I'm sorry. I know that you have been worried about me for the last however long it's been. I would have given you the letter myself, if I'd had time. Whatever happens don't give this to the investigators, or whoever else comes looking for me. I do not want to be found. Please, you must understand. You know me better than to think I abandoned you. The datacard attached to this letter contains all of the information about how to find me. But one more time, please, please trust me. I know what I am doing, but any government agent could ruin it for both of us. I will start from the beginning. Some of it you already know, but I want you to understand why I left. You can find me, but don't come unless you are completely willing to face the risk of our lives ending. As it is, I have endangered only myself.
As you know, I was contracted to do work on a project I couldn't tell you about. In all the years I have worked for the government, I have never told you what it is we worked on. Now I will. Aliens. Nomads. After getting my degree, I was immediately sent out to a battleship for months at a time, in an attempt to find, capture, and experiment on Nomads. Then I would come home, recuperate for some time, spend time with you. And then back out.
You know, when you told me you wanted me to find another job, and I refused, it wasn't because I didn't try. I wrote them a letter of resignation, promising I would never, ever, tell. They told me it was too risky, so they hiked up my pay, and sent me back out. I thought that if I ever asked to leave again, they would kill me. I might have been right. But I'm babbling.
During our last mission, we were hunting a lone, fully developed Nomad through a nebula in the Kansas system. We usually only see little ones around there, and it was dangerous to bring the ship any further from home. If we could catch this one, it would be a treasure, simply put. We followed it for several days, using a 4 hour crew rotation to stay alert at all times. At the beginning of the first shift of day one, I was the head researcher on duty. That was when we flew strait into an ambush.
The mature Nomad we had been following turned about, and set itself on a collision course with us. We weren't worried, of course. Our ship would have simply squished it, but we wanted to try and take one alive. It had been years since such an opportunity. We slowed, and tried to stun it with a pulse cannon, and then tractor it. Then the others came. Juveniles. Many less than a meter long. A few even registered on scanners as dust. A swarm. We thought our shields could take any amount of light weapons fire. We were wrong. Out shields quickly lost power, and then they began picking at the hull. One tiny bit at a time. We could have survived hours. Then the mature Nomad acted. A flash of light on the main viewer. Then our ship rocked, as some sort of gravity distortion took place directly under us.
Up until this point, we had still been thinking of capture, not killing. Our minds changed then. Our turrets fired. I don't even think they hit anything. They were just too agile. That's when I first noticed the whispers. A thousand little voices in my mind. Not voices, really. I can't describe it. It terrified me. It was more of an..intimacy. I simply knew what they were trying to tell me. The other members of the bridge crew hear them too. Some looked around, confused, same as me. Others shrugged it off and tried to ignore it. I could tell who was doing that, because their eyes kept darting. To see who was talking to them. Our gunner, Cue, was effected bad.
All of a sudden, he leaned over the Mortar triggers, yelled, “Get out of my head!!” and fired into the cloud of tiny Aliens. But the cloud surrounded us. The mortar exploded as soon as it left the firing tube. Our port hull was shredded to shatters, and we began losing atmosphere. We scrambled on the damage control boards. Even I helped. I can't remember the last time I operated a ship console in anything other than emergency training. As we entered commands, and overrides, and pulled hydrolics, I realized the voices were gone. I looked up. There. On the main viewscreen. The adult Nomad we had been following. It must have been making another run with its weapon when Cue fired. I took over the bridge. Damage control continued, of course, but this was my party now. As soon as there was a chance of getting that thing alive, it was my party. We ever so carefully brought the Nomad through the damaged bay doors, using tractors. As soon as it was in, shields were raised, reenforced around the bay in case something happened.
I hurried through the ship. When I arrived, I saw something very few have, up close. A live Nomad. Dead samples are often collected, and their tissues examined, but there was always something missing. This could be one of the greatest catches of the decade. Somewhat inadvisedly, I walked up to it. I could see that two of its protruding members had been destroyed during the explosion, along with a good portion of what we term body-matter. Avoiding those burned areas, I reached out. I heard the protests of a nearby crewman. I stopped. I reassured him that physical contact had been disproven many times as a means of harm when it came to Nomads. I would like to have a word with whoever conducted those studies.
As soon as I touched it, my side ripped open in pain. I could feel the light collectors on my back shrieking in agony, even though I knew that they had been blown off by the humans. In that moment, I don't think I could have let go if I had wanted to. But I didn't want to. This.. connection. It brought me pain, that was a fact. But it was also the most intimate thing I have ever felt.
