My Admiral,
Only eight days have passed since my previous message, but we have gone through a series of unusual crises.
As you know, the Drift consists in moving by freezing our ship in relation to the universe, which itself is in constant motion. This movement is not linear-in fact, it is highly chaotic. One could imagine our ship as a piece of bark in the middle of waves: the waves move it in all directions, but its average absolute position changes very little.
I use the analogy of the sea because, a few days ago, we entered a zone we called the Psychic Ocean. A bubble in the universe. Here, the void is not quite void. We believe that on the order of the Planck length scale, there exists here-and only here-a mesh of unknown origin that allows for a local alteration of physical laws. Thus, gravity does not weaken as one moves away from a planet. It remains constant. The speed of light is also constant in all media. Life forms that may have evolved here defy our imagination, but it turns out that the dominant form of interaction is psychic influence.
As soon as we entered the Psychic Ocean, we were accompanied by large creatures resembling transparent pilot fish that clung to our ship-even though we were in maximum Drift.
I am uncertain of this conclusion, but it appears that amid the chaos of the gases of immense stars, evolved life forms have emerged and may also have communicated from star to star through psychic energy-a form of electromagnetism common to a frequency usable by living beings.
Usually, a human being uses their neurons to think. These neurons function through very weak electrical impulses. But electrical impulse means the emission of an electromagnetic field. It is with this field that, since the twentieth century, medicine has probed the brain, and since the twenty-second century we have been exploring psi potential. When a normal human thinks, the very weak electromagnetic field decreases in power with the square of the distance; basically, at one meter, nothing can be detected. But that was no longer the case in the Psychic Ocean.
At first, we couldn't concentrate. We received each other's electromagnetic fields, which were retransformed into electrical impulses in our brains. A crewmate would drink a glass of water, and you would mimic the gesture in the air. Disoriented, the crew, by order of the Captain, lay down on the ground. All our thoughts, fears, and hopes blended together. It was not a pleasant experience: no one was themselves.
The worst was yet to come: we entered a "dialogue field" between two civilizations from two different stars. Even the fish fled us at that point. I became those fluid creatures, constantly in harmony with one another, conversing across unimaginable distances. A pure Xeno thought is a form of absolute strangeness bordering on horror. The sailors screamed, mutilated themselves, wandered blindly through the corridors. We tore our tunics, and some even tried to tear off their own skin, which was imprisoning the perceived suffering fluidity of our bodies.
I know the Captain, naked, went to the communication center, half-mad, to announce the mission's failure to the admirals. You had front-row seats…
Afterward, I lost consciousness, as did much of the crew. You must understand that this collective loss of consciousness was not due to the psychic environmental situation but was induced by someone-or something. A new actor in this story.
I regained consciousness and got dressed in torn clothes and crossed the ship. Everyone was sleeping peacefully. I no longer felt any psychic presence. I reached the communications room. Andreï looked dazed. We shared a strange hallucination: we saw, onboard, the Wau-or a Wau. Do you believe there is a Wau aboard? I even spoke to him… I think. I am not certain. But I believe he resolved the situation. With a psychic shield? If it wasn't an illusion…
I had told you that I suspected the Wau of possessing significant psychic power; I must revise my judgment. I cannot go into technical detail, but… I am an Alpha Hollow Eyes, and he is one level above. A large level. Since there is no known way to amplify psi faculties, I assume this is natural. A Xeno, you think? That would explain their permanent armor.
This was only the beginning of the sudden crisis. It turns out the psychic waves also affected our plants. They stopped growing. What is the link between psychic waves and plants, which have no neurons? It appears that plant cells communicate with each other through electrical signals. Andreï suggested that plants might have a form of intelligence, perhaps too alien to ours, and that the Xeno intrusion left them in a state of shock.
We stopped near a system in search of a planet with organic resources, to avoid starvation. During these searches, Andreï worked tirelessly on "volatiles"-molecules constantly emitted by plants that allow them to transmit stress conditions, like lack of water or parasite attacks.
The food shortage brought a stowaway out of hiding-he had been concealed in a supply crate: Boutros. A very ordinary fellow, but Andreï gave me full freedom to probe him. He serves the Aleph, fanatically and willingly, hoping to gain power and glory, and offered himself as a spy. He joined an Endymion, then slipped in here. He's clearly not very intelligent, and we don't quite know what to do with him; for now, he's confined to his quarters. Andreï has no regard for him, and it's the first time I've seen the Captain indifferent toward one of his men.
I saw the Captain again for a full briefing about an hour ago.
The first point concerned an issue of fraternization. Two sailors are in love and asked the Captain to marry them. After various considerations, Andreï refused and even requested that their relationship be suspended until the Alecto returns to the HS bubble. I expressed surprise, but he implied that these measures would not harm their love. He asked me not to report any public displays of fraternization, which is illegal.
A second point concerned food. Our expeditions returned from a planet without atmosphere with nothing but rocky oil as loot-a disaster we kept hidden from the crew. However, Andreï's research, and especially that of the botany officer, Geneva, made a spectacular breakthrough: they synthesized volatiles to soothe the plants-molecules that sent the message "everything is fine" to them. And now we have buds. By tightening our belts-barely-we'll soon be able to feed ourselves from fresh crops.
The Captain told me it's possible these results were mere coincidence, that the plants' physiological alteration and recovery were simply the result of time and its healing power. But it is also quite possible that Geneva succeeded in communicating with the plants-just improved tomato plants. The issue of animal sentience changed our relationship of domination with them long ago, but what about plants? If they suffer, feel reassured, and can be reassured, must we change our attitude toward them? In that case, are we doomed to consume lab-grown food guaranteed to contain no neurons? If we had left plants free from human genetic exploitation, would they have naturally evolved toward sentience?
A third point concerns the captured spy. We discussed it. This situation worries me, because the Aleph knows about the Alecto's mission, yet has done nothing to intercept us. That means it knows our mission is pointless. If there is a way to fight it, it is not out there, a year of Drift away. The Captain told me he does not share this opinion.
"We are not undertaking this voyage to acquire a power similar to the Aleph's, but to understand its path. Understanding how things work gives us power over them. The Aleph does not intercept us because it probably thinks Boutros is incompetent-which he seems to be. It does not intercept us because it may have better things to do and cannot be everywhere. It does not intercept us, finally, because it is intellectually deficient. The more powerful people are, the more limited they become, because they bask in ease. Believe me, Pallas, I have a good intuition about this."
Frankly? He didn't convince me. I didn't probe his mind, but I know he doesn't always say everything, in order to keep us fit for duty.
The final point is the most troubling. The Captain confided in me about bouts of acute melancholy. He has exhausted his supply of medication-likely illegal for someone in his position-and asked me, with great effort and much hesitation, to enter his mind to relieve him. I refused, in accordance with the Stellar Fleet Code, and hereby report his request. If you order me to, however, I will comply. Will he be able to hold on until we arrive all the way out there, at the edge of the universe, without medical or psychic assistance? I doubt it.
Awaiting your orders,
Pallas