“It happens every time.”, sighed Alcyone, offering Eshrevi a light shrug as she slumped down on the sofa. “It’s nothing to do with you, really. I am just a little disheartened that the shore leave request wasn’t approved.”

Eshrevi knew that Alcyone had requested a short leave of absence to return back home to Colludia, but with all that had recently happened – and the fact that she was relatively new to her position as Executive Officer – it hadn’t been possible this time around. 

Eshrevi dipped her antennae in a slight nod of acknowledgement, before settling beside her friend. She could understand the ache of missing home, but for her, that was a constant. A dull throb in the back of her mind. For Alcyone, it seemed to be sharp and acute. 

“Every year, around the same time.”, she probed gently. “Is it because of that celebration your family holds?”

Slowly, Alcyone nodded. And then she shook her head, which did nothing to help the Andorian understand the range of emotions felt by the other woman. 

“It’s not just a celebration my family has. A lot of people have that same celebration – actually, the whole of Colludia does.”, she tried to explain, while Eshrevi tried her best to recollect every piece of information Alcyone had ever divulged on the matter.

It was both commercial and religious – she knew that much. 

“So we can have it here too?”, wondered Eshrevi. 

“I mean… yeah, we can. But it’s about family, and-…” 

The tips of Eshrevi’s antennae angled forward, moving in an almost tentative slowness. “I thought I am family, too.”, she said, tilting her head to the side. Alcyone had stressed this frequently, and early on in their relationship, while Eshrevi herself was less liberal with those declarations.

After all, Andorian culture had clear guidelines as to what constitutes a family unit, and they had yet to meet those requirements. 

For humans, that was different, but now she wondered if there was a difference between “family” and “family”. 

“You are.”, Alcyone insisted. “Just… well… you don’t follow that tradition.”

“But I can follow it if it’s important to you. What’s it about?”, Eshrevi asked, not yet ready to let this go. 

Alcyone grabbed the nearest pillow, and stifled a frustrated sigh, to which Eshrevi reacted by looking at her and waiting until she was ready to continue the conversation. “We celebrate the birth of a saviour.”, she said eventually, but it was one of those rare moments in which curiosity got the better of Eshrevi, and she interrupted. 

“What did he save you from?”

“Not important.” 

“Okay.” 

“There are pine trees, and they are decorated with ornaments of things that are significant. Snow is a big part of it too, though a lot of places make it artificially.  There is… hot chocolate and spiced wine, and my mother makes the best kind of food for the occasion. Gifts are exchanged, special music plays everywhere, and families come together to celebrate.”

“So it is really about warmth and connection?”, asked Eshrevi. 

Alcyone nodded. 

“We can be warm and connected.”, argued Eshrevi, once more switching into problem-solving mode rather than ‘emotional support Andorian’. “I can get these things, the pine and the gifts. We can make our own thing.”

“It wouldn’t be the same…”

Eshrevi’s antennae gave an animated nod. Of course it wouldn’t be the same. 

“But it can still be good.”

Alcyone gave a slow incline of her head. “Yeah. You’re right.”

Now a whole lot more in her element, Eshrevi probed further.  “What’s it called again?”

“Christmas.”

“Krismis. Got it.”, she beamed – one of those rare times her emotions translated to her face “I will look it up in the database, improve it a little, and I’ll decorate and cook and-…”

“Please don’t cook.”

“My cooking is delicious. Just let me handle it.” 

It was rather that Humans did not always appreciate Andorian cuisine, which was owed to the fact that they liked to be squishy and soft and didn’t know what was good for them. A diet of roots and protein had never not benefited anyone.

“Fine.”, relented Alcyone, and gave a careful smile. She tossed the pillow to the side, and cuddled up to Eshrevi instead, a gesture which the other woman did understand, and liked just as much. 

Alcyone had almost forgotten about Eshrevi’s promise of their own Christmas celebration. With reports of their last mission still awaiting completion, her mind was occupied elsewhere, and she had neatly tucked away her homesickness into a tiny, manageable corner of her mind. 

That changed within a split second as she entered her quarters, and was greeted with blaring music, a cold chill in the air, and a very smug looking Eshrevi. 

“Happy Krismis.”, said the Andorian,  who had taken the “ugly Christmas Sweater” tradition to a whole new level and wore something that could best be described as a festive catastrophe. 

“Wow.”, said Alcyone as her brain scrambled for a more appropriate reaction, and she opted to buy herself some time by embracing Eshrevi and very subtly surveying the room.

At first glance, everything looked oh so perfect, and not so different from what would await Alcyone at home. At second glance, it was slightly different – probably that improved version Eshrevi had spoken about. 

She appeared to have decorated the living area with tree branches – not pine, but apparently any kind of tree she could find – with a large plant at the centre of the room, decorated with what could only be described as ornaments if one was being kind.  

“This looks fantastic.”, Alcyone said once the hug got awkward, and walked a few steps towards the approximation of a Christmas Tree. 

“Just be careful with that one.”, warned Eshrevi, and upon Alcyone’s confused look, explained: “I think that one is mildly sentient. It tried to throw stuff at me.” 

“Oh.”

Alcyone continued her approach, this time a little more carefully. And she could very much relate to the tree throwing things. The lights on the tree flashed so rapidly and brightly that they resembled a warp core breach alert, which probably explained why the plant was feeling upset. 

True to Alcyone’s earlier description of “things and symbols that matter”, Eshrevi had decorated it with her own, very practical, interpretation. The ornaments included objects like tricorders, hyposprays, what appeared to be a beetle in a glass ball, and something that looked like an emergency ration pack. 
And atop the tree, instead of a star or angel, she had placed a miniature replica of Callen Varro, DS17’s Commanding Officer, complete with a tiny phaser and stern expression.

“Is that a blowtoch?”, asked Alcyone as she regarded the array of ornaments. 

“Yes. You need it for the presents.”

“Right… how could I forget.” 

“Oh, I found some music too.”, announced Eshrevi, pointing upwards to indicate her friend to listen. The song was “Last Christmas” – an ancient piece of music that had somehow managed to persist through the centuries and crept up once a year on any ship or colony that contained as little as a single human.

Giving an approving nod, Alcyone continued admiring the decorations, which all seemed off, but were clearly assembled with a lot of care. Instead of a sleigh figurine, Eshrevi had replicated a model of a shuttlecraft, complete with blinking navigation lights.

And the nativity scene, something of religious significance to Alcyone,  had a bearded, red clothed little figure in the manger. 

“Santa doesn’t go there.”, Alcyone remarked without thinking about it. 

“Sure he does. He’s the saviour of Chrismis.” 

“That’s not… “, Alcyone sighed, and then decided that he might as well be. “Sure.”

In the background, the music shifted to a playlist of Andorian ice-mining shanties, and Alcyone once more turned around to her friend. 

“It’s really great. Thank you for putting so much effort into it.” 

Eshrevi offered a wide grin. “Just wait until you see the food. I couldn’t find spiced wine, but Klingon Bloodwine has some spices in it. That works, right?”

She evidently didn’t notice, or ignored, Alcyone turning a little pale. “Yeah… that works.” 

Maybe it would alleviate the near-hypothermia experience owed to the cold room temperature. 

And maybe this – all of this – was okay. Even if it wasn’t the same as being home.