Krampusnacht
Science fiction story
"Season's greetings, Captain," Jordan said from the bulkhead behind him.
The salutation brought a rueful smile to Captain Brevik's lips. When he was a boy, a very small boy, one could still say 'Happy Holidays' without drawing scorn. Now, even that went too far. Season's greetings or happy holidays, it didn't really matter, they were just politically correct code words for Merry Christmas. But the Captain had no time for any of it. "There are no season's in space, Lieutenant," he said. "That sounded like the tag line for a bad science fiction movie didn't it?"
"Just a bit, sir," she replied standing next to him. She looked up at the view screen and into the endless sea of black. There were no actual windows on the ship, it was a transport vessel not a cruise liner, and the high grade plasma windows were just too expensive to be cost effective. There wasn't much to see outside anyway, they were traveling through the vast empty space between spiral arms of the Milky Way. Even the stars were all but invisible.
"Why did you bid me season's greetings, I wonder."
Jordan smiled her sly fox smile. "Subjectively it's December the 5th," she replied.
Brevik looked at his watch, it was digital and kept both subjective and objective time, though the objective time was measured in days that flew by like seconds. "It seems so. But it was December 5th three hundred and sixty five days ago, and you never thought to wish me well then."
"It's the passengers sir," she paused and shifted from one foot to the other, her ears folded back against her head anxiously. "They've been watching the objective clock a lot. I think they're getting depressed. I was hoping to have a holiday celebration, to pick up their spirits. And that's not all." She paused again.
"Don't leave me in suspense Lieutenant. Spit it out already." Even a small ship like the Northerner had its share of problems, Capt. Brevik reflected. For instance, someone was making moon juice, a type of fermented liquor made from discarded bread and the vitamin fortified, orange drink served with morning meals. Someone else had tried to break into medical, he could only speculate as to what they were after, though anything would be bad.
"More than half the crew is green, and they've been looking at the objective clock a lot too."
In the main dining hall, the ship kept two clocks, as was required by regulation. One clock was ship's time or subjective time, the other WY or objective time. Moving at relativistic speeds time for the individual travelers slows while WY time, what was once called Earth Standard Time, continued on at a steady pace. The ship's time was the only time that mattered to Brevik, and in his opinion, the only time that should be displayed. Nostalgia was bad for stone feet, those who had lived their lives on a planet's surface and never been subjected to relativistic speeds.
Brevik nodded. "I should like to see your party," he reflected. "Or perhaps an old jackal would be an unwelcome sight."
Jordan smiled awkwardly, and that said enough.
"Of course, I'll make myself scarce come the festivities."
"Sir, may I ask you something?"
"Feel free."
"Well," she cleared her throat. "Why are you wearing that knife on your belt?"
Brevik laughed. That explains why she's acting so nervous, he thought. "The passengers and crew aren't the only ones feeling nostalgic I suppose," he replied patting the hilt of the knife. "My father gave this to me before I left on my first voyage. I asked him why he gave me a knife, even in those days it was an odd gift. He said a sailor should have a good knife. Again I asked why. He said, 'Why, imagine if you get caught up in the rigging, you might need to cut yourself free.'"
Jordan's smile made her look a decade younger. At forty she remained as beautiful as when he first met her, even with the dusting of gray around her muzzle and streaking through her red hair. "He sounds like a very colorful character."
Brevik nodded. "Why did you first sign on for deep space travel?"
She paused, thinking for a moment before responding, "I wanted to see things, see the galaxy, see the future."
"There are two type of people who do what we do, Lieutenant," he explained. "Those who like you wish to see the unseen, chart the uncharted, boldly go etc etc."
"And the other."
"Those who are running away from something."
"Why did you sign up Captain?"
His smile was hard and utterly without mirth. "Suffice it to say I didn't come to see the galaxy."
She nodded and continued to stare at the screen.
A thought occurred to him. "How long has it been since we left? Objectively I mean."
Jordan sighed. "Two hundred and fifty some odd years."
"I'll turn a thousand soon," he said thoughtfully. "I might be one of the oldest people alive, objectively. That's rather disturbing isn't it?"
"I'd still sleep with you," she said cocking an eyebrow at him. "If you'd have a six hundred year old lady that is."
