Work Text:
Candles burnin’ low…
Lots of misletoe
As What Christmas Means to Me by 98 Degrees plays, the camera swoops down over the main plaza on Pabu. On one end, a modified Omicron-class attack shuttle sits covered in strand after strand of holiday lights. One overly large human and one human in goggles perch on top, gesturing and speaking quite emphatically as they debate tightening the bulbs to find the loose one.
All these things and more (all these things and more)
Whoa, that’s what Christmas means to me my love (That’s what Christmas means to me my love)
On the ground below, a Togruta woman chuckles and fondly shaking her head, plugs the display in. Happiness and joy is shared by all as the shuttle is illuminated with a happy, garish display of red, white, and green blinking lights.
… that’s what Christmas means to me my love (That’s what Christmas means to me my love)
The camera continues over the plaza showcasing the diversity of residents of Pabu milling about the festive holiday market place. Green skinned, googly-eyed Rodians sample holiday cookies; a large Besalisk heartedly greets friends with a multi-armed hug; a tattooed Mirialan mother runs after a toddler while yelling for her older children to hurry up; and a tall, green, fuzzy alien with very long, furry fingers and a pointed head stops to enjoy a group of carolers.
The camera swings back at the light-covered Marauder. Poised beside it, as is the custom, stands Crosshair’s rifle covered in garland and red balls with Lula positioned on top. Surrounding the “tree” are presents wrapped with various degrees of skill.
All these things and more, darling (All these things and more, darling)
That’s what Christmas means to me, my love
“Music’s set up,” Hunter announced. “It’s a set play list, and I’ve got everyone’s favorite, so no grumbling. I’ve also locked the controls, so no sabotage!”
“Wanna bet?”
“Challenge accepted.”
“Pipe down everyone!” Hunter ordered. “Echo, what are you doing?”
Everyone turned to the refreshments table. Ever on guard with both blasters drawn, Echo hovered above the punch bowl full of his homemade egg nog.
“Ask Howzer.”
“Why Echo, I have no idea what you mean,” Howzer oh-so-innocently remarked. “Are those blasters set on stun?”
“No comment.”
As the group returned to its merry-making, Phee worked to get everyone’s attention. “All right everyone, clap once if you hear me. Clap twice if you hear me.” Omega and Lyana obediently clapped twice. Howzer sighed and shook his head.
“Shut it!” he yelled.
“Oh, okay.”
“Sorry.”
“Sorry.”
Howzer winked at Phee. She winked back. “Thank you, Howzer.” Phee indicated the table in front of her. “Now, we have here a selection of cookie dough, cookie cutters if you choose to use them, and a variety of icing and decorations such as crushed peppermint, sprinkles, and dragees.
Wrecker frowned. “What?”
“Dragees. Drah zhays,” Phee enunciated.
“Wait, you put those on cookies? They’re not ammo?” he asked, frowning at the bowl of small, silver balls.
“No, Wrecker, they’re not ammo. Yes, you can put them on cookies.”
“Oh…”
“So, the criteria is to create, bake, and decorate your cookie or cookies. We have two toaster ovens set up for you. Then, we’ll vote and see who wins the contest.”
Omega raised her small hand. “What’s the prize?”
“Uh…” Phee thought.
“Our undying admiration,” Hunter offered.
“Yes!”
Several hurmphs and “I’d rather get a prize” were muttered.
“Bad Batch, Plan Holiday Cheer, now!” Hunter ordered. Grumbling ceased and bright smiles appeared.
Phee continued, “When we’re done, we’ll do our Secret Santa gift exchange. All right, commence cookie making!”
The next hour was spent with much effort in rolling, cutting, wadding up, rolling, cutting, swearing, baking, icing, spilling, knocking over, and sprinkling. At some point, Tech brandished a ruler.
“Measure twice; cut once.”
