Most of the characters in this story belong to Tribune Entertainment. Ares and Iolaus could belong to Renaissance Studios; but they are using aliases.

Warning: This story contains lutefisk -- lots and lots of lutefisk. If you are under 18, or your parents think that you should not be exposed to lutefisk, go away and ponder how lucky you really, really are.

Captain Dylan Hunt, dressed in his full High Guard Uniform with a snugly turtleneck underneath, sat at the head of a huge table. It was the first time he had tried to assemble the entire crew together for dinner; his success rate was approaching eighty percent. Trance Gemini came rushing into the room sidling her way to the table.

"I can't believe I am the last one here. I tried to be on time. I just couldn't figure out what to wear." Trance was in one of her overexcited states.

"So you decided to wear everything in the uniform storage locker, without regard to the clothes matching each other or your complexion." Tyr growled. He had been sitting patiently with his elbows on that table for at least ten minutes. The inordinate time women took to choose outfits normally didn't bother him; he liked women well dressed. It was just when they took a long time and chose so badly.

"I think you look nice." Harper commented. He was wearing his red cargo pants and a green turtleneck, because he had consulted a data bank that informed him red and green would be most appropriate colors to wear for the dinner. ‘Doesn't Tyr ever get cold just wearing the chain mail?’ he thought. ‘Why does Dylan always wear a turtleneck?’

"Me, too." Beka agreed. "And you're not the last one here anyway. Rommie is staying on the bridge as long as possible. She doesn't like to leave herself alone." Beka was wearing her black and silver cocktail dress -- the right side out this time. She had to be more careful to check when she got dressed quickly. She hoped Rommie was attending to ship matters and not trying to find some dress that would outclass hers in style and cleavage.

"I think we all look very festive." Dylan concluded.

‘Only Dylan would call Rev Bem's plain sackcloth tunic "festive"’ thought Beka, ‘but maybe anytime a Magog is wearing clothes it is festive.’

"I had thought about doing this last year at this time, but it seemed a little too soon. Now that we all know each other, having spent a year together, I would like to take this time to celebrate some of the cultural heritage my family brought to Tarn Vedra from Earth years and years ago.

"This time of the year, which on Earth would be the month of December, was a time of many, many different cultural and religious celebrations. At the risk of boring someone trying to explain them all, or offending someone by leaving one out, I have decided that the festival of Solstice, the celebration of the rebirth of the sun, shall be the one that we celebrate here on this ship. You, of course, are free to celebrate what ever . . . .

‘No risk, he's boring us already,’ Beka thought. "I find the sharing of festival celebrations very interesting."

‘How is he sure that this is December? Time is relative in space. He missed 300 years in the black hole. I've been on Earth more recently than he has, and I can assure him that no such festivals are celebrated in the muck of that planet.’ Harper considered as the Captain droned on.

‘Did the sun on Earth really die each year?’ Trance wondered.

‘Speaking of birth of a son, I wonder if Charlemagne's sister has had my baby yet?’ Tyr was trying hard to keep his mind diverted from the absent God of War.

"Boy, Rommie can't be taking this long deciding what to wear. Perhaps I should go up and give her a hand? I hope it is just a fashion emergency." Beka observed, but no one answered.

"Many of the recipes we are going to have here tonight have been handed down in my family for many, many generations, since the time of the Norsemen. We are going to start with Glögg. A traditional wine drink."

"I daily thank the divine that there are no Wayist festivals where we celebrate by eating the traditional foods of respective families." Rev Bem commented.

‘Knew I should have brought a few cans of Sparky,’ Harper thought. ‘Who knows how frisky my Magog babies will get when I drink this Glögg stuff. But then maybe I will be so drunk I won't care.’

"Thank you for sharing traditions of my namesake, Captain Hunt." Tyr stated. 'I wonder of Thor, Oden, Loki and Tyr sat around and drank this stuff. I wonder if they got really, really horny?' Tyr pictured his namesake drinking the purple brew and making eyes at his brothers.

"Of course, although I have good wine, the rest of the herbs and spices have had to be simulated by nanobots, but I can assure you that Trance did a great job on this Glögg. I can barely detect a difference." Dylan added.

'I wish I had thought of that. Trance could have done the synthesization for the lubricating crème. What is taking that damn Alchemist that Ares found so fucking long? Cool it Tyr. Cool it.'

'I hope this gets me good and drunk. Maybe Dylan will get drunk and I can try to jump . .' Beka thought.

"I’ll gladly try a mug full, Captain."

"I had hoped for Rommie to get here before we begin, but she seems to be delayed. I don't want you to starve so I think we will drink up and go on with the meal. Of course, we are going to have some traditional foods from my heritage. Pickled eggs. Cured salmon. Sardines."

'If I eat too much this dress will split. It is so damn tight.'

'If I don't eat something, they are going to think that I've been snacking again. Have to eat something regardless of how disgusting it sounds.' Rev Bem thought as he eyed the fish with eyes on the plate in front of him. He picked one up with his hand and popped it head first into his mouth. It had to be better than the pickled egg.

