Beautiful Death

The desecration of this planet's culture is one of my greatest sorrows. We did not come to conquer or destroy, but to learn. To share. Human science was on the verge of great work, work we wished to explore with them. Virology had never been studied on our planets. We had never even suffered Earth's common cold.

We thought we had taken every precaution. We met with only the top scientists, we limited our exposure to the common races, and we took the human immunizations as their doctors suggested. But it was not enough.

Ironically, they blame us for the resulting plague. The general populace believes we infected them with some alien virus from which they were incapable of defending themselves. That it was a deliberate act of terrorism on their planet. They do not understand that it is we who were infected. Slow, insidious as first, the virus entered our bodies, mutated, absorbed our DNA, and released hell on Earth. The resulting plague struck alien and human alike with equal ferocity.

We can never go home. Even those of us who never suffered the full effects of the virus are now carriers of the plague. Do you comprehend what levels of destruction this virus would work on our home planet? Our galaxy? At least here we have the benefit of trained virologists to study our blood and the humans' to counteract the effects as much as possible.

I was a leader on my planet, a trusted ambassador to this planet, and so I have tried to unite the remnants as much as possible. So few, so very few remain.

I have been changed by the virus, although not as badly as most of my people. Yes, my people have always drawn energy from other lifeforms. We never killed, though. Our preferred way of feeding is through sexual release with enthusiastic partners, although a simple bonding to unite master and dedicated servant is more common for long voyages such as this one. We brought our own "food" to this planet deliberately, so we would not expose Earthlings to our truly alien nature.

Violence and blood are repulsive to us. Rather, they were repulsive to us before the virus.

It's as if the very worst corruption possible has happened to us. We can no longer control our urges to feed. Energy gained from our loyal and willing servants is not sufficient for most of my kind any longer. We need blood. We feed off violence. The incredible rush of fear in our victims is so much more than the pleasure we once enjoyed. The more violent the claiming of our victims, the more power we gain in the feeding.

It is no wonder the humans call us monsters.

My nature has been corrupted, although I struggle to maintain the old ways. I have never killed to feed. In fact, I have only fed off a human once, and that experience torments me more than the horrors we accidentally wrought on this planet with our very presence.

She was the one I had sworn to find and protect, the daughter of my trusted friend. Such a fierce, strong little thing, she nigh burned up in my arms with her rage and thirst for my demise. Her lifeforce brushed against mine, melded, melted, sealing me to her in a way that has never happened before.

In my weakness, I fed. I feasted despite her struggles. She brought my blood with her teeth, raked my face with her nails and screamed her hate at me. And Zeus forgive me, I loved it.

I would sell what remains of my soul to have her in my arms again. I have, in fact. I gave her the keys to my soul when she howled and raged in my arms that day. When I tasted the sheer essence of her soul. She will be mine.

My Death. Our very salvation.

She just does not know it yet.