Benith-Bellow walked alongside his mate, Arten, in silence down one of the many vast corridors aboard their space vessel.

 

“I swear, Benith-Bellow, he’s making my hair turn gray,” said Arten, watching their young son run ahead of them.

 

“In my eyes, you’ve never looked so young and so beautiful,” Benith-Bellow said. “And you know how boys are.”

 

“Kah!” Arten called out. “Slow down! You’ll hurt yourself.”

 

“Aw, I’m not going to get hurt, Mother,” Kah replied, stopping when he reached a large door. “Hurry. I want to show you my collection.”

 

“I hear something,” said Arten as she came near her son. “It’s a buzzing noise. What’s in here?”

 

Kah smiled. “Amelia Earhart and Fred Noonan…”

 

“Aboard their Lockheed Model 10-E Electra,” Benith-Bellow said, grinning. “That’s my boy!”

 

“As far as they know, they’re flying across the Pacific Ocean,” Kah said.

 

“And will be forever — as long as the suspended animation unit continues to function,” Benith-Bellow smiled.

 

“It has a forty-thousand eon warranty,” Kah said.

 

Arten’s eyes widened. “Oh my!” she said. “May I inquire as to why you are so fascinated with the humans’ flying endeavors? Doesn’t the adjacent storage bay—”

 

“Yup, it’s the holding area for Flight 19,” interrupted Kah, nodding his head.

 

“Flight 19?” Benith-Bellow asked.

 

“You remember, dear,” said Arten. “At two o’clock on the afternoon of December 5, 1945, Earth time, five primitive air machines — I believe they were called TBM Avenger torpedo bombers — departed a U.S. Naval Air Station Fort Lauderdale, Florida, for a routine navigational training flight. To this day, the humans believe those planes were lost in the Bermuda Triangle.”

 

“I can’t believe you knew that,” Benith-Bellow replied, “but you’ve always liked to keep up with the news reports of all the beings in the quadrant.”

 

“I absolutely love the Bermuda Triangle!” Kah exclaimed. “It’s so fun!”

 

“Son, humor your father and me by reciting the last known radio transmission of Flight 19,” Arten said.

 

Kah looked toward the ceiling, closed his eyes, and after a moment of silence, answered, “It looks like we are entering white water… We’re completely lost.”

 

“Very good. But again, what is your fascination with the primitive flying machines? And for that matter, humans in general? They are unlike any other creature we know of.”

 

Before Kah could answer, Benith-Bellow stepped forward to the next doorway, gave it a tap and asked, “Are Pegasus and Cyclops in here?”

 

“Neither,” Kah said, shifting his gazed downward. “I moved the Sasquatch there ’cause he did not like being so close to the plesiosaur. Humans call it the Loch Ness Monster.”

 

"Oh — the plesiosaur,” said Arten. “Your father told me it was ill. Is it better?”

 

“Much better.”

 

“It ate both the mermaids, correct?”

 

Kah nodded.

 

Arten brought a finger to her mouth and trembled. “It really is too bad that you put both mermaids and the sea creature together while you were cleaning the holding area,” she said. “And to think, they were the last two mermaids on Earth.”

 

“I surmise that they would have died out had Kah not captured them when he did,” Benith-Bellow said. “Isn’t that right, son?”

 

Kah nodded. “Funny thing is, it seems like it just recently happened, though for the humans so much time has passed that they have no collective memory of their interaction with mermaids,” said the boy. “They believe they’re a myth. Isn’t that wild?”

 

“That’s one of the big differences between our species,” said Benith-Bellow, bending so he was on the same level as his son. “And while I commend you for wanting to take care of the mermaids by cleaning their living area, I hope you learned your lesson.”

 

Kah lowered his head and said “Yes, Father.”

 

“Kah,” said Arten, “again, I ask why must you collect such things? Sasquatch, the Loch Ness Monster, that nasty creature they call Jimmy Hoffa. Especially the humans. They squabble over meaningless matters — who controls the soil in a particular location, for example — and I find that they are very uncouth.”

 

Both Kah and Benith-Bellow grinned.

 

Arten turned to her mate, rolled her eyes, and said, “I’m disappointed... in the both of you.”

 

“Aw, honey—” Benith-Bellow started to say.

 

“Don’t you aw honey, me.” Then, turning to her son, she added, “Kah, I want you to transport everything you collected back before we leave orbit.”

 

“But Mother, do I have to?”

 

“You heard me.”

 

Coming close to his mate, Benith-Bellow whispered, “Sweets, do you think having him put everything back is a good idea? I mean, think how surprised the humans will be when these things suddenly materialize. To them, many of the items in Kah’s collection are myths.”

 

“Well, his quote-unquote collection is not coming back with us. So, I don’t know what else to tell you.” Turning to her son, she added, “And you heard me, start transporting.”

 

“Aw, Mother, can’t I at least keep one thing?”

 

“Such as?”

 

“How about a leprechaun?” Kah replied, throwing his arms around Arten’s waist. “Please? I promise I’ll take care of it.”

 

Arten looked at her mate and mouthed, You know who’s going to end up taking care of it, don’t you?

 

Benith-Bellow smiled.

 

“Please, Mother?” Kah repeated. “Pretty please?”

 

“Oh, I suppose one leprechaun is okay. But I expect you to do what you say. Now, get to transporting the rest of your collection back so we can make it home before dinner.”

 

“Oh, thank you, Mother!” Kah cried as he skipped down the corridor in the direction of the transport panel. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

 

“Why do I always give in to him?” Arten sighed, turning to Benith-Bellow. “And why does he collect such things? He knows it gives me the creeps.”

 

Benith-Bellow wrapped his arms around Arten, kissed one of her two foreheads and said, “I guess it's like the humans say: Boys will be boys.”