Alvin Yap
Alvin Yap had no trouble at all coming up with a story to submit to the Palo Alto Weekly's Short Story Contest.
"I've always been interested in time travel," the 10-year-old began, "and when I was reading a history book, Columbus came to mind. What would it be like to go back to that time?"
In Alvin's story, "The Real Columbus," a mystified modern seaman finds himself under bombardment by Christopher Columbus's 16th-century wooden sailing ship.
Alvin likes to do the things he excels at, and the list is long. "I really like the computer--I'm using it almost 24 hours a day," Alvin said. "All the stories I write are about technology. Though I don't like the outdoors that much, I love baseball and skiing. And I like math and reading a lot." Alvin said he'll devour any book he can get his hands on, especially one by Michael Crichton, but he has a preferred genre.
"Science fiction's my favorite," Alvin said, "because it's about something that hasn't been done yet. Sometimes an idea comes to me, and my teacher is very surprised!"
Alvin said teachers have always liked and encouraged his writing. "I wrote poetry before, but it didn't end up sounding very well," Alvin said. "I do the stories because it's an imagination thing."
But Alvin maps out his imagination. "I like to start in the middle of a situation. For example, in 'The Real Columbus,' I started with a modern sailor peering through binoculars and only explain later what he's seeing," he said.
Alvin lives in Portola Valley and attends Corte Madera School. In addition to reading, he enjoys playing the violin and participating in several clubs, including a chess club. He explained how his chess inspires his writing approach: "With chess, you don't talk a lot. It's about thinking and strategy."
--Blair Tindall

The Real Columbus

As far as he could see, there was nothing but sea. After seven days of a mission in Spain, Capt. Alphonse Nelson III, of the battleship USS Pride, had finally been granted a request to return to Florida. Hoping he could see more with his binoculars, he ordered Lt. Cmdr. Clyde O'Riley to bring them to the deck. When the binoculars arrived, he was just about to thank O' Riley when he noticed that O'Riley wasn't even there. It was Seaman Drian Francisco. His father and mother emigrated from Spain. The captain was not particularly fond of Francisco. Actually, he was not fond of him at all. He did not want to see him. All the better, Nelson thought. "Ah, Francisco. I wanted to talk to you," Nelson said as he peered through his binoculars. "I was just wondering ...," the young Captain continued adjusting, "why. ..."
About 20 miles away, he saw a giant wave that looked at least 100 yards high and 600 yards thick. He lowered his binoculars as if in awe. All of a sudden he started to panic. "Tsunami! Straight ahead!" he yelled sprinting toward the cockpit of the USS Pride.
He ran into Cmdr. Marc Lawrence, knocking over his cup of coffee. Nelson was usually squirmiest of all the officers about getting their dress uniform dirty. Yet now, he didn't even notice. "Tsunami!" Nelson cried again.
The next minute, he felt the pilot grasping his shoulders and shaking him. "Captain, are you all right? We aren't picking up a tsunami on our radar. Are you sure you saw one?"
"Oh it's there all right." He started to panic again. "We got to get the hell outta here."
The pilot responded calmly. "Calm dow-," the pilot gaped as he caught sight of the wave. "S---."
He dashed to the cockpit, alarming crew members along the way. In a matter of seconds, the deck turned into turmoil. Everyone wanted to get into the cabin off the open deck. Nelson could hear Marc contacting the USS Earthfall. "We are on a collision course with a tsunami off the coast of the Bahamas. Request confirmation."
"Negative. We have no reading of a wave within 100 km of the Bahamas."
Marc wouldn't give up. "Are you sure? It could be just--"
A burst of static ended the communication. Marc walked up to Nelson. "The wave is blocking our communication. We don't have a prayer."
By now, the deck was cleared, except Francisco, Nelson, and Lawrence. The wave had now made a dome over the ship. "What the hell is happening?" Nelson yelled.
No one replied. The water beneath them caved down till the deck was even with the normal surface. They could see under the surface, yet they weren't wet. The water turned yellow, then black, then blue, until all the colors were embedded onto the water, which was now black. The water whirled around and around until all the colors were blurred. The members of the crew on deck got a major headache. Everyone saw everything fading.