'I really liked the cured salmon Ares made for me. Of course he served his with little pancakes, sour cream and caviar that goes pop against the roof of your mouth. Lots of vodka, too. Of course , I also got laid afterwards. Come on Tyr. Think about your new baby. Sweet innocent baby.'

One of the androids kept bringing in baskets of food.

"A lot of what we used to eat: saffron buns, baked brown beans, lingonberries are totally unavailable. But again, we have made a few substitutions. And crew, I have to thank Trance again for this, but tonight we are going to share one of the most important items of a Scandinavian winter solstice festival. We are going to have lutefisk!"

"Holy freaking, lutefisk!" Harper exclaimed.

"You know lutefisk?" Dylan asked with a puzzled smile on his face.

"It was a profanity. People used to paint it on the sides of abandoned buildings on earth. I didn't know it was something you ate. I thought it was the name of . . ." Harper continued.

"No, Seamus, it is a delicacy, my people ate it every year at their Christmas. As far as I can tell, we may be the first people to eat it in over 300 years. Come on you've got to try it, it's solstice."

'If it is such a delicacy, why did they only eat it once a year?' Beka thought.

'If it is such a delicacy, why hasn't Ares cooked it for me?'

‘If it is such a delicacy, why is he sharing it with us?’ Harper thought.

"What in the name of the divine is this!" Rev Bem exclaimed as he saw the mass of translucent quivering matter on the plate before him. 'Fish that wink are bad enough! It really smells bad; it made the Magog seem fresh and clean.'

"You can relax. This isn't really lutefisk. Cod fish is unavailable in this quadrant of the universe, so Trance has substituted the fruit of the horhaikihowchinkliv -- ah you get the idea -- plant. We have employed the traditional methods of processing lutefisk, so the difference should be slight."

'Remind me to remind Ares not to go to any alchemist Dylan recommends, those slight differences could kill him. You, Tyr, are developing the most one-track mind. . .' "I’m sure it will be, Captain Hunt, I’m sure it will be."

"Which is, Captain Hunt?" Harper asked.

'I so do not REALLY want to know,' Beka thought. "Maybe I'll just have another mug of Glögg." ‘Mug of Glögg that sounds funny. Mug of Glögg, mug of Glögg!’ She giggled.

"First you soak it in lye for two weeks, then you dry it, then you reconstitute it by soaking in water, changing the water every six hours for two days, and finally you cook it. It is best when eaten with boiled potatoes and milk gravy. ."

"But of course we have no milk gravy so Trance. . ." Beka couldn't help herself. After a while she got tired of listening to Dylan. After a while she hoped she would just get drunk and not care what he said.

"Yes, you are correct, Captain Valentine, but I trust you will find it enjoyable."

‘And if we don't eat it we can use it in place of one of those slimy things you threw on the wall and watched crawl down that I used to get to play with back when I was a child.’ Harper thought. ‘But no, those WERE some kind of larva. Come to think of it, it does look a lot like Magog . . I think I am going to throw up .. where is my inhaler?’

‘It's not polite to refuse food in light of the starving children in the universe,’ Rev Bem contemplated, ‘ but then perhaps this could be re-dried and sent to those starving children.’

‘I wonder what its effect on Nietzschean sperm would be?’

Harper took a piece of lutefisk in his hand and compacted it into a small ball. He dropped it quietly on the floor. It bounced above the table level, as if creating its own energy. ‘Holy freaking lutefisk. Maybe I can use it to make bombs.’

Dylan, fortunately for Harper, was quietly eating his plate of lutefisk, although he had to pick up his plate, to tilt it toward him and fork the concoction quickly into his mouth. It didn't really want to stay on the fork. It appeared to those at the table that Dylan actually liked lutefisk.

‘I wonder what utensil Charlemagne Bolivar would use to eat his, with his impeccable Jaguar Pride table manners.’ Tyr thought. ‘Must be getting drunk, I actually had a thought that didn't involve sex with Ares.’

‘Thank goodness for cargo pants.’ Harper thought as he filled an outside pocket with the gelatinous glop.

"Harper, you have such nice legs, has anyone ever told you that." Beka whispered as she ran her hand along his thigh and unbuttoned a pocket in his cargo pants, and filled it with lutefisk. At least her intentions were clear.

"This is really good Dylan, I could eat another plate."

"TRANCE!" The four voices said at once.

"I was thinking the same thing myself." Dylan replied with an engaged smile.

Rommie's image appeared on the projection screen. "I am sorry, I haven't been able to leave the bridge. There seems to be some sort of message onslot. Captain Hunt and Tyr, you are certainly popular people. Shall I start with you, Captain?

"I have a message from Evan Hopewell. He sends his best at Solstice and wishes to inform Beka, Trance and me that a case of hand crafted soap will be arriving from Apothecary Botanika on the next cargo run and that we should save some for hot tub next time he visits."

‘That store name sounds familiar.’ Tyr thought. ‘Wasn’t that where Ares said he was going?’

‘I thought that store was on Tarn Vedra? Think my mother might have shopped there.’ Dylan questioned.