At the appointed time…
“Ding! Ding! Times up! Sprinkles down. Okay, Hunter, let’s start with you. Let’s see, a couple of perpendicular rectangles?” Phee cocked her head, trying to decipher Hunter’s cookie.
“It’s a blaster. See, this is the handle and this is the barrel. I put sprinkles on it to make it look festive.” Hunter beamed with pride.
“Good job, Hunter!” Wrecker bellowed.
“Yes, good job, Hunter. All right, Wrecker, you’re up.” Phee regarded the oblong shaped lump covered in dragees. “Uh, let me guess, a proton torpedo?”
“That’s right! Covered in ammo.”
“Good job, Wrecker!” Omega called.
“Very creative, very nice. Okay, next up is Omega and Lyana. Our ladies teamed up, and, oh! These are mini ornaments?”
“Yes!” Omega confirmed.
“This is an angel,” Lyana pointed out, “while this is a bell, and this is a ball.” The group crowded around and oohed and aahed over the intricate ornaments, expertly decorated in red and green icing, sprinkles, and even some gold leaf.
“Nice!”
“Beautiful!”
“I could have done that if I had felt like it.
“Sure, Wrecker.”
“Good job, ladies, good job. Beautiful! Now, Wolffe. What do you have for us?”
Bearing his special festive, holiday scowl, Wolffe presented a cookie that was a perfect circle, covered in white royal icing with one white dot in the center. No one, absolutely no one was going to tell him that it looked like his prosthetic eye.
“Ah, it’s…”
“Classic and elegant in its simplicity,” he remarked.
“Classic and elegant, very true. Good job, Wolffe. Okay, now, Rex. Um…” Rex held up his cookie to a couple of wide-eyes and giggles and some choked and barely contained laughter.
Rex looked around in confusion. “It’s a reindeer face. See? These are the ears, and this,” he indicated the long part, “is the snout. A reindeer face.”
Howzer couldn’t hold his laughter in any longer. “It looks like a happy face on a dick. A happy dick!”
“It’s a reindeer face!” Rex turned bright red at the open laughter. “Fine! I made a second cookie. Here, mistletoe.”
“Ah, Rex, honey,” Ahsoka giggled. “I think you’ve still got the same problem. But look, I made mistletoe too.” Ahsoka held up her perfectly crafted cookie featuring green leaves and white berries. Rex and Ahsoka considered her cookie, and as her hand holding the cookie shot up in the air over them, they exchanged a quick peck.
“Awww.”
“How sweet!”
“Gross.”
“Moving on, Echo. What do you have for us?” Phee regarded the red and green cookie. “Is this a data pad?”
“Yeah, but technically it’s a reg manual on hanging holiday lights.”
“Very creative. Good job. Next up, Tech.”
“This,” he indicated the a pile of gold sticks in front of him, “is a representation of a luminous ball of plasma, held together by its own gravity, whose immense heat and pressure turned hydrogen into helium and therefore released huge amounts of energy as light that guided scholars to a child in a distant land.”
“You created the star that guided the Wise Men to Bethlehem.”
“That’s what I said.”
“Well…well done.”
“Thank you.”
“Okay, Howzer.” Howzer offered up a sort of a gingerbread man or woman with brown squiggle lines coming up off the head.
“Um, it’s not very good, but I was trying to do you,” he said as shyly as Howzer could be shy.
“Awww.”
“How sweet!”
“Whatever.”
“I love it! Thank you, Howzer.” Phee batted her eyes as him. Howzer winked in return.
“Crosshair, what do you have?”
Crosshair didn’t say a word but held up the most intricate and beautifully decorated representation of Batcher complete with a holly sprig attached to her collar.
“Awww.”
“How sweet!”
“Crosshair really did that?”
“I made it right here,” Crosshair monotoned. He stuck a toothpick in his mouth.
“Well, Crosshair, that is amazing. Okay, everyone, take a piece of paper and put down your favorite for the winner.”
Everyone searched for paper, tore off pieces, and passed around the only pen that worked.
