The wind howled around Marty as she stood at the edge of Voyager’s deck, clutching the sleek metallic surface of the windboard. The sun gleamed off its edges, casting shimmering reflections across the platform that jotted out from the deck. Behind her, the other cadets – Linus, Nico, Charity, and Oscar – were already shouting encouragement.
“You’ve got this, Marty!” Nico called out, his grin wide and teasing. Charity giggled beside him, her cheeks pink from the chill.
Marty hesitated, her fingers tightening on the board’s edge. She glanced back, her eyes meeting Linus’s steady gaze. His calm smile, the kind that always seemed to say he believed in her, settled her nerves. She knew he would catch her if she fell. She gave him a nod, then turned back to the expanse of open air before her.
“Here goes nothing,” she muttered, stepping onto the windboard. With a deep breath, she activated it. The board puffed to life, the wings extended, and the ground beneath her disappeared as she launched into the sky.
The first few moments were utter chaos. The wind tugged at her, and the board wobbled precariously. She could hear Nico whooping somewhere nearby, but she focused on finding her balance. Slowly, her instincts kicked in, and she adjusted her weight. The board leveled out, and suddenly, she was soaring.
A laugh burst out of her, unbidden and full of exhilaration. She leaned into the currents, letting them guide her. The world stretched out below, a patchwork of clouds sprinkled with snow-topped mountains, forests, and frozen lakes.
The others followed her one by one. Linus was the first, gliding out with an effortless grace that made it look like he belonged in the air. His movements were precise, and each turn and dive was executed with poetic fluidity. Nico, on the other hand, shot past him like a comet, shouting as he twisted into a risky flip that made Charity scream and laugh at the same time.
“Show-off!” Charity yelled, staying closer to the group as she practiced steady maneuvers. Her board dipped and weaved with a controlled elegance, her laughter ringing out as she grew more confident.
Oscar was last, ever the competitor. “Race you to the ridge!” he shouted, already leaning forward to pick up speed heading for the mountains dead ahead. Marty joined the challenge, her competitive streak ignited. The cadets surged forward, the air alive with their shouts and laughter.
Marty felt the wind whip through her hair, the cold sting of it a sharp contrast to the warmth blossoming in her chest. For a moment, it was just her and the sky, the board beneath her an extension of herself. She pushed it harder, diving and looping, her heart pounding with the thrill of it all.
The race ended in chaos, with Oscar narrowly avoiding a collision with a tree and Nico laughing so hard he almost lost his balance. They regrouped, breathless and grinning, their cheeks red from the wind as they sailed over the treetops.
“That was incredible!” Charity said, her eyes shining.
Marty caught Linus watching her, his expression unreadable. Before she could say anything, he gave her a small, approving nod. She felt her face heat up but brushed it off with a playful shove to Nico. “You call that a flip? Looked more like a flail to me.”
“He, at least I don’t crash into trees!” Nico shot back, pointing at Oscar, who rolled his eyes.
As the group bantered and laughed, Marty glanced at the horizon. The sun was beginning to dip, casting golden hues across the sky. She felt a pang of something – gratitude, perhaps, or the bittersweet knowledge that moments like these were rare. Whatever it was, it made her determined to hold onto it for as long as she could.
Nico, ever the instigator, turned to Marty. “Bet you can’t beat me again, noob.”
“You’re on!” Marty shot back, already angling her windboard for speed. The two shot off, weaving and diving through the currents. Marty, determined to outpace him, stayed close to the board to minimize wind drag and surged ahead at the last moment, winning by a hair.
Nico threw up his hands in mock despair. “This is rigged!” he exclaimed, making the others laugh.
Their antics soon turned collaborative as Charity suggested they try synchronized stunts. “Come on, it’ll be fun!” she said, her enthusiasm infectious. The group attempted to form a line, coordinating dips and turns. It started well enough until Nico, attempting to show off again, miscalculated a flip, sending the entire group into disarray.
Oscar veered off course with a startled yell, narrowly missing a tree branch. Charity burst into giggles, clutching her side, while Marty and Linus steadied themselves, exchanging amused glances.
When the chaos subsided, the group floated together, catching their breath. The sun had shifted, casting the sky in shades of gold and crimson. Marty found herself drifting slightly apart from the others, Linus beside her. The quiet between them felt different – not awkward, but charged with something unspoken.
“You’ve got a knack for this,” Linus said, his tone warm. “I didn’t think anyone could pick it up so fast.”
Marty smirked, brushing a strand of wind-tousled hair from her face. “What can I say? I’m a natural. Besides, someone has to keep up with your perfectionist moves.”
Linus chuckled, the sound low and genuine. “I’m just trying not to crash into trees.”
