“Daddy wake up,” Silfa pleaded, tugging Samuel’s beard.

Grumbling, Samuel rolled away from Scarletra’s warm embrace and looked at Silfa, his dry eyes struggling to focus. Their little girl was wearing her Christmas sweater and clutched Glackie, her favorite doll, in her arms. Cutely enough, the doll had a Christmas dress on as well.

“What's up, little cub?” Samuel asked, not having been awake during any explanations Silfa might have given before using his beard as a start string.

“Santa came. Can we open the gifts?” Silfa asked, looking toward the door where Sarah stood wrapped in a blanket, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She was likely also dragged out of bed by Silfa; their youngest was usually awake first.

Samuel glanced out the window, sunlight pouring in past the wooden shudders. He and Scarletra must have been up later than he initially assumed, but hey, that happens when your buxom bombshell of a wife wants to go at it in the hot tub, the kitchen floor, the davenport, and the bedroom all in a row.

“Yeah, we can. Just give Mommy and me a minute to get dressed and get some coffee, OK?” Samuel replied, sitting up and patting her head.

“Ok, Daddy,” Silfa giggled before running over to her sister, excited about the news.

Ah, that brought back some memories for Samuel. His Human kids were just like that when they were little, and so was he. With how addicted to Christmas the house was, it was not a shock they had woken him up.

Once the two little ones were out of the room, Samuel brushed the hair out of Scarletra’s face and gently caressed her fluffy ears. “Did you catch that?”

Scaletra grumbled and groaned, clearly wanting more sleep, but she did nod and acknowledge the girls and that they wanted to open their gifts already.

“Come on Scar, they are being good and waiting for us,” Samuel said as he stood.

Every muscle in his body screamed at him when his feet hit the floor. Giving himself a once over, the true extent of last night was clear; bruises, cuts, bitemarks, and hickies were all over. But that had nothing on his upper thighs, deep purple from Scarletra’s impassioned rides.

Stumbling over to the cabinet, Samuel yelped and groaned with each step. While the girls coming and going did not wake up Scarletra fully, his sounds of pain did.

“Are you going to be able to make it downstairs? Or do I need to carry you?” Scarletra yawned, tossing the blanket

“No thanks, I will make it,” Samuel assured, hiking up his trousers.

“Alright then,” Scarletra replied, sauntering over to the bathroom.

Scarletra and Samuel gradually got ready for the day, feeling the fatigue and soreness from their nighttime escapades. They were both getting older and could not keep at it like years ago; Scarletra was nearly thirty while Samuel was almost sixty–but they tried to still have that passion from when they first moved here.

Both were so exhausted that they needed coffee before even considering opening the gifts. Silfa did not appreciate the delay until Samuel made everyone pancakes—all was forgiven instantly once Silfa’s plate overflowed with syrupy goodness.

After a pleasant breakfast, they all settled in the living room, and Samuel lit the fire to make the scene picturesque. With his two girls digging through the mountain of gifts, the fireplace roaring, and the immaculate tree, Samuel could imagine this being on a Christmas card.

“Here you go, Mommy,” Silfa purred and handed Scarletra her stocking while Sarah gave Samuel his.

“Thank you, sweetie,” Scarletra replied.

Samuel and Scarletra poured out the contents of the stockings, already knowing what to expect. They filled them, after all. Chocolate coffee beans, candy canes, gingerbread bites, and other little snacks landed on their laps—perfect treats to go with their morning coffee.

Silfa and Sarah looked at the contents of their parent's stocking with wide eyes and watering mouths. Not wanting to be left out, they quickly sumped theirs on the floor before them and found similar items. But unlike the adult stockings, theirs had far more significant amounts of candy—and some small toys: cards, little plushies, bouncy balls, and a gift card or two.

Some people might think Samuel and Scarletra were going overboard, but in their minds, it was Christmas, and the kids could be as spoiled as they wanted today.

Watching the girls scoop up the chocolates and devour them was perfect for Samuel and Scarletra, and was a great start to the lazy Christmas morning. They had nowhere to be and nothing else that would take their attention today— and neither felt up too much other than watching their little ones enjoy the holiday.

“Go ahead and grab your gifts,” Scarletra said, gesturing to the mountain of gifts under the tree, pulling the girl's attention from the sugary treats.

“Sarah, grab Silfa her Santa gift,” Samuel said before Sarah pulled her massive Santa gift to the center of the living room. She immediately shifted and found Silfa’s gift. It was easy enough for her to do since the Santa gifts were the only presents wrapped in golden paper.

After Silfa had her present, the girls quickly opened their gifts from Santa.

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Silfa was beside herself when the fresh packs of colored pencils were revealed. She happily bounced up and down on Scarletra’s lap, showing them to both her and Samuel, excitedly telling the two of them what she would draw. Well, not just telling them; she already flipped to the first page and started drawing what Samuel thought was supposed to be a cat, her favorite animal, but it might be a dog, a bear, maybe a cow. Samuel was unsure, but Silfa would tell them when they pin it to the fridge.

While the littlest one hummed and sketched, Sarah struggled to roll her gift from the pile, the massive toolbox weighing almost as much as she did. But once it was in the center of the room, her claws ran along the wrapping paper, slicing it open.

With a flabbergasted jaw drop, she paused and looked between Samuel and the red Milwaukee brand rolling toolbox.

“Daddy—daddy—Santa—wow,” she gasped, unable to fully process that she had her own tools after years of asking Samuel to help her start her collection.

