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Friday, May 13, 2011
Flying Kite, Crashing Ship by Krista D. Ball
Crashing Time Ship. The Space Commission hot on her trail. French spies and flying kites. For Dr. Sally Pescan, this can’t be good.
Dr. Sally Pescan was on a routine trip studying geology in pre-historic North America. She regretted not taking piloting lessons when the time-ship she was aboard crashed. To make matters worse, it crashed at a time when people didn’t fly, women weren’t doctors, and they certainly did not wear trousers!
Miss Amanda Grey was having tea with Colonel Lindsey, a potential suitor whose boring manners did not bode well for a match. Nor did his cowardice when an over-large flying kite crashed in a corner of the garden. Miss Grey was the curious one who walked over to investigate, the Colonel, a “hero of India,” trailing in her wake.
This little sci-fi story is only twenty-four pages long, but it’s delightful. It’s a wonderful contrast between the restraints women lived under during the Regency era and modern women. Proper young ladies during the Regency era had to hide their intelligence and obey strict rules of etiquette. Miss Amanda grabbed cookies when the Colonel wasn’t looking. Modern/futuristic Dr. Sally the professor wore slacks and travelled alone with her pilot, calling him by his first name. Why, I’ll bet she could even eat cookies in front of him and gulp her tea if she desired!
Flying Kite Crashing Ship is another wonderful waiting-room read from MuseItUp Publications, Inc.
Amanda did not notice the lady until she touched the smooth metal of the flying kite’s hull. It was obvious the female occupant had noticed her presence, as she began shouting at a gentleman who arrived from the floor hatch. The thick metal skewed their language, but Amanda recognized it as an ancient dialect of French.
“Hello?” Amanda tapped on the window. The occupants stared at her wide-eyed for several seconds before they resumed yelling at each other. They stepped away from the windows and their words became unintelligible.
“Colonel, you must come see,” she urged. “There is a French lady inside, with a man. I assume it’s either her husband or brother, by the liberties she was taking with her speech. And look, she is wearing trousers. How scandalous!” She had never seen a woman in trousers before.
“French!” Colonel Lindsay paled. He pointed at the maidservant standing off to one-side. “Girl, fetch the militia at once! The French have invaded Devonshire!”