When they came to, they were rocking peacefully on the sea. "To the Captain's quarters," the Captain said, queasily hobbling away. "Now, Now, Now!"
Weakly, they all hobbled after their captain.
"I want to know what happened out there," yelled Nelson. He had just had a hot bath and was totally ticked.
Marc Lawrence replied. "I don't know, sir. We have no record of a wave. Our engine has suffered a full breakdown. Also, we aren't picking up any radio signals of any--"
"Keep trying. Now, scram!"
An hour later, he heard pounding on the steps to his quarters. Pierce ran in.
"There are three ships, heading toward the continent, sir."
Nelson rushed to the deck, skipping steps along the way. When he reached the deck, O'Riley had his binoculars there. He yanked them out of O'Riley's hands and saw three old ships with large sails blotted out the sun. "It's got to be a disguise," he said. "They don't think anyone will attack antique ships. There must be metal under that wood." He turned toward Lawrence. "Ready the lightest torpedo you can find and fire whenever you're ready."
Lawrence bounded off with Pierce on his tail. A few minutes later, a torpedo raced across the distance between the ships. The largest ship exploded in pieces. Pierce ran back on deck. "We're being fired at by the other ships." He had the strangest look on his face.
"Out with it, boy," Nelson practically yelled.
"Well," Pierce replied, "they're firing ... they're firing cannonballs, sir. Cannonballs!"

Surely enough, cannonballs rolled off the side of the ship. "Return fire," Nelson ordered.
Pierce raced off the deck. Another torpedo raced across the water. They easily missed the next target, but they didn't care. In seconds, they saw survivors swimming for their lives. They were the roughest looking men they ever saw. Nelson rubbed his hands together. "Let's get ourselves some prisoners," he said with relish.

At about 9 p.m., Nelson decided to read a book. He closed his eyes and randomly pulled a book out. By a random stroke of luck, he pulled out a history book called "European Explorers." Flipping to page 1, he saw the chapter name, "Christopher Columbus." A portrait of Columbus followed these words. The look was familiar to him. He was positive he saw someone that looked like that on the ship. "I'm imagining things."

Nelson stood on the deck with the wind blowing at his dress uniform. Why was he standing there? He didn't know. Four seamen marched onto the deck with the prisoners with O'Riley and Lawrence right behind them. O'Riley screamed at the prisoners. His words were buried by the wind. Still, the prisoners got the message. They dived at Nelson. The captain yanked out his pistol and fired. After those shots, they held back. Only one still advanced. Nelson felt a chill. It was the face in the book--Columbus's face. Columbus yanked a knife out and stabbed deep before Nelson could fire. He knew he was going to die but wasn't sure that he would make it to heaven. ...

Nelson shot up from his bed. He had to identify the man. Stealing a look at his clock, he saw that it was already 5:59, one minute till his alarm clock went off. He hurriedly dressed. Nelson didn't comb his hair or put on his dress coat. Not a minute was spent on in front of the mirror as usual. As he headed up the stairs, his alarm buzzed. Nelson paid no attention.

