"SMV Jamestown Ferry acknowledges undocking procedures complete and green across the board. Good day to you, SS Tambo." I watched on the scanner as the passenger transport Tambo turned away from us, began its outbound run to the line of marker buoys. Our slower freighter would follow, turning for our jump run at the farthest buoy.
       "Jamestown Ferry, good day and good luck!" Tambo's bridge officer replied.
       I snorted agreement, though I didn't transmit it. We would need all the luck possible to survive the seven-day voyage to Space Station Odin Six. It was the End-of-the-Unified-Calendar-Year Holidays, and extended family was traveling with us to meet the whole clan at Odin Six for a ten-day family reunion and celebration of the Gifting Day Feast.
       We would need luck to survive the aunties and Uncle Jeff and the twins and the second End-of-Year feast, the Thankfulness Feast, aboard ship. At least Grandmother was coming with them. I'd missed her since she retired and moved dirtside.
       "Ready to greet the family?" Father asked, rising from the Captain's chair. He and Mother owned the cargo ship I'd grown up on, buying out Grandmother's shares on her retirement.
       "Maybe I should stand watch," I said. It was an unlikely dodge, but it never hurt to try.
       My sister Katie double-checked the life support before walking over and slapping my shoulder. "If I have to go, so do you."
       Setting the ship's autopilot and proximity alarms, I made the short jaunt to the airlock and greeted the family. The aunties had Mother cornered. Uncle Jeff, Aunt Marge's husband, peered around at the ship in distaste. Grandmother stood to one side, chatting with a slender woman about my age. Aisha wasn't family but was a friend, and Dad invited her. Still, it must have been an awkward trip considering her history with the branch of the family she'd traveled with. My own anxiety started to spike at the idea of how this would play out over the holidays.
       I had one moment to brace myself before the wet slobbering tongue on my face and paws on my chest sent me reeling backward.
       "Kisses! Tim! Mr. Nibbles just wants to give you kisses!" With a name like Mr. Nibbles, you'd think Aunt Lena's dog would be something small and bug-eyed. Mr. Nibbles was an English Mastiff, a giant, cheerful calamity on four paws. Katie and I had built a run for him in Cargo Four to let him work off some energy.
       A hand reached out and grabbed the dog's collar, saving me from further slobbering. I looked up to thank my rescuer. My father's younger brother, Lt. Commander Roger Forsythe, smiled at me as he handed Mr. Nibbles off to Lena's twin teenagers. Uncle Roger and Dad greeted each other, smiling and clasping hands. I wondered how long before the old argument started; Dad felt Uncle Roger leaving our crew to join the Navy was a betrayal of family. I hoped that Roger's son Liam staying and working with us maybe helped heal that wound.
       Mother nudged my shoulder and passed me the handle of a battered rolling footlocker. "Tim, I need to get back to the engines. Help your grandmother settle. We put her in her old quarters." I took the surprisingly heavy suitcase and turned to Grandmother, who had finished her conversation and waited patiently for me.
       "Goodness, Tim. Look at you. Charity told me you passed the pilot exams last year." She pointed at the tab pinned to my shirt. "And not just a star pilot, but a licensed jump pilot at nineteen years old. Your father was twenty-two when he passed the jump exams. Hell, I was twenty, so you beat both of us. Well done, Tim."
       I blushed. This was high praise from the former master and commander of SMV Jamestown Ferry. "Thank you, Grandma. I--can we talk later? I'll be handling the jump to the Odin Six and with the whole family aboard. . . ."
       She patted my shoulder. "I'm sure you'll be fine, but yes. Where am I bunking?"
       "Mom put you in your old quarters."
       "Oh, she didn't have to kick crew out of their bunk."
       "Katie seemed happy to move down to the temp bunks in Cargo One for the trip."
       We passed Katie chatting with Aisha. "Are Aisha and Chad together again?" Grandma asked. Aisha was, once upon a time, my cousin Chad's fiancée. Chad served on the ship as an apprentice technician for a couple of years before. . .before we parted ways. He worked for his father's company on Demeter Six last I heard, selling things, or buying things, or manufacturing things. He did something.
       "No. That ship has sailed," I replied.
       "So, who invited her?"
       "Dad. Mom needs a new assistant engineer, and Dad's determined to talk Aisha into hiring on." Aisha always insisted on fine-tuning the gravity plates in the cargo bays, calibrating the air scrubbers, and doing other little chores on the way to Odin Six. Aisha was an excellent engineer, whereas Chad was. . .well, best that he was as far from the ship as possible.
