Fiction
Poor Little Rich Girls
"Will you two just give it up?" Heather asked, exasperated. "What good is that valley girl impersonation going to do you? No one here in Badenburg has ever heard of a valley girl." "For sure, Heather, for sure," Vicky Emerson answered. "We're just getting into character. Gotta play dumb for the marks, you know." "Like, haven't you ever seen The Sting?" Judy Wendell asked, with a sort of stupid look on her face. Then she dropped the pose and cracked up.
'Til We Meet Again
The worst thing about working for Mechanical Support was that the facilities were scattered out all over Grantville, even now, two and a half years after the Ring of Fire. They'd never been able to take the time to centralize them; they didn't really have any central place to put them if they had the time, and definitely not the extra resources to re-pour the pits and such.
One Man's Junk
Martin Schmidt paused, his spoon barely touching the stew. His stomach would have him attack the stew bowl like a starving wolf but his mind held him back. Carefully, he took one spoonful and then put his spoon down. A sip of beer helped but his hand shook slightly. Reminding himself he was a man, not a wolf, he looked at his host before taking a second spoonful.
Chip's Christmas Gift
Chip and Joachim had just finished working out with quarterstaffs, six-foot-long hardwood sticks, at the von Thierbach estate manor, absorbing a new collection of bruises to join those of the previous two days. Chip wanted to practice techniques he'd previously learned in the army and Joachim simply wanted to gain another weapon in the event they were attacked while on the road. Chip hadn't exactly had quarterstaff training but his close combat training sergeant had taught his company something about using his rifle to block sword strokes. At the same time he'd also said, if they're that close to you, run like hell if you're alone, otherwise block, use your rifle butt, or punch him with your bayonet if you've got it fitted.
Dice's Drawings
To hell with them all. Dice had lost his Karen, forty-five years of hard work, twenty years as a damned Linotype operator and twenty-five as a damned pressman after the damned computers had taken his damned job away. God how he hated that pressman's job! A quarter century hauling paper and permanently stained fingers, but he'd stuck with it. Then, to top it all off, right before he was ready to retire and tell the whole world to take a flying leap, the local chunk of world had taken a flying leap and Dysart Clifford along with it!
The Class Of '34
Liz turned from Speedy to stare at her tormentor. "Yes, Matt. Yes, I know this is Speedy. Yes, I know he is fast. I have been riding Speedy for a while. I am perfectly capable of riding a horse. I am perfectly capable of riding Speedy. Okay? Now if you will excuse me, I have to finish saddling up if I want to get home before it gets dark." With that she made her way over to the saddle and blankets straddling a rail beside the saddling area.
Magdeburg Marines: The Few And The Proud
"Come on, Duke," Lulu said. "You weren't like every other Marine. I did twelve years, you know. After Dad died and I had to request a compassionate discharge, I only got a pat on the back and a farewell bash at the NCO Club. I hear that you, on the other hand, got a phone call straight from Headquarters, Marine Corps, to try to get you to reconsider your decision. I've never heard of the Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps doing that for any other gunnery sergeant."
Elizabeth
Frank Jackson took a swallow of beer and settled back in to his chair. "Ah," he said. "Nothing better than beer on a summer day. Now, about the transportation problem we were discussing, Dan, we're going to have to support a larger army in the field. We've done pretty well with the vehicles around here so far, but they aren't going to be enough."