As with most things in life; "Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple."

They had accepted me into a prestigious investigator-training programme.

I accepted the offer to join the social organization.

It was not a secret organization. Many notable crime investigators belonged to it. It was not well known because talented crime solvers tried to stay out of the news.

That is really where the story begins. As a favor to a very prestigious club member, I found myself on a holiday loop ship.

Leaving Earth with possible visits to Mars, Mars Orbital, Belt Activity & Discovery, and Moon Excursions.

People were disappearing. Not in big numbers. Usually young people.

The older investigators said they had been scouring the usual incident classifications. Kidnapping for profit. Romance runaways. Mishap 'accidental death' cover-ups. None of those researches had borne any clues.

All the disappearances happened after those people had spent time in space suits out in vacuum. That would happen for most of the extra visits on the tour. So, it was probably a correlation of probability, and not a relation of causality.

Except for the use of space line message streams, I would be alone on this mission.

You need to put your whole mindset into going undercover on a blind context operation. Get involved with every group. Be social. Ask the right questions, without being obvious.

On paper, I was just going to be myself. An aspiring student. Keeping hidden my participation in the training programme and social club.

The space ship staff were on the young side, except for the flight deck crew. Beyond regular duties, they encouraged the young staff to be cheerfully selling the extra way activities.

Some of that staff did their utmost to be brazenly clear in sales pitches. Some staff seemed intent on being coy. "Meet me for drinks tonight, I have something really interesting to tell you."

Since I was booked heavily for excursions, it surprised me to get that kind of invitation. I should have expected where the meeting was going.

"I have met so many wonderful people on these trips. Not everyone can take advantage of these excursion packages. So many I talk to.. would like to go. But.. they would need for someone else to pay."

It was more than just young ship staff using their good look to sell extra trips. They were also engaged in match making. It made so much sense. Two people alone on a trip like this were prime candidates (new surroundings, slightly exotic social groups). Matchmaking would be an excellent way to up-sell unplanned excursions.

I let myself meet a handful of others, even somewhere I was expected to treat the group. The spectrum of obvious social dynamics played out. I stayed un-paired.

My explanation was consistent "Careers that interest me need long decades of focused training."

I spent long nights thinking through this situation. The information brief was not at all clear. Where the people that disappeared paired up during the trip?

Asking the staff was just bad strategy. They would have the best knowledge, but it would expose my curiosity. I could count on the staff being superior to the average passenger (social skills, emotional intelligence). They would sometimes let themselves be cast as fools. But none of them would be.

Such a shame, too. I could imagine working with supporters on this mission. Finding the right small team of staff to uncover clues.

I had ignored completely.. any fear of mishap during the transfer to excursions. None of the data supported that place and time.

Yet, there it was. That was where my investigation became a life, love and death experience.

At one moment, I was in a space suit.

How do you describe a place with no familiar touch point?

Not bright, not absent of light.

No gravity. I even suspected I was having a dissociative event (the kind some people have). I pinched my forearm to establish the reality of my situation.

I had been in a space suit, but now I was somewhere else.

Briefly, I heard a sound like deep thick purring. It broke off.

The rest was like the creak of old wooden structures, except not quite a sound. Perhaps like the stretch of sizable polymer transport tubes (when they are started and stopped).

My thoughts were suddenly cleared. It posed questions to me by someone else. Directly into my mind.

It was not at all like a conversation. It was like I was a puzzle being examined. Questions fired off. Overlapping. Rapid fire. They were reading my thoughts. They were plucking my mind.

When I first thought to have a career in investigation, I let myself be interrogated. If you are badgered long enough, you lose steam. Your body becomes numb for the intensity.

I did not lose my will to stay strong, even though I knew I was helpless.

The questioning stopped being 'verbal'. There was a doorway (or doorways) shown in my thoughts.

It was a "The Beauty Of The Tiger" door way problem. Which door would I choose (when no evidence to support a choice was available?).

The problem was.. there was only one door.

People rarely recognize the signs of exasperation in themselves.

I recognized it in my own gasp, "Yes. Show me."

I did not accept the implied wisdom. Delay opening any door. Something might change the situation before taking a 50-50 shot.

The door opened and light flooded the room. It took me a while to see her. I heard the purring right away.

It seemed like a joke. The beauty with the tiger. The beauty was the tiger. Both of us in a weightless abode.

I was handled. I was sniffed. I was periodically licked. I was nuzzled.

I was clearly 'prey sized' and examined (body and mind) with interest.

I found the purring comforting and became tense when it stopped.

There was a pause of inaction for several breaths. The beautiful creature pushed me away and turned with a flick.

I found myself back in the space suit. I petitioned to return to the ship, and the staff let me (I signed agreements for no refund).

On ship again, I rescheduled my trip for the fastest return to Earth. A few of ship staff visited me. I assured them I would leave positive reviews. One or two held silent pauses while sitting with me.

I knew the official statements would say. "This passenger had a bad emotional reaction to being in deep space."

I think some of them wanted validation. "Can you tell me exactly what happened, because you hear rumors or you have strange dreamlike events.. sometimes yourself."

I made the report of the mission to the social organization right away. I knew it was a tough sell. "Alien Abduction" was just not an acceptable thing to say in an official report.

I got scoffs during my verbal report. Two members said it was a good mission, but my discovery would always stay "need to know".

I, of course, know the sad truth. I met an alien creature. She found me interesting, but not enough to take me along.

I think it might have been great. It was me, though. I had plans for my life.

I was tense and not happy just being there (when they stopped purring).

It is a scorecard for a game I did not plan to play.

Vacation Romance: Score 0 of 1.