Page 3 of Reluctantly Abducted
"The assessment parameters account for initial resistance," I say, though I'm beginning to understand their concern. "It is expected that both participants will require time to adjust."
"Both participants," Kav'eth observes quietly. "You say that as if you're approaching this with complete objectivity, but you've already decided this human is unsuitable."
"I am approaching this scientifically," I correct. "With appropriate skepticism toward a process that has thus farproduced only two data points, both involving subjects who may have been predisposed to adaptation."
"You think we were easy marks," Jake says, his casual tone not hiding the sharpness underneath.
"I think the assessment may benefit from testing compatibility under more challenging conditions."
"And what happens," Kav'eth asks in that deceptively mild tone that usually precedes uncomfortable questions, "when your assessment concludes that integration is inadvisable?"
I meet his gaze steadily. "Then the program will be discontinued, and alternative solutions for our species' survival will be pursued."
"Alternative solutions," Zeph'hai says softly. "Such as?"
"That is not my concern. My responsibility is to assess compatibility and provide accurate data to the Council." I pause, seeing the tension in both my brothers' faces. "Your existing partnerships will not be affected by my findings. The Council has made that clear. This assessment will only determine whether future human integration should proceed."
I stand, suddenly eager to end this conversation before it becomes even more unpleasant. "I merely came to inform you of my departure, as protocol requires."
"Ry'eth," Zeph'hai calls as I move toward the exit. "What if you're wrong?"
I pause at the threshold. "About what?"
"About humans. About us. About all of it." His bioluminescence has returned to normal levels, but there's something in his tone that makes me uncomfortable. "What if you discover that everything you believe about human-Nereidan compatibility is incorrect?"
"Then I will adjust my assessment accordingly," I reply. "That is what objective evaluation means."
"And what if," Jake adds quietly, "you find out that you're more like your brothers than you think?"
I don't dignify this with a response. The door seals behind me as I leave, cutting off any further discussion of hypothetical scenarios that will never occur.
I am not like my brothers. I will not be swayed by proximity, or physical attraction, or whatever psychological techniques humans employ. I will conduct this assessment with scientific rigor, document the inevitable failures of cross-species compatibility, and return with data that will allow our Council to make informed decisions about our species' future.
The transport to Earth's orbital region departs in three hours. The human will be retrieved according to standard protocols and brought to the research facility for initial assessment. The process will be professional, objective, and brief.
I suspect very brief.
Chapter Two
Owen
The cereal is getting soggy, but I can't bring myself to care enough to sit down and eat it properly. Instead, I'm pacing around my apartment in my boxers, spooning Lucky Charms into my mouth while I stare at the laptop screen displaying yet another batch of job listings that make me want to punch something.
Registered Nurse - Emergency Department. Seeking compassionate healthcare professional for fast-paced environment...
Fast-paced. Right. Because dealing with someone's infected hangnail or a kid with strep throat is the same as keeping a soldier alive while mortars are going off around you.
I take another bite and keep scrolling.
Medical Assistant - Family Practice. Join our team providing quality care in a comfortable, supportive setting...
Comfortable. Supportive. Jesus Christ, they might as well just say "boring as hell" and save everyone the trouble.
The apartment is small enough that my pacing takes me from the kitchen area to the living room and back in about eight steps. Everything I own fits in two duffel bags and a couple boxes. After eight years of military housing, the idea of accumulating stuff still feels wrong somehow. Like I'm not planning to stay anywhere long enough for it to matter.
Which, let's be honest, is probably accurate. Six months out of the Army and I still feel like I'm waiting for someone to tell me what to do next. Where to go, what mission needs handling. Instead, I get to choose between riveting career opportunities like "Administrative Medical Coordinator" and "Clinical Research Assistant."
I pause at the window, looking down at the street below. Even at 9 AM, people are going about their business with the kind of casual certainty that comes from having a purpose. A place to be. Something that matters.
