It's a Christmas Fic. It's Just Not a YULETIDE Fic.
Watchingspuffyduds (andlikeadeuce andqe2 and seemingly every LJ user I know) suffering through the stress of writing fics for Yuletide inspired me. Mainly it inspired me to avoid writing for Yuletide ever, but the plot bunny that pounced on me during my viewing of my early Christmas present (the Cinematic Titanic treatment of Santa Claus Conquers the Martians) would not be denied.
Title: "Santa Claus Conquers the Marvans"
Fandom: Santa Claus Conquers the Martians, The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra, various Xmas traditions
Rating: G
If there COULD be canon for these fandoms, which I doubt, this story would violate it flagrantly.
Word Count: 5600
Santa Claus Conquers the Marvans, Part I: The Beginning
“Gosh, Betty,” said scientist Dr. Paul Armstrong, stepping out of his in-home lab and gesturing at the mistletoe hanging from the doorframe. “It sure is beginning to look a lot like Christmas!”
“That’s the kind of observation that makes you a great scientist, Doctor Paul Armstrong,” said his wife Betty, coming into his arms with wifely grace.
“Whoa, there, Betty, don’t talk like that! I might get a swelled head with all this talk about ‘great’ scientists.” His clear blue eyes and piercing silver hair twinkled as he smiled at her.
“Well, no one deserves a swelled head more than you, Paul,” she replied, pressing her strawberry-blonde head against his crisp white shirt. “After all, you were the scientist who discovered that atmospherium meteorite that led to so many developments in the field of science.”
“I may be the one who discovered that meteorite, as you know, but it took the shared contributions of many others to unlock the secrets of atmospherium,” said Paul modestly. “Why, without the help of our friends from the alien planet Marva, Kro-Bar and Lattis, we would never have even gotten that meteorite away from the Lost Skeleton!”
“Oh, don’t mention that horrible skeleton!” pouted Betty. “It’s Christmas, Paul. Surely we should be thinking about things that aren’t skeletons at this time of year!”
“There’s a lot in what you say, Betty,” said Paul in his usual measured tones. “Christmas is a time for thinking about things like family, and friends… and mistletoe.” He glanced upward meaningfully.
“Well, Doctor Paul Armstrong, if you keep thinking about things like mistletoe instead of science, that head of yours ought to stop swelling in no time.”
“You’re prescribing mistletoe? Hey, I thought I was the doctor!” They laughed together, and kissed beneath the mistletoe happily.
A few moments later, Paul interrupted the kissing by saying aloud what he was thinking. “Are you thinking of something, Betty?” he said aloud.
“Hmm,” thought Betty wistfully, biting her ruby lip in thought. “Do you think Kro-Bar and Lattis are having a Merry Christmas on their planet, Marva?”
“It’s true that Kro-Bar and Lattis have been as wonderful a pair of friends as any scientist and his wife could want, Betty, and they certainly deserve the merriest of Christmases.”
“But do they even have Christmas on Marva?”
“I don’t know, Betty,” said Paul, wrinkling his brow. “But I’m sure that we’ve given them enough information about our ways here on planet Earth that they could easily have a Merry Christmas if they want to.”
“Oh, well. You’re probably right, Paul,” said Betty, melting back into his arms happily. “You always know what to say. I guess that’s why you’re such a great scientist.”
“Well, there goes my head again!”
“At least now we know how to cure it,” Betty smiled, and they once more pressed their lips together beneath the mistletoe that hung above them.
***
“Kro-Bar, my husband!”
“What is it that you wish, Lattis my wife, as I am standing right here on Marva, as we call our planet, and am prepared to offer it to you?”
“It is not that I wish anything, my Kro-Bar, but rather that I am seeking to alert you to a development that fills me with concern.”
“It is well that you have alerted me. Concern is not something we wish to have on Marva, our planet, and it is therefore necessary for us to alert one another, to share, if you will, the fact of our concern, before that concern reaches a depth that we, here on Marva, would find unsuitable.”
“And I shall do so, Kro-Bar. The concern, which I have not yet described to you, is a concern about our offspring.”
