Merry Christmas, Saratoga Neumann!

by HC_Leung

Every Christmas, we come together and celebrate the birth of Jesus. But did you know this tradition was nearly lost? And we have a pirate to thank for keeping it alive?

Once upon a time, we lived on Earth. What was it like, you ask? It was nice, really nice. It had clear waters, green pastures, and white clouds roving under an azure sky. It fostered us, raised us, so we didn't have to start, so we'd have the strength to stand up and build stalwart civilizations. But like all nice things humans weren't meant to have, our life on Earth didn't last. In the year of our Lord 2235, we gave into hate and fired nuclear weapons at each other.

Which was no surprise. You see, the universe didn't care whether you were left, right, or left-right-right. But we were a little people, a silly people - greedy, barbarous, and cruel. We let our petty differences get in the way until some president pressed the red button and activated the low-orbit bombardment system. Missiles rained down on December 25. The term 'Mutually Assured Destruction' came into fruition.

Luckily, all was not lost. Qiankun and Taiji, the two generational starships, were docked at a Mars space station for routine repairs when the news came through. Having learned their families had perished, the crew experienced shock, grief, and loss. It wasn't long before they received another radio signal. This time, it was from the UN Secretary before she too, was engulfed by the fire. Her message was simple. Humanity was no more. Set sail for Alpha Centauri and find habitable worlds.

Thus began the Age of Diaspora. Equipped with experimental anti-matter drives, the two gigantic vessels managed to reach their destination in, shall we say, reasonable time. When their scanners detected air and water on one of the planets, the crew rejoiced. They touched down, kissed the land, and praised the Lord in many languages. Mankind wasted no time by creating a settlement. It was the first one outside Solar System. Faith, it seemed, had brought them to the promised land.

But the journey didn't end there. The humans, compelled to spread out, built more starships and departed for other new worlds. Ta, Kepler, Gliese, Xuanwu, Baihu - whatever seemed promising through the lens of their long-range telescopes. And they were blessed - every time the explorers arrived at a system; they would discover a planet similar to Earth. Just like that, mankind spread throughout the inner realms of the galaxy. They became fruitful as they multiplied and filled the lands, subdued them, and ruled over the exotic fishes of the seas and birds of the skies.

Over time, cities grew, nations rose, and industrialization became the norm. Starships became massively available. Thus, commerce took off on well-regulated routes. Humans wanted prosperity, so they focused on developing the economy. No one had forgotten their history - the day Christmas became Apocalypse. To rise above conflict, people came together and became one entity. In the first year of our Great Clarity, the League of the Constellations was founded. The Prime Minister signed his name on a piece of old-fashioned paper. Bells tolled in all of the settled planets. Humanity had reached its apex. The golden age seemed like it was going to last forever.

But as we know, nothing lasts forever. Within a fraction of the Lord's timespan, for love for one another withered. We became divided. There was the left, the right, and the left-left-right-right. Once again, we let our petty differences get in the way. Our leaders chanted hateful slogans and wanted us to feel beleaguered.

In the year of our Great Clarity 0035, an interstellar war broke out. Enormous, colossal, awe-inspiring warships squared off over densely-populated planets, causing trillions and trillions of deaths. The League, once the symbol of peace and prosperity, collapsed within weeks. Like a house of cards, all that hard work that went into building a lasting foundation couldn't stand up against a mad universe. The Prime Minister's government dissolved on December 25, leaving the inner realms up for grabs for the warlords that had sprung up overnight.

Once again, our civilization was on fire. No one was exempt - men, women, children, heroes, villains, or cowards. But there was one person who rose from the ashes, unshaken from the widespread smoldering and destruction, and wholeheartedly believed he was destined to make a difference. His name was Saratoga Neumann.

Some said it was not his real name. Some said he was just an orphan who stumbled across a blaster. In a time of great chaos, when official records were all lost, who you were and where you came from didn't really matter. Fortune, as we used to say in the old days, favored the bold.

To be clear, Saratoga was a villain. He wanted to be part of the problem. To jump-start his career, Saratoga stole a missile frigate from the Navy and roamed the ungoverned provinces. He raided colonies and outposts, lost an arm and an eye in the process. But he struck fast and struck fear into the hearts of men. Even the warlords and remnants of the League Navy dared not come after him.

A few years after the Great Collapse, there were no laws in the inner realms. Saratoga, famous by now, was looking out of his bridge window, tallying the gold bars that had piled up in the cargo hold.

"Three stacks, four stacks," his lips moved. "No, this won't do. I need more."

Indeed, if he wanted to be more powerful, that amount would have to at least quadruple. More gold bars meant more henchmen to hire, more jumper mechs to commission, and more ammo to purchase. The galaxy was entering a new era, and Saratoga had been working hard to be a part of it. But what role was he playing - a gangster, thief, or robber?

None of the above, he thought. Whatever he had set out to do, it was unprecedented. There was no word for it. He was a prototypical figure for the new era, a legend in the years to come.

Anyways, gold bars. If Saratoga needed more, he'd have to act now. He checked the calendar; it was already December 23. Some sort of holiday was supposed to come up, but he couldn't remember what. Anyways, holiday or no holiday, tis the reason for raiding. Ho ho ho.

