Parthenia Rook, Episode 1: The Third Oldest Trick

by Luc Reid

Parthenia Rook was an accomplished pilot, an expert with clockwork, a certified public accountant, a master of more than 870 convincing disguises, a sharpshooter, a xenobiologist, a famous stamp collector, and a world champion at reverse checkers. Yet none of her skills could help her as the power-crazed Bonobo King dangled an unconscious three-year old over edge of the gasbag of the massive dirigible Regret and instructed Parthenia to jump, or he would drop the child.

She had no doubt he meant what he said. Yet if Parthenia jumped, who would save the passengers of the Regret from being crashed into the middle of the World’s Fair and Exposition? Parthenia hesitated. The Bonobo King cackled and let the toddler slip another inch. If only his exoskeletal armor didn’t give him such incredible strength!

“The primary difference between humans and bonobos, as I see it,” said the Bonobo King putting one hand behind his back, “is that when nature decided to branch into our superior race and your naked and confused one, it left only us with the ability to act decisively.”

“If you drop that girl, there won’t be anything to stop me from killing you,” said Parthenia.

“It’s not a girl,” said the Bonobo King.

What? Parthenia gaped at the child. She was wearing a little pink dress. She had tumbly blonde hair. How–
Thwack. The paralysis dart slapped meatily into Parthenia’s thigh. She had fallen for the third oldest trick in the book. In seconds, she would lose consciousness and fall. She had only one chance.

“Hey!” Parthenia cried out, pointing into the distance. “What’s that?”

The Bonobo King looked. Parthenia leapt, her brain swirling as the paralysis dart began to take effect. The Bonobo King had barely begun to realize his mistake when Parthenia crashed into him, grabbing the falling child and entangling them both in the ropes that crisscrossed the Regret’s gasbag. The Bonobo King was less fortunate: the force of Parthenia’s tackle sent him sprawling, then tumbling over the edge and down into the clouds. Parthenia could hear his maniacal laughter as he fell, and a part of her feared that she might have somehow just played right into his hands. Or paws. Whatever.

“Don’t worry, little girl,” Parthenia mumbled as the paralysis overtook her. “I’ll wake up in just a few minutes and get you to safety.”

“I’m not a girl,” said the child, and laughed like the Bonobo King.

Tom Swift and his Automatic Sausage Maker

by David

The front door opened and another one came out, carrying Grandma’s Victrola. Janice peered through the binoculars. At 8X they looked like Santa’s elves, right down to the curly-toed shoes. Pine straw poked her in several places, and because of the lack of underbrush she couldn’t move much without being spotted. Now two “elves” went back in the shed, carrying between them some parts from the old washer they’d been dismantling. Nearly all of the Chevy had already disappeared inside, not to mention the toaster and a bunch of other stuff from the house. It must be getting pretty crowded inside. One of the elves had what looked like a meat grinder going as fast as he could turn the crank, but what went in was dead leaves, and the sausage that came out shone like aluminum. At least they’re cleaning up the place, she thought, and Emma will stop riding me about that. Emma! There she was now, pulling into the yard, apparently lost in radioland, not even noticing the red-jacketed creatures who had taken over the yard. Shit! She actually got out and started for the house, then stopped dead still. She wasn’t screaming and jumping around; something must be wrong. Janice bit her lip, then picked up her rifle, never taking her eyes off the tableau below. Two of the elves took Emma’s hands and led her into the shed. Now they had a hostage. She silently backed down the hill. She’d have to come up from the west where there was more cover. She’d have to do it fast.

By the time she had the yard in view again everything was gone: the shed, the truck, the rest of the Chevy, the elves, and Emma. She ran to the spot where the shed had been. Bare dirt; the meat grinder stood in the very center as if left behind in payment. Her baby sister was gone. It was time for a drink.

After a while the quart jar was empty, but nothing was going to bring Emma back. A tear ran down her cheek. She thought for a few minutes. A meat grinder that turned dead leaves into aluminum ought to have SOME value. It did.

#

About a year later Emma showed up again, her diminutive baby in tow.

“He takes after his father. I think he’ll be a great engineer,” she said.