@biclops sat on her throne, casually rolling her left eye around in the palm of her hand. She liked it here with the elves on the Island of Misfit Toys. She had enjoyed caring for them after the battle and getting to know them during those first few weeks together. It made her feel welcome and useful. Most importantly, they accepted her.

  The blended memories of @stephascope and @ameliar8 helped shape her view of the world, and while she wondered if she might be happier in a more typical civilization, her place on 995658 Flummox felt like home to her.

  It's really no different from Las Vegastroid on Eros, she thought, except that instead of just a sector of Las Vegastroid being the theme park, I have an entire asteroid of my own.

  "It's a much more immersive experience," she said aloud, addressing @rudolph. "If we open this place up to the public, host guests, put on shows, we will have a good business."

  "Yes, Santa," @rudolph quickly acknowledged, leaning on his crutches.

  "And an ethical one. No slaves, and no labor camp."

  "But the guests," @hollybough chimed in. "They might be willing to work, right? We could have them spend a day in Santa's shop making toys."

  @biclops shook her head. "No, no, no."

  "Quality would go down," @rudolph noted. "And production times would be extremely slow."

  "They'd want to keep whatever they made," @mistletoe added.

  "You're missing the point," @biclops said. "Maybe we still make toys, but the workers are paid a fair wage for their work, and we sell them here in our stores to guests. It's a business where people work a job for pay, not because we force them to or trick them into it."

  "Isn't that the same thing?" @hollybough asked.

  She wasn't completely wrong, @biclops considered. Searching her memory bank, she knew of times when the twins had to work and sometimes steal. They didn't have a choice.

  But I can do things differently, she told herself.

  She squeezed her eye in her hand, assuring herself that she would try. She just had to get the others to see it. She popped her eye back into its socket and spun it around to recalibrate it. While her vision for the Island of Misfit Toys was coming together, and they had been able to establish peace in the colony again, one thing still troubled her.

  I don't like Christmas, she thought in frustration. If it wasn't always Christmas, maybe I would enjoy it. The gifts, the candy, the music, the warm fire, the decorations. It was wonderful. But in moderation, she noted to herself.

  She wasn't sure how to break it to the elves. As much as she enjoyed her theme park asteroid, she wasn't sure how long she could manage the constant Christmas cheer. She did like the color red, though.

  Maybe there is something wrong with me. What did they call me? "Abnormal?"

  She knew the references. She was summoned to life like Frankenstein. She was someone who was cursed into being, who was made rather than born from an origin.

  @biclops sighed. She trusted that she would figure it out. In the meantime, @kittyboy had placed the responsibility of the Island of Misfit Toys on her, and she would make sure the colony was running smoothly, and ethically, before she made any drastic decisions herself.

  "Is it still … that word you used," @hollybough continued, "if we have elves working for Christmas cheer, for the benefit of everyone here?"

  "Slavery," @biclops said. She sighed. "Depends on the working conditions and if they are doing it because they want to."

  "But if their purpose here is to work, then they have to work." @hollybough was adamant.

  "No one has to do anything," @biclops said, with an air of command in her voice. At the same time, she reflected on her station here on the Island of Misfit Toys. Did she have to be Santa? She felt like she did. Hearing her own words reminded her that she could choose a different path.

  "Come now," @biclops announced, standing from her throne. "We can update the Naughty List later. I want to see how construction is going on our new Santa's Sleigh."

  They still had no information about the disappearance of the former Santa, nor his ship. The North Pole, nestled in a newly constructed scabbard on @biclops's left hip, was the only sign of him, but it was the most important. It established @biclops as the new leader.

  I hate being Santa Claus, she scowled, as they exited into the snow and walked toward the vast display of multi-colored lights signifying the hangar. If I have to give another ho, ho, ho today, I'm going to lose it. She fantasized about cutting the head off the next cheery elf that offered her hot cocoa and cookies.

  "How are you settling in?" @rudolph asked, as if reading her thoughts. He was eying her overly firm grip on the North Pole. She realized she wasn't exactly giving off a joyful disposition.

  @biclops sucked in oxygen through her breathing tube and exhaled into the chilly, constructed atmosphere of the asteroid, watching the puff of air float away. This was the part she liked. Being outside where she could see space and the stars.

  "I will acclimate," @biclops replied. "There is much to be done."

  @rudolph nodded. "Yes, yes, there is. But we will see that your vision is fulfilled. I can help lead the way."

  She patted the older man on the shoulder. "Yes, you do. Thank you."

  @biclops turned down a trail to her right, winding through the little cottages toward the large building, using the lights to guide her. She felt a tug on her arm.

  "It's easiest to enter this way," @rudolph said, trying to sound humble. "Follow me. I can guide you."

  "Yes, thank you."

