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    Christmas on the Anvil: On the Anvil, #1
    Christmas on the Anvil: On the Anvil, #1
    Christmas on the Anvil: On the Anvil, #1
    Ebook61 pages52 minutes

    Christmas on the Anvil: On the Anvil, #1

    By Michael Penmore

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    About this ebook

    It's the night before Christmas, when all through the ship not an engine is stirring, not even a peep…

    It's Christmas Eve on the Anvil and everyone's getting ready for the celebration. Everyone but the spaceship's grumpy XO/navigator. When mysterious Christmas-themed things start happening, can the jaded second-in-command debunk the myth, or will she start to believe in the magic of Santa and the sleigh?

    Warning: Filled to bursting with humour and Christmas songs you know and love to hate.

    Get into the spirit of Christmas with the Anvil's crew in this light-hearted seasonal romp from the author of Jane Poole Genesis and Her Last Run.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMichael Penmore
    Release dateDec 3, 2018
    ISBN9781386536857
    Christmas on the Anvil: On the Anvil, #1

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      Book preview

      Christmas on the Anvil - Michael Penmore

      Dedication

      I dedicate this story to every person who made my childhood Christmases so special and magical.

      And to everyone with a sense of humour.

      This book wouldn’t be what it is without the following people:

      My ever-patient family.

      My cover designer:

      Juan Jose Padron

      My beta readers:

      Jeffery Hildebrand

      Kurtis McDowell

      David Myers

      Michael Shelton

      A special thank you to George Michael for his undeniable contribution to Christmases worldwide.

      Good luck getting that song out of your head.

      To everyone I forgot to mention.

      I Thank You All.

      It’s the night before Christmas, when all through the ship

      Not an engine is stirring, not even a peep;

      The Tiergans hang greenery on bulkheads with zest,

      The Anvil at Christmas must look at its best;

      Look, Sigma’s all snugly in warm comfy bed

      Hopes eggnog will stifle the Voice in her head;

      At cockpit, Zach Gorman is calm as he’s been,

      Who knows what he’s thinking, that outlawed machine;

      Rhys’ dancing and singing would wake up the dead,

      He’s building a big screen for movies ahead.

      But what about Nadie? Please take a soft chair

      And read all about her big Christmas affair!

      24 December 2094, 2.44pm — Christmas Eve

      Nonsense, gibberish and bah-humbug! Oh no, she was starting to think like Rhys! It was the height of the season of madness again. Every year was the same: Christmas with its over the top cheerfulness and generosity of spirit. But not for this XO and navigator. She was business as usual: vigilant and astute. There were many dangers lurking in space, ready to pounce on the unsuspecting crew of the Anvil. They needed a razor-sharp protector to lift them out of trouble, as always.

      Nadie’s beat was interrupted by uneasy sights. She stood in one of the Anvil’s hallways and ‘admired’ what Hetty had done to the bulkheads. They were glowing with cheap yellow and red lights hidden among a ridiculous amount of plastic foliage of a dark green colour.

      The same thing happened the previous year, only at a much smaller level. Apparently, this time the mechanic was on a quest to outdo herself. She had spread the Christmas hysteria all over the ship like a disease. The symptoms were gaudy ornaments and childishly giddy behaviour in everyone except the XO.

      Like what our mascot’s done to the place? Rhys joined Nadie with a content smile. He was a sucker for all this cheap stuff.

      No. It’s draining too much energy.

      It’s not. They got self-contained batteries. Two for the price of one!

      Whatever. The light is... ineffective. Too dim.

      Come on, Nadie, stop judging everything on tactical value, OK? Cheer up! It’s Christmas, you know? It’s the most wonderful time of the year, he slipped his arm around her waist and with a song on his lips pulled her into a rotating dance. He sang with energy but not much skill, …everyone telling you be of good cheeeeer...

      Stop! she pulled away from him, but the corners of her lips were curling up on their own. She stifled the incoming laughter with a snort. Rhys looked so silly when he pursued all those garish traditions. He was the only one able to make her forget herself for a second or two, pretty much.

      OK. No dancing. How about kissing? I saw mistletoe somewhere. He looked up and so did she.

      The siblings, Hetty and Malcolm, had splashed bright garlands and round baubles above the corridors. Nadie wondered where they’d been collecting all this useless trash for a year. The Anvil had to be at least a tonne heavier from carrying it!

      Rhys was smooching the air in front of her face. Nadie put him in his place, Give it up, lover boy. I’m not in the mood.

      All right. No dancing and no kissing. But you will come to the movies. He had a glimmer in his eyes and his cheeks went rosy. Rhys was both mirthful and deadly serious about his night of Christmas cinematic bonanza. Every year was the same. He gathered everyone in a big room and made them watch moving pictures on a wall screen made of bed sheets.

      I’ll take a wild stab in the dark and say you’ll make us watch ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ again.

      "However did you guess? It will be a smash.

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