He knew that, as her superior, the on and off sexual relationship he'd maintained with Jordan for the past three voyages, was both highly inappropriate and probably illegal. But in the space between stars that seemed to matter little. It was a cold and lonely place; the souls aboard the Northerner took whatever comfort they could get. "I wouldn't have it any other way. Those young pups," he said nodding vaguely toward the rest of the ship. "They won't know what they're doing for another half a millennium at least."
She laughed a smoky sound that came from deep in her throat. For a moment he had the insane urge to touch her paw, but that would not be appropriate in the cockpit.
"You were born in the wrong era Brev," she observed still staring absently out across the stars on the screen.
"How so?"
"You were born to be a salty dog, but no one sails the salty seas anymore," she said. "You're too old a soul for space travel. Too romantic for the cold void."
"Are you trying to seduce me Lieutenant?"
"I didn't think I had to try." Another smoky laugh. "Will you be in your quarters at 0400 hours sir?"
"No, I will not," he smirked ever so slightly.
"Good." It was code; he wouldn't be in his own quarters because he'd be with her, the closest thing to family or friend he had left, to celebrate the impending holiday in their own way.
He wondered if he should give her a gift. But then, he couldn't think what to give her. It wasn't as if he could go to a store and pick something up for her. The only personal possession he had on the ship was the knife his father gave him, the rest, the computer and even his clothes, belonged to the company. He wondered if, in another life Lt. Jordan might have been his wife. Then it occurred to him that she was two hundred years his junior and he smiled. In another life, he would never have known her.
These thoughts were on his mind when the alarm sounded. A cool feminine voice informed the inhabitants of the ship, "A routine scan has detected a hazardous biological life form. Mandatory quarantine is in effect for all areas."
They looked at one another. "What on earth could that be?" Jordan asked.
He sat at the command monitor and began typing. "According to the ship's system there was a life form in one of the aft corridors, but now there's nothing. Like it just disappeared."
"A ghost in the system?" she asked leaning over his shoulder to examine the screen.
He shook his head. "Don't know. Let's have all hands report here immediately, at the very least it will be a good training exercise. Wearing their BioFlash suits."
"Aye, aye," she responded with a sigh. Like most of the crew she hated the BioFlash suits. They were bright yellow suits with biohazard symbols printed on the front that hermetically sealed the wearer inside. They had their own air purification system and air supply. The face shield's heads-up display showed important information including the presence of harmful gases and organic compounds. They were heavy however, and lacked internal cooling or dehumidifiers, so after half an hour the interior felt like a jungle. Jordan's thick fur was anything but her friend in the BioFlash suit. But even a short-haired jackal like Brevik found the suits claustrophobic and uncomfortable.
The crew of the Northerner assembled in a little under five subjective minutes. Including Brevik and Jordan, there were five in all. Jax and Philo were otter sisters that headed medical and engineering respectively; they were capable but flippant and had very little respect for the chain of command. It was their first voyage. The head of security, and jack of all trades was Jhravi, a massive horse as solid and sturdy as any Brevik had worked with. He'd been on a single short haul that never came near relativistic speeds.
Brevik surveyed them and realized he could depend only on himself and Jordan, the rest were unsalted. It made little difference. He strongly suspected it was a glitch in the system, but it would not do to ignore so serious an alarm. Plus, a little excitement might lift the crew's dampened spirits. He nodded and began, "According to the computer there is at least one, and possibly more hazardous biological life forms somewhere on the ship. We are going to go corridor by corridor until we find it."
"Sir?" Jhravi asked in his surprisingly high voice.
Brevik nodded.
"Where did it come from? What is it?" he asked tucking his helmet under his bulging left arm.
"I can't say. It's possible there was something in the supplies but that seems very unlikely. As to what it is, I can't say as to that either. The computer was doing a sweep, not an individualized scan. It could be anything from a creature the size of a t-rex to a virus. Hence, the BioFlash suits," Brevik replied motioning for Jordan to continue.
"We're going to sweep corridor by corridor, in groups of two," she explained. "The captain will remain behind, as someone must remain on the flight deck at all times and it's his watch anyway. I want constant radio contact, that means status reports every five minutes, no excuses. If you see anything out of the ordinary I want you to mark it on your heads-up and immediately contact me and the captain. Questions?"
