Fiction: “The Emperor’s Christmas”

It was dark throughout the Death Star on Christmas Eve. The TIE fighters were docked, the machinery behind the planet-destroying laser of the Death Star was decorated with tinsel, and all the stormtroopers were tucked into their cozy beds with mini-Christmas trees by their feet, eagerly waiting for presents. But one place where the spirit of Christmas could not reach was the throne room of the Death star. The Emperor, Darth Vader, and Grand Moff Tarkin didn’t even know it was Christmas Eve and decided to stay up past their bedtime-a mistake they would soon regret. 

In the distance far between the stars, a red light flickered across the darkness of space. it was picked up by the few officers who still dared to stay awake this late on Christmas Eve. 

“Sir, take a look at this, some unknown class of star fighter just entered our airspace”, the colour drained form the officer’s cheeks 

While it was too far away to get a good look at the ship with the naked eye, the officers could see on the monitor a ship that was somehow being pulled across the vacuum of space by nine lifeforms, while one being was inside. The officer at the monitor tried to send a message demanding the fighter to immediately send its identification codes and deactivate its weapons, but he couldn’t get a signal. It was like the ship had no technology, with the only thing the monitor could pick up was that glowing red light. The officers stared as the ship made its way closer, edging along the curve of the space station barely avoiding a crash as it flew underneath.  

From here the stations cameras could pick up the ship, the officers could see it more clearly, and they weren’t sure what they were looking at. Eight bizarre, hairy, four-legged creatures with large antlers dragged the ‘fighter’, while a ninth creature, with a big, bright, red nose, guided it through the darkness. The ship was red, gold and appeared to be made of wood, like an old craft that was found Hoth, apparently called a ‘sleigh’. The officers stepped back in shock when they realised it was a massive sleigh flying through space. 

A single man was on that ship. Despite the speed of the sleigh and the vacuum of space he, stood as straight and still as a tree in a snowy forest. He wore a red and white hat and winter jacket, and when he turned to look at the officers they could see a big, bushy white beard. One of the officers, who recognised it was going in the direction of a particular vent that led to the stations core, pressed a panic button on the console just as they collapsed to the cold plastoid floor, in the deepest sleep of their lives.

About twenty stormtroopers crouched silently behind cover in one of the many halls of the Death Star, with their guns on the door in front of them. All they knew was that somebody had broken in through one of the vents, nothing more than that. For some reason the officers who reported it were not answering their comms. They were about to head back to bed when they heard it. 

“Ho… Ho… Ho...” 

It was faint and low but there was something in the station, somewhere. 

“Ho… Ho… Ho…” 

It was like the noise was coming from everywhere all at once. Some of the stormtroopers looked up, some looked down, but nobody knew where exactly it was coming from. 

“Ho… Ho…” 

It stopped abruptly. A wave of unease washed over the stormtroopers along with the silence. When they perked their ears, they could only hear each other’s breath. Then it happened, the door creaked and was thrown across the entire length of the hall, and in its place stood a man in a red and white winter coat. 

“On your knees and hands in the air!” one of the stormtroopers shouted. The man’s beard twitched as he sniffed. He pulled back his sleeves and folded his arms, revealing the tattoos on his muscular forearms. On his left was the word ‘nice’ and on his right was the word ‘naughty.’ 

“This is your last warning!” somebody shouted and the sound of the safety being turned off on many blasters filled the air. 

“I knew you weren’t asleep” the man in red said. 

The stormtroopers immediately opened fire, filling the cramped hall with a storm of blaster fire. The man ignited two lightsabres, as red as his coat but with white lines and a hooked curve on their blades. He rapidly spun his blades and deflected every single shot that headed his way. Most landed in the walls and the floor leaving behind smoke and an ugly smell. 

“Next time be good for goodness’ sake!” While still holding his blade, the man splayed his fingers in the direction of the stormtroopers. One by one, they all fell to the ground in a deep slumber. 

Emperor Palpatine, Darth Vader, and Grand Moff Tarkin knew nothing about the break-in. They were still discussing evil bad-guy things when a member of the red-cloaked Royal Guard staggered towards them. 

“The Star! It’s been breached!” He managed to gasp before he fell to the floor. 

“What is the meaning of this?” The Emperor croaked. 

The meaning of this stepped out of the elevator, His boots trailed snow as he walked to the Emperor’s throne, not one bit intimidated by the Sith Lord’s dark aura. 

“Ho Ho Ho! Merry Christmas! I have to say, that chimney was much more spacious than what I’m used to, but this station has a very gloomy atmosphere. Don’t you know it’s Christmas Eve?” 