I fell in love then and there. Not like I love you, or Grandpa. This was somehow more real to me. It wasn't just a subtle emotion, flitting about the edges of consciousness. It was almost tangible. In that instant, I knew I would want to be joined with this.. beauty, for ever. But I also knew it was not possible. My job. You. But I would do what I could. Using all of my will, I calmed my thoughts, and sent my own message across our mind. “Help?” I asked it.
And I thought that sometimes people talk fast. An instant flood of knowing. It needed light. It was dying. And it had lost kin, in the explosion. Sadness. But then Light again. Or it might have been at the same time. I couldn't tell. It was dying. I needed to help. You can't become another being and not want to help it when it is in pain. I felt like that's what had happened. I felt like I had become it. I felt its body, its pain, its loss. It needed light, in massive concentration, in order to live. I couldn't provide it. I almost cried.
In my moment of weakness, my hand jerked from its body in recoil. I looked to my right. That crewmen who had warned me about touching it was talking. I shook my head. I asked him to start over. He asked me what it felt like. I told him it had shocked me, and to make sure nobody else touched it. He nodded. He seemed happy to have proven me wrong, and content to obey.
I went to the nearest supply cupboard. I grabbed a long cord. I didn't know if this was going to work. With the way the ship was set up, there was no way I could possibly get light in the intensity it desired. I would have to try and substitute one kind of energy for another. I quickly stripped one end of the cord down to bare wire. I placed one end on what I had come to term its head, and the other at the tail. I touched it. It understood my plan. I imparted that I didn't know if it would work. Neither did it, from what I could tell. It seemed to be losing its strength. I took the unstripped end of the chord over to the edge of the landing bay. I was receiving odd looks from the crew at this point. I reassured them.
I allowed myself one wry smile at the absurdity of it all. Here I was, plugging in a Nomad. I pushed in the plug. The Nomad jerked, once. I was terrified. I thought I might have killed it. However, I left the plug in the socket. After a few seconds, the Nomad took on a lighter blue than before. It sparkled. Then some sort of black fluid began flowing from one of its protruding members. I ran forward, to touch it, to see if I had hurt it. I touched it. I felt surprise. Surprise at being helped. Surprised at being touched in the first place. Surprise that I wanted to go with it. Because I did. Then I felt it warning me back, as the black fluid began to pulse.
Objects in the room began sliding towards it. I felt myself being drawn in. I ran. So did everyone else. I ran towards one of the light fighters in the bay. They did not. I immediately reverted to my training for emergency situations, and flew out of the ship. Then I realized the shield of our ship was up. I was going to crash. Just as I realized this, the bay began to crumple around the black fluid. I checked my scales. They read 5.5 standard gravities. Far more than any large ship could survive. The shield in front of me blinked out as some vital system link was severed, and I flew to safety. The Nomad followed close behind. The ship crumpled on itself behind me. They were probably all killed. I didn't check.
Since then, I've been following the Nomad to who knows where, in constant contact with it. It promised me a new family, all connected like me and it. All together. Always. This is the last communication I will ever have with a human over the comms. I have attached information on where to find me, any time in the next 2 months. My new friend tells me I will need that long to collect sunlight.
Please come. You know I would not make such a life changing decision lightly, but the constant knowing is enough. I want to share it with you. Find me.
The ship crumpled behind me. I considered doing a quick scan for survivors, but decided against it. For all I knew the comms officer had been in contact with Navy personnel before the ship was destroyed. In any case, the emergency transponder had most certainly went off, and help was on the way. If we didn't get out of here, and fast, all my efforts to save the Nomad would have been for naught.
I opened a channel across all standard broadcast, and asked the Nomad if there was anything I could do. A small whisper in the back of my mind told me the comms were unnecessary, and that I could simply think things. I closed the channel. I did my best to project a question. Will you live? An affirmative feeling came back. The voice was stronger already. It asked me to go with it. I agreed, upon being assured that I would be safe wherever we ended up. I instinctively trusted it.
The Nomad began to propel itself in some arbitrary direction, but it seemed to have a purpose, so I followed. We travelled without further communication for a few moments, where I just thought about my sudden change of heart concerning the Nomads. One minute, I wanted to dissect it, the next I wanted to save it, and now, I wanted to contact it again.
