"Oh god," he says, sitting up slowly and immediately wincing. "It wasn't a dream. You're still blue and I'm still..." He blinks several times, looking around the medical bay with unfocused eyes. "My head feels like I got hit by a truck. Where am I now?"
"Medical facility," I inform him. "You experienced what our systems identified as acute stress response resulting in temporary loss of consciousness."
"I fainted," Derek says flatly. "I fainted because an alien abducted me. That's... that's not exactly my most masculine moment."
"Physical stress responses are involuntary," I say, attempting what the research files suggest might be reassurance. "Your reaction was within normal parameters for your species when confronted with unprecedented circumstances."
Derek runs his hands over his face. "Right. Normal parameters. Because getting abducted by aliens is something humans just deal with all the time."
The sarcasm in his voice reminds me uncomfortably of my brother's reports about Jake Morrison. "You appear to have recovered your facility for speech."
"Yeah, well, the panic attack passed." Derek swings his legs over the side of the table, testing his stability with obvious caution. "Though I'm still pretty freaked out, in case you were wondering. And dizzy. Really dizzy."
He stands up slowly, gripping the edge of the table for support, and I can see the moment his shock and disorientation transform into anger and indignation.
"Actually, you know what? No. I'm not okay with this." Derek's voice rises as he begins pacing the small medical bay. "You can't just kidnap people! This is illegal! This is, this has to violate like fifty different international laws!"
"There are no international laws governing—" I begin.
"I don't care!" Derek shouts, his face flushing red. "I want to go home! I want my phone back! I have responsibilities! I have a business to run! I have followers depending on me for content! You can't just—"
"Derek Cross, you must—"
"Don't tell me what I must do!" He whirls to face me, jabbing a finger in my direction.
"I didn't consent to this! I didn't sign up for any alien compatibility program!
I thought I was going to some fancy resort to talk about fitness ambassadorships, not get abducted by glowing blue aliens who think they can just—"
His voice is approaching levels that might be audible throughout the ship. More concerning, his emotional state is clearly deteriorating again, and I can see his hands beginning to shake with renewed panic beneath the anger.
I move swiftly across the room, placing my hand firmly over his mouth before he can continue his increasingly loud protests. Derek's eyes widen above my hand, and he immediately begins struggling against my grip, but Nereidan strength far exceeds human capacity.
"You will listen," I say firmly, my voice carrying the full authority of my Council position. "And you will listen quietly, or this assessment will become significantly more unpleasant for both of us."
Derek continues to struggle for a moment, then seems to realize the futility of fighting someone with clearly superior strength and reach. He goes still, though his eyes remain wide and angry above my hand.
"I am going to explain your situation completely and honestly," I continue, maintaining my grip. "When I am finished, you may ask questions in a reasonable tone of voice. If you begin shouting again, I will sedate you for the remainder of the journey. Do you understand?"
Derek nods reluctantly, though I can feel the tension in his jaw beneath my palm.
"Good." I activate the holographic display with my free hand, keeping Derek securely restrained.
"You are aboard a Nereidan research vessel.
My people are facing extinction due to declining population and genetic stagnation.
The compatibility program was developed to identify potential partner species for cultural and biological integration. "
Derek makes a muffled sound of protest, but I continue without removing my hand.
"You were selected based on specific genetic and psychological markers that indicate potential compatibility with Nereidan culture and society. The assessment period is three days, after which you will be returned to Earth regardless of the results."
I pause, studying his face. The anger is still there, but I can see him processing the information despite his obvious distress.
"You were not randomly selected," I emphasize.
"You are not a victim of circumstance. You are here because our analysis indicates you may possess qualities that could help determine whether humans as a species can successfully integrate with Nereidan society.
" I tilt my head slightly. "Are you prepared to discuss this rationally, or do you require sedation? "
Derek considers this for a long moment, then nods again, more slowly this time.
I remove my hand from his mouth, stepping back but remaining close enough to restrain him again if necessary.
Derek immediately gasps for air, his eyes wide with horror. "Life partner? Pair bonding? You're talking about, oh god, you're talking about marriage, aren't you? This is some kind of alien dating program!"
"The program is designed to evaluate compatibility for long-term partnership, yes."
"I don't want to be part of any alien dating program!" Derek's voice cracks with panic. "I want to go home! Right now!"
He starts backing away from me, looking frantically around the medical bay for an exit. "There has to be a way off this ship. I don't consent to this! You can't just kidnap people for alien speed dating!"
"Your psychological profile indicates adaptability, emotional stability, and compatibility markers that suggest potential for successful pair bonding," I explain. "These are valuable traits for long-term partnership assessment."
Derek stares at me. "You kidnapped me because you think I'd make a good alien boyfriend?"
"We selected you because preliminary analysis suggested you might be compatible for life partnership with a Nereidan individual," I correct, though his characterization is not entirely inaccurate.
"This is insane," Derek says, but his voice has lost some of its panic. "You're basically trying to set me up on the world's most elaborate blind date."
"That is... a simplified but not incorrect assessment."
Derek runs his hands through his hair. "And there's nothing I can do about it. I'm stuck here for three days whether I like it or not, being evaluated as potential alien husband material."
"The transportation cycle cannot be reversed before the assessment period concludes," I confirm. "However, I assure you that no permanent harm will come to you during your stay."
"No permanent harm," Derek repeats. "What about the psychological trauma of being kidnapped for an alien dating show?"
"The assessment is designed to evaluate compatibility through controlled interaction. Any discomfort you experience will be minimal and temporary."
Derek is quiet for several minutes, his breathing gradually returning to normal patterns. When he finally looks up, there is resignation in his expression alongside the fear and lingering confusion.
"What exactly does this assessment involve?" he asks quietly, still rubbing his temples. "And don't give me any more vague answers about compatibility evaluation. I want specifics about this alien matchmaking program."
I consider his request. Given his obvious distress and the medical bay's clinical atmosphere, perhaps a change of environment would facilitate better communication.
"The assessment parameters are extensive," I say, deactivating the holographic display. "Perhaps we should relocate to more comfortable quarters before I provide a complete explanation. The medical facility is not conducive to productive discussion."
Derek looks around the sterile medical bay, then back at me with wariness. "More comfortable quarters. Where exactly are you planning to take me?"
"The residential section of the vessel," I explain. "The quarters have been configured based on human environmental preferences. You will find them... adequate for the duration of your stay."
"And if I refuse to go?"
"Then we will conduct the remainder of this conversation in the medical bay," I state matter-of-factly. "Though I believe you will find the residential quarters more pleasant."
Derek considers this for a long moment, then nods reluctantly. "Fine. But I want those specifics you promised. All of them."
"You will have them," I assure him, gesturing toward the exit. "The assessment protocols are quite detailed."
As Derek follows me toward the door, still moving with careful steps, I find myself wondering if the residential quarters will indeed make this conversation easier, or if the human's distress will only intensify once he fully understands what the next three days will entail.