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(Part of the Dark Star's Song universe, somewhere after Chapter 33) No matter where you looked it was white. Except for the sky of course, which was a deep and rich blue without a single cloud. A beautiful July day in the Arctic. Star and I were relaxing after our third round of deliciously mind-blowing sex, wrapped safely in a bubble of force hovering a foot or two above what had probably been the surface of a small lake in warmer times, uncountable thousands of years ago. I didn't bother to check the temperature. It didn't matter to us anyway, wouldn't have even without the force bubble. In fact, the bubble was there to protect the environment from our heat - which was considerable, if I do say so myself. This place had become our favorite retreat for alone time. Far enough away from home that Star's kids couldn't easily spy on us. I didn't like to think about it, but calling the little darlings innocent was mainly a hope on our part. Our kind seemed to pop out of the womb with the ability to read any thinking creature's mind like a book, and as far as we knew, there was no "parental control" setting to invoke. Lead walls would keep you safe from the prying eyes of Superman, but we weren't that lucky. So we settled for the next best thing - distance. I sighed and turned to regard the naked form of my friend and lover, who chose that moment to stretch his toast-brown body in a delightful fashion, distracting me from my contemplation of the landscape's all-southern exposure. We didn't need to be back at his house for another few hours, and I was thinking of doing more than looking at him when he turned away from me and pointed toward the horizon. "Do you see that?" he said. I had to blink a couple of times. It wasn't that I doubted my eyesight, just that I was looking at something I had never expected to see. A red and white candy-striped pole was rising out of the drifts, maybe a hundred yards from us. For once in my long life I was speechless. Star didn't seem to have my problem. "Come on," he said, briskly dissolving the bubble with a thought and dressing himself in a parka and other weather-appropriate clothing the same way. When I continued to hover, naked, with my mouth hanging open, he went on, "We may never have another chance like this. Can you honestly say you don't want to investigate?" He had me there. My feet dropped to the snow, clad now in boots to match the rest of my outfit - royal blue to Star's pale blue. Somehow my favorite black didn't seem appropriate up here in all the whiteness. The pole was still there when we reached it, a column about ten feet high and a foot thick, the spiraling stripes six inches wide, topped by a shiny golden sphere maybe eighteen inches in diameter. It seemed quite solid, the base disappearing into the soft snow, and though it was an interesting sight in itself, I was kind of disappointed there was nothing else to be seen. "What the hell?" I said finally, and that's when the pole began turning. Star and I stepped back, and it was a good thing we did because the snow seemed to be slipping away, moving aside in some orderly but incomprehensible fashion until a spidery sort of staircase was revealed, narrow railing and all, descending into the ground through a tube of compacted snow. Star shrugged and smiled at me, and relaxing to the inevitable, I joined him on the stairs. Fine time to remember I'd promised to follow him anywhere. We had descended maybe ten feet when the stairs also began to turn, and it wasn't long until we were deposited on a solid, flat surface, patterns of alternating black and white tiles stretching away in all directions. Stepping back, I watched the stairs, still topped by the pole, spiral down and sink into the floor, which closed smoothly over them as though they had never been. When I looked up, the ceiling was a smooth and featureless white. I glanced at Star, but he was smiling and seemed unworried. Oh well, no matter how far underground, the place was too big and bright for claustrophobia, and… and it smelled great. The most pervasive odor was cinnamon, but there were scents of cloves and nutmeg too, with a generous dash of chocolate and vanilla. The walls of the room were white too, and at regular intervals there were columns twined with bright green holly and ivy. Between the columns were doors, eight of them. I don't suppose I was even much surprised when they all opened at once, disgorging the entire colorful population of munchkin-land. Miniature men and women and even smaller versions that had to be children, all laughing and talking at once, the high-pitched sound level was amazing. Many little bodies, dancing around for all they were worth, formed a smiling ring around Star, but one of the tallest, who on a good day might have reached my armpit, came right up to me and poked a finger into my midsection. "See?" he said, turning to his companions, "I told you they were real." Bemused, I couldn't help but grin as other small fingers prodded me here and there, although I felt like a