Page 119 of I Think I’m in Love with an Alien

I should tell her. But I can’t bring myself to mention the beacon when she looks so happy. And I don’t what I’m thinking or what to feel. Should I return to my place in the universe? Make peace with Oona and see my family again.

“Definitely. I think it takes us back to our cave-dwelling days.” She pauses. “But Ravik suggested it. Maybe they’ve taken on some human traits?”

“They have been here the longest.”

“It’s an interesting idea. Gives some weight to nurture over nature.”

I don’t know what she’s referring to, but she breezes past me into the kitchen and I hear her opening cupboards. Silently, I slip the beacon back into the bag and head outside. It is a little chilly, but there is already a crackling fire. Before my arrival on 97-B, I had never been close to open flames before.

I’m finally being recalled to my former life, yet I feel so much dread. How do I leave Jen? And the rest of our friends? But if I stay, it will mean never seeing or communicating with my family again. They won’t know what became of me, and they might imagine I have perished on some remote world, eternally chasing the next experience.

I stare at the fire. It feels like any choice I make will be wrong. Here, I’ll always be in danger. And there are people hunting for us now, the real aliens from Space Con.

“You’re quiet.” Jaz speaks in the subharmonic, audible only to me and Ravik. But they are on the other side of the yard, herding the chickens toward the shed.

Poppy sits across the way, talking to Tad. I can’t hear what they’re saying and probably couldn’t focus on it even if I could. “I have a lot on my mind.”

“Anything you want to share?” she asks.

“Not now. There are many factors to consider.”

“I’m here if you change your mind.” Jaz moves off to join Poppy and Tad as Ravik heads back to the fire.

Soon, Jen emerges from the house holding a small item aloft. She mentioned marshmallows. I do not know what those are, but probably something I can’t or shouldn’t consume. Tad grabs the bag and impales a white, soft object on a stick, immediately plunging the whole thing into the flames.

“How do you like yours?” he asks Poppy.

“Golden brown.”

“I always burn mine,” Jen says. “Then I scrape off the char and eat the gooey center.”

The humans gather around the crackling fire, toasting marshmallows and catching up on things we’ve missed, details of daily life that didn’t get mentioned in our group chat. I’m still pondering the beacon—and what it portends—so I don’t heed their conversation.

Ravik speaks in the subharmonic. “My sensors logged an extremely strong, brief signal. Anything you wish to share?”

Given that they’ve been building this place for years, they probably have all sorts of equipment concealed on the property. I should have realized I would not be able to keep this a secret, at least not from Ravik. They knew that I wasn’t from 97-B long before I identified their interstellar origins.

“I was planning to discuss it tomorrow.”

“I’m asking now,” Ravik says in a tone that makes it clear they have suspicions already.

There’s no point in drawing this out. “The agency contacted me with rendezvous coordinates for immediate extraction.”

“How soon?” they demand.

“Three days. Not far from here.”

Far is relative, considering how many days we drove to meet up with everyone. I gauge that we’re about two hours away by vehicle, though if I intend to proceed on my own, I’ll need to leave in the morning or I likely won’t make it on time.

This is what I wanted. I was even thinking about trying to raid a wealthy entrepreneur’s launch site, until Jen made it clear that was reckless and untenable. And then the unmanned shuttle exploded, proving how far that was from a reasonable strategy to return home.

But now…now I can leave. And every moment here has suddenly become precious, irreplaceable.

“We’ll talk more later,” Ravik says. “Let’s join the others.”

I perch beside Jen on a chair hewn from fallen logs and she reaches for me with her free hand. The other waves the gooey marshmallow stick about, sweeping gestures that punctuate the story she’s telling. It’s a ghost story, I think, which is a tale about how the energy emanations from expired humans linger past that moment of demise and pursue unattainable ends. Poppy seems unnerved, huddling closer to the fire, but for me, it only seems sad that ghosts are unable to finish what they started.

Right now, we have something in common.