1. The Red Tattoo

The archeology team was busy and noisy inside the Bats Cave. The huge boulders blocking the entrance of the dry, large, very deep cave had not been a real deterrent for Jo Warwick. Young, strong, and beautiful, she was not used to rejection or defeat.

The cave was a hidden gem discovered recently in the Carpathian Mountains on Earth. The entire place seemed to be a treasure trove. And “discovered recently” meant after the interdiction against stepping on Earth had been put in place. After the interdiction and especially the defense mechanism had been put into place. But that was not something to keep Jo’s family, the powerful Warwicks, away. Not even the imperator could stop a Warwick if they put their mind to doing something.

The co-op students were giggling as they worked, sometimes louder than they thought they were. With the help of electrical lamps they were collecting and cataloging ceramic pieces, stone tools, animal remains. Next to them, real archeologists were slowly carving into the floor after more remains. The cave was full to the brim with signs of a very old civilization. A civilization that Jo hoped to prove was part of the Vinca culture. The project of her life.

Professor Hannigan, a corpulent man of about sixty, was studying some cave paintings. He tried not to expose them to too much light, or heat, or sweat, or anything else for that matter. He was mumbling while studying. His custom, as Jo knew, adding to the general noise in the confined space of the cave. It was becoming quite claustrophobic.

Jo was in her mid-twenties, athletic, newly graduated from the university, and already in charge of her first dig. She knew how students could get, but that didn’t mean she agreed with the practice and the indulgences.

She approached the walls with paintings, or more accurately, pictographs. One of them in particular had drawn her attention. The drawn figures were vaguely human. Most had huge round eyes and concentric circular shapes on their bodies. That was specific to the Vinca culture, to the fashion or aesthetics of their times. That was why she could barely contain her enthusiasm, her joy—she was ninety-nine percent sure she’d just made the discovery of her life.

The pictograph that had drawn her attention was part of a group, representing small humanlike figures interacting with huge masked beings in weird, ritualistic suits. In the first panel in the group, the humans bowed to the masked figures, obviously their deities. There were no written sources for the Vinca culture, so nothing was known of their religion or mythology.

Jo got closer to the drawings.

“Silence!” she barked over the background noise in the cave. Everyone looked at her and shut up. She was known for a frightful temper and no one wanted to enter into a conflict with her.

“They’re just students on their first practicum,” said Hannigan in a low voice only the two of them could hear. He was like a grandfather to everyone on the team, always ready to indulge them and spoil them.

“Not on my money, they’re not,” said Jo. “They’re students in their first practice and one day they could brag about the experience they got here. They could brag and get the best paid gigs because of this.”

“Yes, but young people…” Hannigan hesitated, looking at Jo. Then, probably realizing he was talking to a young person, he gave up.

The best practice was to ignore the old man and leave it be. She had to put up with all his eccentricities because he was the best in the field and expert on this period of time in Earth’s history. And he was easy to satisfy in terms of credits and accolades. He valued money above all else.

So Jo returned to the pictographs. She got closer to the next one. In it, a man with a wolf head shot stars through some sort of weapon toward one of the masked figures. The masked figure’s body was covered in symbols and shone a bright red.

In the next panel, the masked figure had collapsed, probably dead. His body was still covered in unknown symbols.

Jo returned to the previous panel. The weapon looked like a bone, a real bone encrusted in stone. The stars shooting from it had started to sparkle and fluctuate. What the… Jo got even closer and tried to discern what could make it sparkle like that. There didn’t seem to be anything on the stone base but the painting. She extended her hand and held it above the sparks. No heat. She then touched the bone embedded in the stone. Dry, porous bone. She walked her fingers over the sparks and the shooting stars and then, a red spark passed from the stone to Jo’s skin.

Where it touched the skin a red impression, like a tattoo, spread on Jo’s skin. It had happened so fast that Jo couldn’t do anything else but watch the whole thing with curiosity. She lifted her camera to take a picture, but froze. The tattoo had spread up her arm and down her other arm and she realized it was all over her body, flickering on her skin. It felt like an electric shock. Jo shuddered and collapsed.