side of beef on the auction block. All at once, a deeper, richer voice spoke up. "Back off now," it said. "Give our visitors some room." And the crowd parted like the Red Sea, which was appropriate, because the tall and stocky bearded man who strode toward us was dressed all in red - a red polo with a little green crocodile on the left breast and a pair of red board shorts with big white flowers. His large feet were bare. Still wearing our parkas and boots, Star and I were definitely overdressed. "Welcome," he said in that deep, honeyed voice, coming to a stop before Star and myself and looking back and forth between us, as though he couldn't decide whom to address first. I was tongue-tied again, unable to do more than stand there with the remnant of a grin on my face. His white whiskers weren't quite as long as I'd pictured them, and his equally white hair was tied back in a ponytail. His eyes were blue, though, just like in the stories. But I would have described him as heavyset rather than chubby or plump, and his eyes were on a level with my own, which made him over six feet. I was just opening my mouth, not at all sure what was going to fall out of it, when he walked closer and stuck out a large hand. "Hello," he said, "I'm Kris Kringle." "Evan Black," I said, doing my best not to stammer, "pleased to meet you." His handshake was firm and warm and lasted a little longer than I expected, those flame-blue eyes holding mine the entire time. By then the little ones had herded Star over to us, and I turned toward him. "And this is my cousin," I said, "Star." Technically, his name was Paul White, but I'd never liked it much. Star, his face lit with a smile, extended a hand. "This is such a pleasure, Mr. Kringle. I have heard so much about you, but I never expected that we would meet." Kringle looked into Star's black eyes, and his face went from hearty to bashful in a second. "Aw," he said, "just call me Kris." About that time, another tall figure entered the room, shooing the munchkins ahead of her like a flock of pigeons. Kris turned in her direction. "And here's the lady of the house," he said, holding out a hand, which the slender white-haired woman accepted. "Dearest, I'd like to present Evan and Star." She nodded in our direction, giving us each a sweet smile which made me think of Sunday dinners and warm hugs. The hem of her dark-green dress touched the floor, and a frilly white apron was tied around her waist. Rather than being in a bun, her hair hung loosely over her shoulders in glossy white curlicues. "Gentlemen," the man in red said, "this is my wife, Ivy." The small figures were still crowded around us, some of them beginning to look a bit impatient. "Oh dear," Kris exclaimed, "where are my manners?" Letting go of his wife's hand, he pointed to the tallest, the one who had assured his friends I was real. "This is Nathaniel," he said. Then, moving on to the next, he named them all: Albert and Maria, George and Franz, Yuki and Sam…. The introductions went on for quite a while, and before they were completed we found we'd been ushered into an enormous kitchen area and seated at a table against the wall, our parkas spirited away. The smells I'd noticed before were intensified here, and I could see that the large ovens were full of trays of baked goods. "Please excuse me," Mrs. Kringle said. "I really should supervise." She went over and joined the folk at one of the ovens, bending almost double to peer through the glass, as the oven was built for someone their height, not hers. Kris cleared his throat. "You must be hungry," he said, "after your, um, exertions." He turned to me, and one blue eye closed in a knowing wink. I felt blood rush to my cheeks. What did he have mounted on that striped pole - a periscope? Before I could reply, some of the small ones were bringing food to the table: plates of sandwiches, cups of soup, and endless trays of sweet goodies. Kris went away and came back holding an enormous earthenware pitcher. "Milk?" he asked, reaching for a glass. It was chocolate milk, of course. Well, I was hungry, and I guess Star was too because he dug in. Everything seemed extra delicious, and even the regard of many small pairs of eyes didn't slow me down all that much. Kris smiled benevolently as we ate, pouring himself a glass of milk to keep us company. No one spoke directly to us, though the staring continued with a rotating audience, and I caught the occasional whisper from the little folk. Most comments seemed to be along the line of being glad we had arrived, but some were expressions of surprise. One of the little men dug another in the ribs and confided, "I never really believed they existed." His friend just nodded. All in all, everything seemed to suggest that we had been expected, and I took time to wonder about that while I washed down my second cinnamon roll with my third glass of milk. How in the world could they have known we'd be there? How had they known about us at all? I didn't allow myself to dwell too much on the reality of our hosts. I'd heard North Pole stories since I'd come to