Page 21 of Accidentally Abducted

"I hope you do. Because if this assignment fails, there may not be another opportunity. The Council is watching this program carefully, and they need to see results, not personal complications." Kav'eth leans forward again, his expression deadly serious. "I say this not just as your commanding officer, but as your brother: do not jeopardize everything we have worked for because of one human."

"The assessment will be completed according to protocol," I assure him, though the words taste bitter.

"See that it is." Kav'eth studies me for a moment longer, then adds, "I will not come there as I suggested, this time. But Zeph'hai, if I see any further indication that your judgment is compromised, I will take over this assignment personally. And I assure you, I will handle the human with strict adherence to protocol, regardless of any... attachments you may have formed."

The thinly veiled threat makes something fierce and protective rise within me. "Jake Morrison is under my protection until the assessment period concludes," I repeat, my voice carrying a quiet intensity that seems to surprise my brother. "Any attempt to interfere with that will be considered a breach of protocol."

Kav'eth stares at me, clearly startled by this display of defiance. For a moment, I think he might escalate theconfrontation, but instead his expression shifts to something more calculating.

"Twenty-four hours, Zeph'hai. Then the human returns to Earth, and you make your recommendation to the Council. Whatever is happening between you ends at that point. Am I understood?"

"Perfectly," I say, my voice steady despite the hollow ache spreading through my chest.

"And Zeph'hai? Remember why we are doing this. Our people need a future. Do not let attachment to one human compromise the potential for our entire species."

The connection terminates, leaving me alone in the suddenly too-quiet quarters. I stand there for several minutes, processing my brother's words and the weight of expectation behind them.

He is correct, of course. I am here to assess human compatibility with Nereidan culture, not to pursue personal relationships. The fact that Jake Morrison has exceeded every parameter for compatibility should be viewed as a positive research outcome, not as a source of personal attachment.

But as I complete my official report, carefully documenting Jake's adaptability, intelligence, cultural curiosity, and physical compatibility while omitting the emotional connection developing between us, I find myself struggling to maintain professional objectivity.

When the reports are filed and my duties completed, I should retire to my sleeping alcove. Instead, I find myself drawn to the cleansing pools, needing the comfort of water around me to process the turmoil inside.

I dim the ambient lighting until the space feels more like a natural grotto than a technological marvel, and slip into the warm water. The familiar embrace of the pools usually brings clarity, but tonight my thoughts remain turbulent.

The truth is that my brother's warning comes too late. I am already attached to Jake Morrison in ways that extend far beyond research parameters. The thought of completing this assessment and then... what? Returning him to Earth while we begin negotiations with human governments? Bringing other humans to our world while Jake returns to his life making coffee and living in the shadow of his ex-boyfriend's success?

The water supports my weight as I float on my back, staring at the ceiling that has been designed to mimic an underwater cave. In just twenty-four hours, the transportation cycle will be reversible. I will have to make my recommendation about human compatibility to the Council.

And then I will have to let him go.

The question creates a hollow sensation in the pit of my stomach that has nothing to do with my professional responsibilities and everything to do with the way Jake looked at me tonight when he said "this is actually your job" and joked about rating his abduction experience. As if he understood, perhaps for the first time, that our time together has an expiration date built into its very foundation.

But there was something else in that moment too, a flicker of hurt that I failed to address. Jake has been honest with me from the beginning, challenging me and pushing me to see beyond my preconceived notions. And I have been...what? A researcher maintaining professional distance? That was never true, not from the moment he laughed at my nakedness and pointed out the flaws in our research.

My brother's threat to intervene lingers in my mind, making my protective instincts flare again. The thought of Kav'eth, or anyone, treating Jake as merely a research subject makes something fierce and possessive rise within me.

Jake is not just a subject. He is not just a human. He is... mine. The intensity of that feeling should alarm me, butinstead it brings clarity. Whatever happens when our time is up, I will not allow Jake to be treated as anything less than the extraordinary individual he is.

I close my eyes and let the warm water ease the tension from my muscles, but it cannot ease the growing certainty that whatever happens at the end of these seventy-two hours, I will not emerge from this assignment unchanged.

The question is whether I will emerge from it at all, or whether I will choose to abandon everything I have ever known for the possibility of something I never knew I wanted.

When I finally return to the sleeping quarters, Jake is deep in slumber, his breathing even and peaceful. I stand in the doorway for longer than necessary, memorizing the sight of him surrounded by the soft glow of Nereidan technology that has adapted to his presence.

I should go to my own sleeping alcove. I should maintain the professional distance that my brother warned me about. But as I turn to leave, my still-damp skin catches the ambient light sensors, causing a brief flare of illumination.

"Zeph?" Jake's voice is soft and drowsy, but alert. "Everything okay?"

I freeze, knowing I should simply apologize for disturbing him and retreat. "Yes. I was just... checking that you were comfortable. I apologize for waking you."

Jake shifts in the bed, propping himself up on one elbow. Even in the dim lighting, I can see him studying my face with that perception that continues to catch me off-guard. "You look tense. The alien bureaucracy keeping you up?"

"Work was... as expected," I say carefully.

"Which means it sucked," Jake translates, his perception still uncomfortably accurate. "Let me guess, your superiors aren't thrilled about the whole 'oops, wrong human' situation."

I hesitate, then decide there is little point in denying what he has already intuited. "The error in subject acquisition was not... well received."

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