Crimson Ink Preview

Junior Researcher Jarak eem El-En studied Earth from the stars, bedecked in an American flag shirt and jeans to celebrate the coming festivities. He—now a he after assimilating to the human form with dangling bits between the legs—sat in a human chair at a human table on the observation deck of a UPVG research space station. Elsewhere on the deck were human toys used for sensitization and equilibrium testing: color-coded blocks of varying shapes, remote-controlled toy cars, and board games with dice or cards, among others.

While looking out at the blue-green marble spinning through the void, Jarak wrote his latest journal entry with the archaic human tools of pen and ink. The motions of flicking his wrist across a page of paper were not yet comfortable, but Jarak found this act of writing to be very satisfying. Yet another lesson in what it meant to be human.

87:34:68:72, 1276 U.P.V.G.E. – Valgar Galaxy Unified Time

22:17, December 30, 2024 A.D. – Earth Pacific Standard Time

To prepare for my upcoming expedition to Earth’s surface, I am journaling in the Earthling style to acclimate myself to their customs. I cannot guess how humans achieved language through the use of vocal cords and the propagation of sound waves. Their evolved use of this audible speech, high-pitched laughter, and facial expressions to communicate absolutely astounds me! I am so surprised they do not misinterpret reality more often, considering they do not have telepathy and cannot discern each other’s true motivations like us Konari. Frankly, the idea of lying is so fascinating. The sky is green. Ha! Equally intriguing is their humor. I cannot wait to share my jokes with them when I land tomorrow!

Lomari and the other researchers have already gone (bringing me back this very nice pen and notebook!), but now it is finally my turn. My observations will help determine if the humans are ready to learn of the existence of our “alien” species and join the United Planets of the Valgar Galaxy—their so-called Milky Way.

I am landing at the perfect time too! Tomorrow will again reveal a spectacular occurrence of lights across the world, cascading around the globe like a wave. Millions of sparkling lights, ignited using chemical powders. I do not know if I can contain my excitement, having waited so long already to interact with their people in any direct fashion. I yearn to stand with them and watch those flashing colors so much…

As he finished the journal entry, Jarak flexed his right wrist, ignoring a twinge of pain from the muscles as exhilaration danced upon his fingers. He tried to spin the pen across his knuckles, as he’d seen humans do in countless videos which were intercepted by his ship. Still unused to his human form even after cloning a human body and copying his consciousness to it, his hand lacked the needed dexterity. The pen fell to the floor.

A perfect time to try out the human curses! Jarak thought. He paused, forming a frown with these strange facial muscles. He shouted, “Shitfire!” Then he laughed as the sound echoed across the room and returned to his own ears. “Absolutely marvelous!”

At the far end of the observation deck, a door opened, revealing Lomari in his Konari form: a stark-white, unclothed creature evolved to no longer need reproductive organs or fear predation. It—as Konari had no need for genders—appeared small, plush, and weak, with most of the weight attributed to their elongated skulls, toothless mouths, and complex eyes akin to earth’s mantis shrimp. Lomari waddled forward on three legs but without arms. The Konari species had also evolved over the last million generations not to need environment-manipulating limbs, having telekinetic abilities. The only reason they needed three legs was to lock themselves in an upright, tripoded position when they slept. Otherwise, they could float through the air when awake.

Though Jarak did not fear Lomari’s appearance, as his true form was also that of the Konari, he did fear Lomari’s presence. This close to his mission, that could only mean one thing—a delay.

No… Jarak thought. Had he been in his Konari form, that thought would have emitted from his cranium, to be telepathically received by any other Konari. But in his human form, the thought stayed within his skull. Nor could Lomari read his mind. Despite having telepathy, Konari could not decipher the thoughts of non-telepathic species. Another advantage to the human form.

Lomari’s compound eyes flicked toward him, and though the Konari was half Jarak’s size, it looked down on him. The council has decided to delay your mission for at least another Valgar year, Jarak, Lomari said from within Jarak’s skull as it stopped only a few feet away. I am sorry to deliver this news to you. I know how long you have waited to visit the planet. However, you should know that I also voted for this delay. I do not yet think you are ready for the responsibility. The humans are not as peaceful as you—

“No!” Jarak shouted, caught just as off-guard as Lomari was by the outburst. A strange emotion erupted with Jarak: anger. Another human wonder, considering evolution had removed most negative emotions from the Konari millions of generations ago. Yet he didn’t find it wonderful.