“Our offspring? Surely our offspring, or children, as we call them, are beyond any concern! They have been raised with all the benefits of our planet Marva’s greatest cultural and scientific programs for the raising of offspring, which are surely the most beneficial programs in existence for the raising of Marva’s offspring.”
“This is so, my Kro-Bar.”
“And have we not augmented the beneficial programs of Marva with further programs developed from the finest cultural and scientific minds of that distant planet Earth, as the natives call it, which we visited some time ago?”
“This is also so. And the information provided by our Earth friends, Paul and Betty Armstrong, has offered many new wonders to our children here on Marva, our planet. Yet still, I find myself concerned by the manner in which our offspring, our children, have behaved of late.”
“How strange, my wife. How deep is this concern?”
“In truth, I know not how to measure its depth. All I know is that our offspring have become unaccountably listless and incapable of productive work on their educational studies.”
“But surely their educational studies are the most critical studies of all! Without them, they will not be educated!”
“This is my concern also, my husband.”
“To what do you attribute this listlessness, as you call it?”
“The answer came to me as I observed one of the many cultural offerings provided to us by our Earth friends Paul and Betty Armstrong.”
“But what is this answer, my queen? Again, you seem willing to alert me to portions of the relevant information, yet you persist in keeping other portions unspoken, requiring me to ask after them before those portions are offered to me. Can there not be information that is complete, so that I need not ask for it? Must I guess which of the many cultural offerings it was that provided you this answer? Was it the block of inscripted folded leaves titled Peyton Place? The magnetic recorded tape containing tales of that intermittently talkative quadruped? The coiled length of perforated film known on Earth as The Creeping Terror?”
“I will tell you momentarily, my husband, as I am merely trying to share with you a deeper understanding of this development. From what I have been able to learn from the cultural offerings, this listlessness, which our offspring seem to be suffering from, was also shared by other children.”
“Do you mean to say, my wife, that the children of Earth have suffered from a similar listlessness?”
“Not the children of Earth, but the children on another, different, planet.”
“I like not this confusion, my Lattis. Is not Earth another, different planet?”
“It is true that Earth is another, different planet from our own planet, Marva, but I speak not of Earth nor or Marva, but of a third planet, different from the two, both Earth and Marva: the planet Mars.”
“Ah, I see. The planet Mars is indeed another planet, different from both Earth and yet also different from Marva. The confusion is much lessened. In fact, I now presume from what you tell me that the listlessness, which you observed among the offspring of this different planet, Mars, in this cultural offering, was of the same sort which filled you with concern when you observed it in our own offspring.”
“You understand well, my Kro-Bar.”
“Then it falls to me, Kro-Bar of Marva, to relieve your concern. Come, my wife. I shall observe this cultural offering with you, that I too may understand your concern, as well as the means for its relief.”
***
Officer Brad wasn’t expecting to find lights on in the University Science Building after midnight-honestly, that was the last thing he was expecting, but there they were, and here it was so close to Christmas. Still, a University Policeman had to take care to police the buildings-it was right there in the name: policeman. Oh, he could have become a forest ranger like his cousin, Ranger Brad, or a radial tire salesman like his uncle, Tire Salesman Brad, but he’d always felt his place was in police work, and sure enough, here was something that needed policing. Setting his jaw, he drew a deep breath, opened the door, and called out.
“Hello in there,” he called out.
There was a fellow hunched over one of the scientific devices that the scientists in the building seemed to leave lying around all over the building, as if science might happen most anywhere. He was a big fellow, with a beard, and he seemed a bit nervous at first, but once he saw that it was Officer Brad behind him, rather than-well, rather than someone other than Officer Brad, anyway-he broke into a wide smile.
“Good evening, officer,” said the fellow. “I suppose you don’t recognize me, as I’m a visiting scholar from out of state. My name is Victor McCloud. Doctor Victor McCloud.” He extended a big bearlike hand, which Officer Brad shook firmly.
“Well, it’s good to see the university’s sharing its science equipment with visiting scholars even at this hour, Dr. McCloud,” said Officer Brad sincerely. “I guess at this time of the year, it’s even more important to remember the spirit of giving. I’m Officer Brad, by the way. Most folks here call me Officer Brad.”
