Page 11 of Reluctantly Abducted
As he turns to lead me out of the kitchen, I notice he's walking with deliberate care, making sure to keep me in his peripheral vision this time. He's learning. That's good, means he's adaptable. If I'm stuck on this ship for three days, at least my alien host isn't completely rigid in his thinking.
I follow him into the corridor, noting the layout, the locations of what might be control panels, the subtle vibration under my feet that suggests engines or some kind of propulsion system. Old habits die hard, always know your environment, always look for exits, always identify potential weapons.
"So, Ry'eth," I say, keeping my promise to use his full name, "how long have you been doing these 'compatibility assessments'?"
"This is my first direct involvement," he says, a subtle relaxation visible in his posture at my use of his proper name. "And we are currently in the primary research corridor."
"Fascinating," I say, genuinely curious despite my casual tone. "And what's behind door number one, Ry'eth?"
The glow shifts subtly beneath his skin, but remains calm and steady. I'm starting to think I could read his emotions just through those light patterns if I watched long enough.
Not that I'm planning to fight my way off an alien spaceship. But the familiar mental exercise is comforting, a routine that's kept me alive through two tours and countless missions.
"And this area contains environmental regulation systems," Ry'eth is saying, gesturing toward a section of the wall that looks identical to every other section we've passed.
"Environmental regulation, got it," I reply. "Very important stuff."
His explanation continues smoothly, his voice becoming more animated when discussing the technical aspects. "It is essential for maintaining optimal atmospheric conditions. The next section is—"
"Let me guess. More curved walls and mysterious alien technology?" I interrupt, but with a smile that takes any sting out of the words. His skin glows in response, but it seems different somehow, less sharp, more diffuse.
Besides, three days with Mr. Glowy might not be so bad. He's clearly intelligent, obviously uncomfortable with the situation, and undeniably interesting to talk with. And the food's better than I expected.
As far as abductions go, I've definitely had worse assignments. And I have to admit, there's something about watching those patterns of light shift beneath Ry'eth's skin that's oddly mesmerizing. For medical observation purposes, of course.
Chapter Five
Owen
"Ry. Hey, Ry."
I snap my fingers near his face, watching as his head jerks up from where it was slowly drooping toward his chest. The bioluminescence flares under his skin at the nickname, which is exactly why I'm using it. Nothing wakes someone up like irritation.
"I was not sleeping," Ry'eth says stiffly, blinking rapidly. "I was considering a complex environmental variable."
"With your eyes closed?" I settle back into my seat across from him. "That's impressive multitasking."
We're in what he called the "common area" during our tour, a space that reminds me of a cross between a lounge and a conference room. Curved walls, of course, because apparently these aliens have something against right angles. Comfortable seating arranged around a central table. Soft lighting that seems to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.
It's been several hours since our meal in the nutrition center. We moved to the common area afterward, where Ry'eth has been trying to work on some kind of report for the past hour, his fingers moving across a translucent screen that hovers above the table. I've been watching him fight against exhaustion the entire time, his head gradually lowering until I intervene.
"You do not need to continue using that abbreviated version of my name," he says, straightening his posture with obvious effort. "I am cooperating with your medical monitoring."
"Yeah, but Ry gets such a nice reaction out of you." I gesture toward the glow that's still visible beneath his skin. "Keeps your circulation going. Very important for head injuries."
He gives me a look that suggests he doesn't believe that for a second but is too tired to argue. "The report must be completed."
"The report can wait." I lean forward, studying his face more carefully. His golden eyes are dulled with fatigue, the usual sharpness of his features softened. "You've been awake for how long now?"
"Nereidan physiology requires less rest than humans," he says, which isn't actually an answer.
"Uh-huh. And when was the last time you slept?" I press.
He hesitates, then admits, "Approximately thirty-six hours ago."
"Jesus." I shake my head. "And you got knocked unconscious in the middle of that. No wonder you can barely keep your eyes open."
"I am perfectly capable of—" He stops mid-sentence, his eyes drifting closed again.
