Page 38 of Reluctantly Abducted (Nereidan Compatibility Program #3)
Ry'eth
"You're staring at me again," I observe without looking up from my data analysis. The bond transmits Owen's unrepentant amusement before he even speaks.
"Can you blame me?" he replies. "The way you glow when you're working is better than any light show on Earth."
I feel my bioluminescence respond to his compliment, brightening involuntarily. After three months of sharing my living and working space with Owen, I still find myself reacting to his attention like this—my body betraying my emotions despite my best attempts at scientific composure.
The holographic display before me shows the recovery patterns of the northern archipelago ecosystem after our latest restoration effort.
The data is promising, suggesting the native flora is adapting to the adjusted salinity levels more rapidly than my initial projections estimated.
I should be fully focused on this significant development, but instead, my awareness keeps shifting to Owen's presence across our shared workspace.
Through our bond, I feel his restlessness—a bright, crackling energy that contrasts with my more measured state. He's supposed to be finalizing his medical assessment protocols for the next group of human arrivals, but his attention has been wandering for the past twenty-seven minutes.
"The integration committee expects your report tomorrow," I remind him, though I know my mild disapproval is undermined by the affection leaking through our bond.
"They'll get it," he assures me, stretching in a way that momentarily distracts me from my own work. "I'm just taking a break."
Our research station, located at the edge of the Central Science District, provides an optimal view of the bioluminescent forest that surrounds the city.
The sight still captivates Owen, though he's been here for ninety-two days now.
I find myself appreciating the familiar landscape anew through his experiences—the way the forest pulses with light during evening transitions, how the crystalline formations reflect the triple moons, even the distinctive mineral scent of the air after precipitation.
I save my current analysis and turn my chair to face him. "Is the report creating difficulties?" I ask, noting how he's been opening and closing the same file for the past twelve minutes.
"Nah," he says, running a hand through his hair—a gesture I've learned indicates mild frustration mixed with boredom. "It's just... weird being responsible for the medical evaluation of humans on an alien planet. The combat medic training helps, but this is a whole different level."
"And yet you've demonstrated remarkable aptitude for the role," I point out. "Your understanding of human physiology, combined with your adaptive thinking, has been invaluable to the integration program."
Owen laughs, the sound still sending ripples of warmth through my chest. "Only you could make 'you're good at keeping humans from dying on an alien planet' sound like a formal commendation."
I feel my skin pulse with amusement. "It was intended as a compliment."
"I know," he says, rising from his workstation to approach mine. "And I'm pretty sure the Council didn't expect my combat medic experience to be so relevant to interspecies relations, but here we are."
As he reaches my desk, he leans against it, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from his body. Humans run hotter than Nereidans, a difference I've come to find both scientifically interesting and personally pleasing.
"I received a communication from Jake this morning," he says, changing the subject. "Kav'eth's ship will be docking in approximately one hour with Derek on board. I thought we might meet them at the arrival platform. Jake and Zeph'hai are already planning to be there."
"That would be acceptable," I agree, feeling a pulse of anticipation through our bond that tells me Owen is more excited about this than his casual tone suggests. "It will be interesting to observe how Kav'eth and Derek's bond has developed compared to ours, and to Zeph'hai and Jake's."
Owen rolls his eyes, but I can feel his amusement. "Only you would turn greeting friends into a scientific comparison of alien-human relationships."
"I can have multiple motivations," I counter, standing to join him. "Scientific curiosity and social connection are not mutually exclusive."
"Look at you," he says, his expression softening as he steps closer, eliminating the remaining space between us. "Three months ago you would have claimed the scientific curiosity was your only motivation."
He's right, of course. My integration with human emotional expression has advanced considerably, largely due to Owen's influence and our bond.
Where I once viewed emotions primarily as biochemical reactions to be controlled and contained, I now recognize their value in creating meaningful connections.
"I've had an effective teacher," I acknowledge, allowing my hands to rest on his waist—a casual intimacy that still sometimes surprises me with how natural it feels.
Through our bond, I feel a complex mixture of emotions from Owen—satisfaction, affection, and something deeper that continues to develop between us.
The bond itself has strengthened significantly since its initial formation, allowing for more nuanced emotional transfer and even occasional thought impressions when we're in close proximity.
"We should prepare to leave if we intend to meet their ship," I say, though I make no move to step away from him. "The Central Transport Hub is eleven minutes from our location on foot."
"Always so precise," Owen murmurs, leaning in to press his lips briefly against mine. The contact sends a cascade of bioluminescence across my skin, a reaction I've stopped trying to suppress around him. "One of these days I'll get you to just say 'about ten minutes' like a normal person."
"I am not a normal person," I remind him. "I am not a person at all by Earth standards."
"Technicality," he dismisses with a grin, finally stepping back to allow me to gather my things. "You're a person to me, blue skin, crazy math brain, and all."
I feel a surge of warmth at his words, my bioluminescence pulsing in patterns that I know he's learned to read as clearly as spoken language. The bond transmits his response—a bright flare of affection that makes me momentarily pause in collecting my data tablet.
As we prepare to leave our workspace, I take a moment to observe Owen moving comfortably through what was once solely my domain.
His presence here still seems improbable—a human who chose to leave his world to join me on mine, adapting to our gravity, our atmosphere, our social structures with remarkable resilience.
The integration program has been functioning for only a few months, with Jake Morrison being the first permanent human resident.
As both the initial liaison and a trained psychologist, Jake established the psychological support framework that has proven crucial for human adaptation.
