“If we were still using the Vedran Calendar it would be the season for us to celebrate . . . “ Dylan began, ignoring the collective chorus of groans from his crewmembers. Dylan's seasonal celebrations usually involved food for which you had to "develop a taste" and a collection of stupid party games. Even Harper, who had grown up on Earth, could not believe the traditions that Dylan's mother had passed on to him. “. . . Halloween.”

"And what exactly does having a Halloween party entail?" Tyr asked rather skeptically.

"You know food and drink, spooky decorations, a few games." Dylan answered

“I think I hate Halloween,” Beka commented turning her attention to piloting the Andromeda.

"Spooky decorations?" Trance inquired.

"You know, bats, cobwebs, spiders."

"You're going to transform the Andromeda into a freakin' cave!" Harper commented.

"And exactly . . what games?" Trance usually went along with Dylan's suggestions. She usually felt there was much to learn from his ancient traditions.

"Silly ones, Trance, like putting apples in a basin and having to retrieve them without using your hands."

"How do you do that?" Tyr asked.

"You bite them with your mouth." Dylan smiled.

"But that would require putting your head . . . ." Trance commented.

"Exactly, Trance."

"And what subculture of kluges found that a pleasurable activity?" Tyr said.

"This Halloween party, doesn't include “lootfish”, does it, Dylan?" Harper asked remembering the pseudo-fish they were forced to eat last Solstice.

"No lutefisk, just hot cider, candy corn, pumpkin pie, good stuff."

"Well, perhaps it is worth a try." Tyr decided. Beka couldn't help but think that the old Tyr would not have consented to Dylan’s inane suggestions so easily.

"Oh, and one more thing. . ."

"What's that, Captain Hunt?" Beka asked knowing, of course, that the other shoe was about to fall.

"You have to wear costumes."

* * * * * *

Beka was certain she hated Halloween parties but she couldn’t remember why. She had repressed all those times when she had worked on a costume for days only to find that it paled in comparison to those of the others at the party. She had a creative flare when it came to her own clothes; but, when it came to costumes, she had no imagination. She had to find something. She kept moving the clothes in her closet and trying to imagine what she could do to make them into something that resembled a costume. She thought back to her childhood and remembered what her father used to do. He had less fashion imagination that she did.

Tyr had no idea what to do for a costume either. He finally just put on an old jumpsuit he found in one of the lockers in the old crew quarters. It wasn't much. But then, he didn't need much of a costume. Nothing he wore was going to change his appearance that much.

Harper had a great idea. He hit the kitchen, Trance's room, Beka's hair supplies, and the evac closet without anyone noticing. He was going to have a great costume.

Trance went to the garden and picked up a few leaves that had fallen off the plants. This wasn't going to be too hard. She noticed Harper walking through the garden and the look he gave her when he saw her with the leaves. She wondered what he was thinking.

Dylan found his trunk and was glad to see that his favorite costume was still in it. It HAD survived after 300 years.

Rommie had an idea, too. She had to do a little research and get the things together.

* * * *

Dylan looked around the cafeteria and decided that most of the things he had done had worked out well. The decorations were quite nice, even though the spider webs had a distinct blue tint to them. The food was pretty authentic, too. The pumpkin pies came out just as he remembered them, right down to the crack in the center. Hot apple juice with spice made an acceptable cider, after you added a bottle or two of brandy. A few glasses of that would get people into the holiday mood. The only thing that the auto-chef had messed up on was the candy corn. Some how it must have read the instructions as candied corn, because it had produced a casserole of whole kernel corn topped with brown sugar and miniature marshmallows -- even Dylan thought that was disgusting and threw it down the waste pipe.

He looked in the mirror and smiled. Maybe he needed a little more lipstick? Nah, it was fine.

"Well, hello little girl." Tyr grinned.

"You like my costume. I always dress up as a little Dutch girl for Halloween."

The Nietzschean stared at his captain now wearing long yellow yard braids, a white hat, blue pinafore, several petticoats and an apron. It looked totally ridiculous on a man of Hunt's stature. He could tell, however, that the captain thought he looked well costumed. Maybe it was a form of Vedran drag.

"I like the wooden shoes, Dylan." He commented. “Just be careful around those dikes.”

Harper strolled into the cafeteria with his hair gelled back slick, carrots fastened to his wrists, bare-chested and wearing a pair of Trance's purple silk pajama bottoms slung low on his hips.

"You look HOT, boy." Tyr commented raising his eyebrow.

"What is that costume?" Dylan asked.

"I'm Freaking Charlemagne Bolivar."

"Nice job." Tyr commented patting Harper on the rump softly, not showing his internal smile.

Trance came in and spun around showing her dress on which she had pinned fallen leaves in a multitude of colors.

"I'm a leaf pile."

"Or, a compost heap?" Tyr commented

"No, I read in this book in the library about how in the autumn on earth, the leaves would change color and people used to rake them up. Children would play in them."

"I believe they would also burn them." Tyr muttered.

"Darn," Harper commented, "when I saw you with the leaves I thought maybe you would come as Eve."

Even Dutch-Dylan smiled at that one.

* * * *

If it had been a larger party, Beka might have been able to sneak in and blend into the crowd. If it had been a larger party, she probably wouldn’t have even have had to come. It was a tiny, crew party and she was still embarrassed by her costume. It wasn't a very good costume idea to begin with and she certainly hadn’t added much to it. At least her white cotton High Guard sheet was clean even if it was a little yellowed from age. She was supposed to be a ghost, not a fashion statement.

She took one walk nervously around the perimeter of the room, removed the sheet and folded it over a chair. A ghost couldn’t bob for apples anyway. A strange, ugly, tall woman had poured her a large mug of hot cider. It tasted as if it were mostly brandy. Charlemagne Bolivar and Tyr in a vintage jumpsuit were chasing this pile of leaves with a large rake. There was no sign of the ship’s avatar.

* * *

"Well as usual, Rommie is the last one here,” the woman commented with Dylan’s voice. The captain planned to take off the costume as soon as everyone got there. It was hard to maintain status so dressed, even though he enjoyed the costume a great deal.

"Holy, Freakin'. . . . ." Harper couldn’t' believe what he saw. There was the usually prim ship's avatar wearing a little short fur jacket, satin hot pants, black fishnet stockings and high-heeled boots. She looked like a very, very, very hot streetwalker.

"Nice costume," Dylan and Tyr said together. Their eyes were permanently glued on the A/I.

“Shit. . . “ Beka exhaled. Now she freaking remembered why she hated Halloween. It wasn’t the ghosts. It wasn’t the spiders. It wasn’t sticking your head in the water where everyone had been opening their mouths trying to bite the apple. It wasn’t the hot cider that gave you the trots the next day. No, it was because in every crowd, at every party, there was always some woman who dressed up as a whore and became the center of attention; and that was, especially if you were dressed as a boring ghost, the end of the party.

McJude
October 6, 2003