Page 3 of Technically Abducted
"Well, Tev'ra, systems specialist," I say, and there's an edge to my voice that probably isn't helping my case, "I hope your research budget includes compensation for the three small businesses that are about to fail because their tech guy just got abducted by fucking aliens."
His glow flickers, and I can see I've broken whatever script he was supposed to follow.
"You know what?" I continue, feeling something settle into place—a decision I didn't know I was making. "I'm done. You want an assessment? Here's your assessment: send me back."
"The assessment protocols require—"
"I don't care what your protocols require." I fold my arms and plant my feet. "Right now, Rosa thinks I abandoned her restaurant. Juniper's flash sale is going to tank because her database is corrupted. And there are probably three more people trying to call me about emergencies I can't answer because I'm stuck on your spaceship."
Tev'ra's glow shifts, uncertainty flickering across his features. "The transportation cycle cannot be reversed for seventy-two hours—"
"Then figure out how to break that rule," I interrupt. "Because here's what's going to happen: either you send me back to my apartment where I can do my actual job, or I'm going to sit in whatever room you put me in and do absolutely nothing for the next three days. No cooperation, no assessment, no compatibility testing. Nothing."
"You cannot simply refuse to participate—"
"Watch me." I stare him down, and I can feel that familiar stubborn streak that got me through fifteen different foster homes. "You abducted me without permission, you're destroying people's livelihoods, and you expect me to play along with your research project? Not happening."
"The Council has never—"
"The Council has never what? Had someone say no?" I let out a bitter laugh, feeling my heart hammering against my ribs. "Well, congratulations. You just found the first one. So you can take your protocols and shove them out the nearest airlock."
I take a deliberate step forward, invading the alien's personal space. Up close, his blue skin seems to ripple with patterns of light that shift with his emotions – currently a rapid, anxious pulsing that gives me a perverse satisfaction.
"So here's your choice, Tev'ra," I continue, jabbing a finger toward his chest but stopping just short of actually touching him. "Send me back to Earth where I can fix the problems you created by taking me, let me do my job, and then maybe—" I raise my eyebrows for emphasis, "—MAYBE—we can discuss your compatibility program."
The overhead lights seem to dim slightly as if responding to the tension in the room. A soft mechanical hum I hadn'tnoticed before grows more pronounced in the silence between us.
"Or," I add, dropping my voice to a dangerous whisper, "you can explain to your Council why their assessment subject is spending seventy-two hours staring at the wall instead of participating in their research."
Sweat beads on my forehead despite the cool, clinically regulated air. My muscles are tense with a fight-or-flight response that has nowhere to go. I cross my arms over my chest, partly in defiance, partly to hide the slight tremor in my hands.
Tev'ra just stares at me, his golden eyes wide and unblinking. His bioluminescence flickers rapidly in patterns I'm pretty sure mean "complete system failure." His tall frame seems to diminish somehow, shoulders slumping slightly as his glow dims.
Good. Maybe now they'll realize that kidnapping people isn't a sustainable research methodology.
I maintain eye contact, refusing to back down even as my mind races with the horrifying reality of my situation. The sleek white walls of this alien facility seem to close in around me. I'm light-years from home, arguing with a being that isn't even human, while my clients' livelihoods hang in the balance.
My jaw clenches so tight it aches. The silence stretches between us, punctuated only by my too-rapid breathing and the subtle electronic hum of alien technology I can't even begin to comprehend.
Chapter Two
Tev'ra
I have never requested an emergency Council session before.
I have never had a reason to request an emergency Council session before.
The human is contained in temporary quarters—not secured, simply... placed there while I determine how to proceed. He made no attempt to escape, which somehow makes this situation worse. He simply walked into the room, sat on the sleeping platform, and folded his arms in what I can only interpret as preparation for an extended period of non-cooperation.
I pace the length of the communication chamber, my bioluminescence flickering with anxiety patterns I haven't experienced since my final assessment at the Academy. The reflection of blue-green light pulses against the metallic walls, a visual manifestation of my internal disarray. This was supposed to be straightforward—a career-advancing assignment, not a potential diplomatic crisis.
The mission brief had been clear: acquire a human systems specialist, assess their technical capabilities, and evaluate compatibility for the broader integration program. Simple. Methodical. The subject profile had indicated Finn Sullivan was an ideal candidate—isolated, professionally focused, with minimal social attachments that might complicate extraction. The probability models projected a 94.7% chance of successful assessment completion.
None of the simulations had accounted for a human who would simply refuse to participate.
I adjust the environmental controls with a gesture, lowering the chamber temperature by two degrees to helpregulate my rising stress response. My gills flutter slightly at the base of my neck, a physiological reminder that I need to maintain composure. Council members are particularly sensitive to displays of emotional instability.
The communication array flickers to life, and within moments, the holographic projections of the seven Council members materialize around me. Elder Va'ril appears first, her silver-blue skin catching the light in patterns that suggest mild irritation at being summoned at this hour. Her age is evident in the deeper azure tones that edge her features, the result of centuries of bioluminescent activity leaving permanent traces in the epidermis.
