Page 12 of Reluctantly Abducted (Nereidan Compatibility Program #3)

Owen

I activate the synthesizer's heating function with practiced ease, having figured out most of the controls during my omelet-making experiment this morning. The circular platform begins to glow with a gentle warmth as I prepare to make pancakes.

"You're becoming quite proficient with our technology," Ry'eth observes, watching me measure ingredients into a mixing bowl.

"Quick learner," I reply with a small smile. "Though I still think some of these controls are unnecessarily complicated. Military equipment is designed to be intuitive under pressure. This thing..." I gesture at the multi-faceted interface, "feels like it was designed by scientists for scientists."

"It is precise," Ry'eth counters, "which is necessary for accurate food synthesis."

"I'm sure it is," I concede, stirring the pancake batter.

After our time in the pool, we've returned to the kitchen for pancakes as promised. I'm still adjusting to the new atmospheric settings Ry'eth applied to the entire ship. Each breath requires a bit more effort, but it's nothing my body can't handle.

What's more distracting than the atmospheric changes is the memory of what happened in that pool.

The soft press of Ry'eth's lips against my cheek, followed by my more deliberate kiss in return.

The way his skin had lit up like a living aurora, and how he'd pulled away suddenly when he realized we were both completely naked.

I focus on the task at hand, measuring ingredients into a mixing bowl. "The batter needs to be thin but not watery," I explain, hoping my voice sounds normal. "That's the secret to good pancakes. Too thick and they're doughy, too thin and they fall apart."

Ry'eth watches with that intense scientific focus of his, cataloging every movement as if preparing a research paper on human cooking techniques. I find it oddly endearing.

"While you prepare that," he says, moving to the opposite side of the kitchen, "I'll create a traditional Nereidan beverage to accompany the meal."

I look up, surprised and pleased. "You're making drinks? I thought I was handling the food."

"It seems appropriate to contribute to this cultural exchange," he replies formally, activating another section of the synthesizer. "This beverage is traditionally consumed during our solar alignment festivals."

"Sounds fancy," I say, returning my attention to the batter. "What's in it?"

"It's primarily composed of fermented kel'linar fruit," he explains, pressing various controls with practiced efficiency. "The synthesis process creates a creamy consistency similar to what you might call a 'smoothie,' though the flavor profile is quite different."

"Looking forward to it," I say honestly, dropping a small amount of batter onto the heated surface. It sizzles satisfyingly, releasing the familiar scent of cooking pancakes.

I'm suddenly reminded of Sunday mornings from my childhood, before mom took the corporate job and dad buried himself in work. Before home became just a place to sleep between shifts. The memory is bittersweet, but not unwelcome.

As I flip the first batch of mini pancakes, a mischievous impulse strikes me. "So," I say casually, keeping my tone light, "how many people have you dated?"

Ry'eth nearly fumbles with the synthesizer controls, his skin instantly lighting up with those beautiful blue-green patterns. "I, what?"

"Dated. You know, romantically involved with?" I glance over my shoulder, enjoying his flustered reaction perhaps more than I should. "Just curious."

"Why would you ask that?" he manages, the glow beneath his skin intensifying.

I shrug, turning back to my cooking to give him a moment to compose himself. "Just wondering. You're a really good kisser, that's all."

The compliment has the desired effect, in my peripheral vision, I can see the bioluminescence cascade across his skin in waves. It's fascinating how responsive his body is to emotional stimuli, utterly unable to hide reactions that a human could conceal.

"I, that is, such inquiries are—he stammers, then stops, taking a visible breath. "My personal history is not relevant to the assessment."

"Sure it is," I say lightly, enjoying this glimpse of the flustered scientist beneath the composed exterior. "Cultural exchange, remember? I'm learning about Nereidan romantic customs."

"By asking about my specific experiences?" he counters, focusing intently on the beverage synthesis to avoid looking at me.

"Best way to learn," I say, smiling to myself. "So? Any past lovers I should be jealous of?"

Despite my teasing tone, I find I'm genuinely curious about the answer. There's something about Ry'eth that has gotten under my skin in a way I hadn't expected when I first woke up on this alien ship.

"No," he admits quietly. "There have been... no such arrangements."

His answer catches me off guard. I pause briefly before continuing to flip pancakes. "None? Ever?"

