Season of Goodwill

By Eva-Joy Schönhaar

Kaits and his buddies scrambled to hide their holocards and gambling chips as Lieutenant Gilbert walked into the rec bay. Gaming for credits was strictly forbidden on the Galactic Defense Federation’s ships, and the last thing Kaits needed was to get chewed out by the lieutenant.

Again.

“Men, this is Private Johnny Wilson, your new squad member,” said Gilbert.

Wilson stood a couple steps behind Gilbert, looking nervous. And young.

After making introductions, the lieutenant left the rec bay. Wilson stayed by the door, shuffling his feet.

Kaits shook his head. Wilson looked barely old enough to be out of school, let alone basic training. He’d probably end up getting himself killed—or someone else. And Kaits didn’t want to be that someone.

Wilson must have noticed Kaits looking at him, because the kid actually walked over and stuck out his hand. “You’re Kaits, right?”

Kaits obliged the kid, but barely. “Yeah.”

“We’ve got the same first name.” Wilson grinned. “Kind of a funny coincidence, don’t you think?”

“Doesn’t mean we’re going to be friends or anything,” Kaits muttered.

The grin disappeared from the kid’s face. Kaits almost felt bad.

Almost.

Christmas music played over the ship’s intercom. The team was scattered around the rec bay, reading and sleeping and talking. Wasn’t much else to do—the Xothians hadn’t attacked in six months.

Kaits had almost talked LeBlanc into another card game when the bay door slid open. In stepped Doc, his arms full of parcels.

“Christmas delivery!” he announced.

Kaits leaped to his feet and caught the box that Doc tossed his way.

“Hey, careful with that,” Kaits shouted, laughingly. He and the fellas didn’t get a lot of mail from home. Too expensive to ship into space. But Christmas was special.

Kaits tore open the package to find chocolate bars, new socks, and more chocolate bars. His mouth watered. He looked up to find that everyone else had similar hoards.

Except Wilson.

“Yours must just be late,” Doc said.

“Nah.” Wilson smiled weakly and shrugged. “There’s nobody down there to send me anything.”

Kaits froze. The crackling of wrapping paper fell silent. Someone cleared their throat. A moment later, Wilson mumbled something about helping the cook with Christmas dinner and ducked out.

Kaits snorted and cracked open a chocolate bar. Wilson didn’t have any folks. So what?

Wasn’t like he could do anything about it.

Kaits had just settled onto his bed, last chocolate bar in hand, when Doc knocked on his door.

“What?” Kaits said, mouth full.

Doc sat. “I guess you heard what Wilson said earlier.”

Kaits swallowed and grunted.

“He’s an orphan. No family. Got passed around to a bunch of different homes before he was old enough to join the service. He’s never had a permanent home—or family.”

“He tell you that sob story?”

“No.” Doc stared at Kaits, hard. “Lieutenant Gilbert did. Anyway, some of us are collecting treats for him from our own Christmas packages. You care to contribute?”

“No.” Kaits gripped his chocolate bar tighter.

“All right. I just thought you might want to, it being Christmas. Season of goodwill toward men, and all.”

Kaits crossed his arms. “Never knew a doc could sound so much like a chaplain.”

“Never knew a man could be so selfish, Kaits,” Doc said quietly.

Kaits snorted. But after Doc left, he stuffed the chocolate bar under his mattress. Didn’t feel like eating it after all.

Kaits startled awake at the ship’s alarm and flashing red lights.

Enemy attack on Christmas Day.

Happy holidays.

He fell out of bed, shoving his arms and legs into his armored suit. His helmet wouldn’t fasten properly, but he didn’t have time to mess with it. With a final shove at the blasted thing, Kaits grabbed his blaster and ran into the hall with the rest of the squad.

Xothian soldiers hurtled toward them, their reptilian faces sinister in the crimson emergency lighting. Kaits looked down to check his blaster.

His helmet fell off.

A Xothian soldier pointed his own blaster right at Kaits’s head.

No time to think or shoot. He was a goner.

The Xothian fired.

“No!” shouted a voice.

Someone shoved Kaits. His head cracked against the corridor wall and he fell into darkness.

Kaits woke in the med bay. Everything was quiet, almost too quiet after the blare of the alarms. That likely meant the fighting was over for now.

He touched his head. The wound hurt, but he was awake. That was a relief. He’d been so sure he was about to die, and then—

“No!”

He knew that voice.

Wilson.

Was he—?

Kaits bolted upright and looked around. Wilson lay on the bed next to him. The left side of his face was bandaged, but he was breathing.

The kid had shoved Kaits out of harm’s way, and had gotten himself hurt instead. Why? Kaits had been lousy to Wilson right from their first meeting.

Guilt hounded Kaits. He had to make things right with Wilson. Had to.

“You’d love to see it, Doc,” Kaits muttered, and headed for his bunk.

When he got back to the med bay, Wilson was awake. Kaits went to his bedside and handed Wilson his last chocolate bar.

“Here,” he said. “It isn’t much, but it’s for you.”

The bandages couldn’t hide Wilson’s smile. “Thanks, Kaits.”

Kaits half-turned to leave, but stopped. He had to know.

“Why’d you do it, Wilson?”

Wilson looked down. His fingers played with the chocolate wrapper.

“The squad, you guys… You’re the only family I’ve ever had.”

“Well.” Kaits swallowed, feeling about two inches tall. “Uh. Thanks.” He turned to go.

“Hey, Kaits?” Wilson said.

“Yeah?”

Wilson held up the chocolate bar. “Want some?”

“Sure.” Kaits cleared his throat. “Sharing’s what families do, right?”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Eva-Joy Schönhaar has been writing since she was thirteen. While westerns are her happy place, she enjoys experimenting with and writing in a variety of genres. Eva-Joy lives with her family in snowy Alberta, Canada. When not writing, she loves to read all the books, watch old movies, and drink copious amounts of coffee.

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