Earth as a child, and I myself was an alien. When I'd moved to California, I'd learned that vampires were real. In that light, were Santa and his elves that much of a stretch? But did they have that many visitors, and did Kris welcome them all this way, or did he truly have some idea of who we were? Just in passing, I wondered if he'd think I was naughty or nice. The old gentleman waited until we pushed away our empty plates, then asked if we wanted more. Star and I both replied in the negative. "Everything was delicious," Star said politely, and I agreed with thanks. "Wonderful!" Kris clapped his hands once and stood. "Now, how about the ten-cent tour?" The place was like the stories but somehow so much grander. There was a room carpeted with shavings, the tang of pine, maple, and basswood scenting the air. Countless small workers manned miniature drills and lathes, hammers and saws, turning stacks of neatly planed lumber into colorful wooden blocks, doll houses, and expertly carved rocking horses. In another chamber, metal clanged and clinked, and finished toy trucks and train sets were tested on tables and floors. Still another room held sewing machines and yards of furry fabric and bags of stuffing. Glassy-eyed teddy bears regarded us cheerfully from shelves on the walls, their felt paws raised in greeting. Next door was the doll room, with everything from soft cloth babies to gorgeously dressed ladies made of porcelain. The displays were dazzling, as were the brightly dressed and cheerfully chattering workers. No matter what they were doing, everyone seemed to love their jobs. In each room, Star had gone close enough to touch and comment, and the small folk seemed pleased for his interest, responding freely to his questions and grinning shyly at his praise. I would have investigated things more closely too, but as soon as we'd left the kitchen, the man in red had linked his arm with mine and held on, offering me a smile from time to time, as well as a gentle squeeze. I wasn't sure of his intentions, but it seemed rude to just pull away. In the most interesting room, to me at least, a seemingly endless number of little folk were seated lotus-fashion on low cushions with their eyes closed and their diminutive palms upward and resting on their knees. No one was dressed in bright colors here, just white loincloths or robes, and no music was playing, which had often been the case in other areas. I thought the room had that odd close feeling of soundproofing. I turned to Kris, who was still breathing on me and linked with my arm. "What's going on in here?" I asked quietly. "This is my favorite workshop," he said, turning to beam on the silent rows of people, "except maybe for the toy trains…." His eyes grew thoughtful, and then the corners of his pink lips turned down and he closed the door, tugging me down the hall. Star followed us - closely, I was glad to note. Things were a little more than strange here, and Star's company was reassuring. "Well," Kris began when we had left the room behind, "the truth is, it's a sad fact that even I can't travel everywhere, certainly not in one night, and especially not with the way things have been going for the past decade or so." I nodded. I'd always thought that part of the story rather unlikely, but I didn't see what the past decade had to do with it. There might be more people in the world every year, but surely a ten-year increase couldn't affect Kris's visits that much. The planet, after all, was still the same size. Kris sighed deeply and stopped beside a large mural on the wall. Someone with a good eye had painted a world map, and on every bit of territory they'd pictured at least one smiling child - all ages, all shapes, all colors. It was beautifully done, and I couldn't help but smile back at the happy little faces. "Do you like it?" Kris asked us quietly. Star gave him one of his dazzling smiles, and Kris lit up. Then his spirits seemed to dim again and he sat on a nearby padded bench, tugging me down next to him. "That's always been my goal, you know, to bring happiness and hope to the children. No matter what they go through in life, they still have the potential to bounce back, but only if they believe it's possible. It has to happen when they're young, though. By the time they're adults, their thinking has canalized, and most are unwilling to risk belief - in me or in anything good." He shook his head, the white curls of hair and beard brushing softly against his chest and shoulders. Then he nodded and sat up straighter. "That's what my elves are doing in that room. Even if I can't bring every child a rocking horse or a doll, I can send them hope. The elves are very good at it, keeping their minds focused, sending out endless waves of positive energy. It's the only room we operate year round, 24/7." I raised my eyebrows when I realized I could feel that energy, even though it wasn't directed at me. Waves of hope and joy and love were emanating from that room, permeating the entire structure around us and winging their way out into the world with a message of "Don't give up. You can do it. Someone cares." I turned to Kris, suddenly feeling just a touch of awe. His face lit again, and for the first time I truly saw not the personification of a tired myth, but Saint Nicholas himself, someone who wasn't just about toys and reindeer and overindulging in milk and cookies but who really cared, radiating the true spirit of Christmas with every breath. I looked again at the wall mural and felt tears begin to form in the corners of my eyes, but before I could get completely misty, Kris dragged me up again. "There's more to see," he said cheerfully, and Star followed our lead, even though I thought I saw him wiping at his own eyes. We'd run out of toymakers and positive thinkers to see and were contemplating an entire herd of sleek and healthy-looking reindeer, munching hay in a huge stable, when Star turned to the man still clutching my arm. "Kris," he said, "I've very much enjoyed seeing everything, but don't you think it's time you told us why you invited us here?" The big man looked from Star to me and finally said, "I suppose you're right." We went back into the house and were soon settled in a large and comfortable room in front of a warmly glowing fireplace, having refused any further food or drink. I noticed that Nathaniel, one of the elves who had greeted us when we first arrived, had joined us again and was perched on a footstool. Kris let go of me - reluctantly, I thought - and sat down in the largest chair, looked into the fire for a minute or two, and finally said, "Well, it's rather embarrassing, actually." About that time, Ivy came in quietly and sat on the wide and padded chair arm next to him. Kris rather absentmindedly pulled her onto his lap. "First of all," Kris began, "Ivy and I have been on Earth for almost 900 years." I blinked at Star, seated next to me on a large sofa. He smiled at Kris and Ivy as though it was no news to him, so I merely nodded, and Kris went on. "You see, where we come from, it's not at all unusual to leave home and go out to seek one's fortune. Not in terms of riches, you understand," he hastened to add, "unless it's riches of the spirit." Ivy nodded and gave Kris a little pat on the cheek. Then she took up the story. "We have so much growing up, always plenty of people to care for us and love us, that most of us want to give something back. Many devote themselves to raising the next generation, some to making our world an even better place to live, but some, like Kris and myself, are called to leave home and go out into the universe, find a place that really needs us, and help whoever we find there." "Like missionaries," Star interjected thoughtfully. Ivy gave him a bright smile. "Exactly," she said. "So, after studying our options, Kris and I decided to come here. We felt we could do some good, and I think we have, over the years." She frowned a little, her eyes going dark. "Though there is still much to do." Star nodded. "Sadly, I agree." I knew he often contemplated "helping out" the people of Earth in a big way, and we'd had many a discussion about it, but what it came down to was, though Earth felt like home to both of us, it wasn't really "our" planet. Did we have the right to interfere with the natives' destinies? That ethical consideration didn't seem to trouble Ivy and Kris. "And you've been doing this for 900 years?" I said, still trying to wrap my mind around it. Kris nodded. "Our people live a long time, and if our project is thought to be truly worthwhile, others might be convinced to take over when we can no longer serve." "Our people have studied Earth and agree its people still need a lot of help. Maybe they always will, though we can hope," Ivy said. "Because of that, we've been receiving regular supply missions from home, about once every twenty years or so." Star looked even more interested. "What sort of supplies?" "Oh," Ivy said, gesturing around at the room, "all the technology we need to keep this place running and hidden, as well as special energy packets for Kris and me." She smiled fondly. "The elves don't seem to need any kind of outside help. They're native to this planet." I felt my eyes open wide, glanced at Nathaniel, who gave me a wink from his perch on the footstool, and looked over at Star, but he shook his head slightly. That fact was something to explore another day. Kris let out a huge sigh. "Now we get to the embarrassing part," he said. Ivy kissed his cheek. "Best to just come out and say it, I think. The last supply mission is overdue - long overdue. We've had messages, and they haven't forgotten us, but there have been problems, and the last message said it might be a few more years before they can get here." Kris looked up at her, and she smiled sadly and rubbed his cheek with hers, then looked at Star and me. "Kris and I may not last that long," she said in a matter-of-fact tone. I studied the man and woman. No matter how hearty each had looked on first sight, the signs of age and weariness were there. What did it take to keep a place like this going? I could feel unobtrusive but tremendous fields