Philo raised her paw. "If we see a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer should we be alarmed?" she asked to the snickers of her crewmates.
"I'm glad you think this is so amusing, Ensign," Brevik replied coldly. "Because when I last left port I heard about a ship that lost its entire crew and cargo to a xeno bug that infested their food supply. This is not a joke," he said addressing the entire crew. "There's no backup to be called if there's a fight, there's no store to stop at if our food or water or air becomes contaminated. We just die."
The mirth dried up from Philo's face like a drop of water on desert sand. She put her paw down and remained silent. The crew put on serious faces, and Brevik was satisfied. "It's sleep period for the next five hours. That gives us more than enough time to sweep the corridors, the cargo bay, medical, and the life support suites. I want you to move out purposefully and swiftly," he looked Philo in the eyes, "like your lives depended on it."
It was less than twenty minutes before Jax and Jhravi found the first victim, and the bootlegger. Brevik, even after living nearly a millennium and visiting parts of the galaxy few had ever seen, found that he could still be quite surprised. The culprit/victim, was a wizened old mouse, bent and white with age and smelling strongly of drink. She looked more like Betty White than Al Capone. Her account was amazing but lacked credibility due to her obvious inebriation. During the recitation, she continued to refer to Brevik as 'Your Honor,' and frequently lapsed into periods of incomprehensible gibberish.
The basic story was as follows: Mrs. Gretsky, the elderly mouse now installed in the ships meager brig, was walking from her cabin to the restroom; one of what Brevik imagined was a number of similar visits that night. She was shuffling along in the darkened starboard aft hall when out of nowhere a creature appeared. And this was when Brevik began to develop serious doubts about the authenticity of the story. Mrs. Gretsky reported, that a monster, three meters high, with a shaggy brown body, pointed lolling tongue and large, sweeping, goat's horns attacked her with a handful of twigs.
From another passenger, perhaps even another wine soaked passenger, he may have believed this tale. He'd been around the galaxy a few times, so to speak, and had seen some pretty amazing things. But Mrs. Gretsky was a habitual drunkard, very old and a bootlegger. As it was, he was highly dubious of the woman's story; he questioned whether Gretsky was her real name. He'd doubt she was mouse if not for the tail.
After Jhravi returned from confining the woman to the brig, Brevik again addressed the crew. "It appears the situation is more serious than I at first thought."
"You're joking right?" Jax responded. "It's just some drunk old lady. Case closed."
Jordan shook her head. "She was attacked, there's no denying that. You saw the injuries on her back yourself doctor. What made those?"
Jax shrugged.
Brevik found the injuries strange as well, and more so the woman's description of the instrument that made them. "A bunch of twigs," she'd said. Not a bunch of wires or thin metal pieces or leather or cloth but twigs. The identification of the "creature" could be marked up to the fact that she was drunk and it was very late. But her description of the weapon seemed to be corroborated by her injuries, a series of irregular scraps and abrasions running down her back. But wood was so rare in space, the thought of a bunch of twigs was almost laughable, only Brevik wasn't laughing.
"It could be a virus," Jax finally said.
"A virus beat up the old lady?" Jhravi asked incredulously.
"Well yeah, in a manner of speaking," she said licking her maw thoughtfully. "There are a lot of viruses that attack the central nervous system and cause people to behave in strange ways, even aggressively. That might explain the sensor detecting something, and it could explain why it took so long to detect. Some viruses remain asymptomatic for month's even years. And if it was picked up by one of the passengers when they were on Earth and they brought it on board, once it became active and started reproducing in their cells that could set off an alert."
"Do you know any viruses like that?" Jordan asked.
Jax shook her head. "No, I mean rabies is similar but without the dormancy. Syphilis can have dormancy and causes dementia, nothing like what Mrs. Gretsky described though. But just because I haven't heard about it doesn't mean it's not out there."
"You don't have to tell me how wide the universe is, doctor," Brevik interrupted. "Our main concern now, whether it be a virus or just a violent passenger, is to locate the assailant. Her account, rambling and incoherent though it was, gave us much to work with."
"It did?" Jordan asked.