It must have been monitoring my thoughts, because at that moment, it entered my mind with gratitude, and told me that it could tell me what I wanted to know about its people. Although still a bit shaken, I took this opportunity to fulfill my life's goal. First, I asked it what they were made of. An image of a star burst into my mind. Hydrogen? I thought to myself, but then it became clear, as the star in my head radiated life. Something like photosynthesis took place within Nomads, but far more complex. I wondered about what kind of substance was formed by binding so much energy into matter. I was answered with a complex formula similar to one of our chemical change equations, except that there were no letters or numbers. It is impossible to describe in this language. A simple thought, and I understood what all of the chemical changes and energy conversions which happened in a Nomad on a second by second basis.
Picking up this approach, I sent across how I thought the human body worked. My own thought was quickly overridden with what I knew to be a more accurate representation of a human body. No wonder it was impossible to find infected people. Nomads know how we work better than we do. Wanting to give the Nomad another test, I inquired about life, and what makes something alive. The question which has boggled human minds for ages. I did not get back quite what I expected, but rather a comprehensive list of many, many types of organism. Fist where humans, and then bacteria, and then a small nomad, then a larger nomad, with different specializations on its pseudopods, and then an odd, tentacled being, which I did not recognize, but I understood to live on the water planet.
Then the interaction of the various species began to become clear to me. The Nomads existed mostly in space, and the water-beings existed in the oceans of their homeworld. For a long time they coexisted in peace, and then we came. The Nomads hid the location of their friends. Amazing, I thought to myself, an entire species, and we never found it. I thought of what it would be like, to wander wherever I wanted, free in space. Only then did I realize that these thoughts actually belonged to the Nomad, only I wasn't sub vocalizing any more. With this though, I felt an invitation. To join.
My thoughts turned. Such potential, but so much I would have to give up. Hellen. The Nomad asked about Hellen. I though of everything about her. It returned sadness at suggesting we be separated. And then, an idea. It asked if she was like me. If she would help an injured person. I immediately responded yes. Then a vision popped into my head, of her and I, both graceful blue creatures. Linked in our minds. It was an amazing prospect.
Curious, I asked if this was possible. A heartwarming yes came into my mind. It told me to bring her to me. I pondered the situation. I couldn't go looking for her, there would be too many authoritative forces looking for the Nomad, based on what had been captured on gun cams. I settled on sending a letter across out private encrypted channel. As I wrote the letter, I thought about what we would lose by going with this being.
My job? I would never want to hurt a Nomad again in my life.
My wife? Wouldn't be lost if she came with me.
My friends? I didn't have any real friends, my job had isolated me so much.
We passed through a jump hole. It wasn't logged on my maps. I began writing my letter as a strange structure came into view. The Nomad told me there were humans there, and I could speak to them if I desired. I refused. I was convinced that this was the best course. I didn't want to change my mind. I finished the letter. I pressed send. I asked the Nomad what I needed to do.
Hellen was furious. She couldn't believe that Gerald had chosen to involve both of them in some sort of conspiracy, without even consulting her. But what made her more furious was that he was probably right. Everything he had put in that letter had hit home, and he knew her so well, it would be next to impossible to refute when she next saw him. It was true, she was furious, but also, on some level, she was thrilled.
Her husband had not been perfectly clear on what he was planning to do to himself, but it was rare for him to write such a thing, and whenever he did, it was important.
Hellen hailed a taxi. She traveled to the nearest ship rental place. It had a deal on for transports. 2.1 million credits/day, it said on the sign, for some smaller model. Hellen walked in, and moved up to the clerk. She asked how she could help Hellen. Hellen replied that she would like to rent one of the small transports, like the one advertised, for a month. The clerk asked if she would like insurance for only 5000 credits/day. Hellen said yes. It didn't sound like she was coming back anytime soon, so why not prevent this struggling company from losing the millions of credits this ship was worth?
Hellen and the clerk filled out some forms. Hellen got into her new rental and set a course for Magellan. Before even entering the planet Erie lane, a police patriot flew by. Hellen jumped, startled. Then she realized that nobody had any reason to be looking for her in this rental. She had used a fake name, and a secure credit line.
She entered the lane. Just as she was beginning to feel the unfamiliar sensation of hard acceleration, her ship lurched. A tinny voice told her that the lane was disrupted. Her ship rocked again as a pulse brought down her shields. A bright light sparked in the cockpit behind her. Somebody kicked in the panel above her. She felt something cold touching her neck. A deep voice asked if she was Mrs. Monarch. She shakily replied yes. The man behind her told her that she was needed for questioning about the disappearance of her husband. He then hit her with the grip of his pistol, knocking her out.