       "Hmm," Grandmother said. "Be a shame to let a fine engineer like her get away. Maybe you should ask her on a date, Tim."
       I glanced back at where Aisha leaned against the bulkhead laughing. Katie twirled a bit of her long red hair between her fingers, smiling at Aisha and biting her bottom lip. "I don't think I'm the one Aisha is into, Grandma."
       She chuckled dryly. "Well then, good luck to Katie."

       The days leading up to the Thankfulness Feast were disquietly quiet. Mr. Nibbles was subdued, possibly because our ship cats, Thor and Sif, were playing with him, which meant the big fluffy agile felines were tormenting the poor beast. The aunties got space sick. Uncle Jeff grumbled about their quarters, the food, and the cold. The twins hid in their bunks. There was an issue with the guest lavatories, and we will never speak of it again. Katie seemed distracted by Aisha. I found Grandmother on the bridge more than once. The first time, she drolly reminded me she was still a qualified bridge officer, and she would damned well stand a watch if she pleased. Pretty normal stuff; in truth, it was worrisome.

       Feast day arrived.
       There is a defined division of food labor for the holidays. Ship's crew are responsible for the basics of the feast, something Mother insisted on preparing despite Liam and his husband Saadig being the ones who cooked ninety-five percent of our meals. Family passengers brought small sides, things easily stored in the cold locker, or Cargo Two, which was as good as a fridge right now, given the state of its environmental controls.
       Grandmother brought The Fruitcake. The Fruitcake was a family heirloom, a solid brick of a thing baked to the density of a neutron star, filled with nuts and dried fruits, soaked in so much brandy it made your eyes water if you stood too near, and covered in powdered sugar. It was for display purposes only. Family lore claimed it was twelve generations old.
       On feast morning, you could feel the tension of thirteen family members, one guest, and three animals trapped together in a tin can designed to haul cargo - not people - powering through deep space. Aisha made an adjustment to the air scrubbers before she and Katie vanished again, telling Mom they were going to check the gravity-plates in Cargo Three.
       By mid-afternoon, food began arriving at the table, but the sense of dread kept building. I know I was feeling the pressure of being at the controls while making the jump with the extended family on board. We had turned at the outer marker and started our inbound run. After dinner, I would be spending all my waking hours on the bridge preparing for the jump, trying to make it as smooth as possible. I didn't want the aunties to become more space sick. I didn't want to disappoint Grandmother with a rough jump or a hard re-entry into normal space on the other end. I looked at Dad. "You know, the autopilot's been kind of wonky lately. Maybe I should go to the bridge and stand watch. We wouldn't want to crash into a rogue comet."
       "Sit!" Mother commanded, and I took my place at the long table set up in Cargo One, just off the temporary living quarters.
       The aunties brought a cold tray piled high with pickles, olives, little beets, and baby carrots from groundside. Uncle Roger supplied a package of frozen dinner rolls and two entire sticks of real butter, all labeled 'Alliance Navy Use Only.' There was a red congealed thing made from algae, and if you squinted at it sideways, you could almost convince yourself it was cranberry sauce. There was also a greenish-grey concoction with a crunchy topping playing the role of green bean casserole. The potatoes, gravy, and stuffing came dehydrated, so if you could heat water, you had passable potatoes, gravy, and stuffing. Lurking on a large platter sat the reconstituted textured protein vaguely shaped like a turkey. Finally, on display in the center of the long table rested that holy relic, The Fruitcake.
       We were all gathered at the table, with two exceptions.
       "Where are those girls?" Mother snapped. She moved to the ship's intercom panel on the bulkhead. "Katie? Katie, you and Aisha need to come to the table." There was no response. Mom fiddled with a dial, called a second time, again with no response. She tripped a couple of switches, letting us hear inside Cargo Three. We sat silent for several seconds while the sounds of Katie and Aisha...enjoying themselves...filled the air. Mom switched off the com unit.
       Grandmother chuckled. "Sounds like Katie's trying to seal the deal with that engineer you want to hire." The twins giggled, hushed at a glare from their mother.
       "Perhaps we should start the meal without them," Dad said.
       "Yes," Grandmother replied. "Liam, pass the rolls, please."