"Three things that stood out about the creature. Tall, long brown fur, horns. Those are the three things we'll target on our door to door. I want you to discretely go to the cabins of people matching any one or more of the aforementioned characteristics," he said choosing his words carefully. "I've made a list, and I want you to work from top to bottom. Jordan, you take Jhravi and Jax, go to each person and ask them some questions. Jax, you pay close attention see if any of them look sick."
"What about me?" Philo asked.
"You and I are going to go through the ship's system line by line if necessary and track down exactly what set off the alarm. If it's a virus I want to know," he replied. Then turning to the rest he said, "That being said. Zip up your BioFlash suits. If it is a virus I don't want any more infections."
Jordan had been gone for more than an hour. She reported nothing abnormal thus far and was through the better part of the list. Philo was hunched over a terminal furiously typing and tapping the screen. Otherwise the bridge was dead silent. Brevik stood at the view screen, looking out into the abyss and thinking.
His mind cast back through the centuries and countless parsecs of darkness and void, pulling him back to his first voyage. How different things had been then, eight hundred years ago, of course subjectively it had been less than three decades. He was twenty-one and still half a boy when he signed on for the trip across the cosmos. What now was considered a day-trip. A short jounce to Rigel, grab an asteroid or two, just for core samples to determine if there were sufficient resources to justify mining.
There was a murder. That's what he remembered best about the voyage. A tiger was accused of murdering his lover, a lioness, after a fight. They found him weeping over her, all regret and tears. Brevik had to help guard him, it wasn't much of a chore, except for the crying, which had grated on him after a while. When they got back to Earth, the murder was unceremoniously executed. But the weeping still haunted his memories.
"Sir," Philo said calling him back to the present.
"What have you found?" Brevik asked standing behind the woman.
"Sadly not much. The system wasn't set up to identify the type of harmful biological, it could be anything, animal, vegetable, virus, bacteria, anything. The purpose of this system is to alert others of a dangerous presence on the ship, meaning those not on the ship. It scans periodically looking for certain things, if it finds any of them it locks down the airlocks until mandatory quarantined is coded from the outside."
"It doesn't store the data of the scan in other words."
"Bingo," she said clicking a few characters. "Look, it goes from scan to lockdown right here, 0000.01 hours subjective on day 492 of voyage 117271. December the fifth subjective date zero hundred hours subjective time."
Brevik nodded. "That alone seems highly suspect."
"Yeah, see that's what I thought too. The only problem is that the scan is based on objective time. It scans once every objective year and stops scanning after a mandatory quarantine," she said pointing to a line of code on the screen that was utterly meaningless to Brevik.
"Great, another unavoidable headache at customs," he complained. "So basically, you're telling me it wasn't a ghost in the code. It's definitely a virus or something like your sister said."
Philo shook her head. "I didn't say that, you said that, I didn't say that. It could be like my sister said, but it could be something in the physical scanner. I'd have to tear half the starboard aft corridor apart to figure that out. There's no reliable diagnostic for these sensors."
"Well you're just a ray of sunshine today aren't you?"
"Hey, I just fix the toaster dude."
"That's Captain dude to you," he replied straightening.
She laughed and continued tapping away at screen and keys. A call came through over the communication link; Jordan needed to speak with him urgently on a secured frequency.
"We're secure, what have you got for me?" he asked, standing in an alcove sufficiently secluded that he wouldn't be overheard.
"We've got a suspect," she paused and he could hear her shifting. "It's a pretty good suspect too. Two and a half out of three of the characteristics."
"Two and a half?"
"His name's Rodriguez, he's a bull and he is massive, maybe six foot five." Like Brevik she still used the archaic standard form of measurement, which made him smile. "He's got the height and the horns. And remember how the wino lady said he was shaggy and brown? Well Mr. Rodriguez answered our knock in a brown terry cloth robe. Kind of shaggy looking in the dark."
"That's pretty convincing," Brevik admitted. "But I don't think we can lock him up just for being a tall bull, or for his choice of attire."
"We found something else."
"What?"
"Well apparently, Mr. Rodriguez is an artist and a welder. When we came into his room we saw this statute in the corner. It was metal rods all bent and twisted with flower shaped pieces at the end, made to look like a bouquet or something. Easy to mistake for a bunch of twigs."