of energy around me. Was it electric, nuclear, or something totally outside the realm of my experience? I was betting on the last one. "So you need energy to maintain your setup here?" I asked. Star and I might be able to help with that. Ivy smiled. "Oh my, no. Most of what we need we draw directly from the core of the planet, and the machines which convert that energy will last another thousand years." It seemed bizarre to be discussing planetary energy with a white-haired woman dressed in an apron with cookie crumbs on it. Kris was nodding eagerly. "Oh yes." He smiled at Ivy. "It's not the workshop we're worried for, it's us!" She gave him a squeeze, and I thought I saw a deep commitment and genuine affection in their glances. It made me want to take Star's hand, so I did. He smiled at me. "Um…," I said after a moment, "then I guess I really don't understand." "Well," Ivy said, "with the energy packs delivered by our people, our bodies would be renewed and could keep going almost indefinitely." Kris was still nodding. "And…?" I said, looking at him. "And," he said finally, "we've known about the two of you for some years - see you when you're sleeping and all that, you know." He smiled roguishly. "And when this problem became critical, we thought you might be willing to help." My eyes had widened again at the "see you when you're sleeping" thing. Did the elves have a spy network or what? Surely not, or I would have been getting nothing but coal in my stocking for many Christmases past. "I still don't…," I began, about the same time Star said, "Biological energy transfer!" and suddenly it all seemed clear. Nathaniel leaped up off his footstool and confronted Star and me. "Yes, you've got to!" he micro-shouted. "I'd help them if I could." Kris beamed at Nathaniel but waved him back to his seat. Even so, the little guy kept staring at me. "So," I said finally, "you want us to give you some of our energy to keep you going until your friends arrive with your regular supplies?" That was no problem. Star and I could get energy from most anywhere, even if we had to load up on more chocolate milk and a few dozen cookies. "Yes," said Kris. "But really, they should be here any year now." I shook my head, then glanced at Star. He smiled and squeezed my hand. "Well, we'd be glad to, I guess. How does it work?" Ivy gave Star a smile that lit up her face, and I swear Kris blushed, though with the pink cheeks and the beard, I couldn't really be sure. "Well," he said, "it's most easily done in an intimate situation…." * * * So… what can I say? I had sex with Santa Claus, though how it was decided that Star got Mrs. Claus and I got the big guy, I don't know. I do know that Kris jumped up, almost dumping Ivy out of his lap and onto the carpet, grabbed my arm again, and towed me off in one direction while Ivy steered Star, more demurely, in another. Nathaniel gave me a quick "Finally!" nod and headed back toward the kitchen. At least he didn't plan to watch - or was that where they kept the spy vision? I must say, with 900 years of experience under his, err… belt, being with Kris wasn't a chore. And from the moment skin touched naked skin I could feel his body gently drawing energy from mine. We were together for several hours, and as time passed I could see and feel Kris changing. His voice became even deeper, his laugh heartier (I love a partner who's not afraid to laugh during sex, don't you?), and his muscles firmer. I didn't even notice the most dramatic change until much later, when Kris got out of bed to dress and left me to stretch. His hair was still long and curly and his beard was as full as ever, but instead of its previous snow whiteness, all his hair was a brilliant auburn red. I know my mouth dropped open, because Kris laughed again. "Works quite a change, doesn't it? Thank you, Evan," he said, coming over to give me one last quick kiss. And if I'd never before seen the man in front of me, I'd have judged him over-the-top sexy. Hell, he still was, even if I did know he was Santa. Then he didn't just laugh but giggled. "Ivy should thank you too," he said. "She's going to enjoy what you've done for me." I thought about blushing, but I decided against it. * * * Ivy's hair had gone back to red too, a slightly brighter shade than Kris's, and it looked wonderful against the Christmas green of her dress. They both insisted we stay for breakfast, but we demurred, having been away from Star's a lot longer than we'd intended. "Look for something extra nice in your stocking this year," the big man said, standing with his arm around a glowingly beautiful Ivy. "Thanks, but just bring special things for the kids," I said, waving as Star and I trekked away from the candy-striped pole in the middle of the glistening snowfield before jumping back home. * * * I didn't even hang up a stocking that year, but on Christmas morning there was one on Star's mantel with my name on it. That was the first time the jolly old pervert brought me silk underwear… nice ones. Lavender… want to see?
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