“I’ll do that, Officer Brad. And you’re right about the time of year. If there’s one thing even we scientists need to remember, it’s the importance of giving. In fact, that’s why I’m here. I’m trying to make sure some old acquaintances of mine get exactly what they deserve this Christmas.”
“Well, that’s downright neighborly of you, Dr. McCloud,” said Officer Brad, just as a light began to light up on the screen of the scientific device. “Say, doc-if you don’t mind me calling you doc, because I hate to give offense, in fact, it’s the last thing I’d want to give-but I just noticed that device you’re working with is all lit up.”
“What?!” cried the burly scientist, whirling to look at the screen. “Ha ha ha!” he laughed. “It’s coming in so straight… almost as if it weren’t falling so much as… flying! And heading straight for the North Pole!” He furiously turned several dials and scrawled down some numbers on a pad of paper, but then suddenly he seemed to remember something. A broad smile creased his hairy face once more, and he turned to Officer Brad with a smile. “Do you see that indicator, Officer Brad? That’s what I’ve been looking for all night long!”
“Well, it’s a lucky thing I was here to see it, then,” said Officer Brad.
“I’m afraid it wasn’t so lucky, Officer Brad,” said Dr. McCloud. “You see, that light is tracking a chunk of the galaxy’s most precious element, a mineral known to science as atmospherium.”
“Gosh, Dr. McCloud, that sounds lucky to me!” said Officer Brad, chuckling.
“No, I’m afraid not, my non-scientific friend. You see, Officer Brad, atmospherium is a rather painful subject for me. A few years ago I came across a meteorite composed of almost pure atmospherium, but I was cheated out of my discovery-cheated by a bumbling test-tube jockey who didn’t have the slightest idea what he’d found!”
“A meteorite? Of atmospherium? Why, that sounds like the same story I’ve heard about one of the fellows here! Maybe you’ve heard of him-Doctor Paul Armstrong? Most folks here say he’s our university’s greatest scientist.”
“I should have been this university’s greatest scientist! And once I have that atmospherium, I will be! Ha ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha ha!”
“Well, I won’t trouble you any further,” said Officer Brad, tipping his hat to the laughing scientist. “I hope you find your meteorite, and have a Merry Christmas!”
“Oh, I shall,” said Dr. McCloud. “But no one can be allowed to know where I’m headed, so your own Christmas will be blue. Black and blue!” And suddenly he had a piece of science equipment in his hand and was swinging it toward the side of Officer Brad’s head.
The last thing Officer Brad saw was a single star, flaring brightly before his eyes, before they went dark forever.
“They thought I was dead,” said Dr. McCloud. “How ironic! For it is they who will die, they who have already begun dying!” He threw back his head and laughed. “Ha ha ha ha ha! Yes, ironic, for they thought I had seen my death at the hands of that confounded Lost Skeleton! But once I have traveled to the North Pole and obtained the atmospherium which should have been mine all along, it is I, Doctor Roger Fleming, who will decide who lives and who dies! Ha ha ha ha ha!”
***
“Lattis, my wife!”
“I am here, Kro-Bar, directly outside our ship, which has landed.”
“It is well that you are outside it, and that I am outside it with you, for only by leaving it can we accomplish our mission here at the North Pole, as the people of Earth call it.”
“You are correct, my husband. Now that we are outside, I will use our transformer ray to alter our clothing into a more Earthlike form so as to make us seem more like Earthlings and less like Marvans.”
“You are clever, my queen. Ah, yes, this seems more like the clothing of the larval male from the cultural offering, though this head covering interferes somewhat with my auditory sense. Here, let me turn the ray on you.”
“Thank you, Kro-Bar. This inverted cloth funnel appears to be an exact duplicate of that worn by the one called ‘Betty Foster’ in the cultural offering, but I am puzzled by its brevity.”
“Yes, it is a shorter funnel than those you have worn before. I have an unimpeded view of your nether extremities.”
“And they feel not the softness I have been accustomed to on those occasions when I have worn other cloth funnels. Indeed, they feel a harsh stinging sensation that grows more intense when air masses move against them.”