       Aunt Marge huffed. "Well, I just don't understand why you invited that -- that -- woman, not after what she did to our poor Chad, breaking his heart." Aunt Lena nodded agreement, and the two went on a rant about poor Chad: how broken-hearted the boy was; how terrible it was for Mother and Father to have fired him, where was the loyalty? How could they treat their own family so? They started on Aisha: her appearance, her manners, her morals.
       "Huh. I remember finding Aisha crying in engineering because Chad got jealous and called her a. . .well, I probably shouldn't say that at the table. Fact is, he's a stupid blowhard, and she's better off without him." I looked around to see who'd finally spoken the truth, realized in horror it was me. I stood up. "Excuse me. I think I should go stand watch on the bridge."
       Aunt Marge's face clouded over. She turned on Mother. "This is what comes of living in space, Charity. This is what you get for listening to Mother and raising your children in the wilds, away from anything civilized. Your children are just a couple of. . . ."
       "Do not finish that sentence," Mother snarled. "Do not finish that sentence, or I swear I will toss this whole damned dinner out the airlock and you with it."
       That's when Uncle Jeff chimed in. He looked right at my father. "Wesley, you need to control your woman."
       There was a beat of silence, then Mother -- filled with glorious rage and righteous anger -- stood up, her chair tipping over with a clatter. She leaned across the table, every inch the Chief Engineer of a Starship, looming over her sister's husband, carving knife in hand. Uncle Jeff tumbled backward off his chair, trying to escape.
       Mother looked around at the family. "I just wanted for one damned holiday. . ." She reached over the table and snatched up The Fruitcake with a grunt, spun on her heels, and stomped out of the room.
       After a moment of shocked hesitation, we scrambled after her. When we caught up, The Fruitcake rested on the floor in the secondary airlock. The doors were sealed, and the control panel set to open the outer airlock door.
       Marge, her face red, stepped toward Mother. "That belongs to the whole family. You can't just. . .just. . .you can't." I figured Aunt Marge stood to inherit The Fruitcake when Grandmother was gone. That was fine; Mom already owned the ship.
       The warning lights in the airlock flashed. There was a hiss of escaping air as the outer door opened, and we all watched in horror as the heirloom fruitcake vanished into the darkness of space while we pulled away from it at one-third the speed of light and accelerating.
       Everyone turned to the control panel. Grandmother leaned against the bulkhead, hand on the switch. "And good riddance," she said. "That thing was entirely too heavy to haul around every season."
       Katie and Aisha trotted up, both slightly sweaty and out of breath, exchanged looks. "I don't suppose there was a tracer on that thing," Aisha whispered, leaning close to Katie's ear.
       "No," Katie replied.
       The entire family shuffled back to the dining room, Uncle Jeff keeping as far from Mom as possible. Ahead of us, plates crashed and silverware rattled. We picked up the pace, burst into the temporary dining room.
       We'd forgotten that Thor and Sif could open the internal doors if not code locked. We'd forgotten about Mr. Nibbles.
       The reconstituted textured protein vaguely shaped like a turkey lay splattered on the floor, covered in red stuff and greenish-grey stuff. Mr. Nibbles wagged his tail, pure joy on his doggy face. Thor stared at us from the middle of the table, slapped a dinner roll with one paw. It glided off the edge and was snapped out of the air by the giant dog. Sif yawned and sauntered out the door, obviously bored.
       I glanced at my parents. "Maybe I should go stand watch."
       Mother sighed. "Maybe you should."

       A subdued group arrived at Odin Six. Aisha saved dinner with frozen pizzas she'd brought to contribute on the long trip. By the time the aunts and Uncle Jeff cleaned the dining room under the stern supervision of Grandmother, dinner-take-two was ready.
       The entire extended family, including cousin Chad, met us at the space station. I bet he was surprised to see his ex-fiancée. I'm sad I missed that little reunion. I can't wait to see his face when he finds out Aisha is our new assistant engineer. And dating Katie. Turned out those two have been sending messages back and forth for a few months.
       As junior-most bridge officer and last out, I shut down everything except basic functions, like life support in the cargo bay where the cats would be locked up for their crimes when no one was aboard to supervise them. I had ten days of family and the Gifting Day Feast to survive. There was no guessing what insanity might yet befall, but at least I was here with the people who, though they were crazy-making, I still loved and called family.
       I dimmed the bridge lights and disembarked, ready for whatever ridiculousness the holidays would bring next.