A Christmas Greeting

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Prompt: Write about Christmas during a war. 500 words maximum.
Word Count: 485


“Life support will discontinue in sixty seconds,” a pleasant female voice chirped within his helmet. Mack looked aimlessly at the collection of twisted fragments of steel and metal that floated around him; they were all that remained of his trusted spacecraft. Despite the futility in the gesture, he pressed his thumb and forefinger together to again attempt to activate the boosters in his suit. As he had expected, nothing happened. He was certain the energy cells in his suit would not have enough juice to power the boosters while maintaining life support, but his inherent resilience made him try anyway. He was never one to give up so easily.

“Life support will discontinue in forty-five seconds,” the female voice updated him. At least, Mack thought, my last few moments will be spent with a woman. That, he recalled, was always what his mother had hoped for him; that he wouldn’t be alone in life, especially after his decision to join The League.

“It’s a lonely life, the life of a soldier,” Mrs. Hartigan would tell her son on his commission day, with both disdain and utmost love in her voice, while she brushed from the sleeve of her son’s uniform dust that only she could see. “It’s a senseless war.”

They’d had this argument many times before. Mack’s mother didn’t believe that Earth should’ve agreed to join the Martian contingent in the most recent crisis. Mack, of course, disagreed. He knew that this was his war; much like the Aegean Conflict was his father’s, and the Venus Occupation was his grandfather’s. He wanted to make a difference; his mother saw only despair. He couldn’t blame her, of course, as his father and grandfather had both given their lives to their wars.

“I’ll bring you home a Venusian beauty, Mom,” Mack had chided his mother on that day seven months ago. She responded by giving her son a simple smile. “You were always jealous of their complexion. Hey, maybe she’ll give you skin-care advice.”

“Stop kidding around,” she scolded him, playfully. “Just promise me one thing.”

“Anything, Mom,” he said.

“Just try to be home for Christmas.”

Mack smiled. What an interesting memory to recall right now, he thought. He pressed his ring finger to his thumb, and his helmet’s visor displayed the built-in chronometer. It read: 12-24-3591, 23:59.48. Heh, he mused, I didn’t even realize it was Christmas Eve.

“Life support will discontinue in ten seconds,” the female voice updated him. Mack continued smiling as he watched the numbers on the chronometer. He brought back the image of his mother to the front of his mind. He’d hoped his mother would consider this final gesture as him keeping his promise. His smile never left his lips even as he felt the oxygen in his suit dissipate, and he relished in the moment the clock struck midnight.

“Merry Christmas, Mom,” Mack whispered before consciousness left him.