I: A New Assignment
Vir was early.
Desperate not to start his brand new assignment on the wrong foot, he had over-estimated the amount of time it would take to travel to Earth’s embassy in the capital city by ground transport. Thus, he was left to wait for the Earth Ambassador and the Minister of Foreign Affairs to arrive, consumed by his own anxious introspection.
Foremost in Vir’s thoughts was the smirk on his uncle’s face when Vir was told.
“Do not forget, Vir,” he had said, “you live here solely on my charity. When your father died, I promised to look after your welfare. This opening on Babylon 5 has provided me with a far more pleasant and convenient means of doing so. Unless you wish to be turned out onto the street, I strongly suggest you consider taking the offer.”
Vir wanted so much to succeed, to be worth something to someone. Would he be able to learn all he needed to know to live and work on a Human space station? Would the Centauri ambassador to Babylon 5 like him?
Would he, for once, be allowed to stay?
Vir resisted the urge to pace. The Human receptionist was already staring at him with a mixture of amusement and pity as it was. Instead, he twiddled his thumbs nervously and furtively examined his surroundings.
On the table beside him sat a small tree decorated with lights and silver baubles. It symbolized a Human winter holiday, Vir knew. He searched his memory for the name of it. Chanukah? No, that wasn’t right. Christmas? Yes, maybe that was it. But perhaps he should ask the Human ambassador to confirm his recollection.
In front of the tree was a bowl of odd red and white colored objects encased in clear, crinkling wrappers. Vir picked up one of these and turned it over and over in his hand.
What could be the purpose of such things? Vir puzzled over this for some time before a Human female walked by, snatched one from the bowl, opened the wrapper, and stuck the object in her mouth. The woman shot Vir a sympathetic smile before she continued on her way, brushing an errant strand of hair from her eyes as she went.
Glancing at the receptionist, Vir unwrapped the item in his hand and copied the passing woman’s action.
Most curious- the food was pleasant to taste, yet there was something else that cooled his mouth and nose. He crunched experimentally and was rewarded with an even stronger flavor.
“Mr. Cotto?”
The salutation jolted Vir so suddenly from his reverie that he choked on the sweet and was seized with a fit of coughing for several moments. When he had finally come back to himself, the Human ambassador asked, his eyes dancing, “You all right, son?”
“I think so,” Vir wheezed in reply.
Oh, how utterly embarrassing! A blush crept up Vir’s face as he followed the ambassador into his office, the taste of the sweet still on his tongue.
II: The Ugly Sweater
When Vir entered the room, Londo nearly choked on his drink.
“Great Maker, Vir!” he boomed. “What is that hideous thing you are wearing?”
Vir looked down at the antlered Earth creature emblazoned on his chest; the little lights on the animal’s nose blinked red. “A merchant in the Zocalo told me that humans in this sect traditionally wear these sweaters to celebrate the birth of their god.” When he lifted his eyes again, he found Commanders Sinclair and Ivanova trying not to laugh and Londo sporting an expression that was simultaneously amused and exasperated. Vir pinked. “Did I do something wrong?”
When Londo flung his arm around Vir’s shoulders, Vir caught a whiff of an unfamiliar fruity alcohol. “Vir,” he began, drawing out the syllable even more extravagantly than usual. “As the Earthers say, you have been had.”
Vir’s face fell. He wanted so much to honor the humans’ customs. Had he accidentally given offense instead?
“It’s all right, Mr. Cotto,” Commander Sinclair cut in with a chuckle. “We appreciate your intent.”
“If not your taste,” Londo added. “Great Maker!” Then, with mock severity: “I expect you to recycle that monstrosity when we are finished here, Vir. You are Centauri.”
Vir didn’t, though. While he never wore the sweater again, he couldn’t bring himself to part with it no matter how many times he cleaned out his closet. Like so many things, it was a reminder.
III: Enthusiasms
“Your Majesty, I really must ask that you remove that… foolish hat before the procession proceeds to the celebration.”
From beneath furry white trim, Vir Cotto, Emperor of the Centauri Republic and the heart and soul of his race, asked with a peculiar boyish innocence, “Why? It’s one of their traditions.”
What Minister Andra Jaddo said next was delivered with a carefully composed patience, but if a man were watching closely enough, he would see a subtle twitch in the minister’s jaw. “Indeed, it is.” This particular discussion was well traveled ground. “But your… enthusiasms aside, the people, Highness, are expecting a certain… gravity… a certain… deportment… for so important a diplomatic function. It has been less than a year since the restoration of Earth’s embassy.”
Vir sighed, his face falling, once more reflecting his true age. Sinking onto his throne, he absently ran his hand across the velvet armrest. “Minister… what do you know about the Humans’ Santa Claus?”
“I know that he is a gift giver in their legends. Beyond that, I am aware of nothing else.”
The emperor turned his head to take in the city outside his window, the light of day splashing across his face. “There are actually several legends… several versions. I-I’ve been doing some reading.” Vir squinted his eyes in thought. “There is a story of a Saint Nicholas who, when he was alive, secretly provided a poor man enough money to pay for the marriages of his three daughters. And… there is another story… a poem, actually… that describes this legend as warm and cheerful. ‘Jolly’, I think, was the word the poem used.”
“If I may ask what…”
But Vir continued as if Jaddo had not spoken. “That is the sort of man… the sort of leader… I want to be.” Vir met the minister’s gaze. “There’s been enough gravity… enough death. I’m going as I am. And if the people laugh, let them. They need it.” Vir rose from his throne and touched Jaddo’s face with his hand, his eyes gentle and sad. “And the truth is, so do I.”
Jaddo’s shoulders sank slightly as if his strings had been cut. “And what of your hair, Majesty?”
“It’ll grow back.” A slow smile spread across Vir’s features, wrinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes. “The Empress Timov trained you well, Andra. What ever happens next is completely my responsibility.” The emperor tightly squeezed both of Jaddo’s shoulders. “Now let’s go. The ambassador is waiting.”
With that, His Majesty strode from the throne room, the ludicrous white pom-pom bouncing behind him.
Merry Christmas, everyone!
