ABC shorts: Fish Story…
Fish Story
Copyright 2019, A. B. Carolan
[Note from Steve: A. B. Carolan obviously thinks “young adult literature” applies to ETs as well.]
The Humans called it a meteor. It was our shuttle. The ocean dissipated its kinetic energy, but the water entry at high speed cracked the hull. We were forced to use escape pods. My father, mother, and I ejected into a strange, alien ocean. I never saw them again.
The pods, designed for deep space, weren’t designed for maneuverability in an aquatic environment, and the viscous seawater and currents made them less maneuverable. I was able to get near the surface somehow and left the pod.
We’re amphibians, so I could swim underwater until I found the pier Humans had built. I remained under it until nightfall.
***
The male Human child saw me on the moonlit beach from the porch. The planet had an unusually large satellite. Its light made the froth of the waves luminous and the beach visible to anyone nearby.
The child was crying but stopped when he saw me. Too late to hide!
My father and mother had studied the primitive Humans for many of the planet’s years. They were often warlike and violent. At first I was afraid, but the little Human didn’t look threatening as he ran toward me. I waited for him.
“Are you a merman?” he said, stopping in front of me, breathless. “I want to keep you!”
Although not easy, English was fast becoming the language understood almost anywhere on the planet. To have one planetary language was a good step toward stability, but you’d think they’d pick something easier for everyone to learn. I understood it. So had my parents, but much better than I.
Merman? That was an unfamiliar word. I analyzed its construction. Man = short word for male Human; woman = short word for female Human. Mer- seems to be borrowed from another language, French, meaning sea. “No, I come from space. Sorry. What’s your name?”
“Peter? What’s yours?” This young person was almost bouncing up and down in excitement.
“You can call me Ka.” That was only the first part of my name, a mix of sounds and sonic images. “Do you have any radio transmission equipment in your house? I need to send a message so I can be rescued.”
“No, we don’t. And that would only transmit messages at the speed of light. Don’t you come from light-years away?”
I translated that distance measurement to my own. The speed-of-light part was universal; but the time duration, one of these planet’s years, wasn’t. Still, this young Human didn’t seem so primitive. “My parents are scientists. There are others here studying you. The starship is in orbit around the planet, only light-seconds away.”
“Cloaked like a Klingon ship?”
I didn’t know the answer to that question. From my parents, I’d never heard about an intelligent species called Klingons. “Cloaked, yes, but I have no idea if it’s the same process Klingons use. In any case, I just need to broadcast a message requesting help.”
“We have a radio station nearby. There’s also a navy base. What frequency do you need?”
I thought a moment. Their commercial radio station that only played songs about lost love for females and dogs—I’d heard it—was probably assigned a specific frequency. This primitive society at least had that organized. But I needed a transmitter where I could vary the frequency. “Navy” implied ocean surveillance, so a navy base would likely have those kind of transmitters, even on this primitive planet.
“Can you take me to this navy base?”
“Tomorrow. If you put on Grandpa’s waders and wear Mom’s rubber gloves, I can make you pass as human. My Dad goes to work at the base.”
“Will he take us?”
“I go to school there. You can hide in the trunk.”
I had no idea what a trunk was, but hiding from the child’s father sounded like a good idea. I doubted the adults would be as nice as the children.
***
Peter hid me in the garage. Designed to hold a vehicle, it seemed curious that it was filled with junk instead. I slept comfortably on an old mattress.
He came out early in the morning with a bucket of what he called bait (I called it breakfast) and had me crawl in the back space of the car with the bucket. I suppose I was in a trunk. I ate breakfast on the way to the base. Ten minutes later, their time, I sensed motion. It was jerky and bouncy, but I considered it necessary to get me where I needed to go.
The vehicle came to a stop. I waited, trying to decide whether I should break out. But the trunk opened.
“I know where the com station is,” Peter said. “Follow me.”
The waders were uncomfortable for walking and the gloves chafed my hands because of the webbing between my fingers. I was flexible enough to tolerate it all, even though I felt I was walking in the ooze of a river delta. I could keep up with Peter, though.