She laughed at that, the tension between them softening. For a moment, they simply hovered there, side by side, the wind carrying away any need for words. Below them, the world stretched vast and endless, and above, the stars began to peek through the twilight.
Linus finally broke the silence. “You’re doing more than keeping up, Marty. You’re leading.”
The words caught her off guard, and she looked at him, searching his expression. There was no teasing, just sincerity. It left her momentarily speechless, her usual quick wit failing her.
“Thanks,” she said finally, her voice softer than she intended. Then, with a grin, she added, “Now let’s see if you can keep up with me.”
Without waiting for a reply, she leaned into her windboard and shot forward, leaving Linus to chase after her, the sound of his laughter following close behind.
The group landed back at the airfield in a flurry of laughter and exhilarated chatter. Marty’s windboard skidded to a halt, and she hopped off, her hair a windblown mess.
“Nice look,” Nico teased, pointing at her wild locks. “You aiming for ‘storm-tossed chic’ or just giving up entirely?”
“Ha, ha,” Marty shot back, running her fingers through her hair in a futile attempt to tame it. “At least I can win a race.”
Nico held up his hands in mock surrender, grinning. “Fair point. But next time, I’m bringing a turbo board.”
Linus chuckled quietly as he set his windboard aside, while Charity gave Marty an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “You were amazing out there. I think Nico’s just jealous.”
They made their way to Linus’s room, which Nico and Linus had transformed into a cozy haven for the evening. All the other cadets had left for the Yule festival, visiting their families, leaving Voyager unusually quiet.
Inside, the room glowed warmly under the tiny lanterns hanging from the rafters. The table in the center was laden with sweet cakes, breads, and other treats they had scavenged from the ship's kitchen. Makeshift decorations – scraps of cloth tied into bows and little paper stars – adorned the walls and table. Linus had even managed to drape a strand of lights over the window, their soft glow reflecting on the glass.
“Wow,” Charity breathed, taking it all in. “This is amazing. You guys really outdid yourselves.”
“Eh, it’s nothing,” Nico said, brushing off the compliment, though his grin betrayed his pride.
“Linus did most of the decorating. I just handled the important stuff – like the food.”
Linus gave him a look, but there was humor in it. “You mean you sampled the food.”
“Quality control,” Nico said with a wink, making Charity laugh.
Marty felt her chest warm at the sight. It wasn’t home, but it felt close enough. She turned to Linus. “This is really nice. Thanks for doing this.”
He shrugged his usual quiet modesty in full force. “Figured we should do something. Can’t let a holiday go to waste, even if it’s just us.”
The group settled around the table, their earlier antics giving way to a quieter, more reflective atmosphere. The camaraderie remained, but there was a new warmth in the air – an unspoken acknowledgment that this was their way of making the holiday their own.
Oscar clapped his hands together. “Okay, before we dive in, let’s do the gift exchange!”
Marty exchanged a glance with Linus, a mix of nervousness and anticipation bubbling up as they prepared for the next part of their unconventional celebration.
Charity leaned forward, her eyes sparkling. “Alright, ground rules! Since none of us have much, the gifts are either acts of service or something you’ve made. No judging – everything comes from the heart.”
Nico smirked, lounging back in his chair. “Translation: don’t laugh when I blow you all away with my generosity.”
Oscar snorted. “Generosity? Coming from you? This I’ve got to see.”
“Don’t spoil the surprise,” Nico shot back, earning a round of laughter.
Charity began, pulling out a small slip of paper. “Nico, this is for you. I’m taking over your dreaded morning inspections for a month.”
The room erupted in cheers as Nico leapt up and mock-bowed. “My hero! I officially forgive you for laughing at my flips earlier.”
Charity grinned, and then it was Nico’s turn. He handed a crudely drawn “certificate” to Oscar. “One week of dishwashing duty. And yes, I know I’m the worst at it, but hey – improvement is part of the gift.”
Oscar accepted it with an exaggerated sigh but a small smile. “I’ll take it. Just try not to break anything.”
Oscar, in turn, presented Charity with a hand-carved wooden pendant shaped like a star. The room grew quiet as he awkwardly explained, “Figured you deserved something better than dish duty.”
Charity blushed, holding it up to the light. “Oscar, it’s beautiful. Thank you.”
Marty glanced at Linus. The exchange had softened the group, their usual banter replaced by something tender. Her heart raced as she realized it was her and Linus’s turn.
Linus cleared his throat, pulling a folded piece of paper from his pocket. He handed it to Marty without meeting her eyes. “This… uh… this is for you.”
Marty unfolded the paper, her curiosity quickly turning to awe. The poem was written in Linus’s neat handwriting, its words painting a picture of courage, resilience, and the unending beauty of the skies. She read it twice, her throat tightening.
