To: The Secret Intelligence Service of Hrh C.Regina. Subject: Nesrin/SIS intel feed

To: The Secret Intelligence Service of Hrh C.Regina. Subject: Nesrin/SIS intel feed - Printable Version

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To: The Secret Intelligence Service of Hrh C.Regina. Subject: Nesrin/SIS intel feed - Enkidu - 08-01-2018

Target Ident: The Secret Intelligence Service. .

Sender Ident: Nesrin Khan.

Sender Source:Curaçao, enjoying the outlying islands.

Encryption:The space between instinct, understanding, truth.

Well, nobody ever got anything from bureaucracy by being opaque. Here goes it.

Invoking my right as a citizen of Bretonia to provide information to agents of the crown if so deemed worthy or significant to the war effort, I request an audience with an intelligence handler. Preferably somewhere classy, with alcohol, high ceilings, and bad lighting. Not romantic lighting, genuinely atrocious lighting.

Does that right still exist? It did during the last time Parliament placed the nation under a under a state of emergency. That was a quarter century ago, though.

The information, em. It's myself. I guess you appreciate why I didn't go through the standard channels of billing a biographical form through a Bretonian neuralnet terminal.

Attached files: One.

This is not a joke being played by a sixteen year old hacker looking for proof of alien life. I'd like to exit with that.

...Thank you for hearing me. I'd salute, but it's audio-only.

RE: To: The Secret Intelligence Service of Hrh C.Regina. Subject: I'd like to come home. - Secret Intelligence Service - 08-02-2018

To: Nesrin Khan

Lady Nesrin Ezra Elhertani Khan

Our records show that you requested a discharge from the Bretonian Armed Forces some months ago and then dropped off the radar. We are not in the business in sending agents or operatives out to meet people who are unknown to us, although your attached file did answer a number of questions, many more still remain unanswered.

We would therefore like to request that you explain your interest in the Service and what role/job it is your are interested in particularly.

Kind regards:

James Skirka
H.M.S.I.S

RE: To: The Secret Intelligence Service of Hrh C.Regina. Subject: I'd like to come home. - Enkidu - 08-02-2018

Target Ident: The Secret Intelligence Service. .

Sender Ident: Nesrin Khan.

Sender Source:Curaçao, enjoying the outlying islands.

Encryption:The space between instinct, understanding, truth.

I...

Lack proficiencies. I am single-handedly ill-equipped to do anything other than, well, bumble around Sirius -learning-. Learning without end. This isn't by choice. Physiological constraints prevent any form of re-emergence into contemporaneous society. Hence why I resubmitted my enlistment then... let panic get the better of me. I assumed I would be vivisected. I originally tabled the possibilty that I am, in some way, psychotic, or out of my wits. Eventually I've come to the slightly more frightening conclusion that this is a normative way to be for what I have become, and tolerated it. Apparently this toleration makes me singularly Intolerable. I'm rambling.

The chrysalis has broken and out springs the moth. The moths not a butterfly yet contains a proclivity for self immolation, beauty in death rather than beauty in life. The moth survives the predatory sparrow because it is not beautiful. The Moth is consumed by the fire from need. No. None of those statements are true. I'll start again.

I contain within myself diverse information regarding a plethora of alien abominations, of which I, apparently, am one, including functional field knowledge that would augment whatever files you have upon the subject. This is fairly conventional. Any alumni of the Core or Order, rare that they are, can provide you with comparable datasets. The advantage I can give you is... abstraction. I may be the only Gammuian being in the cosmos unmotivated by the survival of "my" Species. Their species. There isn't a working nomenclature. Do you understand how difficult this is?

I am not... very subtle. I cannot share with you the secrets of the Gammu, for I know them on only an implicit level. I cannot tell you how I function, nor how I'm alive. I just hope that what I am, is, to some degree, useful. I can to a reasonable degree hide my identity behind the controls of a spacecraft, and, can, up to a point, manipulate Gammuian technology. I cannot inform an engineer why, or a scientist the wherefores - I'm a pilot, not an xenotech doctorate - but my inability to explain the process of what I am does not change the reality of the beast.

