Page 50 of Reluctantly Abducted
"When did you last eat?" Jake asks with that human directness.
"I..." I begin, then realize I can't actually remember. "Yesterday. I think."
Jake makes a sound remarkably similar to one Owen would make, a sort of disapproving huff. "I'm making you something right now. No arguments."
I don't have the energy to protest as he returns to the food preparation area. The hot chocolate warms my hands through the mug, and I focus on that sensation rather than the concerned looks my brothers are giving me.
"The northern archipelago restoration project will be physically demanding," Kav'eth says after a moment. "You won't be able to contribute effectively in this condition."
"I'll recover," I say. "I just need a proper hydration cycle."
"You need more than that," Zeph says quietly. "You need to be honest with yourself about what happened during this assessment."
I stare into the mug, watching the whipped cream dissolve into the dark liquid. "Nothing happened that wasn't documented in my report."
"And what about the things that can't be documented?" Zeph presses gently. "The things that don't fit into data fields and protocol parameters?"
"I don't know what you're referring to," I say stiffly, but even as the words leave my mouth, my skin betrays me with a flash of blue-green light.
Jake leans forward suddenly, his eyes narrowing as he studies me. "What's that on your neck?"
"What?" My hand goes automatically to my neck, touching the spot where Owen's teeth had pressed into my skin during our final, desperate embrace before the transport countdown.
"That mark," Jake says, a knowing expression crossing his face. "Looks like a bite to me."
I feel my skin illuminate with mortification, the blue-green glow impossible to suppress. "That's... it's merely... it's not relevant to the assessment."
Zeph's bioluminescence flickers in surprise. "You and the human were intimate?"
"Physical interaction was part of the assessment," I say stiffly, though my words are belied by the way I nearly spill my drink as another wave of dizziness passes through me. "It has no bearing on compatibility without an empathic bond."
"Uh-huh," Jake says skeptically, returning from the kitchen area with a plate of food. He sets it in front of me, something that looks surprisingly like the breakfast Owen made on our last morning together. "And how do you feel right now, exactly?"
The sight of the food, so reminiscent of what Owen prepared, makes my throat tighten painfully. "My feelings are not relevant to, "
"Answer the question, Ry'eth," Kav'eth interrupts, his tone gentle but firm.
I look at my oldest brother, at the depth of understanding in his eyes, and something inside me crumbles.The mug shakes in my hands, hot chocolate threatening to spill over. Derek quietly takes it from me before I can drop it.
"I feel like I'm missing a limb," I admit, the words barely audible. "Like there's an empty space where something vital should be."
The admission costs me. My skin dims to almost gray, the emotional exhaustion finally showing through my careful facade.
"That sounds familiar," Jake murmurs, exchanging glances with my brother.
"It doesn't matter," I say quickly. "The assessment is complete. He's back on Earth where he belongs, and I'll be returning to my environmental restoration projects as soon as the Council reviews my findings."
"And what are your findings?" Derek asks. "About humans, I mean. Still think we're all environmental disasters waiting to happen?"
The echo of Owen's similar question from our last breakfast together resonates through me. "My analysis indicates that our world could sustainably integrate humans in limited numbers, perhaps equal to five percent of our current population. The resource allocation would be manageable with proper protocols."
My brothers look surprised at this conclusion. They know how strongly I've opposed human integration on environmental grounds.
"So you've changed your mind about humans?" Zeph asks carefully.
"I've... refined my position based on new data," I reply, falling back on scientific language.
"That's scientist-speak for 'I was wrong,'" Jake says with a grin, uncannily echoing Owen's words from our last conversation.
