Page 33 of Reluctantly Abducted
I get up and start pacing, too restless to sit still. My room feels wrong somehow. Too small, too empty. I've always liked my space, liked being alone with my work and my thoughts. But now the quiet feels hollow.
I stop and press my hands against my face, trying to steady myself. My skin is glowing again, blue light pulsing with emotions I can't hide even from myself. This is exactly why I've always been against this whole bonding program. Feelings mess up your thinking. They make you vulnerable.
But I can't stop remembering how it felt when Owen kissed me. His gentle touch at my back, supporting but notpushing. The surprising softness of his lips. The warmth that spread through my entire body.
I grab my tablet and pull up the assessment rules, even though I've read them a hundred times already. There it is, in black and white: "Assessment period duration: seventy-two standard hours. At conclusion, human subject is to be returned to point of origin."
Tomorrow morning, Owen goes back to Earth. That's the rule.
Unless we both choose something different. Like my brothers did.
My skin flares again at the thought. For weeks I've been telling everyone how wrong my brothers were. How they let their feelings cloud their judgment. How they compromised our scientific standards. I was so sure I'd never make the same mistake.
I start pacing again, faster now. Owen and I already agreed this was just an assessment. We both said we didn't want a permanent bond. I have my work, he has his life on Earth. It makes no sense to change that now.
So why does the thought of him leaving feel like someone's squeezing my chest?
"This is ridiculous," I mutter, rubbing my face. I'm behaving like someone without training or discipline, not a respected environmental specialist.
I sit back down and try again to write my report. "Subject demonstrates efficient oxygen utilization compared to human baseline. Carbon dioxide output is within acceptable parameters. Waste production is minimal and easily processed by standard systems."
I stop typing and stare at the words. They're so... empty. So clinical. They say nothing about Owen's laugh, or how his eyes soften when he talks about helping people, or the surprisinggentleness of his hands when he treated my injury. Nothing about the way he challenges me without making me feel small.
I close the document without saving. I can't do this right now.
Maybe my brothers were right all along. Maybe this connection, this bond, isn't a weakness. Maybe being willing to let someone affect you, to change you, is actually the point.
I need to move. To breathe.
I leave my room and walk without any real destination. The ship feels too small tonight, the walls too close. I end up at the nutrition center without really meaning to go there.
It's empty and dim, the lights low for the night cycle. I go to the synthesizer, thinking I'll make something calming to help me sleep. But instead, I find myself asking forkel'linar, the ceremonial drink I shared with Owen over pancakes.
As the deep amber liquid pours into my cup, the sweet, complex smell hits me, mineral notes from the volcanic springs back home, the subtle spices that make it special. But now the smell makes me think of Owen. His surprised smile at the first sip. The way he somehow knew it would pair perfectly with his pancakes. How he said we made a good team.
I take my cup and wander to the observation deck. Maybe the stars will help me think clearly. The deck is empty and quiet, with nothing but the vast darkness of space beyond the clear barriers. Earth hangs in the distance, a blue-green jewel against the black. Owen's home. Where he belongs. Where people need his skills.
Not here. Not with me.
I sip my drink, but it doesn't taste right anymore. It's missing something. Missing him. Even my favorite drink has changed because of Owen.
"This sucks," I mutter, setting the cup down. I never use human expressions, but that one feels right. This does suck. Ican't focus. I can't think. My report isn't done, and my thoughts are a mess.
I should be organizing my data, preparing for tomorrow's transport, getting ready for the Council meeting where I'll have to explain everything. Instead, I'm standing here watching Earth grow larger through the observation window as our ship continues its approach, feeling a hollow ache in my chest.
I hear a soft chime from my room, someone at the door. I've been gone longer than I realized.
When I get back to my quarters, Owen isn't there. But there's a cup on the small table by the door, still steaming. It's topped with white foam, a swirl of dark sauce, and dusted with some kind of brown powder.
Owen.
The thought that he came to check on me, that he made this drink specifically for me, sends a wave of warmth through my body that has nothing to do with my bioluminescence and everything to do with him.
I pick up the cup and smell it, rich and sweet, but not too sweet. This isn't a Nereidan drink. Owen made this. For me. He programmed our synthesizer to make something from his world, something to comfort me.
I take a sip. It's nothing like our drinks, it's creamy and warm and complex in a whole different way. It tastes like... him. Like Earth. Like something I never knew I wanted until now.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I'm walking to his quarters. The hallway feels endless, and yet I'm there too quickly, my hand hovering over the door panel. This is inappropriate. It's late. I should go back to my room and finish my work.