Nelson set quite a show at the row call. When Lawrence called Nelson, he screamed, "Hurry up you bastard."
Marc continued. "Officers of the USS Pride. Lt. Cmdr. O'Riley."
"Present."
"Lt. Davison."
"Present." "Lt. Presson."
"Present."
"Lt. Roxan."
"Present." "Lt. King."
"Present."
The rest of the row call went smoothly until Francisco.
"Seaman Francisco."
Unfortunately, Nelson got impatient. "Screw him! Get to the daily updates. Something like I'm going to get demoted for being late for my appointment with the fleet admiral!"
"Sir," Marc replied, "we have just. ..."
"You have about 80 more crew members to go," Nelson interrupted.
"Yes, sir. Daily update of the USS Pride, commanded by Capt. Alphonse Nelson III. Unknown date on the basis of our accident. Our engine is on a full cut. ... " "Skip it Marc, let's get to the announcements," the Captain interrupted again.
"Sir," Lawrence replied, "it is not wise to skip all our daily drills."
"Last time I looked I was captain," Nelson puffed between his teeth. "And I want you to get out the prisoners. NOW!"
Lawrence could feel Nelson's wrath. "Yes sir. Right away, sir. Preston, Kruth--follow me. Seamen recruits A-E, come along."
He watched them march off the deck. Fifteen minutes later, they marched back up with the prisoners from the ships they blew up. It was easy to distinguish the man from Nelson's. Of all the ragged clothing that was worn, one man wore clothes as decorative as a king's clothing compared to the others'. Nelson sprang at him, yanked his coat and pulled him toward the officers' stand. "Captain," Roxan growled, "Remember your manners. "I don't care about any damn manners! This guy's name is Christopher Columbus."
No one talked for a while. Then a dull realization came to them. Of course they didn't realize that the man was Columbus. They just realized Columbus was gibbering in Spanish and that they were going to find someone to interview him.

Sweat rolled down his face. Francisco was having a Spanish conference with Columbus to figure out what he was doing. Everyone was at his roll-call post, waiting nervously for Francisco. Nelson was the most nervous one. When a shaking Francisco hobbled out of the cabin, Nelson rushed up to him. "What happened?" he demanded. "Well, Captain, he spoke a different variation of Spanish than I do and--"
"Just tell me what you understood."
"This Spanish man's," Francisco said, "name is unintelligible. He came from Spain. This guy says Queen Isabella sent him. Which means, sir, that, well, he might be Columbus. Because he also says his ships were supposed to go around the world to India to prove the world was round.
Nelson's jaw dropped. "We changed history. We--get this ship to the Bahamas. Fix the engine or use paddles if you have to. Just get there." He spun towards Drian. "Tell him to cover this up. Go!"
Nelson sat up abruptly in bed. It was dark. He grabbed his flashlight and stole a glance at his clock. 1:09. When he heard footsteps coming to his room, he grabbed his semiautomatic pistol. He heard Lt. Roxan pound on his door. "Open up! Come on, hurry up."
Nelson sprang from his bed, changed in about 10 seconds just in time to hear distant gibbering. He opened the door and Roxan jumped in and slammed the door. The gibbering was now right outside his door. Nelson calmly walked over to his desk and picked up his communication radio and switched the frequency to Franny's. He knew Drian would be awake since he was part of the relief crew and would be fixing the engine. "Hey, Dri Franny, we have some people here sayin' junk in Spanish. Get over here and translate for us. Nelson out."
About five minutes later, they heard Drian.
Amazingly enough, the shouting stopped. He heard brisk footsteps and heard Francisco knock on his door. Nelson strode up to the door. Francisco walked in with a normal look. "They just want to go home. They're scared."
Francisco's calmness made Nelson rage. "Who," he steamed, "let them out in the first place?"
"No one, sir. They were never returned to the cell."
Nelson threw his hand into the air. "What the hell is wrong with this crew?"
9/23/2000 We are about an hour away from Florida now. Our crew has been to the Bahamas, allowed Columbus to claim the land and dropped him off at Spain. He was bribed to lie. The damage was fixed. After running through another wave, we reappeared on the Pacific Ocean. My science officer Jake Doplicateson predicts that we must have traveled to 1492, since we lacked satellite. Our last preparations are being made.--Capt. Alphonse Nelson III.

Along the sky, Nelson saw the horizon. Traveling through the coming darkness, the crew of the USS Pride was soon to be forever separated. He was in deep trouble for being late. Days ago, he would have fussed about it. Now ... he didn't know. Nelson thought about his mission in saving the history of America and he smiled. He could almost see his report. Mission accomplished.