[Note from Steve: One thing I immediately liked about A. B. Carolan was his wry humor. He sent this very short short from Cork, Ireland. Didn’t say what he was doing there, but I imagine some pubs were included in the visit. He wrote this before President Trump’s meltdown with Secretary Nielsen. Prescient. Have fun!]

Refugees

Copyright 2018, A. B. Carolan

Grigl materialized in an alien vehicle that was flying over an ocean. It didn’t seem to be an efficient way to move lots of passengers because there was a lot of wasted space. A female alien passed right through her/him; she didn’t seem to notice. She/he shimmered and vibrated a bit and continued to move about the flying boat, taking it all in.

It was her/his fifth solo mission. If successful, she/he would earn her/his first merit badge and pass to the next maturity level. She/he would never be able to bear the embarrassment of being held back, so all her/his surveillance sensors were operating at max.

One male alien who was stretched out in an oversized chair had strange fur on the top of his head and looked a bit too bronzed from the starlight falling on the planet. He said, “Get me the DHS secretary. We have to stop this nonsense!”

The sounds meant nothing to Grigl. But she/he understood the thoughts behind the words. Is this the planet’s leader?

Other aliens seemed to fawn over him. He seemed to enjoy it.  One handed him some kind of communication device.

“Kirstie, honey, I want them turned away. ASAP.” There was a pause. Then: “Yeah, I know. Mothers and children. So what? I made a campaign promise. Those Mexicans will destroy our country.”

Grigl saw the leader was watching a wall display that showed mostly alien females and young loitering about in some kind of camp. How nice. A picnic. But wait! These aliens are suffering.

She/he probed the alien leader’s mind—it seemed completely disorganized and full of contradictions—and found a better place for the suffering aliens to have a picnic. She/he teleported them all onto a wide, green expanse in front of the leader’s abode. For good measure, she/he then made all the aliens’ primitive weapons around the planet, including those this leader prized so much, vanish into another dimension.

She/he then returned home, feeling good about providing the suffering aliens with a better and bigger picnic place.

Were you successful? the nest asked Grigl.

Yes. I now feel I deserve my first merit badge.

Very well. We concur. You can now pass to the next level. By the way, your choice of destination was a bit dangerous. That planet isn’t a nice place to visit. The intelligent lifeforms there aren’t so intelligent, especially the current leaders. The one you met, in particular. But you did your good deed. That’s all that matters.

***

Want free fiction? The above story is free, of course; you’ll find other A. B. Carolan stories archived in the blog category “ABC Shorts.”  I also give my short fiction away now.  Besides what you find in the blog category “Steve’s Shorts,” I offer free PDFs containing short stories and novellas.  You don’t even have to email the request anymore.  Use this URL to see the list and download what you want.  (You might want to peruse the same list on the webpage “Free Stuff & Contests” because the list on OneDrive just contains file names, some suggestive of contents, others not.  Remember, I write in three genres.) Of course, you can still request via email…and subscribe to my email newsletter while you’re at it.  Happy reading!

In libris libertas…

Alpha-Omega-1

Copyright 2018, A. B. Carolan

[Note from Steve: Have you read Asimov’s Second Foundation? I think A. B. was inspired by it to write this short short story. Or is it a sort of inverse “Flowers for Algernon”? After you finish, see if you agree with either perception.]

Omega-1191 stared at the image. “It’s so small,” she said. “Was I once that small?”

Epsilon-9349 laughed. “We all were. All clones start out as one cell. You, I, everyone. Alpha-Omega-1 is exceptional, though, because I’ve convinced you to go natural—conception with a sperm and an egg. I can’t tell you which Alpha provided the sperm, of course.”

“We’re not violating any laws, are we?”

“None that anyone cares about anymore here on our planet. The Colonization Protocol was a set of rules enacted centuries ago to speed up a colonial planet’s population growth. Moreover, it was created on Earth, and Earth is no more, so why worry?” And a bit late to do so, she thought.

“It does seem right, doesn’t it?” said Omega-1191. “You’ll check that there are no genetic defects?”

“Just as we do with standard cloning. Mutations are possible in either case, especially here. Our planet receives a higher cosmic ray bombardment than Earth and also has a weaker magnetic field, diminishing protection from the solar wind.”

