas to do things not involving drinking: Do not play poker with demons, especially not if you like using the expression “I’d bet my life”. Do not try to eat a car. Do not stick your wand down your pants and conjure a seal. Do not animate the drink rack and encourage it to tap dance. Do not conquer Belgium. Do not get married to an orc. Do not engage in extra-marital relations of any kind with other species. Especially, and we cannot say this clearly enough, the pink elephant.

AND FINALLY…

9. Really, truly, honestly, we mean this, under no circumstances are you to play racquetball, badminton, tennis, ping pong, or pool with the pink elephant: Because he may be imaginary, but he can still burrow into your brain via your eyeball. He knows C’thul-Fu. They’ll have to clean up your skeleton with a mop. Leave the elephant alone.

Once again, happy Mardi Gras, and good luck to those of you observing Lent. ( it has been intimated that Friday’s special will be trilobyte bisque with Bovigryph cream and freshly exorcised possessed pepper, for those of you who know what I’m talking about. Never mind that the intimation in question is what you just read.)

Now some of you are aware that my head boasts a full variety of facilities for keeping my characters out of my hair. A writer failing to provide entertainment and comfort of a certain level is at a serious risk for characters finding ways to entertain themselves, and that’s a good way to go crazy.
Among these facilities is a fairly good newspaper, which keeps me appraised of the goings-on inside my mind. So, naturally, when the “Hypothalamic Herald” featured an interesting article in preparation for valentine’s day, I knew the moment I read the title that I had to transcribe it, for our readership’s edification. Here it is, in it’s entirety.

LIGHTING THE FIRES OF LOVE
“Dragons are excellent romantic partners,” Study says

New studies conducted among local residents and in the lab revealed this Friday that Dragons may be better lovers. Neuroscientist and biological theorist Dr. Edwin Dwight announced before the united imaginary press today that his exhaustive study had produced compelling evidence that people seeking stable relationships should look for a dragon. “Frankly, we’ve known that dragons were hot for a long time, what with breathing fire and all…” Dr. Dwight told reporters, “… but it appears that there are a variety of other things which make dragons very desirable partners.”
The study began with 100 volunteers, all of whom had recently broken up after a serious relationship of at least one year in duration, and who, according to psychological testing, had not had a dysfunctional relationship. With the assistance of a local dragon dating service, “Wyvern Wire”, these volunteers were paired up with complementary dragons, and then their experiences evaluated over the course of the next few months.
“I was skeptical, at first… but when I saw her classical square features, and shiny purple scales, well, I knew my outlook was about to change,” said local man Johnson Daley, 32.
“Oh, there’s no comparison,” agrees Lily Marie, 28, “Dragons catch a lot of flak for things like hoarding… but a dragon is really just trying to achieve security for it and its mate”. Ms. Marie, like many of the volunteers during this study, is currently planning on moving to a cave in a good neighborhood and raising a brood with her dragon.
And in fact, says Dr. Dwight, the overall sense of security people feel when they are in a relationship with a dragon goes beyond the monetary. “Three of the volunteers did have visits from mentally disturbed past contacts, two of which were ‘stalkers’. They unanimously agreed that engulfing the person in a burst of flame was a far more effective deterrent then threatening to call the cops.”
What are the disadvantages? Well, dragons can be potentially deadly in those lover’s tiffs which eventually happen. “There were some minor burns suffered in a couple of instances towards the end of the first three months,” Dr. Dwight admitted, apologetically shaking his head, “But we found that having plenty of aloe on hand, and the provision of flame retardant sheets for volunteers, was enough to survive the relatively brief wrath of a dragon. They all, without exception, were capable of catching themselves at that point, before it got any worse.”
“A dragon is highly preferential on their mate being a virgin.” Dr. Dwight added, “It’s part of who they are. On a similar note, people in earshot of dragons would be best to limit usage of the word ‘sir’, and instead use the preferential ‘mister’.”
When questioned as to whether this was for the sake of political correctness, however, Dr. Dwight denied the idea, saying that it was more in the interest of “self-preservation”.
So how are dragons in bed? Well, this being a family newspaper, we cannot offer many details, but the volunteers did not seem shy on the matter.
“He was too heavy for the queen sized bed.” giggled Jane Thouler, 29, “… and it broke nearly in two. But I cannot recall ever caring.”
“I can’t be too general, of course, because Liz is a Wyvern” said John Stockhal, 31, grinning widely, “But what I can tell you is that having a body limited only by your spinal cord makes you very flexible.”
Ginger Lochal, 36, had a more sober, sweet answer in mind. “What people forget is that many dragons are cold-blooded animals, and so need warmth to help maintain their equilibrium. I’ve never once regretted providing it.”
As valentines day approached, many dragons began collecting a traditional romantic gift of the corpses of their mate’s worst enemies. Many volunteers said that the way in which their partners determined who these individuals were was often charming and imaginative, and that people were always willing to help narrow it down by cutting them off on the highway or starting an argument with them for no reason.
Catherine Green, 35, was the proud recipient of a beautiful valentine’s day heart edged in lace, which thanks to her dragon’s great experience, was still beating when she received it. The gift had been recently removed from the chest of antagonistic neighbor Betty Holodok, 62, whom the dragon then ate, to save the trouble of burying. Police stated that investigations were ongoing, according the police chief Henry Forhald, “somewhere far away from the dragon, because there was no way we would even dream for one second of suggesting the dragon had done it. We’re not stupid.” He added, sweating.
So this Valentine’s day, if you’re one of those unfortunate souls who’s alone, remember that Valentines is also a day of opportunities. And if all else fails, try going into your local ice cream shop, and ordering the cute girl with a glossy coat of blue scales a butterscotch and brimstone milkshake.
It just might be the start of a fiery relationship.

-Alex Drole

Well, one more Super Bowl is behind us, and this year I found myself largely disappointed to see that most of the coverage in this universe was focused on the existent football teams. So for those of you who missed this year’s struggle between the teams in the magical parallel universe, I took the trouble of tuning in my mind and seeing if I could provide the play by play highlights of the big Ultra Bowl game between the Colorado C’thulus and the Detroit Dragons (not the Pittsburg Pentagrams and the Arizona Archmages—sorry, but different worlds have different playoffs). This year the Ultra Bowl was played in the C’thulu’s home stadium on the edge of the eternal abyss. So shake off that post-game fatigue, because this year’s game was a spectacular showdown between these two old rivals.