“We’re here.”
“What does that sign say?” The written language was more difficult than the spoken.
“’No Unauthorized Entry.’ We’ll be in a bit of trouble if we’re caught.”
I ran my finger over the letters, and then pointed above them. “Here?”
“’Top Secret Communications Installation.’ This is where the navy radios are. I saw it on a tour. I hope they haven’t changed anything. There were two guys working the time I was here. The they just had all their files locked and equipment off. No secrets were out. Probably they’re open now and all the equipment’s on. But we don’t want to know any of their secrets, right?”
“Guys? Male adults? Will they be armed?”
“Probably not. Can’t you handle them?”
“You mean talk to them?”
“I mean knock them out without killing them. You’ll need time to figure things out. I’ll help, of course.”
“I’d prefer to restrain them in some manner. I was taught not to be violent.”
“Don’t be a coward. Do you want to be rescued or not?”
“I want to return to the ship. And tell someone my parents are missing. But I’m reluctant to achieve that through violence.”
“Okay. I understand. I have a plan.”
***
Peter’s plan was more to my liking.
He entered into the hallway that led to several offices, but he knocked on the door of the com center.
I have good hearing, so I heard one man inside say, “Hey, it’s Joe’s kid. I wonder what he wants.”
The door to the com center opened. “Sorry, kid. No tours today. Why aren’t you in school?”
Peter fell to the floor, writhing and spitting.
“Hey, Bill, he’s having a seizure. Help me here.”
The other com guy rushed out. I rushed in and locked the door.
“Hey! Who’s that?” A different voice that must be Bill’s. “He’s locked the door!”
Peter jumped up with a big grin and kept jumping up and down. “ET phone home! ET phone him!”
Is he telling me to do that? I waved my arm and sat down. The equipment was primitive but serviceable. I selected the transmission frequencies and sent my message to our starship. I then turned on the transponder in my shoulder that I had turned off long ago when I came ashore, not knowing if the primitives on this planet could detect its beeping.
I then opened the door and held out my arms, knowing they were going to arrest me.
They arrested us both.
***
Peter called it a brig. There were two others there, base personnel arrested on a drunk and disorderly charge. Peter understood that; I didn’t.
“The guys from Area 51 might be here soon,” Peter added.
“What will they want?”
“Probably to poke, prod, and dissect you.”
“Will that hurt?”
“Let’s just say that your friends better show up soon.”
They did. They stunned all the guards and hustled us off to the waiting shuttle on the front lawn. You could barely see the impressions from the landing gear. The entrance stairs plopped down, and we entered.
I told my companions who Peter was.
The shuttle pilot bowed to Peter. “We’ll have to take him and drop him off somewhere.”
I explained that to Peter.
“I can’t see your ship?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Will I see you again sometime?”
“One never knows. I have to look for my parents. I fear they’re dead.”
Peter made a sad face. I knew some of their facial expressions. “I’m really sorry if that’s true. Let’s go then.”
The last I saw of Peter was on the front lawn of his house. He was waving goodbye.
I had already decided to make a report of my experiences on the planet as scientific observations. There was hope for the planet, but it seemed to rest with its children.
***
Comments are always welcome.
Rogue Planet. The son of a deposed king struggles to free his people from the chains of a despotic theocracy. Set in the same sci-fi universe as the “Chaos Chronicles Trilogy” and Dr. Carlos stories, the planet in consideration lies outside the ITUIP (“International Trade Union of Independent Planets”) and is quarantined by the Union—it’s a rogue planet deemed dangerous to the Union. It’s hard sci-fi with a “Game of Thrones” flavor that will intrigue sci-fi and fantasy buffs alike. Available in ebook and print format at Amazon and in ebook format at Smashwords and all its affiliated retailers (iBooks, B&N, Kobo, etc.) and lenders (Overdrive, etc.).
Around the world and to the stars! In libris librtas!