"Ah, soap!" Trance giggled. ‘Bubbles. Fun with Evan.’

"Mug of Glögg." Beka continued.

"He also plans to be making another visit to the ship in the near future." Rommie tried hard to hide her pleasure at the thought of another visit from the blond librarian.

Harper and Rev Bem watched in amazement as smiles grew on Beka, Trance, Rommie AND Dylan's faces. Tyr wondered especially about Dylan's statement. ‘Did the Captain have even more that he was hiding from his crewmembers? Good for him!’

"The next message is for Tyr, from Charlemagne Bolivar, it’s a boy. Named Ares Bolivar. Said his sister loved the idea of naming the baby after the Greek God of War."

"Interesting name!" Dylan smirked. ‘Wonder what they will name his brothers?’

Tyr smirked back. You had the right to smirk when a son was born. Not many Nietzschean babies were named after their father's lovers, but then . . . Life was getting so very complicated.

"And again for you Dylan. Six new Michael Jordan basketballs have been discovered by the androids in a back cargo hold. They will be delivered to your quarters immediately."

‘Well, looks like another night of one-on-one with Dylan. I can think of another one-on-one. . . Tyr will you just have another drink and try to relax.’

‘You know,’ thought Harper, ‘Beka never took her hand off my thigh after she put the lutefisk in my pants' pocket. I wonder. Maybe she did have some other intentions when she grabbed me. She did give me a little squeeze when Rommie was talking about that librarian guy. H-mmmm.’

"This one is for you too, Tyr, and it is marked ‘Personal.’ I didn't decode it."

She forwarded it to his personal message receiver. It didn't have to be decoded. It was written in an ancient Nietzschean dialect that he didn't realize anyone else knew. It was long and complicated. Each item he read made a smile grow larger on his face.

"This is good news for all of us. I can't keep this to myself. This is a message from an associate of mine, Harry Wagner. Dylan knows him. Well Mr. Wagner has been doing a little galaxy hopping and is sending us a few solstice gifts."

‘I didn't know my brother cared about solstice. Wow, what has Tyr done to him?’ Dylan thought.

"Seems as if he, too, is sending soap from Apothecary Botanika for Beka, Trance and Rommie."

‘That must be the hottest shopping place in the known world this season, so why haven't I heard of it?’ Beka thought.

"Oh boy, more soap." Trance laughed.

‘I still think that store is in Tarn Vedra, what is Ares doing there?’ Dylan thought.

"For you Rev Bem, he is sending fragrance called ‘Three Kings’ which he claims has divine connections, For you Harper -- I really can't believe this -- he says that a topical cream has been developed which has been 99% successful in killing Magog larva with little or no resulting skin damage. Seems that it is made from a chemical extracted from lutefisk."

"Hot freaking dog!" Harper exclaimed. ‘I’ll never take the name of lutefisk in vain again.’

"And for you Dylan, he said he really tried to get the real thing, but it is all in use manufacturing anti-Magog ointment. So the alchemist has synthesized an ersatz lutefisk from soy protein and five kilos are on their way to you. Says you might want to share it with your little librarian friend."

‘The bastard is on Tarn Vedra, and how does he know about Iolaus? When did he start using words like 'ersatz'? Am I just being petulant?’

Beka, Trance and Rev Bem continued to give each other somewhat puzzled looks, but the thought of fragrant soap seemed to override the smell of the uneaten lutefist. Harper had real reason to smile.

"Well, what is he sending you, Tyr?" Dylan again was using his smile/smirk combination.

"Happy Holiday wishes, and some special skin crème."

"I trust the Benedictine monks have been properly thanked," Rev Bem muttered.

"And a big bottle of Benedictine." The crew looked up to see the man Tyr eventually introduced as Harry Wagner bound into the room. He was wearing this silly red hat trimmed in white fur with a white ball on the end, but Beka still thought he was the hottest thing she had seen in weeks. Dylan hid his face in his hands and turned red. Trance thought he looked vaguely familiar. Harper was just thinking about dead larva. Rev Bem uttered another prayer of thanks, this time to the tanners of black leather.

"Didn't think I would make it here on time. Got any lutefisk left bro -- I mean Dylan? I bet it goes really well with Benedictine." Tyr had never seen such an evil grin. Harry pulled up a chair to the table between

Trance and Beka, studying them both carefully as he sat down. "Hello, ladies."

‘The bastard,’ thought Tyr. ‘Oh well, he'll get his tonight. Sure hope Dylan doesn’t suggest we play basketball.’

Beka removed her hand quickly from Harper's leg and reached for Harry's.

"I have one more message. I think I was right to save this one until last." Rommie interrupted what could only be classified as a sneer/leer festival. "Earlier today, Dylan said that the festival of solstice celebrated the rebirth of the sun. Tyr has a new son in his universe. Well we have a new sun in our universe. A small white hole in the Klenstravial galaxy has turned itself inside out and is now a yellow dwarf about the size of the star associated with the planet earth. Unto us a SUN is born!"

"Peace in the universe." Dylan intoned.

"At least for tonight." Rev Bem added.

December, 2001

McJude
 

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