Jarak threw back the chair, which slammed back into the floor and skidded across the observation deck as he stood up on wobbly legs and paced like a marionette whose strings were controlled by a bored puppet master. “I have been waiting for five Valgar years, Lomari. That’s fifty Earth years! I have researched and observed and listened, but now, on the eve of my mission, you want to neglect me again? Damn you!”

Take a deep breath, Jarak, Lomari replied in as soothing a tone as was possible for a species without vocal cords or facial expressions. These dark human emotions can take control of you if you are not careful. Having gone on a dozen missions, I still struggle to temper myself against those chemical sways while in that primate form. Even with years of practice, most humans still cannot overcome their emotions. Their fear response, in particular, is quite strong when faced with—

“Lomari,” Jarak replied, holding up a hand to silence the lead researcher. “I deserve this mission. You know I do.” He wished to lash out with a telekinetic lance, but in the human form, he had no such power. He was reduced to these simian-like tools. Could Lomari stop him telekinetically before he picked up the chair and hurled it across the room?

I do know, Jarak. Lomari waddled closer on those three legs. A weight rested on Jarak’s shoulder as if that infuriating Konari was laying an invisible hand on him and squeezing as a measure of reassurance. But you aren’t ready. This human form is difficult to get used to, and you aren’t ready. Your time will come, but I will need you to remain here while Zeberan goes in your place.

“Zeberan?” Jarak hissed, hands balling into fists. “That Xolonoid only got here a year ago! Why does it get to go and not me?”

You are not ready, Lomari repeated, cocking its head to stare at Jarak’s white knuckles. You have not yet mastered the human form. How do you expect to blend in? When Jarak didn’t reply, it added, As such, I will need you to return to your Konari body. Do you understand?

The fiery anger prodding the acids of Jarak’s stomach dissolved, replaced by something colder, wielding a heavy scythe. Hate. Slowly, a grin formed upon his lips, using muscles different from his earlier frown. Yet the smile never reached his eyes. “Oh, I understand perfectly.”

***

Walter Murray sat on the porch steps in darkness, if only because the bugs ran amok when the porch lights were flipped on. That, and because when the lights were off, it was far easier to see the stars, especially on a night as clear as this one.

A whole new year, he thought, feeling no different today than any day before. Yet with each new year, he became older with less hair, a bigger gut, and a greater thirst for beer. Fifteen going on fifty.

Wind rustled through leafless branches of the woodland trees surrounding the Murray residence, the leaves having turned red, yellow, orange, and now brown as decay consumed them. As the closest neighbor was almost five miles away, the thousands of crickets chirped enthusiastically, so loud they sounded like the heartbeat of the Earth.

Walter seemed to be the only Murray who could appreciate it.

“When are we going to launch fireworks?” his eight-year-old son Chris whined from a lower step, huffing like a monster in those gory horror movies he liked so much. The full moon revealed his short blond hair, toothy grimace, and his baseball-themed pajamas. Chris looked like Walter had at that age—except the brat had stolen his hair. “It has to be midnight by now!”

“Not time yet,” Walter replied, checking his watch. 11:07PM. “Gotta give it another hour or so.”

“But other people are already celebrating!” Chris argued.

“Different time zones,” Walter replied with a shrug, taking another sip from his light beer. Did I ever complain this much at their age? He scratched his chin and smirked, though none could see it in the darkness. Probably did. Dad must be laughing in his grave.

“But we’ve been waiting forever!” added six-year-old Jessica, feeding off her older brother’s emotions. She sprawled out beside Chris on the lower step and groaned. She’d taken more after her mother, having long brown hair and rail-thin limbs. Her pajamas were pink and princess-themed, of course. “And I’m cold!”

“It is a bit cold,” Walter admitted, but what was to be expected of a winter night in Tennessee? The remaining snow from the last few days had melted during the day, but a visitor wouldn’t have believed it with the biting winds tearing across the porch. It still felt like ten degrees below freezing.

Taking off his camo hunting jacket and wrapping it around her small shoulders, Walter was left with a thin flannel shirt which the wind tore through like tissue paper. Great. Now I’m cold. But Walter would not be the one to complain about it. No, sir. He’d never hear the end of it if he did.

“So?” Jessica asked eventually, growing hopeful and sitting straighter. “Can we start?”

“No,” Walter replied with a sigh. Kids of the “Me” generation, he thought, taking a longer sip. They just don’t have any patience. Too many gizmos and gadgets giving them instant gratification. What’s it get them? Social media that convince kids to kill themselves, video games that waste their time and rot their brains, and advertisements that urge them to take pills for every minor problem.

“Please?” Jessica whispered. “I’m tired.”