"What does Jax say?"
"The gentleman doesn't seem irate, I mean he's not thrilled we woke him, but he was polite. Jax gave him a quick look over and said he seems clean, no fever or anything."
Brevik thought about the situation. By morning the story would be out. If they had both quarantine and an assault with no culprit for either it would be a very bad scene at breakfast. On the other hand, locking up the wrong person might be bad too. Could the virus have gone dormant again? Would this Rodriguez turn into a crazed psychopath given the opportunity? If he's infected, might others be at risk by letting him go free?
"Take him to the brig," Brevik commanded.
Rodriguez put up a fight when they tried to take him in but Jhravi was able to subdue him. A cursory search of the room revealed additional evidence. Used fentanyl patches. Mr. Rodriguez was addicted to pain killers and was likely the person who attempted to break into the medical suite. Jax recalled seeing him for various physical injuries, and had prescribed him painkillers for a severe burn, which now she believed was self inflicted. Still, something didn't seem right somehow.
The crew was assembled on the bridge, tired but looking very proud of themselves. Brevik was proud too. They had acted admirably. "You've done very well," he said.
"Go team!" Jax said grinning.
"Settle down now," Jordan said, though she was smiling as well.
"We found the culprit, but we don't know what caused the sensor to go off. It could be somehow related or merely a coincidence. As it stands, Philo, in the morning I'll need you to rip out that sensor and see if it's a mechanical error."
"Oh man," she complained.
"Jax, I want you to do a thorough medical examination of Mr. Rodriguez. Blood, urine, DNA, even bone marrow if it comes to that. Find out if he may be carrying an alien pathogen. Additionally, make sure he detoxes safely, I don't want any deaths on the ship."
"Aye, aye."
Brevik nodded. "I am very proud of all of you. I will make a note of this in the log and make sure you all receive the recognition you deserve," he promised. Looking down at his watch he continued, "It's 0400 hours, my watch is over and as far as I'm concerned the case is closed. Mr. Jhravi, the ship is yours."
Captain Brevik made a show of going to his quarters, but only stopped there for a moment. He waited a sufficient time to give the illusion that he was settling in for the night; and then struck out for Lt. Jordan's cabin across the ship. He was excited to see her. The night had been very long, and very trying. Now all he wanted was to bask in her embrace for a few hours.
She was waiting for him when he entered without knocking. She stood nude in the center of the small room, lean and beautiful wearing a sly smile and beckoned him to her. But no sooner had the door closed than her expression changed from wanton desire to dawning horror. She was looking at something behind his shoulder.
Brevik spun and there it was a nightmare from his childhood. Krampus. Brevik was six again, sitting on his grandmother's lap. She was telling him a story from the old country. Freezing rain was pelting the window, the fire burned low and ominous. "The Krampus comes for naughty children," she said. "On his night, Krampusnacht he comes. He gives those naughty children a whipping with his handful of birch switches. Oh, but those are the (little naughty) for the (big naughty) he has more severe punishment."
Back in the present his eyes drank him in, just as his grandmother and the drunken old mouse had described it. A huge monster, covered in tangled mats of brown fur, devilish horns sweeping back from its forehead, and a pointed tongue hanging from slathering jaws. The eyes were what terrified him the most, glowing yellow eyes, burning with the fires of hell.
His grandmother's voice was in his head, an echo of the past. "For the naughtiest boys and girls he has a basket of woven birch. He scoops up those bad little children and carries them down to hell, to feed him for the year to come."
"Please, no," Brevik whispered.
"You know why I've come," the creature's voice was coming not from his mouth, but from within Brevik's terrified mind. "For I see, from the old times I have always seen. You thought to run, little Brevik, but there is no place far enough to outrun your past. I saw you with the lioness, I heard your silence, deafening as they put the tiger to death. I watched you watch him, listening to his sobs and doing nothing. But every act has a cost, and a price must be paid."
Brevik opened his mouth to scream, but the sound froze in his throat. He had traveled far, across both space and time, but one cannot long outrun the past. The Krampus scooped up a naughty little boy, as was his want to do, and carried him off to a place even Brevik had never thought he'd see.