“All right everyone, drop your vote in the basket.” Phee stirred the ballots to mix them up. “Okay, let’s see, Lyana, please keep the tally for us. We have…one vote for Tech. One vote for Wrecker, one vote for Hunter…” At the end, everyone regarded the tally.
“So, we all voted for ourselves,” Hunter concluded.
“I do kind of like Crosshair’s…”
“I like Omega and Lyana’s…”
While a debate broke out, long, green, furry fingers wrapped one by one around the Marauder’s nose as the furry, green, pointy-headed alien peeked around at the happy group and gazed at the presents under the rifle-tree.
“By hook or by crook, those presents are coming with me. Todo, prepare a distraction.”
“On it!”
“Wrecker, did you eat yours?”
“Yeah…”
“I think Rex’s should be Most Pornographic.”
“Hey!”
“Don’t listen to them. It’s a lovely reindeer dick.”
“I’m switching my vote to Crossha-"
Right then, as All I Want for Christmas began, the sound system stuck and the sound of Mariah Carey’s opening note repeatedly filled the air.
“I…”
“I…”
“I…”
“I…”
“What the hell?"
“Make it stop!”
“I…”
“I…”
“I…”
“I…”
“The system’s not responding,” Echo called as he desperately pushed buttons and tried to ignore the annoying glances of passersby.
“I…”
“I…”
“I…”
“I…”
“Stand aside, Echo.” With one swoop, Crosshair grabbed the rifle-tree, and with garland swinging, place a shot squarely in the middle of the sound system. A stunned silence followed.
“Crosshair’s killed Mariah Carey!” Omega wailed. A collective gasp arose.
“You’re welcome,” Crosshair replied, sticking a toothpick in his mouth.
Phee tapped her comm unit. “Mel," she called to her droid, "get over here and be our sound system.” Presently, Mariah was resurrected, and Omega, Echo, Lyana, Ahsoka, and Wrecker happily sang along.
As the last note faded, Hunter’s head swung around. “The Grinch is stealing our presents! After him!” To the sounds of Jingle Bells by Barry Manilow and Expose, holiday shoppers shrieked and jumped aside as the Grinch darted here and there, knocking over baskets of goods and throwing holiday pastries at his pursuers.
“Todo! Fire up the ship!”
Shep, having completed his shift as Santa Clause, stepped out of the Archium on his way to join the Bad Batch’s party when his eyes widened in fear as he looked up in time to see the Grinch and Hunter in mid-air, bearing down on him. Shep found himself at the bottom of a dog pile with arms and legs all around. The Grinch fought his way free, and engaging the jet packs on his boots, lifted away, spilling gifts from his sack as he rose. He landed on the ramp of a shuttle as it swooped down, and with a nod to those below, soared away.
“Well,” Omega noted as she struggled with great effort to break free, “at least we have our gifts.”
Gifts were gathered, vendor carts were righted, and stock was put back on shelves. Soon, the party settled down to exchange their Secret Santa gifts.
“Recipes of the Jedi!” Shep’s eyes lit up as he browsed through his gift from Hunter.
“Yeah, it’s got Yoda’s recipe for matcha and Mace Windu’s favorite: dry toast. I thought you might like it.”
“Crosshair, I love it!” Lyana exclaimed as she held up a necklace.
Wolffe’s eyes widen in delight at a pair of new socks from Tech.
Echo and Howzer laughed, discovering that they had drawn each other. Howzer unwrapped a bottle of Corellian whiskey while Echo’s eyes lit up as he unwrapped a vintage reg manual, circa year one of the Clone Wars.
As 98 Degrees’ Run Run Rudolph plays, the camera slowly rises away as the happy group delights in their gifts. Echo passes around cups of egg nog, and the group settles down to eat their decorated cookies. As the camera turns away from the party towards the bustling holiday market, we hear an outraged Echo exclaim,
“HOWZER!”