And now she’s tired, Walter echoed. Every night she complains about not staying up long enough, but the one night I let her stay up, she wants to go to sleep… Kids.

“And hungry,” Chris added.

“And hungry!” Jessica repeated in a shriek so loud Walter winced. “Please, Daddy? Please?” She stretched that syllable as much as his patience.

“Dear,” his wife Emma began, leaning her head against Walter’s shoulder. “Would it really be so horrible to start early?”

“You too?” he asked, turning to look at her: the love of his life but the biggest pain in his ass. Her head bobbed affirmatively in the darkness. Say yes, and she gets to be the good guy. Say no, and I sleep on the couch. Hooray.

Walter grunted. “Fine, we’ll do one firework. Just one. We’re waiting for the rest.” Handing his beer to Emma, he arose to the cheers of his children and walked toward the garage on the far right side of the porch, grumbling under his foggy breath as he folded his arms for warmth.

Walter detoured around the asphalt shingles, hammer, nails, and ladder to fix the roof—a home-improvement project he’d meant to complete a week ago, which he still hadn’t started because life always seemed to only impede his work. Opening the garage revealed the stockpile of fireworks he’d been keeping beside his pickup truck for almost a month. He pulled out a glitter-fountain firework, which was supposed to spew sparkler fireworks a few feet into the air, and carried it across the driveway. Setting it ten feet from the porch steps, he sifted through the rear pocket of his jeans, pushed aside the can of tobacco dip, and pulled out a cheap cigarette lighter before kneeling. Yet as he thumbed the igniter, the sparks wouldn’t light.

“Daddy?” Jessica asked.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m trying, sweetheart. Give me a second.” Walter thumbed the lighter furiously, only to achieve the same results. Finnicky things. It’ll work as soon as I put it down. He tossed the lighter down.

“No, Daddy, look up! There’s something in the sky!”

More fireworks. Walter refrained from rolling his eyes. “Daddy’s a bit busy right—”

Then the crickets went quiet. Walter felt a chill down his spine as he looked up to see a disc-shaped UFO zipping across the sky. Silently, it flew just above the house, ripping the loose shingles off, and smashed into the nearby woods, crashing with a louder bang than any firework.

Walter shivered, but not from the cold.

“Walter?” Emma asked, holding Chris and Jessica in her arms. Her eyes were as wide as the UFO. “What was that?”

Walter didn’t dare say, but there was no confusing what he’d seen. “Take the kids inside while I take a look.”

Chris popped up, excitedly stepping from foot to foot. “I’ll go with you!”

“No,” Walter said.

“But—”

“No.” Walter repeated, the hard edge in his voice. When Chris stiffened, he added in a softer tone. “It isn’t safe, son. There’re coyotes, bears, and everything else in those woods. Just go inside. Keep your sister safe, all right?”

Without waiting for Chris’s response, Walter abandoned the firework and lighter as he walked back over to the garage. A gun safe dominated the far side of the room. Punching in the code and spinning the five-prong handle, he pulled open the door and grabbed both a flashlight and a pump shotgun. Walter racked the latter to ensure it was empty. Then he popped a shotshell into the open receiver and re-racked the gun. His hand shook fearfully as he filled the magazine tube with five more cartridges, the darkness only exacerbating his fears of the unknown.

Ain’t no way in hell this is happening to me, Walter thought as he stuffed his jacket pockets with a few more rounds of buckshot before closing the safe and locking it. Then he closed the garage and trudged out into the grass before reaching the tree line a hundred feet away. Clicking on the flashlight, he followed the beam between the barren trees and over the decaying leaves.

Walter wiped his sweaty palms on his flannel as he plunged deeper into the woods, sweeping across the trees and stopping when he caught the glint of the saucer. The breath escaped his lungs, refusing to return. Ain’t no way in—

He turned on the flashlight, catching movement. Something humanoid, something pale. The thing was human in appearance, but not in behavior. It—he—had brown hair and eyes, wearing an American flag shirt and jeans. However, as he stomped on some smoldering dead leaves, his movements were all wrong. He—it—leaned and swayed like a snake, taking staggering steps forward and backward and throwing its hands around like it had no bones. Like it was something wearing human skin.

But as the thing noticed the flashlight, it turned its head toward him and raised a hand to ward off the light. Then it took a stumbling step forward like a zombie from Chris’s movies. “Walter,” it spoke in a harsh, garbled voice, but there was no confusing what it said. Somehow, it knew his name.

God help me. As he raised the shotgun to shoot, he dropped the flashlight and lost sight of the creature. In that darkness, he didn’t bother firing. He bolted.

