Episode 1: The Planet of Santa Claus
The cozy red tomato-ship sailed gently through a quiet corner of the galaxy, and inside, Emil and Tom sat together with the great ancient book of the nameless traveler open across their laps, hunting for somewhere new to explore.
Emil turned a page — and stopped. "Oh, Tom," he breathed. "Look at this one."
The page showed a small, beautiful, snow-white world, wrapped in shimmering ribbons of colored light, with a single bright star shining above it. And beneath the picture, in the traveler's careful hand, was written a name that made Tom's eyes go wide as saucers.
"It says," Emil read slowly, "'The Winter World of Yuletide — the home, so the old stories say, of Santa Claus himself. Here the great Toymaker and his elves have brought joy to the children of a thousand worlds. But a planet of joy can only shine as long as joy still burns in the hearts of children. Should that joy ever fade... so too will the star above it.'"
"Santa Claus?" Tom gasped. "The real Santa Claus? He lives on an actual planet?" He bounced with excitement. "Emil, I've heard the stories — about a jolly old man who makes toys and brings them to children across the whole universe! But I always thought he was just a tale! You mean he's real? And we could actually visit him?"
Emil grinned, every bit as thrilled as his friend. "According to the traveler's book, he's as real as you and me. A whole world of toymaking, snow, and elves." He looked up, eyes shining. "Tom — how could we possibly not go?"
"To the home of Santa Claus!" Tom cheered. "Set the course, Tomato! Set the course right now!"
From the control panel, Tomato the ship's AI gave a warm electronic chuckle. "I must say, even I'm curious about this one," it admitted. "A planet of toys and wonder? It's a nice change from collapsing libraries and poison deserts. Plotting a course for the Winter World of Yuletide. Do put on something warm, you two — my sensors say it's cold down there."
So off they flew, and before long the little snow-white planet swelled into view through the great round window — and it was even more beautiful than the picture in the book. It glowed softly against the dark of space, wrapped in dancing ribbons of green and pink and gold aurora, and above it shone a single magnificent star, bright and warm and welcoming.
But as they drew closer, Emil frowned and leaned toward the glass. "That's odd," he murmured. "The star above the planet... it's beautiful, but it looks a little... dim. As if it isn't shining quite as brightly as it should." He shook his head. "Probably just the distance. Take us down, Tomato."
Down through the swirling snow-clouds they descended, and the cozy red tomato-ship touched down with a soft crunch on the deep white snow.
When Emil and Tom stepped out — bundled up warm against the cold — they found themselves in the most wonderful place they had ever seen. A charming little village spread out before them, all cozy gingerbread workshops with snow-heaped roofs and warm golden windows, candy-cane lampposts glowing along snowy lanes, and chimneys puffing sweet-smelling smoke into the frosty air. And rising at the heart of it all was a grand and magnificent toy workshop, vast and beautiful, its windows aglow.
"It's real," Tom whispered, gazing around in wonder. "Emil, it's all real — the workshop, the village, all of it!"
And there were elves — dozens of them — little folk in cheerful red and green, bustling about the snowy lanes. But as the friends watched, Emil noticed something that troubled him. The elves did not seem merry. They moved slowly, their heads down, their pointed caps drooping. There was no laughter, no singing, no joyful hammering of toys. The whole village, for all its beauty, felt strangely quiet and sad.
"Something's not right," Emil said softly. "A toymaker's village should be the merriest place in the galaxy. But it feels... gloomy. Heavy. As if all the cheer has gone out of it."
And then they saw him.
Standing alone in the snowy square at the center of the village was a large, round figure in a deep red suit, with a great white beard and rosy cheeks — unmistakably Santa Claus himself. But the jolly old man was not laughing, and his eyes did not twinkle. His broad shoulders were slumped, and his kind face was creased with a deep and weary sadness, and he gazed off into the falling snow as though his heart were very heavy indeed.
"It's him," Tom whispered. "It's really, truly him. But — Emil — he looks so sad."
Emil's heart went out to the old man at once. Slowly, the two friends crossed the snowy square and came to stand before him. Santa looked down, and though his eyes were sad, a flicker of gentle surprise crossed his face at the sight of the two odd little visitors who had dropped out of the sky.
"Well now," Santa said, his voice deep and warm but tired. "Visitors. We've not had visitors on Yuletide in a very long while. A boy, and a little worm in a fine explorer's cap." He managed a small, sad smile. "Welcome, my friends. I am Santa Claus. Though I fear you've come to my world at a sorrowful time."
"Hello, Santa," Emil said gently. "My name is Emil, and this is my friend Tom. We've traveled a very long way to see your wonderful planet." He paused, looking up at the old man's heavy face with real concern. "But — Santa — forgive me for asking. You look so terribly sad. And your village feels sad, too. Even the snow seems sad." He took a breath. "What's wrong? What's happened here? Won't you tell us — and perhaps... perhaps we can help?"
For a long moment, Santa Claus did not answer. He gazed up at the dim star hanging over his world, and a great sigh escaped him, fogging the cold air.
"It's kind of you to ask, my boy," he said at last, his voice thick with sorrow. "Kinder still to offer to help. But I fear this is a trouble too big for anyone to mend. A trouble that has been growing for years and years, and grows worse with every passing day." He looked down at them, and there were tears in his old eyes. "You ask what's wrong. I'll tell you. It's the children. The children of the whole universe." His voice broke. "I'm losing them. And I don't know how to bring them back."
Emil and Tom looked at each other, then back up at the weeping old Toymaker, and Emil felt a familiar resolve stirring in his chest.
"Tell us everything, Santa," he said softly. "From the beginning. Whatever it is — we'd like to try."
Santa Claus looked down at the two small, earnest faces in the falling snow — a boy and a worm who had crossed the whole galaxy and now offered, without a moment's hesitation, to help carry his heaviest burden. And for the first time in a very long while, a tiny, fragile flicker of hope kindled in the old Toymaker's eyes.
"Then come," he said, gathering himself. "Come inside, out of the cold, and I'll show you. I'll show you what's become of the magic of Yuletide — and what's become of the children." He turned toward the great glowing workshop, and the two friends followed him through the falling snow. "But I warn you," he added quietly, glancing up once more at the dimming star above. "What I have to show you may break your hearts as it has broken mine."
And above the snowy village, the great star of Yuletide flickered — and dimmed, just a little, once again.
To be continued in Episode 2...