Converting the Commander

{|style="width:100%; color:#FFF;" "We're ba-a-ack!" Emile sang, after kicking in the door. He marched in, with Jun following, still wiping his red eyes and muttering about a newly developed fear of shopping malls. Jorge, of course, was stuck carrying all the trappings, which consisted of many boxes, bags and random packages.
 * valign="top" style="padding:5px;"|

"What the…"

The place was clean. Sparkling. Scary clean. It even smelled like Pine Sol, which was odd, because Pine Sol had ceased production in the 23rd century. At any rate, it was slightly eerie, also because no one was bumming around like usual. The place had been wiped clean and squared away…

… and decked with holly?

"Ooh! It's like that old song! Deck the halls with boughs of—OW!" Jun screeched as Emile twisted his ear. "Don't interrupt my festive song! And let go of my ear!"

"Ah, you're back," Kat said, stepping out to greet them. Emile's jaw nearly detached itself from his face and fell to the ground. She was wearing a red velvet turtleneck (which clearly defined her womanliness) with black slacks that were tucked into black leather boots. Somehow she'd managed to comb her short hair differently and… was that lipstick?

"Jun, Jorge, run. Our friends have been kidnapped and replaced with evil twins," Emile said faintly, still holding Jun's ear between his thumb and forefinger, while Jun just stared.

"Oh, boys, you might want to run and change into something more formal. We're having esteemed company tonight," Kat admonished.

"Who?" Jun queried.

"Who do you think, the Easter bunny?" Kat snapped. "Colonel Urban Holland, that's who!"

"The Colonel's coming? Why?" Jorge wondered.

"No earthly idea. At all. But that doesn't change the fact he'll be here in less than seven hours. That's how much time we have to complete putting everything together," Kat instructed. "Apparently he wants to have Christmas dinner with us."

"But the Commander—" Emile started.

"Leave Carter to me," Kat purred. "Meanwhile you three clean up and change into something presentable."

"I just have one question," Jun said, raising his hand. "Where did you get that shirt?"

"Why you silly goose," Kat sighed, shaking her head. "I stole it from Vice Admiral Parangosky."

"That old hag?" Emile sputtered.

"It looks infinitely better on me," Kat stated.

"Infinitely tighter," Emile coughed.

"What was that?"

"NOTHING!"


 * In the kitchen, aka Rosenda's Lair…

"What have you DONE?"

Rosenda gaped at the mess Gunnery Sergeant Stacker and his men and women had made. The Spartan replacement stalked forward and looked Stacker in the eye, which required her to look down. "I told you to prepare the Moa, Gunny! You assured me you could do this! So WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?"

"Well, y'see, there's only one real way to prepare one a' these beauties," Private Chips Dubbo drawled, flipping a meat patty on the huge skillet he was tending. He turned and Rosenda saw he was wearing an apron over his armor that said "Make Out with the Cook." "Ya make 'em the traditional Reach way… between two buns!"

"This. Is. A. SEMI-FORMAL. OCCASION," Rosenda hollered, as if that would help. "One does not serve burgers at a semi-formal occasion!"

"I had burgers at my wedding, thank you very much!" Stacker protested.

"Like that means anything?" Rosenda hissed.

Rosenda had been chosen by Holland to act as Emile's replacement on missions involving Insurrectionists, because she showed restraint as opposed to his habit of chopping up his foes. However, this situation made her want to go dismember a lot of people and leave lots of gore.

"Alrighty then…" Rosenda sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose and gritting her teeth. "Noble Actual, tonight you dine… on Moa burgers!"


 * Elsewhere inside Noble Base…

Kat slowly opened the door to Carter's private quarters and stepped in. The light was off but light came in from outside, dimly illuminating everything. This was where the Commander usually did his paperwork or pulled all-nighters filling out mission reports. There was a cot along one wall, and sure enough, Carter was laying on it, holding a data pad in front of his face. He looked up and saw her enter and put the data pad down, shutting it off, then sat up.

"Hey," Kat said, stealing over to sit at his side. "You really are in a funk, aren't you?"

"I can't do it, Kat."

"Wha…?"

"I can't celebrate Christmas."

There was a long pause between them, and predictably enough, Kat asked "Why?"

Carter picked up the data pad, turned it on, and opened an image program. He scrolled through various folders and poked one with his index finger. It opened and many images displayed across the screen. They were of a man and a woman and a young boy.

"I was one of the oldest Alpha Company recruits," Carter said softly, bowing his head. "Eleven when I finally reached Onyx. The other kids, they were younger. Didn't have as many memories to hold onto."

"How did you manage to keep all these?" Kat asked, amazed. She leaned in closer to get a better view, her forehead brushing Carter's bristly chin in the process.

"I had a data card with photos stored on it in my pocket when Biko was evacuated," Carter muttered. "I've had a couple of them developed… but most of them are in here," he indicated the data pad, "And in here," he added, tapping his forehead. "The card was taken from me when I started training, but after I got pulled from Alpha, well… Ambrose gave it back."

"They're beautiful," Kat said. "Your parents, I mean."

"They were," Carter agreed.

"So what does this have to do with you and Christmas?" Kat inquired.

"My memories of Christmas are with my parents," Carter said, clenching his jaw. "My family. Trying to observe it without them, it's… it's like I'll forget or something. I don't know. I don't feel like a Commander right now, I feel like a… a…"

A lost little boy, Kat thought, looking into Carter's handsome, scarred face. She cut him off by planting her lips on his, and when he didn't resist, she kept going. Finally the kiss broke and she nuzzled his cheek. "You idiot," she murmured, putting her arms around him. "You have a family. It's right here in front of your face. Enjoying happiness with us could never tarnish the memories you have of your parents. It never hurts to make new memories, especially if they're with people you care about."

"Kat…" Her nearness and softness was overwhelming his defenses by the second…

"I care about you, Carter," Kat interrupted, fixing him with her penetrating stare. "Very, very much."

Carter was silent for a moment, then he smiled, a genuine if somewhat sad smile.

"I guess I've been a regular fool then, huh?" he muttered, shaking his head.

"Perhaps." Kat chuckled, then cocked her head. "Now. How about cleaning up, getting dressed and joining the rest of society for a hot meal and some important guests?"

"Important guests?" Carter echoed, confused.

"Colonel Holland has invited himself to our little gathering," Kat said sweetly, as Carter paled and nearly fell off the bed. "Oh, and this just in: he's bringing friends. Very important friends, too. Apparently the notion of Spartans hosting a Christmas party draws attention faster than we thought."

"I have to hit the showers!" Carter fussed, jumping up and running down the hall to the men's quarters. He skidded to a halt in front of his designated trunk and dug out a neatly-folded uniform and some dress shoes, along with a white undershirt. "And shave! And inspect the receiving area! And—"

Kat planted another soft kiss on his mouth to shut him up. "Off you go, Commander," she admonished, pushing him toward the showers. "Leave the worrying to me. I've got it covered."

"Kat, sometimes I don't know what I'd do without you," Carter admitted, heading off to the showers.

"Don't you mean most of the time?" Kat snarked, and Carter sighed, though there was a renewed spark in his cobalt eyes.