“Can I watch it grow?”

“Why don’t you visit us every two weeks? It’s an interesting process.”

***

Alpha-Omega-1 was born 271 standard days later. In three standard years, Omega-1191 watched him grow, and everyone noted he was an exceptional child. He was fascinated with numbers, factoring them into primes and constructing exotic numerical sequences to amuse himself. He also started creating elaborate holographic art forms and complicated but wonderful musical compositions.

“There are mutations,” said the doctors. “We have to watch them and make sure they’re viable.”

At five, Omega-1191 first felt Alpha-Omega-1 within her mind, his feelings of love for her. He could fetch things for her simply by thinking about doing it.

The doctors were worried. She heard talk about euthanizing her son because they considered him a human aberration—not only abnormal but also a mutant. He read their thoughts and later told her they wanted to do that because they were scared.

When Alpha-Omega-1 told his mother they were coming for him, she fled to the mountains with her son.

***

At twelve, Alpha-Omega-1 left his mother in the mountains.

“Where will you go?” she had asked him.

By that time her son didn’t walk or run anymore like normal children. He’d figured out anti-gravity and exhibited many other strange skills.

“I’ve been reading history, mother,” he’d told her. “I’ve decided to emulate Alexander the Great. He did it all wrong, though. I’m leaving to conquer the galaxy, and I’ll do it right.”

***

The Midas Bomb and Full Medical are now on sale at Smashwords—first books offered in the “Great Spring Thaw Sale.”

In libris libertas!

[Note from Steve: A. B. Carolan has completely rewritten and reedited my YA sci-fi mystery The Secret Lab and is finishing up YA sci-fi mystery based on my short story “Marcello and Me,” The Secret of the Urns. The first novel will be published in the first quarter of 2018, the second in the third quarter. Here’s one of his YA short stories set in one of my sci-fi universes. There’s nothing that says a story for young adults can’t have some meat to it….]

Exchange Student

Copyright 2018, A. B. Carolan

Truhan had no problem with immigration and customs at the spaceport on Wendall’s Planet. He followed other passengers into the arrival lounge and saw a tall woman with a sign bearing his name. He accessed a computer file with the implant in the side of his head. Misdak Bron from my host family. Mother of Kalin and Roh, wife of Set. Why is she alone? He’d expected the whole family to be there.

She waved at him and approached. “Welcome to Wendall’s Planet, Truhan.” She looked around. Why is she nervous? “Follow me.” They walked out of the lounge to a road filled with cars.  A sleek one pulled up. “Please get in.”

“My luggage?”

“I’ll have someone pick it up for you.” She tapped on the dull green icon next to the red; it turned bright green and the red one dimmed. The car moved out.

“Is there something wrong?” said Truhan.

“A bit of political unrest, I’m afraid. My people have elected a new leader who wants to banish anyone not born on Wendall’s Planet. They’re voting on the bill right now in our planetary congress.”

Truhan was familiar with xenophobia. Even on his home planet, some Humans barely tolerated non-Humans. “But I’m Human,” he said.

“He doesn’t care. He campaigned on cleansing our planet of all foreign elements, including Humans, blaming them for all our problems. It’s an old tactic of autocrats wanting to ensure their power, but too many voters agreed with him.”

“I wouldn’t have come if I’d known there was a problem.”

“No one believed he would win. He’s already arrested many people. Set and the children are in hiding because Set and I spoke against his policies. You were already on your way here, so I came to meet you. You might have ended up in jail…or disappeared…otherwise.”

“What am I going to do? I’m supposed to start classes in two weeks.”

“I wouldn’t recommend that. Too many students sympathize with the new president and are attacking anyone who’s a foreigner, especially ETs, but also Humans. And their parents encourage them. It’s as if the president created a mass hysteria.”

“How could this happen?”

“As you know, Set is a cultural anthropologist, but even he can’t understand it. I’m a microbiologist, so it’s way beyond me. All I can say is that Humans can be crazy sometimes.”

Truhan nodded. He knew Human history well.

***

Most of the remainder of the trip was spent in silence. Truhan would have enjoyed the majestic scenery if he weren’t worried about his and his hosts’ futures.