The bioluminescence intensifies as he realizes what he's revealed. "My work has always been my priority," he explains stiffly. "Romantic entanglements would be a distraction from my research."

"So I'm your first kiss?" I ask, my voice softening as the implications sink in.

"Yes," he confirms, still not looking at me. "As I said, such matters have never been a priority."

Something warm blooms in my chest at this revelation. "I'm honored," I tell him, meaning it.

He finally looks up, genuine surprise in his golden eyes. "You are not... amused by my inexperience?"

"Why would I be?" I ask, confused by his assumption. "Everyone has a first. I'm just glad I could be yours."

The luminescence beneath his skin shifts to a softer, steadier glow as he processes my response. I turn my attention back to the pancakes, giving him space to compose himself.

"The beverage is nearly complete," he says after a moment, clearly grateful for the change in subject.

"And the first batch of pancakes is done," I announce, transferring several small, golden circles to a plate. "I'm making them mini-sized so we can dip them instead of cutting them up. More fun that way."

I start on the second batch, dropping small spoonfuls of batter with chocolate chips mixed in. "These ones have chocolate in them. Variety pack."

"You've made these many times before," Ry'eth observes, watching me work.

"My mom used to make them like this when I was a kid," I explain, feeling a twinge of nostalgia. "Before she took the corporate job and started traveling all the time. Sunday mornings were pancake days."

"You maintain this tradition from your childhood," he notes, sounding genuinely interested.

"Not really," I admit, flipping the new batch. "Haven't made these in years, actually. But some things you don't forget."

The synthesizer chimes softly, and Ry'eth pours a pale lavender liquid into two cups. "Here," he says, offering one to me. "This should complement the sweetness of your pancakes."

I accept it with a nod of thanks, then carry our plates to the table, one with the blueberry pancakes, the other with the chocolate chip ones. I set a small container of synthesized maple syrup between them.

"That's maple syrup," I explain as we sit. "Well, synthesized maple syrup. You dip the pancakes in it."

I demonstrate, picking up one of the mini pancakes with my fingers and dunking it halfway into the syrup before popping it into my mouth. The familiar flavor is remarkably authentic for something created by an alien food machine.

"Still got it," I murmur to myself, pleased with how they turned out. "Try one."

Ry'eth follows my example with scientific precision, selecting a blueberry pancake and dipping it carefully in the syrup. His expression shifts subtly as he tastes it, a slight widening of the eyes, a minute lift at the corners of his mouth.

"This is..." he pauses, searching for words. "Unexpectedly complex."

I grin, recognizing the scientist-speak for what it is. "That's scientist-speak for 'delicious,' right?"

A small smile forms on his lips, one of the few I've seen during our time together. "It is quite good," he acknowledges. "Though extremely sweet by Nereidan standards."

"Try it with the drink you made," I suggest, taking a sip from my cup.

The flavor hits me immediately, unlike anything I've tasted before. Light and creamy, with an almost effervescent quality that dances on the tongue. There's a sweetness to it, but not cloying, balanced by something I can only describe as crystalline. "Whoa. That's amazing."

Ry'eth takes a sip of his own beverage, then another bite of pancake. "They go well together," he observes, and I can tell he's genuinely pleased by how our culinary contributions complement each other.

"No kidding," I agree, alternating between bites of pancake and sips of the drink. "We should open a restaurant. 'Cosmic Cuisine' or something equally tacky."

The joke slips out before I really think about it, and I notice a flicker of discomfort cross Ry'eth's features. Of course, I've implied a future beyond these three days, something we both know isn't happening.

We eat in comfortable silence for a few moments before I try another line of conversation. "So, what about your family? You mentioned your brothers, but what about your parents?"

"My creator-parents," he corrects automatically. "They are both researchers in different fields. One specializes in aquatic ecosystem management, the other in biochemical engineering."

"Creator-parents," I repeat, intrigued by the term. "That's an interesting way to put it."

"It is more accurate than 'mother' or 'father,'" he explains. "Nereidan reproduction does not involve pregnancy. Genetic material is harvested from each parent, then modified and combined in an artificial gestation chamber."

I pause mid-bite, genuinely surprised by this revelation. "Really? That's... huh. So no one gets pregnant? Ever?"