• The game started out with the warm ups of each of the teams, and the Dragons were looking particularly good with the flying spells this year. As usual, a good showing of the fair young maidens on the Dragon’s side, and the C’thulu’s doing a relatively quiet warm-up with a pretty standard blood sacrifice ritual. The team mascot, “Squidface” nearly started a riot throwing parts of the body to the ecstatic fans. The Dragons took the coin toss with a choice to kick off, which immediately set the game on a footing for controversy, as the coin was taken from the horde of their team mascot, and so there was some discussion of enchantment. The C’thulus, of course, a traditionally more offense oriented team, but since flipping a severed limb is not considered legal, the decision stood.
• The Dragons served an impressive kick off, with the kicker leaving the ground on the forward charge and achieving a clocked speed on the ball in excess of a hundred miles per hour. The C’thulus quick-moving star rookie and jack-of-all trades, Bernard Evisceraue, ensnared the ball at the 70 with tendrils of darkness, a signature play for the C’thulus which fans were disappointed not to have seen much in the prior season. Obviously something of a surprise, seeing a cast that advanced with a relatively young player. Dragon defense strong as usual, however, so the C’thulus had only run back 15 yards before being forced down.
• The Dragons kept up a pretty good offensive onslaught, sweeping the Defensive line with a well-used fire spell repeatedly. C’thulu star defensive lineman Gordon Breaker shut down Dragon tight end Fifer Stephens at the 30 with a quote from the Necronomicon which caused the field to swallow him whole. (Unfortunately, it also turned the grass purple, and the condition of the turf continued to deteriorate throughout the course of the game).
• Dragon defense looked characteristically strong in the first half of the game, with the wall of flame technique serving equally well for retention. Late in the second quarter, however, Dragon defense broke down under the masterful conjuring of C’thulu linebacker Craig Psyton, who used a rain of blood to spell disaster for the flame spell. The grass screamed in pain whenever set alight, but the C’thulus obviously focusing more on the larger game then minor entertainments at this point.
• C’thulu Defensive lineman Perry Skullscar devoured the soul of the Dragon Quarterback Leonard Hutchins in an impressive tackle, but was ordered to regurgitate it when a foul was called upon review for holding.
• C’thulu Quarterback Milton Deathhold threw a record setting 100 yard and 62.7 S’droth’kham pass through the dungeon dimensions, which was caught by tight end Terrance Phillips. The Team was denied the field goal kick, however, when whatever it was that escaped with the ball ate the goalpost, six fans, and a riding mower. The grass laid eggs in appreciation at seeing their enemy slain.
• The halftime show featured an upbeat performance of the song “Short Legs, Tall Heart” done live by the dwarf band Kneeslice. This song obviously was a nod to the “Ghost Squeezing” ad campaign for Ichor Fizz Wildberry Soda, which was arguably the best commercial in the game despite the outrage it caused in the SPCEB (Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Ectoplasmic Beings). The audience soon mellowed out, however, with a ballad arrangement of “You Have a Heart of Gold, (Can it Be Mined)”. The grass, in perhaps the most dangerous act every undertaken by flora, held tiny lighters aloft and swayed back and forth.
• In the second half, the dragons moved from their strong defensive stance and tried to recoup points with rushing plays. Pretty spectacular aerial maneuvers occurred in this portion, Hutchins showing enough recuperation after being reunited with his soul to become the first player in FFL history to dunk the football through the field goal, assisted by a blurred 300 foot power dive which took the C’thulu’s by storm.
• The teams played primarily tied for the majority of the fourth quarter, until the C’thulu’s brought the ball to life. The ball proceeded to scuttle backwards between the legs of the dragon center at the hike, oinking, and streak downfield, winning itself a touchdown against the dragons. Dragon Center Burdon Nisaac Toasted off its legs to prevent further damage.
• C’thulu’s wrapped up the game with a favorite finisher, twisting the entire field through the plains of the netherworld itself. The frightened grass scuttled all over the unshaken Dragon players, who put up a brave offense. To the disappointment of Detroit fans, the whistle was blown on a fumble by dragon runner (probably Gordon Bales), a mere ten yards from an end of game flip on the score.

This commentator is happy to see the C’thulu’s take what is their second FFL trophy. Before the next practice, the field is going to have to be replanted, so officials are working diligently around the clock to put new turf down, although one of the officials said in a private interview that they were hoping for a more enchantment proof model. The C’thulus coach gave little comment, but made it quite clear that the team will not be resting on their laurels, and will be back in training as soon as possible.

And that’s the Sports update for the Fantasy Ultra Bowl. Thank you for tuning in, and goodnight.

            I tried to contain myself. “What have you done with her?”

            He smiled. It was nearly a polite smile, but there was something about his eyes that gave it away.

            “Far more then you want to contemplate, Captain. Nordland deals harshly with traitors. We live in a harsh environment, and I need absolute discipline.”

            I was speechless. I raised my gun, and aimed it squarely at his forehead. “Alright. You seem to have all the answers. So remind me what stops me from putting a bullet in your head.”

            He smiled indifferently.  “Absolutely nothing, provided that you do not mind if Snow never lives again, or whether your children receive bombs down their chimney. Especially the latter, since it will happen quite automatically, I assure you. But if neither worries you, Captain, feel free to pull that trigger. Otherwise, you should stop pointing that thing at me.”

            I had seen this play out before. I wasn’t about to lower my gun with a convenient look of shock. He had threatened my family, but I was pretty sure the fleets still wouldn’t be airborne for some hours. And considering Kristopher’s taste for having people set their own traps, I wasn’t going to let go just yet.

            “You know something? I have a better idea. You see, I have eleven men here, all of whom have very sharp blades and a variety of other nasty instruments. And as you can see, I also have a perfectly functional weapon in my hands. Whereas you, so far, have words. So how about we see some proof, and then we’ll discuss the future.”

            He nodded. “I could hardly expect less, given that you’ve gotten this far. But I assure you, Captain, that I always tell the truth.” He lifted a hand and snapped.

            Half the wall suddenly seemed to melt away, revealing itself to be polarized glass with a wallpaper pattern when closed.

            “I’m sure, Captain, that you recognize Snow. She’s the one sitting in front of that cannon, there. I rather like the “tin horn” motif on it, don’t you? I think it brings out the best side of the device.”

            “And what does it do, besides raise the aesthetic value of your lair?”

            He laughed. That damned “Ho, ho, ho” was even more disconcerting in person. “It’s hardly a lair. Merely an inaccessible vantage point for my operations. My… unique metabolic requirements are suited by extreme cold. As for the device, it’s technically referred to as a “matter excitation cannon.” I won’t worry you with the technical details, if only because only your expert here would understand them. All you need to know is that the volume and type of radiation it emits causes the kinetic energy in whatever material it’s aimed at to rise until it melts. Would you agree that it would be unfortunate to watch this occur with Snow, or do you need proof of that as well?” He raised his fingers as if to snap.

            I lowered my gun, hastily, but didn’t call off my men. I couldn’t tell if he was bluffing.

            He laughed again.

            “A predictable decision. And now, Captain, we must talk business. In case it wasn’t immediately obvious, I’m not particularly happy with having you and these gentlemen show up on my front door. I’m not surprised, per se, but the United States has committed against Nordland what I would deem an act of war,” He turned, holding the sword cane, and began to walk down the length of the room. The wall smoked over again, and became a flattened map of the world. He turned his head to look at me, holding his arms out as far as they would go and leaning the base of the cane between his feet. “To be frank, I do not think that the US is prepared for my act of redress. I can get into any place on the planet, now, and they choose to trifle with me. Eminently capable as your men are, a dozen-man team is an insult to my power. And as the US has not been forthcoming with tribute in prior years, I am not predisposed to show a great deal of mercy. But you, Captain, can change that.”

            I drew myself up to my full height.

            “What is that supposed to mean, precisely?”

