Yes. there we go. I really wish talking about this stuff didn't make people so angry but I get it. I'm sure, if I weren't always waiting to see if the next thing I do will result in certain death I'd have time to feel something instead of just, these days, numb.
"Okay. One thing at a time. Removing the euphemism so there's no shadow of doubt here. I was trying to expose the story of people being experimented on. I didn't know the subjects of this diabolical . . ." Matt lowers his head for a moment, as if mourning a lost friend, sighs, raises his head then continues " . . . whatever you want to call it, were indeed nomads but, to be honest, that changes nothing. No living being should go through what they did. They got more than their own back though from what I seen there. I've been through this conversation before and, no offense Doc, compared to the cross-examination from the LNS-Tundra and a battleship sized scientist by the name of Genesis . . . well let's say I understand the anger but please do forgive me if I say that, in this case, you're misdirecting it.
If the telepathic, hyper-advanced beings that are the nomads offered me help instead of reducing me to my component atoms after hearing my story what makes you think that I've missed something out when retelling it to you? Actually, before I forget, that" pointing at the holder "was given to me as payment for a story on the history of the Hispania by an Outcast and, in addition, the 101st's cybernetically prominent figure already heard the details of my story, scar and all, and she is still happy to let me freely fly within the nation.
Furthermore, although I admit my notes are shambolic, on that data drive are the details of the efforts I've made to find that horrific place again to aid the nomads in finding the 'persons unknown' responsible, the location of the now vacant site and the transponder references for the sensors that watch out in case whomever it is returns to that place.
All the details of how I destroyed myself, digitally speaking, so that those chasing me would not have anywhere to look and a sufficient period of watching my back to ensure that they wouldn't regain a trail on me when I reached out to you. It's all on there." The man's tone, throughout, has remained calm, cool and collected. Unchanging in his measured manner he then says "However, like I say, I understand the reasons that what I've brought to light may anger you.
That does bring me neatly back to why I did approach you. I don't understand what has happened to me. Not exactly. I know what should have happened if that Incubus hadn't been interrupted, I now understand a little about hybrids from the one I spoke to and other bits and pieces. However I also know even the nomads themselves are scratching their heads, as it were, when they've looked at me. They can't 'talk' to it, but it's there and, by everyones' standards, it's strange.
Strange like the moments where I've been able to just know if there's a nomad around. It's not like I just woke up one day and accidentally bumped into a chatty wild who just happened to refer me on to his colleagues purely out of the kindness of his heart when I went to get help. I knew I was speaking to the right person. However I digress.
I'm here as I am, literally, the man who does not know enough. One particular ethical problem troubles me, for which I think you may be able to provide some professional, objective advice. Although please understand me when I say anything I know, anything I can give, anything at all - just ask. That wet work site hasn't been used again and every person ship and bit of equipment was off the books. You can buy cardamine infusers if you know who to ask. Or get given them by those who have them.
Now, I'll come back to something else I said before. Should you wish I walk away and never see you again say so. No one knows I'm here and no one'll see me leave. My problems are just that. So I ask again - Can you help me?"