“Vader!” the Emperor screamed at his apprentice. 

 Darth Vader ignited his red blade and charged the jolly old man, who in response drew his own blades and clashed with the dark lord of the Sith. The man turned his swords downwards and, like a pair of scissors, he disarmed Vader then picked him up by the arm and threw him. Vader fell to the Emperor’s feet. 

“Something tells me,” the intruder in red began, “that I am the jolliest one here.” 

“What are you… and what kind of power was that?” The Emperor’s face was a rare mixture of shock and awe. 

“My name is Santa Claus, and that my friend, was the spirit of Christmas.” Santa fished around in the inside pockets of his jacket. “Now, normally you would be asleep when I hand out the presents. You haven’t even left me any cookies or milk! But oh well.” 

He walked towards an unusually uncomfortable Tarkin with a very long list of names in his hand. “Now let’s see here… ah yes, Wilhuff Tarkin, it seems as though you have ordered the firing of a dangerous weapon and destroyed an entire planet killing about 2 billion people...Now now that is very naughty, I am sorry Wilhuff, but this is all you will get.”  

He took out a small lump wrapped in colourful paper and held it out to Tarkin. 

“I… will not accept this,” he said hesitantly. 

Santa nodded. He opened the present and scooped out a pile of thick, black dust. he held it on the tips of his fingers then he slapped Tarkin, putting him to sleep with black streaks on his cheek.  

Santa then dropped the present at his feet.

“Now who should we go to next? Ho Ho Ho! Young Anakin Skywalker! You used to be such a nice kid what happened?” 

Vader raised his blade as if to attack Santa, but he hesitated, “how do you know that name?” he asked. 

“Ho Ho Ho! I know the names of all the boys on my lists, speaking of…” Santa took out a small bag from his pocket, emptied some onto his hand and blew it in Vader’s face. The Sith lord visibly recoiled at the sight of sand being blown in his direction. 

“I have always wondered,” Santa began, “why do you not like sand? I think it is because the tighter you hold onto it the quicker it slips between your fingers, just like so many people from your past.” 

Vader collapsed onto the ground in a deep slumber, the bag of sand placed beside him. 

Finally, Santa approached the Emperor on his throne, “out of everyone here, you are the naughtiest of them all.” 

“Enough!” the Emperor rose to his feet, electricity crackled between his fingers. “You will pester me with your insolence no longer.”  

He unleashed a storm of lightning in Santa’s direction, but instead of getting out of the way he held out the palm of his hand and it bounced off and hit one of the nearby monitors, smashing it to pieces. Then Santa made a pulling motion bringing his hand to his chest. A surge of electricity the likes of which had never been seen before erupted from Palpatine fingers, he gasped as it was ripped from his body and absorbed into Santa’s. Palpatine staggered back onto his throne, his fingers still splayed but it didn’t matter how hard he tried, his unlimited power was gone. 

“After all the trouble I went through to get here,” Santa tutted, “I mean I shoudnt have, not with this much eggnog in me.”

Santa raised the list of names and put on a pair of little glasses. The writing by the Emperor’s name was too small to read with the naked eye as he had been so naughty it was hard to fit all his misdeeds.  

“Now let’s see, ah yes Sheev Palpatine, my oh my you have been very naughty; you murdered your family, had your allies killed before taking power and ordered multiple genocides, among other things, Ho, but this year? Well, you have not been taking diligent care of your employees, have you? That’s a lot of workplace violations, ho ho ho!  

Many of the builders for your Death Star don’t have adequate hazard protection, safety harnesses are not regularly checked, dangerous chemicals have not been properly labelled and stored, your ladders are not wide enough to fit standards and railings are rarely enforced on build sites; now that is very naughty! If you asked for a Death Ssar in your letter this year, then my elves could sort it out and it would be no problem!” 

Santa took out a final lump of coal and laid it at the Emperor’s feet, “I would leave this under your tree, but you don’t seem to have one, Ho Ho Ho!” The Emperor’s mouth hung open in absolute shock. 

Santa pulled up his belt. “Now apologies but I need to be off, I need to get back to the north pole and freeze Mariah Carey in carbonite again before she escapes for good,” and he skipped away back to the elevator. “Merry Christmas and a happy new year” he waved to the Emperor as the elevator doors closed.

And so it was that the next day everyone on the Death Star had a very Merry Christmas, except for all those who died. You see; when Santa sent everyone to sleep some of these people were working with heavy machinery, or climbing up ladders. Santa does not kill, but he doesn’t take responsibility either. 

And that was how Christmas was brought to the Emperor.