            He fixed his laser glare on me. “That is supposed to mean that I want a full confession for your decidedly “naughty” activities. I have control over most of the world media, so trust me, getting the message out is not going to be a problem. I want you to be the one to tell the world: firstly that the US will not be repeating these activities again on pain of extermination; secondly, that Nordland will receive reparations; and thirdly, that all of the countries on the Earth can and will receive the same treatment if they try to repeat your failure. I am demanding global hegemony this winter, period. The method I take getting there is their choice.”

            I stared at him for a moment. Then, one by one, my men and I broke out laughing. “Do you honestly think you’re going to manage to pull that old trick on us? Firstly, Frosty, in case you hadn’t noticed, we are enemy combatants, not diplomats. And better yet, you’re trying to get a confession out of us for what? Refusing to roll over and die? My deepest apologies. Are you so unused to enemies that you can’t intimidate immediately? Perhaps you should broaden the reach of your social interaction beyond beaurocrats, children, and your own biological creations.”

            His face hardened, and the lines became etched and cold. When his voice returned, it was like a blade being dragged on a whetstone.

            “You would do well not to mock me. I’ll gently remind you, Captain, that I directly control the safety of your country, which I had the funny idea you were sworn to protect. And as for your offenses…”

            Kristopher snapped. And then the wall did something very interesting. It cleared, and started playing video. It was synchronized with what Kristopher was saying.

            “Welcome to the Nordland television network, gentlemen. You asked what you had done wrong? Let’s tell the world, then, Captain. You began by attacking my land, slaughtering two military detachments, and blowing up my munitions storage. And then, when you were met by a greeting party, Captain Mesner, not only were you unspeakably rude to them, but you proceeded to make indecent advances on one of them.” It showed footage of me, through Snow’s eyes, as I closed the door and spoke with her. The footage was silent.

            “How did you get that?” I asked, outraged.

            He looked at me icily. “After we discovered her fingerprints on the screwdriver that was used to undo the ventilation cover—”

My eyes got very wide, and I swore under my breath. I had forgotten about that. She had already had it open when we got downstairs.

            “—we had cause to run her visual memory back through her occipital lobe for processing to see if we could figure out why. And quite a story it was. But please, Captain, let’s try to limit talk of your activities with Snow. I think you and your wife can discuss it privately.” I felt the already cold room seem to get chillier.

            “But nothing hap—”

            He ignored me, and continued more loudly.

            “You then proceeded to destroy my factory in the process of breaking into a facility containing ICBMs. Not only did you tamper with the controls of these ICBMs, but you actually sped up the countdown sequence, which is particularly shameful since one of those targets was Washington D.C. I wonder how the President and Congress feel about that choice?”

            This time, the outcry was general. Kristopher was undeterred.

            “And when your tampering resulted in the engines shutting off, you proceeded to abandon the facility completely, stealing military aircraft in order to attack me directly. The resulting explosion killed thousands of elves, many of whom were not engaged in combat roles. You then mounted an assault on my personal headquarters, which has so far involved smashing my lobby, blowing up my generator room, slaughtering a herd of my reindeer, killing the entire Winter Guard and my personal bodyguards, destroying four computers in my data processing and collection room, and an assault on my personal apartments, during which my wife died. What a proud accomplishment to discuss with your children, Captain.” He paused, and then nodded off to the side, “We’re off air again. I wonder if you could measure with a stopwatch how long it will take for that to be on YouTube once my editors get finished cutting it, preparing it, and broadcasting it. Take that as a warning, gentlemen, as to how I feel. And remember, from this moment, every second is more and more important. Ten minuites from now, every news network from California to Cambodia will have the story. At best, the fact that it’s nearing midnight on GMT will delay proliferation a few minuites, since there will be fewer people up on one of my most major networks. but I don’t think the effect will be appreciable, since Japan is in the middle of the day.” My men looked about ready to spit fire.

            I barely managed to growl. “So, the way you see it, we can either confess to that garbage, or you can blow up our homes.”

            “Call it what you like, Captain, but I said I never tell a lie, and I meant it. Every word of that is true, and I have film to prove it. If that is what you want to refer to this choice as, be my guest. But please, don’t play me for a fool. Your hands will stay well out the camera shot. No sign language. Any signs with them will invalidate their meaning, so act as your own keeper.”

            I paused. This was a hell of a situation. We could choose between destroying our country, or effectively handing it over to Kristopher by becoming his pawn. We were the last thing standing between him and taking over most of the known world.

            But Kristopher had accidentally let his hand slip early in this game. If I knew him, then I knew exactly what we had to do.

            I held up a hand.

            “I need to talk with my men.”

            He nodded. “As you wish. But you will not be keeping any secrets, here. Simply be aware that the walls have ears.”

            I retreated, and pulled my men into a ragged group.

            “Alright, gentlemen, listen carefully. We need to talk about this. Some of you could get out of this like a flash. But the rest of us aren’t so lucky. I know how you feel. Trust me, if possible, I’d want to go out with a bang. But it clearly isn’t in the cards.” I held my best poker face, wondering where the spies were.

Thyger nodded solemnly. He didn’t give a thing away.

            “I agree completely, sir. If nothing else, you need to save the girl, right?” That was well played. Kristopher would enjoy thinking that he had caused internal dissent. His spin doctoring had pretty well told the men what the truth was, though.

            But I couldn’t save Snow, now. There were millions of people in America who did not have their brains on a file somewhere, and right now, they needed me more then Snow did.

            “No, I’ll speak directly to Kristopher. I’m going to be working for my country.”

            “Alright, sir. We trust you. I think you’d better signal our resignation, though.”

            I nodded.

            We broke, and I walked directly up to Kristopher.

            “Okay, we’ll do what’s necessary to protect our country.”

            “Excellent. I thought that you might make the smart choice. Maybe you’ll even win back the respect of your men.”

            “Oh, yes,” I said, between gritted teeth. “I’ve certainly seen the light.”

            I felt a one of my men press the hilt of a knife into my hand. And then Thyger threw his last flash-bang.

 

*          *          *

            

( Read more... )

 

            I limped over to the girls as fast as my legs would carry me. They were bound and gagged, sitting on some kind of pressure sensors, which had wires connected directly to the C-4.

 The apartment had more of a modern flair to it then any that I had seen before. The carpeting gave way to polished granite and smooth, translucent aluminum.

            I couldn’t help but notice, however, that the apartment was very cold. It struck me as very odd that these two were wearing bikinis in a place so frigid. I pulled the gag off the one on the left side of the tree.

            “Mrs. Claus, I presume?”

            “Whatever. All I know is that one minute, everything was mistletoe and holly. The next minute, I wake up tied to a tree, sitting on some kind of bomb, and Kris has left us here.”

            “Is he still in the building?”

            “Far as I know. Did you hear the part about me and my sister sitting on a bomb? I don’t really care where he is.”

            I motioned Thyger over, and then, as an afterthought, Graile.

            “What do you make of this, boys?”

            Thyger whistled. “Nothing good, sir. That much plastic explosive could take out a city block, ordinarily. If Kristopher is still in this building, then this room must be really well reinforced.”

            I nodded to Graile. “Think we can diffuse this thing?”

