Given Names

by Edd

At first he was Alexander, named for his maternal grandfather. His hair sprouted red as a sundown sky. Though loving and generous, he was prone to awful tantrums. If he didn’t get his way he’d throw himself to the ground and scream as if he didn’t need to draw a breath.

In the baby name book I read that ‘Alexander’ meant ‘warrior’. On his fourth birthday I marched him down to the county courthouse and legally changed his name to Felix. That means ‘happy’. As we left I could see his hair darkening.

The tantrums disappeared. Felix was a compliant child, joyful, contented, happy.

Too happy.

His teacher was grave, apologetic but determined. She said Felix was a wonderful boy; he cooperated so nicely, but could not concentrate. He disrupted the class by wanting to play all the time. Perhaps I should consider putting my boy in a special class.

This time I spent more time in thought before I took him to the courthouse. My son must be more than smart and attentive, he must be clever. He turned six the day we went downtown. Felix entered, but Quinn, Irish for ‘wise counsel’, left with me. As we went I saw intelligence dawn in his eyes.

Four more years passed, and Quinn was a model child. He always did his homework immediately, completed his chores, got plenty of sleep, and never asked what was in his Christmas presents.

I missed the happy Felix. I missed the giving Alex. Quinn would always pull away when I wanted to hug him, eager to be thinking, anxious to be doing.

For his tenth birthday I got Quinn a bicycle, a globe, several Hot Wheels, and a new name. I’d studied baby name books, talked with other mothers. visited message boards. In the end I cheated.

Alexander Felix Quinn was loving, happy, and intelligent. Fourth time right, I thought.

And all was right. Many happy days followed. My son aced middle and high school, graduated early from college, and found the perfect job.

Then he met her. Leticia Addie-Marie seemed the perfect fit: full of joy and grace. They married in June. I couldn’t have been happier for him, for her, for them.

They named their son ‘Tiger’.

Captain Sanguine Solves A Problem

by Kat Beyer

A laser torpedo passed most accurately over the bow of the ship and sped on into open space. It did not even leave behind a burn mark on the forward solars: a warning shot.
“A soupcon to starboard, Helm,” said Captain Sanguine, setting her teacup aside.
“Aye aye, Captain.”
“They seem a bit piqued.”
“Aye, Madam Captain.”
“Can’t think why.”
“Perhaps they don’t like the Law, Madam Captain,” ventured the Second Engineer. (His name was Hugo Dreadnought and he had been admitted to Sheriff’s Corps because he was the son of Samuel Dreadnought, Lord Peabody, Duke of Jupiter and Io. Even so, he was a fine engineer–just didn’t fancy being shot at.)
“Perhaps. Kindly hail them, First Communications.”
“Aye aye, Captain.”
The screen before them flickered, and then a particularly ugly Martian appeared, glowing green with annoyance.
“Good evening, Madam Captain,” he gurgled when he caught sight of her. “I am Commander Wig Mxwibbleit of the good ship Dopplekibble. And you are?”
“Captain Harriet Sanguine of the good ship Protector. Good evening. What can I do for you, sir?”
The Martian glowed more fiercely.
“You can stop this demmed nonsense, Madam, that’s what you can do!” he gurgled. “All this stamping through my precinct as if you had jurisdiction, which you most certainly do not! What do you mean by it, madam?”
Captain Sanguine raised her eyebrows. As Helm said to the Engineers later, “I quite understand what you’re saying — we are the Law, and he ought to have recognized us right off. But when both parties have whacking great guns, it’s awfully important to preserve good manners.”
On the silent bridge, Captain Sanguine looked at Commander Mxwibbleit and everyone waited. At last, she sighed.
“The First Lord will insist on having the Sheriff’s arms painted too small to read. Perhaps you would care to examine them more closely? I will have them sent you.”
Commander Mxwibbleit stopped glowing at once.
“Ah. No need, no need. My mistake. Quite understood. Safe voyage, Madam Captain.”
“Thank you,” replied Captain Sanguine. “But do let us know if you need our assistance,” she added.
“Of course, Madam Captain. I do beg your pardon. Safe voyage.”
He faded cautiously from the screen.
Engineer Dreadnought muttered, “Ought to have him flogged.”
“I heard that, Engineer Dreadnought. Short rations for speaking ill of a superior officer,” said Captain Sanguine, picking up her teacup.