There might have been more that Vreta wanted to say, particularly to Freyr. Whether he liked it or not, it was still his task to learn more about the cradle, and he saw the possibility that a grateful scientist that worked on the cradle could help him towards that end. However, at this point, he was not going to do [i]anything[/i] that might slow down his return to the real world for even a second. Once he was allowed to do so, he gave a polite farewell to the both of them and finally logged out of the Cradle. 

[hr]

Returning safely to his hotel room was now one of the most relieving feelings Vreta had experienced in his life. There was no one that Vreta encountered on the way back to his room, so whoever that man represented might not have had anyone in the building just yet. It was hard to say, truthfully; it would all depend on how the Human decided to approach watching him.  Though, he had little doubt that he [i]would[/i] be watched in some way. Frankly, Vreta might have felt offended if he was not.

It was tempting for Vreta to want to relax after all the stress he had been through. He had survived more near-death experiences in the last hour than he had in the past two centuries combined, and he felt rather horrible in general. He was, quite thankfully, back in his actual body, complete with all of his enhancements. His neural implants were already at work correcting his neurochemical balance to reduce the chances of long-term psychological damage. However, he was still feeling phantom pains, particularly in his arm, for injuries that did not exist. That, to his understanding, might last a day or two. 

Before Vreta could even think about resting his mind, he first had to give his report to his superiors. His mission was not over, he knew, but he had finally learned something worth reporting. As he headed into his bedroom to get his suitcase once again, he started writing up his report, though not through anything as inefficient as an external device. Through his neural implants, he could create a data file, write and edit it purely through thought, and have it strongly encrypted, even by Rothian standards. For now, he just kept his report mostly to a factual recounting of events, without too much speculation or opinion on his part. He would have time to consider the implication of the night’s events later. For now, he activated the data pad he had used to interact with his sniffer programs and uploaded his report to it. The Zuraxi’Synkuur corporation had in its headquarters Rothian superluminal communications hardware, which worked on a level of sophistication beyond Human understanding. His device could bypass the usual adapter layer that Human networks used to interact with Rothian software, allowing him to send his message discretely. It masked the true message under a more mundane one sent through usual channels, so while an intercepted message was unlikely to begin with, he still had a good deal of plausible deniability. The encrypted message could easily be seen as junk data stemming from the fundamental differences in their computer architecture. Even so, he wiped the device once more to erase any chance of leaving a trace.