            “Maybe, sir. Frankly, I don’t think it’s going to be a piece of cake, if that’s what you’re asking. It’s clear that the person who built this knew what they were doing.”

            He looked at the circuit box, and called over Dorhaise, who was helping the others secure the area.

“Got a stethoscope handy?”

Dorhaise, who at this point was getting used to being used as a supply train, simply took out the stethoscope and handed it to Graile. Graile held it to the side of the box, and tapped on it a few times.

“Well, it seems to have something that’s transmitting the sound inside. There doesn’t seem to be a vacuum seal, which is what I was really afraid of.”

 He pulled out a screwdriver. But as he was putting it to the screw, he paused, shook his head and then put it away.

“But the screws have almost certainly got a catch mechanism that sets this off if they’re used.” He reached into his pack, pulled out his combat knife, and selected the can opener.

            It wasn’t Hattori steel, like Thyger’s knife probably was. But it was well-crafted, field qualified, and capable of piercing the relatively thin steel of the circuit box.

            Carefully prying out the piece of metal, he looked at the internal mechanisms, and whistled.

            “This is nice work,” he said simply. “Our friends downstairs probably helped design it. But—” he tapped the internals, carefully, “—there’s a tiny oversight here, which I think we can exploit. The pressure switch is connected to a weight sensor, and the device controlling those is on a very short timer. That was probably so they could regulate the transfer of electricity more exactly, sir, this being plastic explosive. I can, with relative safety, slow down the timing between counts in the internal clock.”

            “Will that diffuse it?”

            He blew out between his lips.

            “Probably not. But it will buy you time. Ten seconds of it, probably. I wish I could get you more, and Thyger is welcome to look at it if he wants, but I don’t think your going to get much more out of this thing.”

            “Um, I don’t mean to interrupt.” said the girl without a gag on her mouth, “But is it possible to tell me what’s going on?”

            I looked up at her. “Frankly, no. Where did he pick you up? Florida? California?”

            She looked hurt, “Hey, we’re married, not cheap floozies. Just because my sister and I happen to be married to one guy doesn’t mean we’re those sorts of girls. I don’t know. We met him back when he was still doing personal service to houses, rather then just teleporting things down. We were kids at the time. Who knows where?”

            Lovely, I thought. I refuse to continue probing beneath the surface of how disturbed this is.

            Thyger snapped his fingers.

            “We could destroy them, sir.”

            I tilted my head at him, “We’re not here to pass out sentence for polygamy, we’re here to diffuse a bomb.”

            He shook his head, and stepped forward.

            “Not them, sir. This is C-4, sir. Like we had in the munitions dump. Which means what was a liability for us then is to our advantage now. C-4 burns in fire, instead of exploding. We just need to find a way to burn it.”

            An epiphany hit. “Didn’t the chief programmer mention that all of the air ventilation is run through this apartment?”

           

*          *          *

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            I instinctively raised my gun, only to realize that it would do absolutely no good, because I had one bullet left and far more than that number of foes. I pulled out the machete, and gave it a few practice swings.

            “I take it that you’re Kristopher’s personal guard?”

            The elf in green nodded.

            “I wouldn’t bother putting up much of a fight,” he said, looming forward, “You’re going to die anyway. It isn’t really all that bad. But you’ll probably prefer it if I simply snap you neck.”

            “Oh, really?” I stepped backwards, pivoted on my front foot to sweep the weapon at the elf, and darted back again. The elf slid backwards to parry my attack.

            “And what leads you to that conclusion?” I said, signaling with my hand for my men to circle up.

            The elf shrugged. “We’ve just been sealed in here. I can tell you that there aren’t many things less pleasant then oxygen deprivation.”

            I jumped into the air, swept my machete past the elf’s cheek, and landed again, on the other side. Before he could turn around, I brought the blade around at a shallow angle behind my back to cleave at his calve, and finished with my arm at it’s full extent, behind his back.

            He was bleeding, but that was about all you could say. Otherwise, he did not even seem to notice.

            The other two elves lunged forwards at my men, and the green elf turned around.

            But that meant that he left his back open to my men, who were already under attack, but not fully engaged.

            “Trample him, boys!” I shouted, and some of them broke free and charged, pushing the humungous elf to the ground.

            But he didn’t stay down long. With an exaggerated grunt, he flung my men off in all directions, pressed his huge knuckles to the ground, and hopped up on his back feet so that he was upright again.

            The red elf grabbed my ankle, and lifted me into the air. I felt the bone pop under the strain. I pulled the machete around, and stuck it squarely in his eye, in hopes that I could escape in the following turmoil.

            I yanked back the machete, and the pressure on my ankle released. I dropped, ready to capitalize on the elf’s anguish.

But something was wrong. As I looked up, I saw the elf put a hand to his ruined eye, pulled what remained out of the socket, toss it aside, and raise his fists.

            What the hell? I dodging backwards as Red brought his humungous fists down and slammed the floor like a thunderbolt. A shower of sparks hit the floor as he jerked his head violently.

            The white elf dived for me. I rolled backwards so that he planted his face directly in the floor .

            The air was beginning to feel hot. I wondered how much air we had, exactly. Certainly not enough, in a room like this, to support eleven grown men for very long.

            White picked himself up, and with the aid of Green, started picking men up, and throwing them at the wall as calmly as if they had been pitching ball. As Red raised his fists again, I dodged to the side, took a very ungentlemanly swing at his groin, and rolled to a stop between Green and White.

            Red did not seem to be affected by this attack. But his counter-attack careened him directly into his two comrades. I leapt under him before they dropped into a pile.

            So it HAD affected him. His depth perception was shot. He wasn’t invincible, he just didn’t show pain.

            I took the opportunity to sprint to Thyger, who was picking himself up after being thrown against a wall.

            “These things aren’t robots, but they also aren’t really elves. They seem to be androids of some kind… they’ve got robotic bits that depend on their biological portions functioning properly,” I said, quietly, watching the henchmen for the next attack.

            He looked at White, who was tangled with Red and trying desperately to get up.

            “Does that mean that they’ve got the same weaknesses, sir?”

            I nodded. “But they don’t seem to need to breathe. That’s why they don’t bleed much; the blood isn’t that necessary to them.”

            “So, we go for the base of the skull, sir, right at the back? Try to sever the spinal cord?”

            “My thoughts exactly,” I said.

            Red gave us an ample opportunity. In a gung ho charge, he leapt at me and Thyger. I tried to jump out of the way, but my ankle gave out under me, and a gigantic hand grabbed me around the midriff and squeezed my ribs until they almost broke.

            But Red had made a fatal mistake. He had forgotten to account for Thyger. Pulling out his wicked field knife, Thyger drove deep into the base of the elf’s neck.

            The elf’s eyes went very wide for a moment, then he toppled over, trapping me under him. Instantly, the wind was knocked out of me. The elf weighed a ton. It was literally like having a piano on my chest.

            I managed to let out a strangled cry. The other men saw me from the place where they were fending off Green and White with far less impressive standard issue field knives.

            In one wave, they ran into the side of the red elf, pushing with all their strength while I crawled out.

            But the white elf was not finished. He sprang across the room like a jungle cat, swiping with his hand and tossing men like so much loose tinder.