Derek followed, bringing his nutritional expertise, and Owen joined most recently with his medical background.
The Council still views the program as experimental, despite its initial success.
The combination of psychological, nutritional, and medical support creates a comprehensive system for future human arrivals—though Owen tends to minimize his significant contributions to this framework, despite joining last.
"Thinking deep thoughts again?" Owen asks as we exit our research station, the door sealing automatically behind us.
"I was considering the improbability of our current situation," I admit, falling into step beside him as we make our way through the science district toward the transport hub.
"You mean how we went from 'alien abduction for compatibility assessment' to 'living together on your planet while I run medical evaluations for other humans'?" His hand finds mine as we walk, a public display of our bond that still occasionally draws curious glances from other Nereidans.
"Precisely," I agree, allowing my fingers to intertwine with his. "The statistical likelihood of such an outcome was vanishingly small."
"And yet here we are," Owen says, his tone carrying that mixture of amusement and affection I've come to treasure. "Defying your statistics."
The walkway opens onto a broader thoroughfare, revealing the sweeping architecture of the Central City.
Crystalline structures rise in mathematical precision, their surfaces reflecting and refracting light in patterns that serve both aesthetic and communicative functions.
Owen still sometimes stops to admire the view, though less frequently than during his first month here.
Today he keeps walking, his stride purposeful.
Through our bond, I sense his genuine excitement about seeing Kav'eth and Derek again after their diplomatic mission to the southern continent.
The small community of humans on Nereida has formed close connections, with Jake, Derek, and Owen supporting each other through the challenges of adaptation to a new world.
As we approach the transport hub, I find myself reflecting on how much has changed since Owen first arrived on my research vessel.
The nervous environmental researcher who abducted a human for compatibility assessment has been transformed—not just by the bond, but by the experience of allowing someone else to truly know me.
The most unexpected outcome has been how the bond has changed my relationship with my own emotions. Where I once saw them as distractions to be managed, I now understand them as essential connective threads—not just to Owen, but to my work, my world, and myself.
"You're glowing like crazy," Owen observes as we enter the transport hub. "Everything okay?"
I nod, knowing he can feel the truth of it through our bond. "Yes. I was simply reflecting on changes."
"Good changes?" he asks, though his smile suggests he already knows the answer.
"Optimal ones," I reply, using the precise language he often teases me about.
Owen laughs, the sound drawing glances from nearby Nereidans. Human laughter remains a novelty here—louder and more physically expressive than our own.
"Only you would describe falling in love as 'optimal changes,'" he says, his voice dropping to ensure only I hear the words.
The transport hub's central display indicates that the incoming vessel will dock in approximately seventeen minutes. As we make our way to the arrival platform, I consider Owen's casual use of the phrase "falling in love"—a human concept I've been studying since our bond formed.
Nereidans have our own terminology for deep connection, typically described in terms of resonance and harmony.
The bond itself is a biological and energetic synchronization, a measurable phenomenon with defined parameters.
But I've found that the human concept of love, with all its imprecision and emotional complexity, adds something valuable to my understanding of what exists between us.
"What are you thinking about now?" Owen asks as we take our places on the arrival platform. "You've got that intense concentration look."
"I was analyzing the semantic and experiential differences between Nereidan concepts of connection and the human concept of love," I answer honestly.
His surprise ripples through our bond, followed by a wave of warmth that makes my skin glow brighter in response.
"And?" he prompts, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability that wasn't there a moment ago.
"I believe they are complementary rather than contradictory concepts," I tell him, choosing my words with care. "The bond provides a quantifiable foundation for what humans describe more qualitatively as love."
Owen's eyes hold mine, the bond transmitting a complex array of emotions—hope, affection, and a touch of uncertainty. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"
"If you think I'm saying that I love you," I reply, "then yes, though I find the human terminology somewhat imprecise."
His laugh is soft, intimate. "Only you would qualify saying 'I love you' with a complaint about linguistic precision."
"It wasn't a complaint," I correct him. "Merely an observation."
"Well, observe this," he says, leaning in to kiss me briefly, heedless of the public setting. "I love you too, even with all your precise measurements and scientific qualifications."
The announcement system chimes, indicating the approaching vessel has entered final docking procedures. Around us, the arrival platform begins to fill with other Nereidans—some here for official duties, others awaiting incoming travelers.
As we stand side by side, waiting for the ship carrying Derek and my eldest brother Kav'eth, I feel a profound sense of rightness that defies scientific quantification.
The bond pulses between us, strong and steadily growing stronger.
My work continues with renewed purpose. And my world, once familiar to the point of predictability, has been transformed by the presence of one stubborn, fascinating human who has become as essential to me as the patterns of light beneath my skin.
The ship appears on the horizon, growing larger as it approaches the docking bay.
I spot Jake and my brother Zeph'hai already waiting at the other end of the platform, their contrasting heights making them easy to identify even at a distance.
Owen's hand finds mine again, squeezing gently in anticipation.
I return the pressure, my bioluminescence syncing unconsciously with his heartbeat—visible evidence of an invisible connection.
"Ready to play tour guides?" Owen asks, his excitement infectious.
"I believe we are adequately prepared," I reply, earning another of his smiles.
Together, we watch the ship's approach, standing at the intersection of two worlds that no longer seem quite so separate.
The future stretches before us, full of statistical improbabilities and unexpected discoveries.
And for perhaps the first time in my life, I find myself entirely comfortable with that uncertainty.
The End