Maho's Christmas Carol; Stave Four

Posted on Thu Dec 25th, 2025 @ 1:52am by Captain Maho Takahashi
Edited on on Thu Dec 25th, 2025 @ 1:54am

1,315 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: Christmas Vacation
Timeline: Christmas sometime in the mid-25th century

The Ghost of Christmas Present had hardly turned to dust when mist descended, shrouding the scene from Maho's view. In fact, it wasn't long before Maho couldn't see anything in front of her. As she struggled to find her hands barely a foot in front of her face, Maho suddenly made out the outline of an ominous figure in the mist. A solemn phantom, draped and hooded, moving through the mist towards her.

"Y-you must be the... Ghost of... Christmas future..." Maho stammered as her blood ran cold.

There came no reply from the figure, as it merely hung ominously in the air in front of Maho. Whether it was because the fear causing her legs to start to buckle beneath her, or some other motivation, Maho bent a knee in front of the spirit, for the very air that it seemed to displace scattered gloom and mystery with it. It was shrouded in a deep black garment, which concealed its head, it's face, its form, leaving no detail of it visible, save for one outstretched, bony hand.

The spirit seemed to pause for a moment, allowing Maho time to recover and get back to her feet.

"You are here to show me shadows of things that have not happened, but will happen, is that so, spirit?" Maho asked, with no response in return. "Ghost of the future, I fear you more than any spectre I have already seen, but I know your purpose is to do me good... I am prepared to bear you company..."

Seemingly satisfied with Maho's response, the mist suddenly lifted, and Maho found herself standing at the funeral of a Starfleet officer. Federation flags hung proudly, and the torpedo casing shaped coffin was draped in one as well, but something seemed to be off. Standing nearby, two Starfleet officers and one Klingon seemed to be having a relatively normal conversation, given the circumstances:

"So, she's finally dead, huh? I didn't think the old battle axe would ever give in."

"She was a real bitch. Honestly, the only reason I bothered showing up was because lunch was provided."

"She did not die a warrior's death." The Klingon agreed. "But a warrior's feast is the same nonetheless!"

"Oh, dear..." Maho muttered. "What Starfleet officer could be so hated that their corpse is spoken so ill of?"

A shadow on the wall behind the casket formed into the shape of the specter, bony finger extended pas the "mourners" to the emergency exit.

Taking the spirit's direction, Maho made her way to the indicated doorway. When she opened it, she found herself standing in an estate shop. Two customers were speaking to the proprietor about new inventory:

"Yep, they're my latest acquisitions:" The proprietor bragged. "Belonged to an old Starfleet captain." With a chuckle, the Bolian added. "Not even her own daughter wanted this crap, so now it's here, for sale to whoever wants it!"

Maho took a look at some of the relics on offering: A beat up old Parrises Squares bag, a rusty old license plate with faded and smeared signatures long rendered illegible, and a broken old model of an FD3S Mazda RX-7. A wheel had come off, the model's paint was badly chipped, and the latch holding one of the pop up headlights down had broken.

"Not even her own family wanted this?" Maho asked, looking to the spectre's shape on the wall. "Spirit, is there no tenderness for any death in the new century?"

Rather than a response, the scene merely shifted to one Maho had recently seen with the previous spirit. Maho found herself standing inside Chrirhc's home. Yet, the air in the residence was truly funerary. Chrirhc, dressed in dark clothing, held in his hands the crutch that she had seen Miniscule Michael using earlier.

"Well, I guess this is it..." Chrirhc spoke to the crutch, fighting to hold back the tears. "You were a fighter, Miniscule Mikey... A fighter... To the last..."

"Chrirhc, dear," Madeledam said calmly. "It's time to go now."

"I know, it's just..." Chrirhc couldn't bear it any longer. "If only I had been more firm about shore leave, I might have actually been there when he drew his last breath..."

Chrirhc was inconsolable as Madeledam led him from the house. As the door shut, the scene shifted one final time. Maho found herself standing in the Captain's quarters of some 25th century starship. Two security officers in an unrecognizable uniform style solemnly stood guard in front of the bedroom. The looks on their faces suggested they were there only out of duty, and of no personal attachment to what lay beyond.

Looking towards the exit, the specter's form appeared once again, its bony finger extended in the direction of the bedroom. As the security officers didn't appear to notice or acknowledge Maho's presence, Maho crept past them into the bedroom. In the space, lit only by the nightstand lamp, the bed was almost completely stripped save for the top sheet, which draped over a deceased woman lying in it.

"Spirit...' Maho muttered shakily as the pieces began to fall together in her mind. "Something tells me our parting moment is at hand: Tell me... Who... Was that woman we saw lying dead?"

With a crack of thunder, Maho suddenly found herself in a graveyard in a blinding snowstorm. The specter's wispy form materialized in the driving snow, bony finger extended towards a neglected Haka (grave).

"Before I draw nearer to that haka (grave) to which you point, answer me one question:" Maho called over the howling wind. "Are these the shadows of things that will be? Or only of those that may be?"

Unmoving, the spirit continued pointing downward at the haka (grave) by which it stood.

"People's courses foreshadow certain ends; to which, if unaltered, they must lead!" Maho argued to the wind. "If the courses are departed from, the ends will change! Say it is so with what you show me!"

The spirit gave no response.

Slowly, Maho crept towards the haka (grave), her legs threatening to give out under her. Following the spirit's bony finger, the snow covering the cracked name on the negelcted monument blew away, revealing to Maho the Kanji characters of her maiden last name:

西住

"Am I the woman who lay in that bed on that starship?" Maho asked. "Was that my stuff in that estate shop that Kyoko didn't want?"

The spirit's finger moved, leveling directly at Maho, before returning to the haka (grave).

"No, spirit!" Maho cried out. "No, no!"

The finger remained on the haka (grave), unmoving.

"Spirit, hear me!" Maho pleaded. "I am not the woman I was! I will not be the woman I must have been for these events to have transpired! Why show me this, if I am past all hope?"

For the first time, the hand twitched.

"Good spirit," Maho continued. "Your nature intercedes for me and pities me! Assure me that I may yet change these shadows you have shown me by an altered life!"

The other bony fingers lowered as the spirit ceased its pointing motion.

"I will honor Christmas in my heart!" Maho vowed. "And try to keep it all the year! I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future! The spirts of all three shall strive within me! I will not shut out the lessons they teach! Oh, tell me I may sponge away the cracks upon this stone!"

At that moment, the cracked monument upon which Maho knelt gave way, sending Maho tumbling into crypt below. But the crypt housed no remains, and floor of it was made not of stone like the rest of the haka (grave), but of starship deck plates...

Posting by

Captain Maho Takahashi
Commanding Officer
USS Myogi

 

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