Instructions were relayed via a sequence of short, explosive and toxic gastrointestinal events.
Three suns rose that morning. The astronauts slathered themselves with fresh butter for the final ceremonies.
Being accepted into the colony meant having to feed them in new, unusual ways. This task was delegated.
When the primeval bird-thing grabbed the rubbery legs of the mammoth rog there were shrieks of jealousy from the others on the perch.
“When we meet them you must remember to never look at their proboscis–never, ever look directly at their proboscis.”
The glow of monitors devoured the emptiness of endless alien inquiry.
Selecting the wrong option from the twelve obscure alien languages in the kiosk will result in long term aphasia and possible transmigration.
The alien couple wanted to negotiate over the pulverized remains of the crew that was piled politely into perfect boxes.
The broadcast continued for millenia, that wet, squelching sound beaming directly into space.
The landscape looked like a coffee stain, and the sky was peppered with angry points of light.
Over the next few days slabs of it heated up and slid off the alien roofs–leaving mounds of the stuff blocking escape tunnels.
“That’s not just some random noise, that’s their invitation to mate.”
The large, spindly arms corralled the crowds into nets which were hoisted up to the waiting ships.
The Committee will convene the moment the third moon breaks through the defensive ice ring.
“Those alien flowers are growing everywhere now, polluting the atmosphere with mind bending spores.”