So, he landed on Farhad II. Here, snow was all year long. The intellectuals and the rich had come from all over the inner realms to seek refuge from the war. They brought with them valuable old books, paintings, any anything with significant cultural values. But most important of all, they brought gold bars.

The refugees had set up a tight-knit community and practiced traditional farming. Additionally, they observed all of the cultural festivities, whether it'd be Christmas or Diwali. Since the inner realms were up in flames, their intent was to preserve our recorded history. The village was a tiny sanctuary.

Gold bars, check. Undefended village, check. Saratoga and his henchmen rode out with their fifteen-foot jumper mechs and showed up before dawn. It was December 24.

The villagers were in the middle of handing candy canes and ornaments onto a large pine tree. They looked up at Saratoga's mech and was in awe with the beefy legs, auto-cannons, and the Jolly Rogers symbol painted on the torso.

"Yay, pirates!" a boy said. He was carrying a backpack full of mistletoes and garlands.

Our villain became enraged. He dislodged from his mech and went straight up to the boy. "What did you say, little one?"

"I said you're a pirate! I've always wanted to meet a pirate!"

"Watch your mouth, you brat! I'm not a pirate!"

"Why not?" asked the boy.

"Because a pirate is a thing of the past! I'm a new kind of villain!"

"But the bones symbol..."

"Do not insult me," Saratoga warned. He waved his prosthetic hook. "What I've set out to do, there are no words for it yet. But I will surely go down in history as a legend!"

"But the hook..."

Our villain pointed at his black eye patch. "Look, I've sacrificed many things to embrace the great future. Think of me as an avant-garde, or a visionary. I am meant to turn the tides of history!"

"The eye patch..."

"So tell me, offspring. What is it that you lowly peasants are doing? Why are you hanging ornaments onto a lame tree?"

"We're preparing for Christmas," the boy answered.

"What is that?" Saratoga asked.

"Uh, Christmas is...Christmas? Jesus's birthday? We're supposed to come together and celebrate. Jesus loved us so much that he died on the cross. Therefore, we are to live by his teachings and spread his love."

Saratoga rubbed his chin. This was the first time he had heard of it. "Does Jesus love everyone? Does he love me?"

"I'm sure he loves pirates," said the boy. Meanwhile, the villagers are still looking up the mechs, their jaws agape.

"For the last time, I'm not a pirate," Saratoga protested. "But I'm a bad man. I steal and rob for a living. I've flushed people out of my airlock in space."

"Like walk the plank?"

"Anyways, back to the subject. I'm here to raid, not to socialize. Today, I'm going to remove all of your valuable belongings and utilize them for my personal welfare. Be glad that it was me, Saratoga Neumann, who took from you! Now step aside, little one!"

Saratoga entered his mech and went on to plunder the village. He and his misfit crew went from house to house and took whatever was valuable. Gold bars, heirloom jewelry pieces, and most of all Christmas gifts that had already been wrapped in shiny paper. A quarter past dawn, the group headed west to set up a base camp up the hills.

All this time, the boy and the villagers just stood and watched. They didn't protest, didn't cry. Instead, they were relieved, freed from the burden of having things.

That night, Saratoga felt satisfied. Without the gold bars and the wrapped gifts, the villagers won't be able to celebrate this holiday called Christmas. They'd be crying and drowning in their own pathetic tears.

"And that's a noise I must simply hear," he told his henchmen.

The group used their infrared-binoculars to watch the village from afar. It was Christmas Eve, a silent and holy night when all was calm and bright. Then they heard a sound. It was rising over the snow, started in low, and then started to grow.

But it wasn't a sad sound. Instead, it sounded merry, very merry!

Saratoga stared down at the village. His eyes almost popped because what he saw was a shocking surprise.

Everyone from the village was out singing! Even when they had no gifts. Saratoga hadn't stopped Christmas from happening. It happened somehow, it happened just the same and his crew stood there for hours, just confused. How could it be so?

Then Saratoga thought of something he hadn't before. Maybe Christmas didn't come from gifts. Maybe the boy was right, that Christmas meant a little bit more.

What happened then? Well, nowadays we historians say our villain's small heart grew many folds. Because the next day, he whizzed his loot through the bright morning light and bought back the gold bars, the heirloom jewelry pieces, and most important the gifts, back to the innocent villagers. The boy greeted Saratoga and said to him, "you're the best pirate."

Ever since that Christmas, Saratoga dedicated his life protecting Farhad II. He raided spaceships that got too close to the planet, just so that no one would learn about the sanctuary. Day after day, year after year, the boy and the villagers enjoyed the peace and felt sheltered. They knew the pirate was protecting them from warlords and whatnots, so their humble abode would go on thriving and one day became the beacon of the inner realms.

Today, Farhad II is the capital planet of the Inner Realm Federation. Thanks to good governance and commerce, we the people enjoy liberty, fraternity, and prosperity. Most importantly, we've retained our culture despite the Great Collapse and the brutal wars that ensued. We owe it to Saratoga Neumann, the brave outlaw who supposedly wasn't a pirate at all. Granted, throughout the ages, many people had dedicated their lives spreading the good news of Christ. But for our generation, Saratoga's deeds were the most relevant.

So tonight, as we put aside our differences and come together to commemorate the birth of our savior, let us also give thanks to the legendary one-eyed hero. Merry Christmas, Saratoga Neumann!