Page 51 of Reluctantly Abducted
The similarity makes my chest ache.
"It's scientist-speak for 'my data set was incomplete,'" I correct automatically.
Derek laughs. "Kav said almost the exact same thing when I first met him."
"And you'll be presenting these findings to the Council?" Kav'eth asks, his formal tone not quite hiding his curiosity.
"Yes," I confirm. "It's my professional assessment that human integration could proceed without causing irreparable environmental damage, provided strict population limits and resource management protocols are established."
It's the best I can do. The most I can offer without revealing how much this assessment has truly affected me. How much Owen has changed me.
"Well, that's something," Jake says, studying me with those perceptive human eyes. "Not what we expected from you, honestly."
"Expectations are often based on incomplete data," I reply.
A small silence falls over the room. I can feel all of them watching me, seeing more than I want them to see. The hollowness in my chest expands.
"I should go," I say abruptly, rising from the cushion. "I need to finalize my presentation for tomorrow."
"Ry'eth," Zeph says, his voice gentle in a way that makes me want to flee even more. "You know, bonds can form at different rates. Sometimes they're not immediately apparent."
"There was no bond," I say firmly. "The assessment is complete."
"Will you come back after your presentation?" Kav'eth asks. "We could discuss your next assignment."
"I've already received preliminary approval for the northern archipelago restoration project," I say. "I'll be departing as soon as the Council confirms."
"That's... quite remote," Zeph says carefully.
"The ecosystem there is extremely sensitive. It requires specialized attention."
"And it's about as far from the integration centers as you can get," Jake adds, not bothering to hide his disapproval.
I don't deny it. The distance is precisely why I requested the assignment.
"The work is important," I say instead.
"So are you," Zeph replies. "And we'll be here when you're ready to talk about what really happened during your assessment."
I nod once, not trusting myself to speak. The weight of their concern, their understanding, is almost more than I can bear.
"I'll contact you after the Council meeting," I manage to say, then turn toward the door before anyone can see the emotion I can no longer contain.
"Wait," Jake calls, grabbing a container from the food preparation area. He quickly slides the breakfast he made onto a portable plate and covers it. "Take this with you. You need to eat something."
He presses the warm container into my hands. Through the clear cover, I see the food, pancakes, though larger and thicker than Owen's miniature versions. The arrangement is different, the syrup darker, but they're unmistakably the same Earth food concept. Different, yet similar enough to make my throat tighten.
"I—" My voice catches. "Thank you."
"Just take care of yourself, okay?" Jake says, his expression surprisingly gentle for someone I once considereda threat to our entire ecosystem. "Eat the pancakes. Get some hydration. We've all been where you are."
I clutch the container to my chest, unprepared for how even this different version of Owen's breakfast creation affects me. The scent that rises from the warm container is sweeter, heavier than what Owen made, yet carries the same undeniable essence.
"I'll try," I promise softly, then leave before the scent of the pancakes, so achingly familiar now, can completely undo what little composure I have left.
Outside, I pause to collect myself, letting the sound of the mineral sea wash over me. Tomorrow I will stand before the Council and deliver my scientific findings with professional detachment. I will recommend limited human integration with appropriate environmental safeguards. I will answer their questions with factual precision.
And then I will go as far away as possible, to a place where nothing reminds me of blue eyes and gentle hands, of pancakes and shared hydration pools, of a human who saw the universe differently than anyone I've ever known.