The road wound into the mountains towering over the capital city. After another hour, the robocar turned off the main road and followed an old dirt road into the woods. After another ten minutes, they came to a clearing with a rustic A-frame cabin in its center.

“This place has been a get-away for my family for generations,” said Misdak. “We’ve always called it that, but the word has a new meaning now.”

“How long will we stay here?” said Truhan.

“Until they find us or until people come to their senses and overthrow the despot.”

“What would they do to us if they find us?”

“Unknown. All of us were born here, except you, of course. It’s our speaking out against the new administration that got us into trouble. Some people who were protesting have disappeared. Our new leader is a narcissistic psychopath, so his actions have become erratic. He belongs in a straitjacket and confined to a padded cell.”

“That’s a bit strong,” said Truhan with a smile. “It true, didn’t people know about his condition before the election?”

“Of course. Too many voters turn a blind eye. Set says it’s interesting how otherwise intelligent people can lack logic and reason. Despots are good at manipulating those weaknesses.”

“Throughout all of Human history.” He looked at the darkening sky. An omen? “And ET histories too. It seems to be a galactic-wide curse. We’ve had Human colony planets destroy themselves.”

“You’ll enjoy chatting with Set about all this,” said Misdak. She hesitated. “Maybe ‘enjoy’ isn’t the correct word. Would you like to meet the rest of your host family?”

***

The daughter Kalin was Truhan’s age, sixteen standard years; the son Roh was three years younger. The father Set looked older than Misdak, but Truhan knew they were the same age. He recognized the remainder of Misdak’s family from their holograms, of course, but that was never the same as meeting someone in person.

Kalin towered over Truhan; she was already as tall as Misdak. She seemed shy at first. A natural reaction when meeting someone new, Truhan thought. She had the bright eyes, ready smile, and sunken cheeks of her mother, but the dark hair of her father. Roh was much shorter, taking after his father; he also seemed to have excess energy and was ready to take Truhan on a tour of the area around the cabin.

Set’s piercing eyes seemed to be x-raying Truhan for a moment, but then he offered to shake hands.

They were all dressed plainly. Did they have to leave their home in the capital quickly to avoid arrest? Truhan decided to save that question for later.

“I’m sorry we have to put you through this, young man. I suspect your aunt and uncle will be worried. Our esteemed leader still believes in trade, as long as it’s on his terms. He’s very selective, of course, but your home planet will have heard about our political unrest by now.” He winked at Kalin and Roh. “While Mom and I prepare some lunch, why don’t you two show Truhan around? Don’t go far, of course.”

“I’m the leader!” said Roh. Kalin winked at Truhan. “I’ll show you the river and the falls first.”

***

The exploration didn’t quite take Truhan’s mind away from Wendall’s Planet’s political problems, but it helped.

“When it’s hot, we go swimming here,” said Roh when they arrived at the falls. “That’s six meters deep just out from the falls. I can bring up rocks from the bottom.” Roh was almost shouting over the noise of the crashing water.

“My planet’s mostly desert with artesian wells. All our mountains are barren. It’s beautiful around here.”

“We like it,” said Kalin. She found a rock to sit on. “We’ve never been off planet. Tell us about your home.”

(more…)

[A bit early for St. Patrick’s Day, but what the heck…there was plenty of Guinness and Jameson imbibed yesterday!]

Caitlin O’Riley

Copyright 2018, A. B. Carolan

The shuttle from the starship Brendan touched down in the forest clearing. Security personnel were first out; Dr. Carlos Obregon was the last to leave. He’d wangled a trip from the captain because he needed some fresh air and the new planet seemed mysteriously beckoning to his aging eyes.

“Looks like ancient Humans’ idea of paradise,” he said to no one in particular as the plodded along the perimeter of the camp security was already setting up.

“Doc, you never know what might await us in that forest,” said a member of the security team.

Obregon nodded.  He spotted the twelve-year-old on the other side of the clearing.  “Where’s that kid’s father?  He acts like he owns this place.”

“He just about does,” said one of the exobiologists.  “I still have my doubts about this whole process.”