I have a son, or, rather, Me, when I was alive, did. Marten Khan. He lives on New London with whatever family I have left. The opportunity to be a mother again is worth ignoring my humanity for a little while longer. I'd like to see him again before he's old enough not to need me anymore. He is my motivation. He is singularly unaware of what I am. Plus I might be an disgusting act against the graces of Allah, but I am a ***** patriotic Bretonian abomination in the grace of Allah, and Bretonia is going to need everyone. Even the cast-offs. I wrangled a transcript from some Royalist news agency materials on the way down here - it's not particularly difficult when you're physically conjoined with your spacecraft - the prime topic of debate is how lenient the crown should be post-occupation.

I can't skid around in the Omicrons any longer. I wracked my armature wondering how a man-beetle like myself deserves to serve, if I deserve to serve, If I could even be speculatively considered "Bretonian". Decided that if there was a vocation, it would be with the intelligence apparatus. A chance to serve without being served, as it were. It would be no different to that which I committed for the Gammu, except that my masters would be human. My own race. I suppose spying on people is my only competency. It is, after all, what I was constructed to do.

I realise that I come across as a fool and a curio, and any further contact you make with me here is likely to lead to my disassembly. I'm... sorry if I fluffed this. God damn it.

I feel ridiculous. It seems absurd to be having a relatively normal discussion. I suppose my only hope is that being a useful actor for the crown will alleviate my malaise. I've spend a year bouncing around in a fifteen by five fighter cargo bay. This comes as a release.

Thank you?

RE: To: The Secret Intelligence Service of Hrh C.Regina. Subject: I'd like to come home. - Secret Intelligence Service - 08-02-2018

To: Nesrin Khan

Lady Nesrin Ezra Elhertani Khan

The service is not in the business of cutting people open to see how they work. We are not some vile organisation that will forgo the rule of law, ethics and morality in the pursuit of what we think is 'right'. We are agents of the Crown, we do as directed, and while that allows us a large level of leeway, it does mean we are still bound by the Law.

We would be happy to give you a chance as an asset. You are free to go about your business as you would normally would, but any information you stumble across that you deem to be of value to us or Bretonia, ought to be sent back to us, whereupon you will receive a sum of credits.

We hope this arrangement is acceptable.

Kind regards:

James Skirka
H.M.S.I.S

RE: To: The Secret Intelligence Service of Hrh C.Regina. Subject: I'd like to come home. - Enkidu - 08-02-2018

Target Ident: The Secret Intelligence Service. .

Sender Ident: Nesrin Khan.

Sender Source:Curaçao, enjoying the outlying islands.

Encryption:The space between instinct, understanding, truth.

I... Thank you.

You won't regret this.

RE: To: The Secret Intelligence Service of Hrh C.Regina. Subject: I'd like to come home. - Enkidu - 08-08-2018

Target Ident: The Secret Intelligence Service. .

Sender Ident: Nesrin Khan.

Sender Source:Curaçao, enjoying the outlying islands.

Encryption:The space between instinct, understanding, truth.

I don't know if this is of value to Bretonia, but I know enough about politicking that this will definitely be of value to Rheinland.

There's some out-of-date public wanted information on the neuralnet about an old Bundschuh politico named Ernst, or Earnest, or Erik, or Erin, hmm, one or the other, Klugmann. He's turned up in the Omicrons in an ambiguous ship; sabre, gunned out with flashpoints. The run-of-the-mill stock vessel for shady freelance types who don't want anyone to twig.

Men like that only go to the Omicrons for bifurcated reasoning; because they've suckling a Lone Star complex, or they're trying to get rich doing something illicit. The Bundschuh market themselves as ethical, so I went and assumed it was the first.

Should be obvious why, but you'd better Adam and Eve it that I did my best to talk him out of the process. He clammed up at that point.

I hope your faith is paying off. Wire the Credits to Atar.

Log partition

RE: To: The Secret Intelligence Service of Hrh C.Regina. Subject: Nesrin/SIS intel feed - Agent Zackery Statham - 08-09-2018

To: Nesrin Khan

Lady Nesrin Ezra Elhertani Khan

The service thanks you for your aid in this endeavor, payment has been made. We would be very appreciative if you would be so kind as to suggest Herr Klugmann look into contacting us here at the service, we would be very interested in speaking with him. If you could convince him to look into this the next time you see each other, we would be most grateful.

Kind regards:

Zackery Statham
H.M.S.I.S