“How interesting. On our planet, Marva, air masses do not move against us unless we wish it.”
“Kro-Bar, I must confess to feeling an unaccountable desire to return to the interior of our ship.”
“But this desire which you feel makes no sense! How can we accomplish our mission, which requires us to be outside the ship, if you are inside it? Even an uneducated child could see that!”
“I fear our children may never be educated enough to see how correct you are, for unless our mission is accomplished, they will be t-too uneducated to see how our mission c-c-cannot be accomplished. Yet still, I feel that unac-c-c-c-countab-b-b-ble d-d-d-“
“Lattis, my queen, your speech grows difficult to comprehend. Have you partaken of the Earth drinks again? That might explain your desire to return to the ship’s interior, despite the obvious necessity of remaining outside it.”
“I have h-had no Earth d-d-d-drink of late, m-m-m-my Kro-Bar. The d-d-difficulty you p-perceive m-m-my speaking mmm-m-must have some other c-c-c-cause.”
“It is most annoying. And it appears that your knees are shaking in a manner not dissimilar.”
“Th-th-that p-p-puzzles me, K-K-K-Kro-Bar.”
“And me also. It will be difficult to accomplish our mission if you are vibrating inexplicably. Stop it at once!”
“C-c-c-could it be related to the cloth ffffunnel and its b-b-b-brevity?”
“Ah… you make a very good point, my Lattis. Perhaps we have chosen the wrong clothing for this mission-after all, in the cultural offering, those who took on the same mission did not wear the same clothing as the larval humans. Give me the ray. I shall transform your brief cloth funnel into something that is not the same-something different!”
“D-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-di-di-diffffffferent f-f-f-f-f-from-m-m w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-what, m-m-m-m-my h-h-h-husb-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-“
“There! Now, my wife, you wear neither the garb of a Marvan spacefarer nor that of the larval female, Betty Foster-now you wear the greener, more restrictive clothing of a Martian!”
“Oh…. Th-th-that’s m-much better. Why, I almost doubt the v-v-validity of the c-cultural offering. When Betty Foster came to this North Pole, as they call it, she did not suffer from the same difficulty in speaking or moving that I did.”
“Perhaps, my queen, being more robust and primitive than we of Marva, the inhabitants of this planet are less susceptible to the unexpected motion of air masses.”
“Perhaps. Oh, well. Now that I have used the transformer ray on your clothing to make you appear as a Martian as well, I will set the ray gun down here outside our ship so that it will not give us away as Marvans.”
“You are wise, Lattis. Yes, I feel we are fully prepared for the mission now. Let us seek out our target: the one the humans call Santa Claus!”
***
“I was right!” said Dr. Roger Fleming, bringing his stolen plane in for a landing just a few hundred yards from the North Pole. “That was no meteorite! The atmospherium detector was picking up the fuel contained in a Marvan spaceship, and what luck! There it is, completely undefended!”
Hardly able to believe his good luck, Fleming pulled the plane behind a nearby snowdrift and vaulted from the pilot’s seat. There was no sign of the ship’s inhabitants in the snowy landscape.
“Where could they have gone?” Fleming asked himself, looking at the frozen landscape. “There’s nothing here at the North Pole but the frozen landscape.” But just outside the ship, lying in a snowdrift, was a familiar-looking device.
“What luck!” cried Fleming, scarcely able to believe his good luck. “It’s one of the Marvans’ transformer rays! After my earlier encounter with those aliens, I know all too well how to use one-and use it I shall!”
Seizing the ray gun from the snow, Fleming cradled it under his arm and stared intently at the hatch of the starship.
“Hatch… hatch… I’ve got to think of a way inside… Wait! What’s that?” cried Fleming, spying something beyond the ship. “Why, it’s some kind of structure, lit up from the inside, here atop the ice on the Arctic Sea. But that’s impossible!”
Creeping alertly through the frozen landscape, Fleming watched as the lights grew brighter and brighter. “The Marvans are scientists, like me,” he said to himself. “They must have gone to investigate this structure, just as I have. But even if they are inside it, what could it possibly be?”
And suddenly he was laughing.
***
Continued in Part II!