Tracy Tam: Santa Command

by Drown, Krystalyn

  Tracy Tam: Santa Command

  Krystalyn Drown

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author makes no claims to, but instead acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the word marks mentioned in this work of fiction.

  Copyright © 2014 by Krystalyn Drown

  TRACY TAM: SANTA COMMAND by Krystalyn Drown

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America by Month9Books, LLC.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Published by Tantrum Books for Month9Books

  Cover illustrated by Zach Schoenbaum

  Cover and typography designed by Victoria Faye

  Cover Copyright © 2014 Month9Books

  For Kristi

  Tracy Tam: Santa Command

  Krystalyn Drown

  CHAPTER ONE

  Santa Command—Control Room 8

  December 24th

  2300 hours

  The twenty-foot view screen was filled from corner to corner with one horrifying image: a brightly lit fireplace! A box popped up on a bottom corner of the screen, listing worst-case scenarios. It named everything from blistered feet to a flaming Santa.

  Phil spoke frantically into his headset, sending Artie the order for an emergency Snow Drop. Artie, one of the techies on the lower level of the control room, grabbed his controller and began tapping buttons like he was fighting a boss on a video game. Except at Santa Command, there wasn't a restart button.

  “This shouldn't have happened,” Walt scolded. He reached in front of Phil and tapped out a string of commands on Phil's keyboard. The chances of Santa catching fire rose with each passing second. 23%. 48%. 76%.

  Beads of sweat formed on Phil's forehead, but it was nothing compared to the heat he would feel if he messed this up. “Heat signs for the entire block were negative. I don't know how I missed it.”

  Walt folded his arms across his rather large stomach. He was like Santa's evil twin, making stops in each of Santa Command's control rooms whenever his beeper warned him of an emergency. Instead of bringing presents, he brought demotions and demerit points.

  “How long?” he asked.

  Phil spoke into his headset. “Rose Street Camera. Knot of Giant Oak. Pull back. Show me the sky.”

  A girl on the lower level punched a few buttons. The picture on the view screen rushed backwards, pulling away from the Tam's living room window and up into the star-filled sky. There was nothing else to see, not even the moon.

  “Where is it, Artie?” Walt's normally rosy cheeks turned purple. The sleigh was on the roof. The big guy was two paces from the chimney.

  “It's coming!” Artie shouted up to them.

  “Not fast enough.” Phil rubbed his temple. A headache was starting to form, and he couldn't think straight. He scanned the screen, back and forth, up and down.

  Santa stood by the chimney with one foot raised in the air. His eyes were glazed over, oblivious to the smoke rushing out of the chimney.

  “Come on. Come on. Come on!” Phil drummed his fingers on the desk. “There!” He pointed to the upper right corner of the screen. A tiny black dot had appeared, and it was quickly approaching.

  “If he doesn't make it–” Walt warned.

  “He'll make it. I'm not losing this Santa.”

  Phil held his breath as the black dot grew closer, revealing itself to be a large bird, not a real one, but close enough to fool the humans. There was a tan, leather bag clutched in its talons.

  The man in the red suit lifted his leg over the chimney edge. The smoke touched the heel of his boot, then parted around it. The man didn't pause. He wasn't programmed to.

  Phil buried his face in his hands. That type of mistake would certainly mean demotion and possibly the loss of his job.

  Walt slammed his fist onto the control table. “Look!”

  Phil's eyes popped back open. He caught his thumbnail between his teeth as Artie's remote control bird soared over the chimney top and dropped the white fluffy cargo down the hole, exactly one second before Santa hefted his other leg over, tossed a handful of yellow dust over his head, and dropped down the chimney.

  “Rose Street Camera,” Phil said in a nervous whisper, “show me the Tam living room.”

  The camera panned down to the window and showed Santa arranging presents around the twinkling tree. The fireplace was covered with a soft, white substance that would soon evaporate, leaving no trace it had ever existed.

  Phil leaned back in his seat, running his hands back through his short, curly hair. He had saved his tail. This time.

  He glanced at the calendar on the wall. Six months until he had enough money for his vacation. He'd been saving for years just so he could spend a month in Hawaii surfing, kayaking, and mountain climbing.

  Walt's beeper went off again.

  Of course. Phil sat back up. The relief never lasted long on December 24th.

  Walt pointed to the bright red words that scrolled across the top of the screen. “Phil, we've got movement upstairs.”

  “Is it a parent?”

  “Negative.” Walt pressed a button, and several lines of green text appeared in a box at the top left corner of the screen.

  Species: Human

  Height: 4'9”

  Age: 10

  Speed: Slow

  Destination: Appears to be the staircase

  Phil smiled. This was why he'd been chosen to lead Control Room 8. He knew kids, and he knew how to distract them. He'd seen a lot in his years at Santa Command, and he'd once calculated that four out of ten children tried to catch a glimpse of Santa on Christmas Eve. Whether the kids sneaked out of bed, slept in the living room with one eye open, or hid in the chimney, he had a scenario for them all.

  Phil spoke into his headset. “Rose Street Camera. Tam's Pine Tree. Give me the second story hallway.”