“Yes, teddy bear,” Samuel prissed.

She bound over to Samuel and wrapped her arms around him. “Santa got me tools, my own tools, Daddy. He knew just what I wanted.”

Samuel nuzzled against the top of her head and hugged his little girl back, overjoyed that she loved the gift. “Yeah, he did, he always does.”

The rest of the morning was sugar plum joy, the girls giggling and playing with toys. Gifts galore from all over the GU; they ripped open parcels from Red, the locals out in the town, and the representative from Baratin even sent the girls some bowls and other curious from the distant moon.

Samuel had no idea why he did and how he knew when Christmas was. But the girls enjoyed the brightly painted bowls and the extraordinarily detailed paintings on the enameled surface.

Little was left under the tree once the girls had opened their gifts. Save for a box or two for Scarletra and Samuel, opening the boxes, and neither was surprised by what the locals and their friends had given them: collections of meats, cheese, homebrew beer, and a gift card or two. The perfect gifts for the adults. That was until Sarah dug under the tree and found one last package.

She looked at it, confused for a moment or two. Its plain brown paper wrapping and the simple twine and rope around it were odd. “Who is Princess and Hero? And who is Shama?”

“What?” Scarletra said, “Let me see that.”

Handing Scarletra the gift, Sarah sat down and watched Scarletra and Samuel look the box over, slightly confused by the looks on their faces. It wasn’t quite shock, concern, or confusion. No, they looked at the box in a way she could not describe yet. But she could hear both of their hearts racing and saw them almost knowingly glance at one another.

How and why did Shama, of all people, send them something? And when did they put it under the tree? Neither could remember; it likely ended up arriving with a large swath of gifts.

The last Either of them had seen the Jurintik Captain was escorting wounded soldiers to ambulances on Erula after he extracted them from the battle at the outpost. And the last they heard from him was six months after returning to Earth when he informed them the war on Baratin had begun and that he and tens of thousands of troops were orbiting the moon in a drop-ship carrier.

With hesitation, Scarletra peeled away the paper and opened the box. What they found inside initially confused them. A simple piece of polished aluminum and a folded letter.

They looked at the aluminum first; it was about as large as a novel and had names written on it. Hundreds of them, all in Galactic standard, but based on the spelling and variations, the indicated aliens must have been from hundreds of different species. It took them some effort, but they even saw their names and Shama’s on it.

“What the fu—,” Samuel started but bit his tongue, not waiting to swear in front of the girls. “What is it?”

“No idea,” Scarletra replied.

“Can I see it?” Sarah asked, holding out her palms.

Not seeing any reason not to, Scarletra handed the metal to her and turned her attention to the letter.

When they opened the letter, a picture fell out. It looked somewhat like a Polaroid, but they both knew it was not likely it was just a rendered picture of a digital photo. On the picture were hundreds of aliens, all in combat fatigues and carrying weapons. Humans, Jurintik, Varintol, and dozens of other species they were not familiar with. It was indeed a motley crew.

They stood before a sight neither Samuel nor Scarletra expected to see again—the outpost, or at least what was left of it. The ruins were still demolished, and the heavy snow made it almost impossible to recognize.

But they did recognize a few of the soldiers, Moi, Vin, and Kellul. None of the others from the group who extracted them were in the group, except for Shama, who was in the photo.

Now they were confused and only had one way to get an answer: read the letter.

Hey, princess and hero.

It has been quite a while, huh? I doubt you ever expected to hear from me again. Hell, I am likely a ghost to you all at this point. But I’ve been busy on Baratin the last few years. I hope you all are enjoying the life you made back on Earth. I hear you two have a kid. Sorry about not giving them something(I never was good with kids), But I did send something for you two. With this letter is a piece of metal; it was made out of the outpost walls and has the names of everyone from my company who was there at the fall of the Ursana empire. How many of these men are still alive when you get this? I don’t know; I’m sending it out before the assault. Hell, I might kick it. Lord knows we have lost a lot of good men and women in this campaign. But that is not here nor there.

What I am asking of you all is, no matter the outcome, I hope you two pray for our lives and souls. It has taken a lot of effort, but the war is finally about to end with the Varintol fully integrating into the GU at long last.

-Shama

This was unexpected; Shama had some sentimental bones in him; neither had thought much more of him than a true warrior poet; well spoken, honest, and able to be relied on, but sending a gift of remembrance was something they did not expect.

The present hit Samuel and Scarletra like a brick. Both took a few moments to think back to that horrible day on Baratin and imagine the faces of these soldiers wadding through hell like that for years.

“Mommy, daddy, are you alright?” Sarah asked

Shaking themselves free of their imaginations, they looked at Sarah and the hunk of metal. Well, it was not a hunk of metal; it was the soldiers' names, lives, and wills given physical form.

“Yeah, we are fine,” Scarletra said, picking up the memorial item and putting it atop the hearth below Samuel and Scarletra’s sword and ax, the letter underneath it, and the picture to its side. With the rest of their families, violent items from the moon were just where the memorial belonged. Somewhere, they would see it every day.

Scarletra said a silent prayer for the soldiers who saved her and Samuel that day and turned back to her loving family. Glad that men and women like them existed and ensured monsters like the Mother could not rule.

The rest of Christmas had no interruptions or hiccups, but that was par for the course to the Martin Clan. It was the perfect time for them all. Another flawless day and the year was closing out for them—with many more to come.

Merry Christmas, everyone. I hope you have a wonderful time with your family’s