“Linus, this is…” She trailed off, unable to find the right words. She swallowed hard, her usual confidence faltering. “You wrote this?”
Linus nodded, his ears pink. “First one I’ve ever written, so… don’t judge too harshly.”
Marty felt a warmth spread through her chest, and she managed a shaky laugh. “You’re surprisingly good at this mushy stuff, Linus.”
The group chuckled, easing the tension, but Linus just ducked his head, a small smile playing at his lips.
Taking a deep breath, Marty reached into her pocket and pulled out a small mechanical pencil. It wasn’t much – cobbled together from spare parts in Elias’s workshop – but she’d polished it carefully and ensured it worked perfectly.
“This is for you,” she said, holding it out. “I know it’s not fancy, but it should hold up for all your… you know, mushy stuff.”
Linus took the pencil, his fingers brushing hers. He examined it closely, his expression shifting to one of wonder. “You made this?”
“Yeah,” Marty said, scratching the back of her neck. “It’s not perfect, but –“
“It’s incredible,” Linus interrupted, his voice soft. He looked up at her, his eyes brighter than she’d ever seen. “Thank you.”
The room stayed quiet for a moment, the weight of their exchange palpable. Then Nico, never one to let things stay serious for too long, clapped his hands. “Well, look at that! The poet and the tinkerer, gifting their way to legend.”
The group burst into laughter, and Marty felt the tension in her chest release. She playfully elbowed Linus, muttering, “You owe me a poem about pencils now.”
Linus chuckled, pocketing the pencil like it was the most valuable thing he’d ever owned. “Deal.”
As the evening wore on, the warmth in the room deepened. They were just cadets, far from home and the families they missed, but here, in this small room with their makeshift decorations and heartfelt gifts, they’d created something that felt just as special.
The warm glow of the makeshift lamps bathed Linus’s small room in a golden light as the cadets settled around the table. The chatter was lively, their voices weaving together in a comforting symphony of camaraderie. Plates were passed, and laughter bubbled up as Nico tried to balance three sweet cakes on his plate while Charity scolded him for being greedy.
“I’m just making sure I don’t have to get up twice!” Nico defended himself, popping a bite into his mouth.
“Yeah, because walking two steps is such a hardship,” Charity retorted, rolling her eyes but grinning all the same.
Oscar, never one to let an opportunity slip, leaned back in his chair with a smirk. “Careful, Nico. We’re all taking notes for your next inspection report. Gluttony might dock you some points.”
“Dock me all you want,” Nico said through a mouthful of cake. “Totally worth it.”
Laughter rippled around the table, filling the room with a sense of belonging that was as warm as the meal before them.
Marty leaned back in her chair, savoring the moment. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so at ease – no drills, no instructors barking orders, just her friends. Her gaze drifted to Linus, who was quietly observing the group with a soft smile.
As if sensing her eyes on him, Linus looked over, their eyes meeting across the table. The noise around them seemed to fade for a moment. In his gaze, Marty saw something steady, something unspoken but understood: gratitude, friendship, and perhaps the beginnings of something more.
She smiled back, a small, fleeting curve of her lips before Nico’s exaggerated groan of contentment pulled her attention back to the group.
“Oh, man,” Nico said, leaning back and patting his stomach. “This has to be the best fake holiday ever.”
Marty’s smile faded for just a moment at Nico’s words. She set her fork down with a soft clink, the weight of the moment settling over her. Her gaze shifted to the little decorations, the warm glow of the lanterns, and the quiet joy that had filled the room. This was no fake holiday – not in the least.
“It’s not fake,” she said, her voice calm, but carrying a quiet intensity. The group fell silent, their eyes turning toward her.
She looked around at the faces of her friends, the people who had become her makeshift family here. “It’s based on something real. A celebration from the mythic Earth – Yuletide. A festival that honored the birth of a savior to save the world. The world might’ve changed, but it’s still about hope, renewal, and togetherness.”
Linus’s eyes softened as he met her gaze, and Marty’s chest warmed, the words sounding truer than she had anticipated. The Yuletide wasn’t about gifts or grand ceremonies. It was about moments like these – shared laughter, kindness, and the understanding that no matter the distance from home, they could still find meaning in their own way.
Oscar cleared his throat and gave a dramatic wink. “Well, in that case, here’s to hope, renewal, and a lot of cake,” he said, lifting his plate. The tension broke, and the group erupted into laughter once more.
Marty chuckled, her heart light as she joined in the toast, surrounded by the warmth of her chosen family. “To Yuletide,” she said softly, raising her glass. “And the people who make it real.”
As the room echoed with their cheers, Marty realized that maybe, just maybe, this strange little celebration wasn’t just something to fill the silence – it was a reminder. A reminder that even far from the familiar, they had something worth celebrating.
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