            My men dropped the red elf, and scattered. With the white elf distracted, I leapt onto his back. Pain ran down my body. I was certain I had broken something, but I didn’t care.

            Using the machete to help make handholds as I ascended the treacherous face, I climbed the elf’s back. The huge hands groped for me.

            But as the elf closed his fist on me, I severed his spinal cord with a sharp snap of my wrist. It was lower then I wanted, but it managed to kill him. Unfortunately, this did not stop his arm from throwing me headlong in its last convulsion. My face planted right in the rock-like chest of the green elf.

            He lost no time. He caught me in one hand as I flew into him, plucked the machete from my hand, and folded it like a paperclip. As my men surged forward, he moved one tree-trunk arm across the floor and swept them off their feet.

            “There,” he said, picking me up by the nape of my neck, “Now that I’ve taken away your weapon, what are you going to do?”

            I coughed. It was getting harder to breathe, although my damaged ribs might have been the reason why. A tiny idea scratched at the back of my mind. This elf was not stupid. But that just might be to my advantage.

            “Well…” I said, raising my head, “I’m not going to do anything. But my friend behind you will.”

            The elf didn’t even bother to glance. Which was a shame for him, because if he had, he might have seen Thyger standing behind him, poised to jump.

            The elf only got as far as, “I wasn’t grown yester—” before Thyger drove the knife in to the hilt.

           

*          *          *

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            “Who are you?” I said, planting my feet apart and signaling my men to hold.

            The figure in the center left, who seemed to be the leader, laughed. It wasn’t a particularly unpleasant laugh – like Kristopher’s – but it was the laugh of a person who had spent one too many hours trying to debug a segment of faulty code.

            “Collectively? We’re some of the few humans in this place,” the figure said, bitterly. “The elves couldn’t write a line of code to save their lives. They aren’t designed to be particularly imaginative.”

            Another figure, to the left, spoke up. His voice was huskier, and had traces of a Russian accent. “We are the most proficient science and technology experts on Earth,” he stated flatly. “Kristopher has a massive operation, but he still needs humans to do the thinking. The elves just do the legwork. Biochemical work, technological development and IT are all filtered through us.”

            “So you’re the idea people,” I said, glancing at all of the figures. “Then you’re probably aware that we just mowed down Kristopher’s entire personal guard on the way here. What stops us from going past you, besides the force of your personality?”

            The first figure held up a wireless keyboard.

            “My enter key,” he said, hovering his finger over the center of the keyboard. “If I should feel compelled to push it, the next time the world will see your body will be in the bottom of a stocking for some little brat. If I really wanted to, I could dig through the archives and select the very worst person on Earth.”

            I looked at his face. I couldn’t see it very well in the darkness, but I didn’t think he was kidding.

            “Point taken. That puts us at a bit of an impasse. But I assume there’s a reason you haven’t pushed that key yet.” I said, narrowing my eyes. 

            “You’re quite right, Captain Mesner.”

            “We’ve got a bit of dispute,” said the one on the far right, in a southern accent, “which involves your continued existence. My colleagues here appear convinced that you might actually take down Kristopher. As you pointed out, you went through his whole personal guard. Me and the lady on your far right prefer to reserve judgment.”

            I nodded. “I take it you had something in mind that might convince you.”

            The lady spoke up. She had a brassy alto voice, with a distinct Brazilian edge.

            “Very astute. To be blunt, Captain, Kristopher is incredibly intelligent, and very capable. We’re only willing to give you our support once we know that you have at least one member of your team with the ability to defeat us in a duel of our own devising.” She said, crossing her arms.

            “Because, if we refuse, you tap the button?”

            The first speaker nodded.

            “Trust me, it’s an act of mercy compared to what Kristopher would do. My colleagues here aren’t coldblooded, Captain, and neither am I. But suffice to say that we made the mistake of making a deal with Kringle. He has people we love in the palm of his hand. If we sent you on, and you failed, we would all pay irreparable prices. The only difference between my colleagues and I is that I believe you have already proven yourself, and they don’t. So we set up this contest to settle it. But Captain, remember that you’ve only got one chance. When the time comes, you won’t be able to dither.”

            “What is the nature of the contest?”

            “ It would be advisable, Captain, to send the person who you think is best equipped to handle computers. Since all of us have considerable experience in that area, we feel that that is the best plane upon which to match wits.”

            “Fair enough.” I turned to Graile. “They’ve all but asked for you by name. Ready to shine, soldier?”

            He ripped off the sort of smart salute that brings tears to the eyes of retired military men. “Yes, sir.”

 

*          *          *

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Whoops. A correction has been entered on this item. The ending that was on it was supposed to appear later. This is what I get for writing at three o' clock AM. Scroll to the bottom of this post to see the CORRECT ending. Thank you.

As we pulled even with the North Pole, I went up to the cockpit in order to get a better look. The North Pole was, appropriately to Kristopher’s determination to adhere to and pervert all the myths about him, a literal pole. But the dimensions had been expanded considerably. It was about the size of an office building, and the stripes on it were not the cheerful colors portrayed in Christmas specials, but deep blood crimson and bone white. And the flag flying above the very tip was the eye and crossed canes, but the material on it was slightly reflective, which gave it a more menacing air.

            We also had company. There were opposing reindeer migs pulling in from the distance.

            “Graile, did you say that the electromagnetic field was dependent on the animal?”

            He looked up from the electronic device he was inspecting.

            “I did, sir. But it’s a guess.”

            “It’s good enough for me.” I looked at the radio on the reindeer mig. It had an adjustment button, thankfully. I checked my own radio’s frequency, and slid the power dial all the way up. Hopefully, that would overpower the electromagnetic field of the reindeer enough to let them hear.

            “Take ‘em low, guys. We’re heading upwards. This thing doesn’t move too fast, but I think it had better altitude then those migs. The resistance should be higher.”

            And I yanked on the controls on my side. The wooly mammoth flew straight up for the clouds, while the rest of the team in the migs flew under us. The enemy Migs were suitably confused. I slid my hand over a touch screen display which was on the center console.

            “Does this elephant have any bombs on board?” I asked Locht, maneuvering through menus.

            “No idea, sir. We certainly didn’t have any time to load them, so if it does, then they were on board when we left.”

            I accessed the weapons tab. The flashing screen made my heart sink. There were no bombs on board.

            I grimaced. Our alternatives were fairly risky. The mammoth’s head thrashed from side to side as we hit our maximum electromagnetic altitude, and leveled out. The elves were going to be trained pilots. I couldn’t leave the team down there too long.

            But, then again, just because we didn’t have any bombs didn’t mean that the enemy had to know that.

            “Locht? Can you maneuver us around so that we can dive directly for the entrance of the North Pole?” I asked.

            He frowned. “I think so, sir, but it’s going to be very risky… we’d probably crash.”

            “Not necessarily. Magnetic resistance should get stronger the closer we get to the Earth. I think sheer magnetic force might save this elephant, but the pilots down there are experienced. If they see a diving bomber, they’re going to follow instinct and draw their fire towards us. If we’re moving fast enough, I think we can pull off a quick entrance into the Pole before the elves even know to strafe us. But just to make sure…” I clicked the radio transmitter back to the Frequency used by the elves, and pressed the button. “Pull up, gentlemen. We’re got something to drop down Kristopher’s chimney.”