  They had almost cleared the village, passing through the last row of little huts that looked like Christmas gingerbread houses, when a streak appeared in the sky. It was headed straight for them.

  @biclops watched as the red streak, like an asteroid burning up in the atmosphere, zipped down, growing bigger.

  From behind her, she heard @hollybough shriek. "It's Santa's Sleigh! It's Santa."

  @biclops stopped and turned, glaring back at the assortment of elves accompanying her.

  @mistletoe jumped in, clasping a hand over @hollybough's mouth. "She didn't mean that. You are our Santa."

  @hollybough's wide smile was still visible, but then her eyes bulged, and she pushed @mistletoe's hand away. "Yes, you are! Sorry! Sorry, Santa! Please don't kill me."

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  "Santa!" she heard another elf shout. This was someone not in their escort. This was someone out in the village.

  More elves began pouring out of their houses. @biclops walked onward, into the open space in front of the hangar, surrounded by her entourage, while hundreds of elves joined them, scattered among the houses.

  Great, she thought. Here comes Santa Claus.

  She heard the song being sung, somewhere off in the distance. They had accepted her because she had the North Pole. But she knew the earlier rebellion had just been the start, that this day would come. This Santa had served them for nearly a century.

  Is this a bad thing, his arrival? she wondered. Maybe I can give this old Santa the North Pole and be done with it. I can move on. No more cookies and hot cocoa. No more ho, ho, hos.

  As the song got louder, she began to like that idea, but looking around, she noticed that the group with her was not singing. They looked uneasy, concerned. @rudolph squeezed her hand, looking up at her slightly taller frame.

  "You are Santa," he said.

  She clenched her teeth in frustration. This old Santa was a slave-driver. He would put the colony back to what it was. @biclops let the anger in. She was a medic. She cared for people. She had a soft heart. But a fierceness rose inside her at the thought of this Santa returning. She could not allow it.

  "It's not slowing down!" an elf shouted.

  Santa's Sleigh was a dark red ship, large and impressive. Instead of two narrow runners on the side to glide along the snow, the ship's version had two oversized runners that spanned from the bottom of the ship all the way to the highest peak.

  @biclops pictured a smore, with two marshmallows inside and graham crackers on the top and bottom. If you rotated it so that the graham crackers were on the left and right sides, with the marshmallows in between, loosely resembling a sleigh, that would be the ship that approached.

  Smoke and red electricity crackled around it as it executed a hazardous landing, an almost crash, skidding into the snow in the distance away from the village.

  @biclops stomped through the snow toward the ship, motioning for her group to accompany her, watching @hollybough closely. She had six of the Elves on the Shelf with her and two guards.

  "Stay here and sing!" @biclops shouted to the elves in the village. "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree!"

  Her ears noted the subtle change. Somewhere, soft and low, Here Comes Santa Claus continued, but the lyrics of her request rose, louder and louder. With one eye, she glared at her destination, the fallen ship. With her other eye, she scanned the villagers, checking where her followers and detractors would be.

  She was certain she was about to start another civil war on 995658 Flummox.

  A billow of smoke marked the opening of a hatch on the ship, and three shapes took form through the smoke. She spotted two smaller forms and a wide, stocky shape, which must be their old Santa.

  She drew forth the North Pole. Shades of red flowed from the sword, casting an eerie light over the drifts of snow.

  "Name yourself!" she shouted.

  The large stocky man approached with his hands raised, but his face told another story, one of anger and curiosity.

  "What's going on here?" he demanded. "Who are you?" He noticed @rudolph standing next to her. "@rudolph? What's going on? Where is the Christmas cheer in seeing me?"

  @biclops was surprised to notice that their former Santa was wearing a new navy suit, not red. A golden watch dangled from his wrist.

  "You disappeared," @rudolph said, slowly and carefully. "But people came with the North Pole. She is our Santa now."

  @biclops was surprised. They all could have easily turned on her. Now was their time. They could take back the asteroid easily.

  "She's not my Santa," screamed @hollybough, running to join the stocky man and his few companions.

  No surprise there, @biclops thought. But no one else joined her.

  "Well, my young lady," the stocky man began. "Thank you for filling in for me. But I am back now. You are relieved from duty."

  "I'm not going anywhere," @biclops growled back.

  "Mmm." The man planted his arms across his chest, scanning @biclops with beady eyes. "I'm open to a Mrs. Claus to ride my sleigh."

  @biclops shivvered. If she was undecided before, she had no hesitation now.

  "You think you are charming," @biclops replied, stepping closer.

  "Oh, it's not about charm," he said, gesturing to the village beyond them. "It's about this place, the power here. This is mine, but I could be persuaded to share it."

  First, @biclops swung to her right. @hollybough was standing casually, watching the interaction and smiling.

