A Fast and A Feast
Silence and Starsong presents the winning story for its November 2022 Flash Fiction Contest,
“A fast and a feast, then,” the mayor of Vinke said, after the council meeting.
The fast had already been called. It was their sixth winter since they landed on this world. They had finally used up the stored food brought from Earth. This winter, for the first time, they had to rely solely on what they had grown here. It was the same at the other three villages around Lake Xeno, the only settlements on the whole world.
“Yes, we still need the day of fasting,” said the Rev Paul Campbell, “No one expects a ship to come now, from Earth or from the aliens. We only have what God will provide here. But good news should still be celebrated.”
Titus Price, the co-op treasurer, said, “I still can’t believe how good the supplies are. We rechecked all the counts repeatedly. Food and fuel stores are far better than hoped, and the equipment is faring very well, too. We’re in far better shape for next year than we hoped. A feast provided from the co-op stores is definitely in order.”
Mayor Helen Vinke turned to the pastor, “And the session won’t object to having the feast on Christmas?”
“I can’t speak for the others before we meet,” Paul said, “But we know this isn’t trying to force anything on us. If we’re going to have a special celebration this year, it’s fitting we do it when the other villages also have a holiday. I expect the church will have a service for the town’s day of thanksgiving.”
As they stepped out of the town hall, a red-haired boy ran up. “Oh, good! You’re all here! Daddy wanted to see you at the tree! He’s got the lights working!”
Paul smiled at Helen. “Papa Hank and I put this whole expedition together. We somehow got Spaceman captains to ship us here, and he even convinced everyone to put the cranky Presbyterians in one village, and we’re still the ones with a big Christmas tree. He’d have laughed at that!”
Helen gave a soft chuckle of agreement, smiling wistfully at the mention of her late husband.
A year before everyone arrived, the advance team had planted a mature oak in the town green of each of the four village sites. Only the oak at Vinke survived, standing tall on the end of the high ground before the slope down to the lake. It was the first sign of the village whether you approached on land from Southville or over the lake from the other villages.
The planet had no native trees. It seemed to only have moss, ferns, and water plants. Even the attempts to establish woodlots with carefully selected seeds and saplings after arrival had faced setbacks. That only served to make the Vinke tree even more beloved by all four villages as a reminder of Earth. No one knows who brought the Christmas lights, but each December so far the tree was strung with them to brighten the early winter.
They arrived at the tree, on the opposite end of the small green. Helen said, “Tompkins! So you figured out a way to light them this year? When your boy came up talking about the tree, I half expected it was Bishop John of Marysville trying to set up a shrine again!”
Tompkins laughed, “He knows even me and the Ellises don’t want it here! Otherwise we would have joined Marysville from the start, to save the rowing to get to mass!”
With that, Tompkins showed off his repairs to the alien power inverter. “I took it and six other dead ones apart. I managed to salvage enough working tubes to get three of them working again.”
Paul noticed an odd gleam near the base of the tree.
“So I actually made more spares for us! That let me hook the lights back up to the tractor batteries we used last year,” Tompkins continued.
Paul knelt down, and saw two copper nails sticking out of the bark, with little medallions hanging from them on wire loops. His blood ran cold.
Tompkins continued, “I also managed to find more of the replacement bulbs in the storage container, so both strings are—”
“Wait, did you see these?” Paul interrupted.
Tompkins and Titus knelt down and swore.
“Those wouldn’t be enough to kill a tree this big,” Titus said. “That’s a myth.”
“But did whoever did this know that?” Paul asked.
“Depends who it was,” Tompkins said, “Either way, we should have Mr. Jones come over, take a look and decide what to do. He’s our best tree guy.”
At Helen’s request Paul carefully took the medallions off the nails so she and the others could inspect them.
One was engraved with a picture of an abstract humanoid, carrying a frond and scales, surrounded by four winds. It bore the inscription “Ho-Lo-Ma”.
The other medallion had calligraphic text reading:
Free your soil
Of woody roots,
That we may thrive.
After some minutes, Helen said, “The only engraver skilled enough to make these is Varda from New Mendocino across the lake. Isn’t she one of the leaders of the new animist sect there?”
“Yes,” Paul said, “And I think they call their world-spirit for this planet Ho-Lo-Ma.”
They stood silent for several more minutes. They knew what this meant.
Helen broke the silence. “We will need to set watches, starting tonight. Make sure no one can sneak in unseen. Here, in the woodlot, around the food storage. And I will have to have a quiet word with the leaders of the other villages about this.”
“We’ll need to let everyone know what happened, before rumors get started,” Titus added.
Tompkins looked worried. “How bad will this get? How long will we be without peace?”
“We don’t know, but we can pray,” Paul said, with a determined look, “And we have our feast, and a fast.”