            I clicked it off. “That should protect the others. And now, Locht, if you please, let’s give those Migs a mammoth surprise.”

            And, trumpeting excitedly, we dived.

 

*          *          *

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I knew that this should have been more frightening, but it wasn’t. I’d like say  in that it’s because of good training. In fact, it had far more to do with the fact that humans had not been designed for the fear of having themselves thoroughly expunged from the face of the earth in a multi-megaton explosion.
            Retrieving Thyger and the others from the hole was relatively simple. They had rope, and though the walls were a stiff climb, it wasn’t much worse than what we did in training. But the room had only one legitimate exit, given that the two doors we had access to were both connected to the control room, and that exit faced onto empty air. The first order of business was to get Graile to close the floor. Which meant that, to save time, I left him upstairs with a couple of men, collected Thyger and the others personally, then radioed in the order to close up the hole.

All this took some time. Thyger said we had a little over fifteen minutes to be clear of the nuclear explosion. Just getting the other team took about four.

But in the meantime, Graile combed the system for information on the base, and a way to get us through the final door. The latter was perhaps more important, because the door was on a separate circuit, Thyger was out of bombs, and there were no more warheads left in the room.

But Graile finally found something that would do the trick.

“You’re not going to believe this, sir, but all the doors open to a single alarm code.”

I held the radio up to my mouth.

“Tell me what it is after you’ve entered it in.”

“Way ahead of you, sir. It’s called “official inspection”, code 72682”.

I winced, as the thought processed in my head. I had memorized the alphanumeric keypad as a soldier.

“I think it’s a demonstration of power. It shows that nothing can be hidden from Kristopher. And it should be taking effect… now,” he said.

But I couldn’t hear him. The base was suddenly ringing with the jangle of jingle bells. It was hard to argue that they were indeed alarming. But the door slipped aside.

“Open SANTA-me,” I said, and waved Graile down.

 

*          *          *

          

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            My mind raced. Besides being yet another example of this lunatic’s terrible sense of humor, I had no idea what “Tannenbaum” was. But there were no prizes for a good guess. If he was opening silos, then he had missiles on base. And not the tiny peashooters we had just been wallowing in, but proper ICBMs.

            Hafton turned to me. “You really think he can slur us, the way he said?”

            I grimaced. “I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter. I don’t care where my name goes, but I do care what happens to the people that Tannenbaum is aimed at. Graile?”

            “Yes, sir?”

            “We need to get you up to that control room right away. Tannenbaum is almost certainly electronically controlled. That means that you should be able to shut it off, or at least realign it. The real question is, how do we get upstairs?”

            I looked around the room. It had a high ceiling, three card-keyed doors, and what appeared to be mirrors near the ceiling, which were probably one-way glass . Those had to be looking out from the control room. But where on Earth was the silo?

            It was ironically at that moment that I realized this room was vaguely cylindrical, and that the roof cap had a line down the center where I could just imagine it splitting. And at the very same instant, I felt the floor start to slide away beneath me.

            I leapt away from the expanding gap. Half my team, including Graile, was pulled away as the floor ground out of position. The other half, including Thyger, was stranded on the other side.

            Below, in the huge hole that was forming, I could just make out the rising shape of the world’s largest metal Christmas tree. Above, the cold sting of Arctic air reached down and choked the room in its grasp.
             I thought fast. The missiles had never had warheads put in them in the production line. As quick as I could, I ran for the disappearing work-table, lunged for it, and grabbed one of the warheads.

            I leapt backwards onto the platform just as the floor disappeared. We had a way up.

            “Graile,” I said, handing him the small warhead, “Do you think you can open the door with this?”

            He nodded, and pulled out a screwdriver.

            “Yes, sir.”

Graile was not Thyger, but he was also not a bad man with explosives.

            He turned it over and over in his hands, and then I saw him reach for his radio.

            “I think I might be able to make this sucker work, Cap. But what are the other men going to do?” he asked, pulling out a screwdriver and applying it mysteriously to the tip of the warhead.

            I thought about it as Graile opened the payload container. If I could have, I would have had whom provide support, but these doors precluded that. Tannenbaum was probably mostly electronic, but almost certainly not all. When the time came, it would pay to have eyes on the ground.

            “Thyger, take your team down into the hole.” I said, holding the radio up to my mouth. After all, Thyger knew everything ever known about explosives. If there was any way to disarm those things personally, he’d find it.”

            He nodded. “Roger that, sir.” He said, clicking shut the screwdriver, and hefting the warhead. “I think that I’ve got this thing adjusted. The original amount of explosive in this thing would have killed us, but those doors are also blast proof. Word of warning, sir, you may want to cover your ears.” He turned around, and walked to the door, propping the explosive on it, and then retreated to the ledge. I followed suit.

            “Alright Captain. Heading up now. I’ll give you an update when we reach the control room.”

            “Copy,” I said, and grabbed the radio to tell Thyger the plan.

            They were on the catwalk below, when the door exploded.

 

*          *          *

           

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ATTENTION: Upon reading this post again today, I determined that I had, by accident, posted my first rough draft, which should not be inflicted on innocents unprepared. I would have noticed earlier, but was studying for semester exams last night, and not thinking all that clearly. As such, you may prefer the edited version below, which is what was supposed to be posted. since it actually makes some modicum of sense. Please disregard the prior version, and apologies for the inconvenience. 

               The blast of air pushed me out of the pipe like a cork, followed closely by my men. I saw a rush of a rust colored world, terminated abruptly with my face pressed against a projection of sizzling galvanized steel. A wave of heat hit me in the face with such force I swore that I was going to pass out. The fumes were unbearable.
               But I didn’t have time to think, for almost immediately I felt my weight shifting forward, so that I got a really good look at what I was going to fall into.
               Six feet down was a roiling, bubbling pool of liquid metal, spewing acrid smoke as the projections on the floor, which were in fact shallow buckets, submerged themselves and emerged full on the other side of the conveyer belt
                My heart leapt into my throat, which was even worse because the position I was in meant that it was significantly closer to the metal.
                With all my strength, I scrambled backwards desperately, pushing my men off my back. The floor was like touching a hot stove. I struggled to my feet as quickly as possible, blowing on my scalded hands. The floor was toiling forward relentlessly, trying to pull me back into the pool of metal. 
                When my brain started working again, I deduced through the haze of adrenaline that we had to be somewhere on an assembly line.
                I choked on the noxious fumes, and called out hoarsely.
                “Graile! Do you see any control boxes? We need to shut this thing off.”
                Graile struggled to his feet, and started pacing the treadmill at a steady backwards jog.
                “I’m  sorry, sir, but no dice.”
                I stumbled again, and tried to take stock of the men.
                All my men had gotten into the treadmill pacing, thank heavens, but there was no doubt that the metal pool was the center of attention. Every fiber of my body wanted out. The choking air would have been difficult to breathe at normal temperatures. In the upper hundreds, it was impossible.
                I tried to think. We certainly couldn’t keep pacing forever, or even for a short time, in this heat. We needed to get out, and we needed to get out now.
                The most likely way that we had of getting out, barring explosives, was using a way that the elves used to get in. This equipment, like all equipment in the universe, probably needed regular care, and that meant someone had to come in and perform it.
                So, in theory, somewhere around there should have been maintenance tunnels. But where on earth would they be?
                 I looked at the walls. In truth, I could have spent my entire life searching over the complex riveted entanglements covering them, and if they contained a hundred passageways I’d never find one.
                 ...I stopped myself. I was thinking about it the wrong way. You could find a needle in a haystack in no time, if you could get the needle to come to you. If something broke here, then they’d come running, and in doing so show us that tunnel.
                 But the only weak spot was...
                 I winced, and steeled myself. Still jogging backwards, tripping over the rows of buckets as they advanced into the pit, I turned to my men.
                 “Hot enough for you, gentlemen? I think I’ve figured a way out of here, but I can’t guarantee we won’t get boiled, and I apologize in advance. Thyger?”
                 He turned to me, sweating hard in the heat. I wasn’t surprised. Given his usual stock of explosives, he was at great risk of spontaneous combustion.
                  “Can you throw a grenade into that ventilation shaft ?”