  One of the techies made the adjustment. The view screen switched from the living room to a dark hallway on the second floor.

  “Night vision, please,” Phil ordered.

  The techie touched a key on his keyboard, and a night vision lens slid into place on the camera. The hallway was now lit in a green glow. Phil could clearly see Tracy Tam creeping past her parents' bedroom door. Her bare feet made no sound in the plush carpet, and she was careful to side step the jingly toys her kitten left scattered everywhere.

  “Hm,” Phil said. “Neatly brushed hair. No wrinkles in her pajamas. She's been waiting up, most likely reading a book.”

  “Seems pretty routine.”

  “Affirmative.” Phil called up another camera, asking for the new shot to be displayed as a smaller video in the corner of the screen. The hallway was still the main focus, but the corner screen showed the rooftop where eight tiny reindeer stood eerily still. He flipped a switch on his headset and transmitted a message to the ear buds worn by each reindeer. “Time to change.”

  Even though Phil had seen the transformation thousands of times, his mouth still dropped open in amazement. He knew enough about cameras and technology to create the appearance of magic, but these guys had the real thing. In less than an eye blink, the deer had shrunk out of their harnesses and morphed into their true forms—Inklings. About six inches tall with sharp brown features that made them look like they'd been carved from a tree, they were what most pe
ople mistook for elves. But they were so much more than that.

  Sasha's squeaky voice chirped into Phil's headset. “Tell me this is gonna be fun.”

  Phil suppressed a laugh. The Inklings were tricky little buggers and cherished the one night of the year when their magic wasn't restricted to sneaking around as birds and squirrels, taking notes for the naughty and nice list. If they were judging themselves, they would make the naughty list every time.

  “How about Diversion Scenario #3?” Phil suggested. Code Name: Wake up Mom.

  Sasha cackled into the headset. As the tiny creatures dropped down the chimney and into the living room, Phil had the cameramen follow them so he wouldn't miss out on any of the fun.

  Sasha started small. She and her team raced up the stairs, pausing at the very top. She motioned for the rest of them to stay back while she slunk into one of the shadows to retrieve a purple cat toy. It looked about the size of a bowling ball in her arms, and that was exactly how she used it. With perfect timing, she rolled it under Tracy's heel just as the girl passed her parents' bedroom. Tracy slipped and landed on her back with a soft thud.

  “Oof!” she cried.

  Her mother's sleepy voice drifted into the hallway. “Did you hear that?”

  Tracy sat up straight and, with wide eyes, glanced back to her bedroom. It was only a few feet behind her.

  That's right, thought Phil. Go back to bed. There's nothing to see downstairs.

  Sasha's pointy face twisted into a frown. Many times, a small noise was all it took to send the kids scrambling back to bed.

  “It's probably Santa.” It was her father's voice this time. “He usually comes about now.”

  “Yeah,” her mother said. “I bet you're right. I hope he brings that microscope Tracy's been asking for. I couldn't find it online.”

  “Mmm,” her father said. “Go back to sleep. We'll see in the morning.”

  For a long moment, Tracy didn't move, but when no further sounds came from her parents' room, she stood up, brushed off her Superman pajamas, and resumed her creep toward the stairs.

  “Uh oh,” said Phil, even though he knew the first attempt only worked half the time. Quickly, he thought up another scenario. “Sasha, go for the snowflake.”

  Sasha nodded. She made a few hand motions to the seven Inklings behind her, and they moved into the hallway, arranging themselves in the Snowflake Position, each of them hidden in a dark corner of the hall. Time to amp up the game.

  Tracy inched forward.

  Sasha mumbled to the others. “Wait for it. Wait for it.” Then, when Tracy stepped into the sweet spot, the center of the “snowflake,” Sasha raised her hand into the air. The Inklings each pointed one finger toward Tracy and shot out a very low dose of magic, slightly chilled. To Tracy, it would have felt like the air conditioning flipped on and a breeze shivered across her skin. Cold, but not alarmingly so. Enough to send her scurrying for the warmth of her covers.

  She lived in Florida, however, and the winter had been uncomfortably warm. When the air hit her, she smiled, welcoming the chill.

  Walt's beeper squealed louder. “Fix this!” he demanded.

  Tracy was inches from the stairway now, and once she got there, she'd be able to see straight down to the living room where Santa was filling her stocking. She crouched down as she got closer, and Phil caught a glimpse of his solution sitting in her shirt pocket. He relayed the information to Sasha.

  As Phil's voice traveled through Sasha's tiny ear bud, Sasha saw exactly what Phil was referring to. That's why they worked as a team. Sasha saw the world from the ankles down. Phil and his cameras saw everything else. Sasha typed in a code to her wristcom and smiled as she sent out an activation signal to any wireless device within five feet. In this case, it was Tracy's cell phone, tucked carefully into her shirt pocket.

  When the phone started blasting Beyoncé, Tracy yelped, then scrambled back to her bedroom. A split second later, her dad poked his head out of his room.

  Mr. Tam looked up and down the hallway, but all he saw was Tracy's closed door and a bunch of shadows. The Inklings were well hidden, camouflaged both by darkness and magic.