  The North Pole wasn't a magical sword exactly, but it was special, and @biclops had been practicing. She could infuse it with plasma bursts. It glowed brighter as she sliced through @hollybough at an angle, from her left shoulder down to her right hip, dropping her quickly into two halves before @hollybough could voice any complaint.

  "Ho, ho, ho," @biclops chuckled, watching their old Santa.

  He was clearly nervous, but he stood tall and stayed where he was. "Is that Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree I hear? I believe this calls for pumpkin pie and some caroling."

  She was tired of hearing him talk. It was pointless. He and his companions were unarmed. They thought they were coming home. "No," @biclops said aloud. "This is my home."

  The North Pole showered them in a flood of red that illuminated their surroundings for all the elves to see, a shower of red against the darkness.

  @biclops sliced the stocky man across the belly, sweeping from right to left. He screamed. She punched him in the face with the hilt of the sword, dropping him to his knees in the snow. Then she lifted the sword high into the air.

  "Down through the chimney with old Saint Nick," she spat, and she plunged the tip of the sword through the stocky man's head, down, down, through his gullet until only the hilt and her bloody hand were visible atop his head. She smiled. @kittyboy would have been pleased with her play on words.

  Gasps surrounded her from all sides.

  The two elves who had accompanied the old Santa dropped to their knees, pleading for their lives.

  "Hmm," @biclops reflected, eying them. "Good."

  One of them began to shake, and @biclops was suddenly aware of the cold, aware of the many eyes of many elves taking in the sight of the execution of their former Santa. It had to be done, she told herself, and she had no regrets.

  A guttural noise caught her attention. Her left eye continued to survey the crowd of elves as they moved out from the village, approaching her and the fallen ship. Her right eye locked in on the shaking elf. He looked rabid, feral.

  @biclops knew what that meant.

  She raised the North Pole again, slicing through the elf's head. The other elf screamed, squatting next to him in the snow.

  @biclops walked over to him, reaching down and lifting his head with her hand on his chin. "I am sorry," she said, as tenderly as she could. "But I can take no chances."

  He was speechless, registering an understanding that he was going to die. He would believe it was because of his affiliation with the old Santa, but @biclops had other reasons. It was the virus. She hadn't seen it firsthand, but she had all the medical knowledge she needed to recognize the symptoms, which were obvious to anyone who knew there was a zombie virus flying around the solar system.

  She sliced him through, the same as she had the other, being sure to immobilize him permanently. Then she turned to the group around her. They were silently horrified.

  @biclops sheathed the sword.

  "That one was infected," @biclops said, by way of explanation. "There is a virus in the solar system."

  Finally, @mistletoe nodded. Others stared at the fallen bodies, unsure or afraid to speak up.

  "We have work to do," @biclops announced. "Christmas is canceled."

  "This throws a wrench in our business plans," a sad @mistletoe mumbled.

  "Coal in the stocking," another elf cursed, shaking his head.

  "Gather blood samples and memoryshards," @biclops commanded. She wanted to analyze them, see what she could learn about this virus.

  "You're not Santa," @rudolph finally said.

  The old man looked defeated and helpless. He had stood by her. Perhaps her execution of the old Santa was too hasty, but it had to be done. The crowd from the village was surrounding her now. If they wanted, they could overwhelm her, but @biclops was unafraid.

  "No," she replied. "I am not Santa." She raised her voice for all to hear. "Something bad is coming, but it was always here. War has been raging in the solar system for years now. A virus appears to have been unleashed. The world out there is full of pain and death. We cannot stay here, pretending we are safe on this Island of Misfit Toys, playing Christmas every day and being joyful."

  "Not when the world out there is dying," she continued. "I am a medic. We can help. I can train you. I ask you to channel your Christmas glee and help me turn it into something more. You want to fill your stockings with comfort and joy. There are no tidings of comfort and joy. Not out there. It is on us to help."

  "But what can we do?" asked @mistletoe, speaking more to himself than to her.

  "We are a manufacturing facility," @biclops pronounced loudly. "We will build ships. We will make medical supplies." Her voice took on an ominous tone. "We will fight!"

  "You are not Santa," @rudolph said again, wiping a tear from his face. "But they remain bewitched by your presence," he whispered to @biclops.

  She looked at him carefully with one of her eyes. He was taken aback by the rapid change, processing how to say goodbye to joyful songs and making toys, to their old, safe way of life.

  "They will follow you to save the galaxy, Santa or not."

  @rudolph's words resonated in her mind. Finally, she knew her purpose, and she had landed in the perfect place to face the battles to come. They had everything they needed, right here on the asteroid.

  "@galaxywitch," she said, with satisfaction. She had found her name at last. "I am your @galaxywitch. Come with me, Misfits. Let us prepare."