Flavor High

Popcorn was absolutely going to be outlawed when the Empire caught on.

At least that was Faekth's opinion. But considering he was the only researcher currently on Earth that made him an expert. So right up until an official edict came down the ol' FTL transmitter he was going to abuse the absolute snerkt out of this loophole. Riboflavin? Presented in fluffy kernels? Yes, please. He spent most nights getting higher than Alpha Centauri and watching Earth media.

Lately, he'd discovered a hilarious show: Ancient Aliens. There were a mandible-dropping nineteen "seasons" of it, which (with a little math) translated to almost fifty sleep cycles. Initially he'd been slightly concerned-- maybe the locals were a little more aware than the Empire thought. One pilot episode later he was howling laughter into his Redenbacher.

Faekth settled in for the ride, clutching a trashcan-sized bucket of popcorn.

It started out pretty hilarious. "Evidence" that was pretty transparently stretched, suppositions presented as verified facts. Slick transitions and wince-inducing music. That last part wasn't the human's fault; his hearing range was slightly lower than an Earthling's. Their music was basically bones-scraping-chalkboard for the most part.

He crunched popcorn and really dug in. Underwater Worlds? Ha! Faekth checked on his tablet: Nope, still no FTL species from a water world. Liquid was heavy. Any species that lived in it full-time never got out of their local gravity well. Now "Underground Aliens" was more realistic-- the Empire started out subterranean, after all. Even this scout ship had living spaces that were basically tunnels. Sensible.

Angels and aliens? Haaaaa. Unexplained structures? Obviously explainable. Alien devastations? Faekth chortled over that; if the Empire wanted a planet wrecked it was gonna happen. Four hands down.

He took a break somewhere around the fourth sleep cycle and checked in with the ongoing experiments. Things looked good; chemical sensors were nominal. None of the natives even noticed the ongoing colonization efforts. Satisfied-- and very, very high on riboflavin-- Faekth went back to the show.

The entire next season was pure amusement. He alternated between hilarity over "Magic of the Gods" and outright groaning over "Aliens and the Lost Ark". Primitive superstitions always made for good times.

Then he stopped laughing.

At first, Faekth thought maybe he'd just reached peak intoxication. The popcorn was hitting hard after going for so long-- he'd already lost coordination and experienced five deep insights into why stacking rocks was the epitome of life. Fumbling for the tablet, he replayed the last transmission and ran it at half speed. The images showed some sort of autopsy recording. Obviously staged. But on the table, surrounded by humans in ridiculous suits was-

He brought the screen closer, still absently crunching popcorn. Was that? A Kraetyr? Bulbous head, two all-black visual organs. The exterior skin color was odd, but then again Earth had a nitrogen-heavy atmosphere. It was possible. Or maybe just creative fiction. He kept watching with a growing sense of unease.

Unease turned to outright dread when he saw the Kraetyr saucer-craft. Blurry, out of focus, but the Humans' drawn pictures were entirely too close.

Faekth stumbled across the ship to the main core, punching queries and requests in with three hands. His fourth dragged the popcorn along, just in case. He dove through collected records of the humans, checking automatically catalogued media, searching for something called "Roswell". Cross-indexing came back with the same autopsy video, then images and pictures of a huge building full of random debris from a "crash".

And there it was: Cut and angled into the metallic debris. Easy to miss, if the Empire hadn't spent thousands of sleep- and birth-cycles fighting Kraetyr battleships. They knew their enemies' writing and numbering systems. And right there, etched into random debris, was an identity marker.

Stoned out of his mind, drunk on flavored and delicious riboflavin, Faekth had a hard decision to make.

He had to notify the Empire. The Kraetyr were here and left. Or visited, perhaps to start one of their autofactories that bootstrapped into planet-battleships.

But if the Empire came, he'd lose the popcorn.

Or...

...OR...

...maybe he could just go back to watching shows and forget this ever happened?

He looked from the database queries, to the FTL transmitter, to the Humans' mostly-made-up entertainment. What were the odds? Maybe it was the ribo talking, but it seemed pretty low. Probably really low, the longer his addled thoughts went on. Yeah, definitely: One mention in all of human culture? If anything it was probably a random occurrence. Total accident.

Faekth slowly settled back into watching, popcorn can firmly in hand.

After all, it wasn't like these Earthlings had a record of Vulcans or something.

That would be a different story.

​

I write quirky sci-fi and oddball stuff at r/Susceptible ;)