            *          *          *

 

 

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            I’ll admit, I was taken off guard. I know that at that moment, the last thing I planned to do was pull the trigger. The other men were somewhat bewildered as well, for understandable reasons.

            My thoughts ran frantically through my head in search of a plausible explanation. So far, every elf that we’ve encountered has tried to kill us. I think it’s safe to operate under the assumption that this one is trying to do so as well. If this is the case, any second now she is going to pull out some very large, highly lethal weapon and kill me.

            Inexplicably, this did not will me to pull the trigger. The elf, who did not look as though she had experienced a second of fear in her life, looked at my gun with an amused expression, and placed her index finger on the top of the barrel.

            “Is the rifle absolutely necessary?” she purred. “You can see I’m not armed.”

            Admittedly, the clothing she was wearing could not have concealed a paperclip, let alone a pistol. Of course, we had learned the hard way that this did not mean a great deal. Beyond which, even a totally unarmed person could be dangerous, with the right training.

            With difficulty, my thoughts arranged themselves into a coherent order.

            First and foremost, you are a soldier, I thought to myself, and that means being ready for anything, playing it cautious, and keeping to the mission. Your men are going to take their cues from you, so you’d better give them properly. I caught my mental balance, and found the questions for suspected enemy collaborators.

            “What is your name, function, and why are you in this part of the compound?” I managed, in the sternest voice possible.

            The elf batted her eyelids, trying to push the gun further downwards. I held firm. She continued, unperturbed.

            “My name is Snow. I work in the confections department. Evidently, I’m here in case someone needs to greet over-excitable gentleman who happen by with semi-automatic weapons.”

            I was very careful not to let my expression change. Let them talk, that was always the strategy. You could tell a lie the same way you could tell cancer… it kept growing unchecked.

            But “Snow” didn’t seem too keen to volunteer further information. She merely tilted her head to one side, and drew the candy cane through her lips again in such a way that I could almost hear my men break into a sweat.

            “Either sound takes some time to reach you, soldier boy, or you’re incredulous.” She smiled brightly, and then backed away from the door, beckoning, “Come in and see for yourself. I’ll call my sisters, in case you think I’m concealing them.”

            Somewhat uncertain of myself, and watching for any sign of a trap being sprung, I stepped through the door. The room was well appointed, with a sweeping staircase, red plush carpeting with mahogany accents, and soft lighting. In the far back, I could see a metal, semi-triangular door shaped much like a Christmas tree, with the same candy cane and eye logo stamped on it as I had seen on the tanks. But it was clearly very tightly sealed, and Snow stepped in front of it before I could see any more.

            “Girls!” She called up the stairs, “We have some guests in from the hall,”

            From upstairs, there emerged a suspiciously cheerful round of chuckling, whereupon eight more, equally scantily clad elves paraded down the stairs, all of them walking in the sort of way that caused heat stroke to most men at distances up to twenty yards.

            Snow turned around, and pointed to her sisters, in a row, as though they were door prizes.

“Meet Peppermint, Sugar, Cinnamon, Spice, Gingerbread, Juniper, Holly, and Cheer,” she said, as her supposed sisters curtseyed their barely existent skirts in a row. Then she turned to me, still smiling, and said, “And as you can see, none of us is pointing a gun at you. Will you please put that thing away?”

I still harbored my suspicions. That routine was too perfectly choreographed for it to be spontaneous, and I couldn’t imagine that they had regular visitors in. On the other hand, this much preparation, even if meant only to slow us down, meant that the next step would probably be infinitely less pleasant. What I needed to do was find out what Snow was hiding. That emblem on the door did not look friendly, and I knew perfectly well from the briefing what Mr. Kringle had actually been doing. But I’d need to dispel this Toyland fantasy at the right time.

I threw the rifle over my back, but rested my hand, seemingly accidentally, on the stock of my holstered pistol. Snow did not seem to notice. I kept my eyes focused on hers as my men slipped their rifles back. They didn’t waver for an instant.

She clapped her hands and grinned. “Lovely. Will you boys be staying for dinner, then?”

 

*          *          *

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            The men were a credit to soldierly. They arrived right as the horde began hitting the compound. All of them, that is, except for the team from tower 2.

            I turned to Hafton, who was one of the members of the tower 1 team.

            “What did you see in Tower 2? We need Thyger, right now. And where’s Locht?”

            “No sign of anyone, sir.”

            Suddenly, the entire side of the tower shook. Elves, seemingly oblivious to the freezing winds, were dismounting from armored personnel carriers shaped like toy trains. Or rather, would have looked like toy trains, if not for the steel armor shaped like skulls wearing stocking caps, and the motif emblazoned on the fronts of two crossed candy canes over the sort of eye I had last seen floating above the pyramid on a one-dollar bill. The tower was dancing a jig under the barrage of an increasing number of nutcracker mortars. I saw an elf pull smartly down on the back handle, the figure’s teeth open, and a shell launch into the air.

            The glass shattered with the impact, letting in the freezing wind and emphasizing the sounds of the mortars and tanks. Peeking above the ledge, I sighted the sniper rifle on an elf planting a nutcracker, and dispatched him with a shot to the forehead.

            “Season’s greetings,” I growled under my breath. I ducked back, and switched on my radio.

            “Thyger, respond. Fall back to tower 4, copy?”

            Dead crackling came over the radio. I braced as the tower took another hit, and then tried again.

            “Thgyer, this is Captain Mesner. Fall back to tower 4, do you copy?”

            Still nothing. I stood up, quickly, and grasped the sniper rifle again. Most of the elves were wearing green suits, but one of them in a dark red uniform with gold epaulets just begged to be tagged. I lined up the shot with my breath pattern, and was about to squeeze, when an even larger force rocked the tower from below as a gumdrop tank fired its cannon. A shot buzzed past my ear as I fell backwards.

            Someone was sniping me. They learned quickly. Mr. Kringle had been doing more up here then making toys and manipulating world finances.

            I gripped my radio to try one final call to Thyger, when a weak voice came through.

            “Captain? This is Thyger, reporting in, sir.”