  When he was satisfied his daughter was safely in bed, he went back into his room. His muffled voice carried into the hallway once more. “If she was on that phone again—”

  “Don't,” his wife said soothingly. “It's Christmas. She's probably gossiping with Kate, talking about what Santa will bring them.”

  “Fine,” Mr. Tam sighed. “But next time, it's gone for a week.”

  As the house settled back into a peaceful slumber, Phil wiped the sweat off his forehead. “There. Crisis averted.”

  Walt raised one eyebrow. “Are you positive?”

  “Well...” Phil surveyed the screen, which showed Santa still packing Tracy's stocking. Depending on how fast he worked, she had time to sneak out again. Phil ordered up another camera, this one in the bird's nest just outside Tracy's window. He had a clear shot of the curled up lump lying in her bed, and her long black hair trailing out from under the comforter and across her pillow. “Now, I'm positive.”

  “Good,” Walt said. It was the closest to a compliment he ever gave on Christmas Eve. “Now, get Santa out of there and on to the next house.”

  Phil cracked his knuckles. “Bring it on.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Tracy

  When Tracy's phone went off, she aborted Plan A and went straight to Plan B: Join the Party. She didn't like that she didn't get any video of Santa in her house, but she knew Plan B was where she would find the strongest evidence for her experiment.

  She'd had her pillows and wig set up in her bed for hours, so it was a simple matter of climbing out of her window, which overlooked the roof. All she had to do was ease her way past her parents' window onto the larger section of roof over the garage. With no moon visible, she hoped it was dark enough that Santa and his elves wouldn't spot her. Did he bring his elves with him? She wasn't clear on the details, but that was where this experiment came in.

  As she approached the sleigh, she noticed the absence of reindeer. Their reins were attached to the sleigh, sticking straight out, as if the animals were still in them, but they were nowhere in sight. She made a mental note: Reindeer = holograms? To her, that was more logical than the sign hanging on Santa's sleigh—Out for a drink of water. Be back in a flash.

  Her grandmother always said that Santa's reindeer were glorious creatures, and that children should stay up at least once in their life to sneak a peek at them in flight. But Tracy knew that reindeer did not have wings, and without wings, they couldn't fly, plain and simple. Whatever her grandmother had seen had been an illusion.

  Tracy circled the sleigh looking for a tiny projector or camera lens on the front of it to prove her theory. She couldn't find one, but at the back, she found something even better—a pair of jet engines attached between the sleigh's runners. Yes! Solid proof that the reindeer didn't actually fly the sleigh. By dawn, she was going to have a logical explanation for every aspect of Santa's big night.

  She snapped several pictures with her phone, and then hopped into the back of the sleigh, breathing a sigh of relief that there weren't any elves hiding in there. After a quick glance around for Santa or nosy neighbors, she opened the notes file on her phone and added two words to the bottom—jet propulsion. Then, she slid her phone back into her pocket and burrowed beneath four giant red bags, settling in for a long night.

  She had been preparing for this night for the past two and a half months, ever since she'd heard her mom talking on the phone to her Aunt Susan. Tracy only heard one side of the conversation, but it had been enough.

  “That's wonderful, Suze!” her mom had said. “I can't believe you found a doctor that can help Pim!”

  Tracy nearly screamed for joy when she heard that. Her cousin, Pim, had been her best friend before the accident. After Pim fell out of that tree, all she ever did was lie in bed a
nd stare at the TV. Her doctors said she should be fine, but she wasn't. She couldn't walk, and she rarely spoke. Most of the time Pim wouldn't even blink to show she understood what people were saying to her. If her aunt had found a doctor who could help, that was the best news in the world.

  Of course, it was followed by the worst news in the world.

  “It's going to cost how much?” The sadness in her mother's voice made Tracy sick to her stomach. There was a doctor out there who could fix Pim, but her aunt couldn't afford him. “Oh honey, I'm so sorry. If we had that much, I'd give it to you in a heartbeat, but we just don't.”

  The words rung through Tracy's ears and bounced around in her mind. It couldn't be the truth. After the phone call ended, Tracy marched straight up to her mom. “How could you tell her that? There's gotta be some way to get the money.”

  “Sweetheart, I know you miss having Pim around, but you have to understand that some things just aren't possible.” Her mom reached out to tuck Tracy's hair behind her ear.

  Tracy ducked out of the way. She was furious that her mom had done nothing. She hadn't talked to her dad about it. She hadn't asked her boss for a raise. She hadn't offered to take out a second mortgage on their house. In the movies, people did all of those things to come up with money when it was important.

  Tracy folded her arms across her chest and leveled her eyes at her mom. It was a stare that often made her mom give in, or ground her, depending on the situation. “There is a way, and if you're not willing to find it, then I am.”

  The next week, her science teacher, Mr. Danner, gave her the answer on a bright green flyer.

  “You should enter this,” he said. “You're on the younger end, but I think you're smart enough to come away with at least an honorable mention prize.”

  “Prize?” Tracy's heart hammered wildly against her ribs as she traced the black lettering with her pointer finger.