Walter stumbled through the leaves, bumping into vines and shrubs with only weak moonlight to guide his path. He sprinted faster than he had in years, feeling that creature’s sinister breath on the back of his neck. Each moment, he expected to be grabbed by that faux-human monster and dragged toward that horrible spacecraft.

The thought of being anal probed spurred him faster, and as he broke through the tree line, Walter finally chanced a look back. Nothing seemed to follow him. It stopped at the edge of the woods. It had to have… I felt it following me. Toying with me… And I lead it back home.

Walter ran faster, sprinting up the porch steps and ripping the door open. His family flinched back as he slammed the door behind him, locked it, deadbolted it. Huffing, he backed away while pointing his shotgun at the door despite his trembling finger. As the house had an open floor plan, with the living room, dining room and kitchen all sharing once space, Walter kept walking backward until he’d passed the sofa and hit his back against the stove.

“Daddy?” Jessica whispered, hugging Emma’s leg. “Daddy, what’s wrong?”

Walter didn’t answer. He glanced back up at the walls, looking at all the ways in which an alien could get inside: the doors, the windows, even the chimney. Thank God we live in a one-story house.

“Walter?” Emma ventured, stepping closer and gently pulling the gun from his hands. She could handle a shotgun better than he could until his hands stopped shaking. “Walter, what’s out there? Say something!”

“Bar the doors,” Walter whispered, low enough that his children couldn’t hear.

“What?” Emma leaned back as if he’d slapped her—not that he ever had. “Why?”

“Something crashed,” Walter said, still staring at the front door.

“Somebody crashed?” Emma asked, raising an eyebrow. “But why is—”

“No. Not somebody. Something,” Walter emphasized the latter half of the word. “Whatever it is, it isn’t human, Emma. And it definitely ain’t friendly.”

***

The mission was not going well for Jarak. Escaping from Lomari and stealing a research vessel from Zeberan had been hard, but steering the craft had been far harder with his weird human limbs. Impossible even. He crashed the craft in a forest somewhere, having hurt his head and neck in the crash. Putting out the small fire and inhaling that smoke hadn’t helped his throat any, now as dry as the fallen leaves.

Of all things, a light appeared between the trees. Thinking himself saved by the lovely humans, Jared had kindly asked for water—just some quality H2O to clear his throat. Yet what had the humans done? Fled in terror.

“This disguise was supposed to work!” Jarak muttered, still in that horrid, croaking voice. He stumbled through the leaves as he forced his legs and body to move normally—whatever that word meant. Activating the wrist-recorder, he said, “Research Log One. I believe I have missed the landing site because I was supposed to land in the city of Nashville, and instead I am… in a forest. Maybe I’m not in the US. Maybe I landed on another continent altogether. Either way, I believe I am missing cultural context, which must explain why the human ran from me. Do people in foreign countries often flee from Americans? I can assume nothing at this point.”

So many questions. So few answers. What was a researcher to do? I must form a hypothesis and test it. Then I must report the observational results and draw my conclusion. He forced himself to walk slower, doing high knees through the weeds as he reclaimed the human’s flashlight. Into his recorder, he said, “The question: If I bring this flashlight back to the humans, how will they respond? My hypothesis: If I bring this flashlight back to the humans, they will understand that I mean them no harm. So, if they flee, their fear is not related to my actions or presence, but my appearance. Perhaps even my voice. If somebody crashed on my planet screaming about needing to drink mercury, I might be afraid too.”

Stupid! Jarak thought. I should have said, ‘Hello, how are you?’ before ranting about water… This lack of foresight must be one reason Lomari tried to keep me coming here. Jarak stared up at the sky through the barren canopy. No signs of ships, but that meant nothing with the cloaking technology at their disposal—the same cloaking technology he hadn’t engaged because he couldn’t reach the controls with his feeble two arms. A feeling of human helplessness almost drove him to his knees, but Jarak fought off the feeling with the superior emotion of hope. “I can rectify this situation before Lomari arrives. Maybe I can still salvage my mission!”

Walking faster on his stumbling legs, Jarak used the flashlight to guide his way out of the forest, following the footprints in the mud of the fleeing human. Only one, but the tracks. When he arrived at the edge of the tree line, he entered a clearing of ankle-high grass. At its center lay a single-story house with a shingle roof. A wooden wraparound porch led to the entrance, as did the brick steps beneath it.

“Continuation of Research Log One. I will conduct an experiment to test my hypothesis. I will walk toward the front door and deliver the flashlight to them. I hope to conclude that the humans will open the door and accept my apology. End of log.” Jarak lumbered through the grass, filling with human determination. This will definitely work.