Page 17 of Technically Abducted
"So what happens now?" I ask. "Do I get to pack a toothbrush for alien summer camp, or are you going to make me wear the same clothes for days?"
"Limited personal items are permitted," Tev'ra says. "However, no active Earth technology can be transported."
"Of course not." I grab a backpack and head to the bathroom, throwing in basic toiletries and then going to my closet for a few clothes.
When I return, Tev'ra has moved to the center of the living room, standing in a small clear area between my coffee table and the couch.
"The transport cycle will initiate soon," he says. "We should prepare for molecular reconstitution."
"That sounds terrible," I mutter, adjusting my backpack strap. If I'm being dragged to an alien research vessel, I'm at least going to do it on my own terms.
"Is your species always this prudish?" I ask, gesturing to his obvious discomfort with my bare chest.
Tev'ra's formal composure slips just slightly. "It is not prudishness. It is biological and cultural adaptation for optimal social function."
"Uh-huh." I look around my apartment one last time, suddenly aware that I might never see it again. For all its chaos and clutter, it's the only space that's ever truly been mine.
"You will be returned within the standard assessment period," Tev'ra says, perhaps sensing my hesitation. "Nereidan protocols are precise."
"Yeah, I've noticed you guys are big on protocols." I move to stand near him. "So how does this work? Do I need to stand somewhere specific, or...?"
"The transport field requires minimal distance between subjects." Tev'ra steps closer, now less than an arm's length away.
This is the closest we've been, and I can feel a subtle heat radiating from his blue skin. His eyes—golden, pupils vertically slitted—meet mine briefly before darting away again, his bioluminescence pulsing in what must be embarrassment.
"You will remember that the process is painless," he assures me, raising a small device from his wrist.
"That's what all the alien abductors say," I reply, but the joke falls flat even to my own ears.
The blue light begins to build around us, similar to what I experienced in my first abduction but somehow more controlled. The world starts to fade, my apartment dissolving at the edges.
As reality slips away, a thought crosses my mind: I'm voluntarily leaving Earth with an alien. Even if "voluntary" is stretching the definition.
My last clear sight is Tev'ra's face, his expression almost apologetic as the blue light consumes us both.
And then we're gone.
Chapter Six
Tev'ra
The molecular stabilization process completes, and the transportation chamber's blue light fades. We have arrived safely aboard the research vessel.
I am dangerously dehydrated.
Twelve hours and seventeen minutes have passed since my last hydration cycle—well beyond recommended duration for Nereidan physiology. My skin feels uncomfortably tight, the natural luminescence patterns beneath dulled and sluggish. The gills at the base of my neck ache with dryness despite my body's automatic protective response of sealing the delicate membranes.
Yet protocol demands I complete arrival procedures before attending to personal needs.
"Welcome back to my research vessel," I tell Finn, my voice rougher than usual. "This is the transportation chamber. From here, I will escort you to your temporary quarters for the assessment period."
Finn is looking around, his expression a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. His bare chest—which he insisted on maintaining despite my discomfort—rises and falls with slightly elevated respiration. Stress response, most likely.
"Looks exactly like I remember," he says. "Sterile. White. Alien."
"The design emphasizes functionality and efficiency," I explain, stepping from the platform. A wave of dizziness hits me, and I must briefly steady myself against the chamber wall. My movement is not as smooth as it should be.
Finn notices. "You okay? You're looking a little... less blue than usual."
