Page 26 of Reluctantly Abducted (Nereidan Compatibility Program #3)
Ry'eth
The Council chambers are exactly as I remember them, a perfect circle of carved stone with a domed ceiling that captures and amplifies sound so precisely that even whispers can be heard from anywhere in the room.
The ancient architecture stands in stark contrast to the holographic displays and data interfaces that have been seamlessly integrated into the space over generations.
I stand in the preparation alcove, reviewing my presentation one final time.
The data is organized with scientific precision, atmospheric composition analyses, resource consumption calculations, compatibility metrics.
Everything the Council requires to evaluate the environmental impact of human integration.
Everything except the truth that lives beneath my skin, beneath the data, beneath the carefully constructed scientific detachment I've spent my entire career perfecting.
A strange flutter pulses through my chest, my heartbeat accelerating without obvious cause.
I press my hand against my sternum, feeling the rapid rhythm beneath my palm.
Unusual. I don't typically experience anticipatory stress before presentations.
Perhaps it's the significance of this particular assessment, or the knowledge that Kav'eth will be watching from the Council.
I take a deep breath, steadying myself. The flutter subsides, though not completely. Just nerves, I tell myself. Nothing more.
"Researcher Ry'eth, the Council is ready for your assessment report."
I look up to see a junior administrator in the formal robes of the Research Collective. Their skin is pale blue with minimal bioluminescent patterning, typical of those who work primarily in administrative functions rather than field positions.
"Thank you," I reply, gathering my materials and following them into the chamber.
Seven Council members sit in a semicircle, elevated slightly above the central reporting platform where I will stand.
Their robes of deep indigo mark their status, the subtle patterns woven into the fabric indicating their specific areas of expertise and governance.
In the center sits Elder Va'ril, the most senior Council member, their silver-blue skin etched with the distinctive age patterns that command universal respect in our society.
And there, to Elder Va'ril's right, sits my oldest brother, Councilor Kav'eth, his expression carefully neutral as I enter. Protocol dictates that he show no familial recognition during formal proceedings, but I catch the slight intensification of light beneath his skin when our eyes meet briefly.
I take my position on the platform, feeling the subtle vibration as it activates, connecting to my data interface. I straighten my posture, adopting the formal stance expected during Council presentations.
"Researcher Ry'eth," Elder Va'ril begins, their voice carrying the weight of authority wrapped in the courtesy our people value.
"We welcome your return and look forward to your assessment findings regarding human compatibility with Nereidan environments.
As you are aware, your evaluation carries particular significance due to your expertise in environmental systems and your previous concerns regarding cross-species integration. "
"Thank you, Elder," I reply, activating my first data display. "I am prepared to present my complete findings."
The holographic projection expands above me, showing Earth's atmospheric composition compared to our own.
I begin with the fundamentals, oxygen levels, carbon dioxide variations, trace element differences.
My voice finds its professional rhythm as I explain the adaptive potential demonstrated by the human subject.
"The test subject showed remarkable respiratory flexibility," I continue, bringing up the data collected during our hydration pool sessions.
"When gradually exposed to our atmospheric composition, the human maintained 94% oxygen efficiency compared to Earth baseline, with only minimal adjustments required for comfort. "
A memory flashes unbidden, Owen floating beside me in the hydration pool, his face relaxed and trusting as he adapted to the alien environment.
His smile when he realized he could breathe comfortably.
My skin flickers with a brief glow that I quickly suppress, hoping none of the Council members noticed.
I advance to the next data set, showing comparative respiratory function charts.
"Most significantly, a human in good physical condition can withstand our atmosphere without detriment for extended periods.
The subject showed complete adaptation within 1.
7 cycles, with no decline in cognitive or physical performance. "
I carefully avoid using Owen's name. He is "the subject" or "the human" in this presentation, a data point, not a person with warm eyes and gentle hands and a laugh that somehow made my scientific detachment feel absurd.
"Regarding resource consumption," I continue, moving to the next section of my report, "humans require approximately 24% more water than Nereidans, but 17% less mineral supplementation. Their nutritional needs can be fully synthesized using our existing technology with minimal modifications."
Another memory surfaces, Owen in the galley area, showing me how to make "pancakes," insisting that food should bring happiness, not just sustenance. I pause slightly too long between sentences, my professional rhythm momentarily disrupted.
As I speak, I'm aware of Kav'eth watching me more intently than the other Council members. He knows me well enough to detect the subtle differences in my presentation style, the microscopic pauses between data points that no one else would notice.
"Most significantly," I say, bringing up the environmental impact projections, "my analysis indicates that our world could sustainably integrate humans in limited numbers, approximately five percent of our current population without requiring structural changes to our resource management systems."
A murmur ripples through the Council, subtle patterns of light shifting beneath their skin.
This conclusion is not what they expected from me, given my historical opposition to the integration program.
I notice my own skin betraying me again, a warm glow spreading across my forearms as I think about what integration would mean. About Owen potentially staying.
"This is a surprising conclusion from you, Researcher," Councilor Eth'nor observes, leaning forward slightly. "Your previous position on human environmental impact was considerably more... restrictive."
"Science requires us to adjust our conclusions when presented with new data," I reply, the words feeling hollow despite their truth. "My assessment was conducted with full methodological rigor."
"Your brothers' humans have influenced your perspective, perhaps?" Councilor Myr'esh suggests, their tone carefully neutral despite the implication.
I feel a flash of defensive bioluminescence that I quickly suppress.
"My assessment was conducted independently and according to established protocols.
While I was aware of my brothers' humans, I only met them briefly before departing on this assignment.
My findings are based on empirical data collected during the assessment period, not personal associations or secondhand accounts. "
The words sound convincing, but a warming sensation spreads through my chest as I speak them. I'm not being entirely truthful, and my body knows it.
Elder Va'ril raises a hand, silencing further commentary. "We do not question your methodology, Researcher Ry'eth. We are merely noting the evolution in your scientific position. Please continue."
I nod, bringing up the next data set, waste processing requirements, spatial needs, atmospheric impact factors.
The technical details flow easily, allowing my mind to operate on two tracks simultaneously, the professional presentation of information and the undercurrent of memories that each data point evokes.
The hydration pool measurements remind me of Owen floating beside me, adapting to my world's atmosphere without complaint.
The nutritional analysis recalls him making pancakes, teaching me about Earth food with that strange mix of precision and joy that seemed so uniquely his.
The compatibility metrics fail to capture the way his hand felt against mine, the way his voice softened when he spoke my name, the shortened version of it that I somehow stopped correcting him for using.
"...and the human demonstrated unexpected ingenuity in adapting to—"I pause mid-sentence, realizing I've begun to speak about Owen as a person rather than a test subject.
My skin flares with embarrassment, a bright pulse of light I cannot fully control.
"That is to say, the assessment subject showed adaptability to Nereidan environmental constraints that exceeded predicted parameters. "
I stand in silence as the Council members review the data, their skin patterns shifting with their thoughts. Kav'eth's expression remains carefully neutral, but I can read the subtle flickers of light beneath his skin that indicate surprise, and something that might be understanding.
"Thank you for your thorough assessment, Researcher Ry'eth," Elder Va'ril says after a moment. "The Council will now pose clarifying questions regarding your findings."
The questioning proceeds as expected, technical inquiries about methodology, requests for elaboration on specific data points, theoretical scenarios about potential ecological impacts. I answer each with scientific precision, keeping my voice steady, my explanations clear.
Until Councilor Lyr'tha, the medical specialist, asks the inevitable question.