Page 85 of Technically Abducted
"Fourteen communication attempts without response exceeds all previous patterns," Creator-parent Mor'en adds, his patterns displaying concern beneath his more controlled exterior. "Especially considering the Council emergency notification regarding your sudden transport authorization to Earth."
"I apologize for the delay," I tell them, settling into the conversation alcove. "Events have unfolded rapidly, and I needed to ensure my... guests were properly settled."
They exchange a look of immediate understanding, their patterns brightening with excitement. "You have retrieved Finn then? He's there with you now?" Vel'tha asks eagerly, leaning closer to the projection field.
"Yes," I confirm, unable to prevent my bioluminescence from brightening at the mere thought of him. "He's resting now - the transit was exhausting for him. His friend Alex is also here, under separate circumstances."
"Oh, offspring!" Mor'en's patterns shift to pure joy. "We are so pleased! After everything that happened, after that terrible separation... to have him back with you where he belongs. This is wonderful news!"
"The empathic bond survived the separation then?" Vel'tha asks, though his tone suggests he already knows the answer. "We were so concerned when we learned you'd been forced apart."
"It survived," I confirm. "Muted and painful, but intact. The reconnection was... intense."
"I imagine so," Vel'tha says gently. "And his friend? This is the Alex he spoke of during our conversations?"
"Yes. Alex was instrumental in helping Finn establish contact with the Council. He also has his own connection to us- an unauthorized childhood encounter that requires investigation."
My creator-parents exchange another meaningful look, this one tinged with concern. "Unauthorized contact with a human child? That is deeply troubling."
"The Council is investigating," I assure them. "Alex seems to be adapting well so far. He's resting in the underwater chamber."
"Two humans in your dwelling," Mor'en observes, his patterns showing amusement. "You never do things simply, offspring."
I'm about to respond when I sense Finn's approach before I hear him—the empathic connection growing stronger as he moves through the dwelling. The light pulse of his consciousness seeking mine, still hazy with sleep but drawn toward our connection with instinctive certainty.
I turn slightly as he appears in the doorway, his hair tousled from sleep, wearing nothing but the loose sleep garment I provided earlier. Even in this disheveled state, the sight of him creates an immediate brightening of my bioluminescence that I couldn't suppress if I tried.
"Hey," he says softly, his voice still rough from sleep, blinking in the glow of the holographic projection. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt."
Through our bond, I can feel his momentary self-consciousness—aware of his disheveled appearance in front of my parents again, though this time mixed with genuine warmth at seeing them.
"Finn!" Vel'tha exclaims before I can respond, their bioluminescence flaring with delight. "Dear one, how wonderful to see you again!"
"You are not interrupting at all," Mor'en adds warmly. "Come, join us. We have been so worried about you both."
Finn's face softens at their obvious pleasure in seeing him, and he moves to join me in the conversation alcove. The empathic bond transmits his mix of emotions—lingering nervousness but also genuine affection for my creator-parents, remembrance of their previous kindness.
"It's really good to see you both again," Finn says as he settles beside me, my arm automatically sliding around his waist. He makes the formal greeting gesture with much more confidence than before. "I'm sorry about my appearance. I just woke up."
"Nonsense," Vel'tha waves away his concern. "After interstellar transit? We're amazed you're conscious at all. How are you feeling, dear one? The journey must have been overwhelming."
"I'm okay," Finn says, leaning slightly into my side in that way that's become so natural. "Tired, but okay. It's still hard to believe I'm actually here."
"We can hardly believe it ourselves," Mor'en says, his patterns warm with approval as he observes our easy physical connection. "When we heard about the separation, we were devastated for you both. That private conversation we had, Finn... we feared those words might have been our last."
I feel Finn's emotion spike through our bond—remembrance of whatever my creator-parents told him during that thirty-minute private conversation before he left, something that had moved him to tears.
"I thought about what you said," Finn tells them quietly. "Every day. It helped, knowing that... knowing what you told me."
"And now you're here permanently," Vel'tha says, their patterns bright with satisfaction. "Where you belong. With our offspring, with a chance at the life you deserve."
"The integration process begins tomorrow," I explain. "The Council will formalize his status and begin cultural adaptation protocols."
"And we were discussing the seasonal illumination gathering," Vel'tha adds, turning their attention back to Finn with obvious enthusiasm. "We would be honored if you would attend as part of our family group."
"Family group?" Finn echoes, and through our bond I feel his complex emotional response to the word—longing, uncertainty, hope.
"Of course," Mor'en says firmly. "You are our offspring's bonded partner. That makes you family, Finn Sullivan. We thought we had made that clear during our previous conversations."
