Page 40 of Technically Abducted
Finn sleeps with the complete relaxation of someone who has never learned to sleep lightly. His breathing is deep and even, his face peaceful in a way I haven't observed while he's conscious. Even in sleep, he remains close to me, one arm draped across my chest as if seeking contact.
The empathic connection has settled to a barely perceptible hum, but I can still sense echoes of his contentment, his trust. It's remarkable how quickly he's adapted to sharing physical space, considering his earlier admissions about isolation and emotional distance.
I remain still for several minutes, studying his face in the dim lighting, noting the way his hair falls across his forehead, the subtle movement of his eyes beneath closed lids. There's something vulnerable about him in sleep that makes protective instincts I didn't know I possessed surge to the surface.
Carefully, I extract myself from his embrace and move to my workstation. The Council's questions about foster care require research, and I find myself genuinely curious about this aspect of human development that our extensive cultural analysis somehow missed entirely.
The ship's database contains comprehensive information about human societies, family structures, educational systems—but when I search for "foster care," the results are limited and clinical. Basic definitions, legal frameworks, statistical data. Nothing that explains the deeper implications or emotional impact on the individuals involved.
I expand my search parameters, looking for related concepts. Orphaned children. Alternative care systems. Temporary family placement. Gradually, a picture begins to emerge that is... disturbing.
Children separated from their biological families. Placed with strangers. Moved between multiple homes. The data indicates this system is intended as protection for vulnerable children, but the outcomes suggest significantly higher rates of various negative effects—educational disruption, emotional difficulties, increased likelihood of certain behavioral patterns.
The more I read, the less I understand how such a system developed or why it continues to function in this manner.
In Nereidan society, the loss of creator-parents is tragic but manageable. Extended family networks, community support systems, and cultural values that prioritize child welfare ensure seamless transition to alternative care that maintains stability and emotional security. The concept of a child being moved between multiple temporary placements, never developing lasting bonds, never having secure foundations...
It's incomprehensible.
"What are you working on?"
I turn to find Finn awake, sitting up in my sleeping alcove with rumpled hair and an expression of curious concern. He's beautiful in the soft lighting, skin still marked with faint traces from when we were together.
"Research," I say, which is accurate but incomplete. "The Council requested information about foster care systems. I'm attempting to understand the concept."
Finn's expression shifts, becoming more guarded. "Right. I mentioned that."
"Our cultural analysis contained no information about these systems," I continue, turning back to the display. "The oversight is... significant. According to this data, a substantial percentage of human children experience some form of alternative care placement."
"Substantial percentage," Finn repeats, and there's something in his voice I can't identify.
"The emotional and developmental implications appear to be considerable," I say, scrolling through more statistical information. "Higher rates of educational disruption, attachment difficulties, behavioral challenges. The system seems designed to provide protection, but the outcomes suggest..."
I trail off as I notice Finn has gone very quiet behind me.
When I turn around, his expression has shuttered completely. The openness, the vulnerability he showed earlier—it's gone, replaced by the defensive walls I thought we'd moved beyond.
"Finn?"
"Just research, right?" he says, his voice carefully neutral. "Data points. Statistical analysis."
Something in his tone makes me realize I've made an error, though I'm not certain what kind.
"I'm attempting to understand—"
"Yeah, I get it," Finn interrupts, standing up and reaching for his jeans. "You need to document the defective human's background for your report."
"That's not—"
"Higher rates of attachment difficulties," he says, pulling on his pants with sharp movements. "Behavioral challenges. Yeah, those are definitely the key points to highlight in your assessment."
I stand as well, moving toward him. "Finn, I didn't mean to imply—"
"It's fine," he says, though his posture suggests it's very much not fine. "You're just doing your job. Gathering data about the subject."
The clinical language, the way he's distancing himself—I recognize this pattern from our earlier interactions. Defensivemechanisms activating in response to perceived emotional threat.
"You're not a subject," I say firmly. "You're..."