Obregon wasn’t the only one who was an unusual presence in the landing team.  He had read the files available on the solar system and the planet, although they were about two centuries old.  The Space Exploration Bureau rarely returned to a potential colony world unless some group wanting to colonize had enough leverage to convince SEB to do otherwise and make a more complete survey.  Joran Kilgud led such a group.  He had insisted on accompanying them—not unheard of but unusual—and had brought his son Yindon.

“Hey, kid, stay within the security perimeter!” Obregon looked at the urchin and frowned.

“But I want to explore!”

Turned out that Joran was helping the security detail establish the perimeter. I’ll give the old autocrat that, he thought.  He pitches in.

“I recommend you wait until you’re father’s free.”

Yindon ran toward his father. “Can I explore, father?”

“Dr. Obregon is right, son. Wait until I’m finished here.  We’ll both go exploring then.”

Obregon smiled. The father seemed level-headed; the boy was like all boys. But the doctor didn’t think anyone should be exploring so soon after landing on the planet.

He decided he’d better start unloading medical supplies from the shuttle. They would soon have the hospital tent up.  He was already missing his quarters on Brendan.  You have to be careful what you wish for.

***

Like many pioneers, Kilgud’s group was fleeing the more populated worlds of the Interstellar Trade Union of Independent Planets, better known as ITUIP.  As far as Obregon knew, the group were all Humans, something he objected too because it often led to planetary xenophobia as an isolated colony worried more about their own future and welfare rather than the future and welfare of near-Earth planets as a whole.  Gilgud’s group practiced pantheism, which Obregon considered a strange religion—the believers deified all of nature.  I wonder what they eat?  Although he could imagine and had seen worst cults, Obregon expected planet SB1167 to become provincial too, a colony out-of-touch with the mainstream.

As he took out the last crate of medical supplies, he saw Gilgud father and son enter the woods.  The father was carrying a long rifle. Obregon hoped he wouldn’t shoot something in front of the boy.  But not likely because they must be vegetarian.  He hadn’t noticed aboard Brendan.  In fact, he’d avoided the two.

***

Obregon was helping set up tents when Joran Kilgud returned carrying Yindon in his arms.

“Doc, I need some help here!”

Obregon unfolded a cot and placed the boy on it. “What happened?” He was already taking the child’s vitals.

“A little man appeared and put a spell on Yindon.”

Obregon smiled.  “Littl man?  A spell?  What the hell does that mean?”

“He pointed a finger at Yindon, there was a sizzle, and my son fell.  I covered him with my body to protect him from any further discharge.”

“Where’s your gun?”

“I must have dropped it.”

“And your attacker?”

“He ran away.”

“Maybe you two aren’t the first colonists here,” said Obregon.  Or maybe you’re just crazy in a new way?  He peered into the child’s eyes and noted that their whites were now yellow. The pupils were enlarged too, and the irises had become emerald green. “Probably a weapon of some kind.”

“He just used his index finger, I swear.”

“Was that little man green?  Your son is turning light green.  Either he’s very sick, or that so-called spell produces a weird skin color.”

“As a matter of fact, the little man’s skin was green.”

***

The boy’s condition stabilized but didn’t improve. Obregon told security to go find the little green man. They were professionals, so they didn’t question the request…at least, not verbally.  Three hours later they returned with a little green woman. Given the pointy ears and yellow eyes, Obregon knew he was dealing with a new group of ETs. ITUIP won’t permit colonization here after all, he thought. Sorry, Joral.  But, for the moment, that was irrelevant to the present situation.

He examined the ET, planning to put the little woman under and install the implant that would eventually allow them to communicate.  While security people restrained her, he examined her head to decide where to place the device.  The big ears will complicate things.

But he discovered that the woman already had an implant.  Of course.  How do you communicate with new civilizations efficiently?  You get an AI to learn both languages and then translate.

He asked a specialist to analyze the ET device’s signal.

“Frequency-hopped spread spectrum signal similar to ours.  Smaller device, but more powerful.  She’s probably in contact with her people.  They’re technologically advanced, Carlos.”

He nodded.  “Saves me some work.  And it’s always challenging cutting into an unknown ET body.  Set her up.  Get our AI to match the signals, and then it can start learning the ET’s language and teaching her ours.  With our help and her cooperation, of course.”

(more…)