“Mother, return to our ship at once,” he told her coldly. “You will remain there until we leave orbit.”
“Very well,” she said – far too readily, which meant that she was up to something. He didn’t care. There wasn’t much harm that she could do to him and Liza from the ship.
When he saw his hovercraft returning, accompanied by Liza’s, he went over to help her grandparents carry the tree into the house.
His brother Korl hurried over to join him, and together they hoisted the enormous tree and carried it into the little cottage.
Liza stood there, arms folded, scowling, as her grandfather showed them how to set the tree in the metal holder so it would remain upright.
Her saber-tooth friend Marjan stood with her, watching them suspiciously.
“I do not trust you people,” she informed Korl, eyes narrowed.
“Trust is for fools,” Korl retorted. “And those who enjoy the adornment of a knife protruding from their vertebrae.”
“Now, now, children, no intergalactic battles while decorating the tree,” Mawmaw chided.
“They’re staying to help decorate?” Liza asked in dismay.
“Liza,” her grandfather said reprovingly. “Of course they are. We share the Christmas traditions with everyone. It is our purpose.”
“I will call you the G-word, Liza. I certainly will,” her grandmother threatened her. “Don’t make me swear so close to Christmas. Now, you girls go get the boxes of decorations.”
Liza and Marjan went to a side room, muttering rebelliously, and brought back boxes of decorations while Liza’s grandparents served hot chocolate and cookies.
“These beverages are most excellent,” Korl said. “They taste even better than the blood of my enemies.”
“That is high praise, coming from him,” Jaspar said, nodding and sipping the chocolate.
“You see, dear? One of the many wonderful things about Christmas.” Liza’s grandmother beamed at him.
As they pulled out the decorations and hung them on the tree, Liza’s grandparents told them the history of each one.
Many of them were hundreds of years old.
“Now, this little gingerbread man actually came from Terra 1,” Liza’s grandmother said.
“No, Mawmaw, your great-great-grandfather carved that one from one of the first trees planted on Far North,” Liza corrected her.
“Really? Are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” Liza insisted.
She pulled out another one. “My mother and I painted this one together,” she told Jaspar, holding up a little reindeer. “She and my father died in an accident when I was five,” she added, her eyes misting over.
Then she pulled out a little snow globe and handed it to him. “Shake it,” she said, and when he did, it filled up with sparkles that looked like snow falling on a tiny village.
She took over the job of telling the history of each little ornament, and as she did, she started to relax a little bit, and smile.
Jaspar glanced over at Liza’s grandmother, who was watching with approval.
The old one is wise,he thought.
When the tree was decorated, she walked him and his brother to the door. Her tone was cool. “Thank you for decorating the tree with us. It means a lot to my grandparents to share our traditions. However, I still know that you were the ones who fungused our trees, and I will not forgive you for that.”
He snorted. “Foolish woman. When will you research what I said about the Drakken telling the truth?”
“Some time after the twelfth of never.”
Ah! That was good news. She would do the research after all. “I am not familiar with the human calendar. When is that? Before Christmas, I hope?”
Instead of answering, she shut the door in their faces.