            I pulled the radio around to shield it from noise.

            “Thyger, what’s your twenty? Can you make it to the tower?”

            “Negative, sir. And I need Graile down here, fast. We’ve got an elevator, and it goes well below this tunnel, but it’s got some sort of internal auto-turrets guarding it. Small caliber, but it did a number on Dorhaise’s armor. This set seems to be motion-activated, so I can’t just flash-bang them. They need to be hacked.”

            I unstrapped my pistol, stood up, sighted a target and squeezed off two shots. The wind was too strong for me to correct as accurately as I had with the sniper rifle, though, and I only managed to graze a private before I got back to the radio.

            “Is Locht with you, Thyger?” I said, checking the clip.

            “No sir, I’m sorry.”

            I swore under my breath. Locht was still downstairs, then. Incidentally, with Pearson’s body, and unless we hurried, soon to be as dead. We didn’t know where to look, but we had to look fast.

            What we needed, right now, was a way to get to that base, and someplace we could send Pearson’s body where it wouldn’t be found by those short little demons. It wasn’t pleasant, but there it was. No man left behind. Not even a dead one. What we had was a quickly disappearing vantage point, a well guarded elevator two wings away, and enough munitions to level New Hampshire immediately downstairs.

            The last was Thyger’s department. But first, we’d need an escape plan, which meant we’d need the elevator anyway. But how to deal with Pearson?

            And then, as the tower swayed dangerously under a cannon shot from below, I had a jolt of inspiration.

            I waved my hand in the air.

            “Attention!” I shouted above the noise. All the men pulled in their rifles, ducked below the ledge, and turned to face me while kneeling. “Teams 1 and 2, we’re going to retreat to tower 2, double time. Graile, prep your tool kit on the way. We’ll need every spare second. Teams 3 and 4, go downstairs for Locht and Pearson. And be prepared to meet us near the base of tower 2 in the munitions dump when I call.”

           

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            The whole world stood still, for a moment. I heard my own voice shout “Get to cover!”, and then the whole courtyard exploded in a sequence of shots. We ran for the far alcove, dragging Pearson, and huddled under it while the last echoes of the shots dies away in the wind.

            Freals coughed, sat up, and looked at me. “By my count, sir, we’ve got two snipers… at least… in every one of those towers.”

            I nodded. “I think that you’re correct, Mr. Freals,” I said, “If we’re going to move through this building, we’re going to need to flush them out. Likely as not, they’ll be waiting where we least expect to see them.”

            I looked around. There was a metal door behind us with a heavy lock, and another set of doors on either wing of the building facing the courtyard.

            “Thyger, we need that lock gone. Got a charge small enough?”

            He smiled. “I do indeed, sir. One lockpick, coming up.”

            I turned to face the other men. “Alright, gentlemen, here’s the plan. I’m going to toss out my flash-bang on a short fuse. They’ve probably seen one before, but the fact that they kept firing once we had already ducked out of the way tells me that they’re inexperienced as snipers. With any luck, they’ll look at that thing right through the sight and half-blind themselves. Four men each, scatter to those doors. Then, two apiece, take the towers. That silent alarm means that we need to finish this operation quickly, so you won’t have an advantage in numbers. Play it cautious instead, and throw a regular grenade in if you have to.” There was a soft thump behind me, and a creak. The door swung open, revealing a cavernous abyss of blackness beyond.

            “Locht, Graile, you’re with me. We’re going to see if we can find an alternate route through the building. Call on the radio once you’ve got your tower cleared. The one on the left bottom side of the U shape is 1, the one on the right is 4. I’ll call back and tell you if we scout out a route. Everyone got it?”

            They nodded.

            “OK, gentlemen, then get ready.”

            I reached behind me, undid the Velcro on the flash-bang holster, pulled the pin, and hefted it.

Thousand-one.

 Thousand-two.

 Thousand- THROW.

 

*          *          *

 

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            I pulled my snow camo parka strings tight against the freezing wind, slapped the rifle butt with a smart click, and swung it around behind me. My team looked at me expectantly, as I pulled out a projection map and shone it on the snow.

            I shook my head. I hoped that the bird that flew us in here at least made it to the staging ship off the coast, but with half the pole to fly over, I wasn’t optimistic. This was a hell of a place to get stuck.

            That latently pedophilic SOB had spotted us. Intelligence about being able to “fly in under radar” had been tripe. I’d lost three out of fourteen men before we’d even hit the ground.

            Red and green flak. He’d shot at us with red and green flak. My whole life, I’d let a demented international blackmailer with a sense of humor like THAT deliver unsolicited gifts to my me and my kids. Was I nuts?

            No. Like the rest of America, I hadn’t had a clue, of course. Well, now I had a chance to deliver a little gift to him. I held the map steady and pointed with my other hand.

            “All right, gentlemen, we’re here. The compound is surrounded by primary defenses in the form of a stone wall, alarms, barbed wire, electricity, and minefields. And of course, the weather up here.” I said, grimacing into the freezing snow. “There’s a weak point in the defenses, however, right here.” I pointed at an area with a straight shot between two minefields and a thinner portion of wall. “The bad news is, we can expect heavy opposition, and we have to assume they know that we’re here right now. Since we can’t count on the element of surprise, we’re going to have to be all the more exact in our maneuvers.”

            One of the men, Hawkins, raised his hand.

            “Captain Mesner, sir? Where do we find Mr. Kringle?”

            I stood up, turned off the map, and tucked it into my belt.

            “Unfortunately, we don’t know. This compound is the only location that could be identified by recon, and it’s anyone’s best guess where Kristopher is actually hiding. We suspect that his recent threat of delivering bombs directly into people’s houses has caused an understandable tightening of procedure. Part of our job is to determine where he is now.” He nodded, unsatisfied but prepared.

            “Any further questions?” I asked. No one spoke.

            “All right, then, form up. Remember, failure is not an option here. If we don’t swing this, then a lot of innocent people are going to die, and the world infrastructure is going to be at this guy’s feet. Mr. Thyger?”

            “Yes, sir?”

            “Let’s knock.”

 

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Eventually, almost every writer comes to the conclusion that G*d is an author. It makes some sense, when one considers the nearly soap-opera-like setting many people, especially authors, seem to live in. Since the plot is moved along by the problems that the characters encounter and face, and humans in general come to a unanimous consensus that there are way too many problems around, we can make the safe extrapolation that whatever celestial plot we are taking part in is zooming along at a merry click.
And then it occurred to me that we are always assured that said plot is not going to go wrong. Most plotters can immediately see the problem, because no matter how carefully you plot it, stories come out the way you were expecting only if you were very lucky. And one could probably assume that, if we are to believe G*d can make the proverbial kidney stone even He can’t pass, in the form of free will and such, then by logical dictate we can assume that the universe could well be a technically demanding job even for the omnipotent. If you plotted it out ahead of time, when all you can do in the end is manipulate the circumstances around the characters and let them be themselves, the chance you’d end up where you were going would be infinitesimal. Given the assumption that you could see the future, you’d still be seeing all possible futures when the actions of the subjects were variable. This, I thought, presented a quandary, and I was not about to settle for the typical “C’est la vie” theological answer of its being a “mystery”.