Page 12 of Technically Abducted (Nereidan Compatibility Program #4)

"I find it fascinating." I turn back to the display, watching the data flows. "The way it balances competing priorities, adjusts for unexpected variables—it's like watching an organic mind work, but with perfect precision."

"This is not how I expected you to respond to systematic optimization."

"Why? Because I prefer intuitive approaches?" I glance at him. "That doesn't mean I can't appreciate elegant engineering when I see it."

Tev'ra is studying me with that same expression I've seen before—like he's trying to solve a puzzle. "Your chaotic methods and our systematic approaches should be incompatible."

"Should be," I agree. "But look at this diagnostic we just ran. Your systematic approach identified the problem parameters, my intuitive approach provided the solution path. The system adapted to incorporate both methodologies."

"That is..." He pauses, watching the display. "That is not how the protocols predicted human integration would function."

"Maybe that's because the protocols didn't account for actual collaboration." I lean back in the impossible chair. "Your system didn't just tolerate my approach—it learned from it. Incorporated it."

Tev'ra's bioluminescence shifts again, more complex patterns flowing across his skin. "The implications for technological integration..."

"Would be significant," I finish. "If humans and Nereidans worked together, instead of just one side adapting to the other."

He turns to look at me fully, his golden eyes intense. "You would be willing to collaborate on technological development?"

The question catches me off guard. Not just the content, but the way he asks it—personal rather than clinical, like the answer matters to him beyond the assessment parameters.

"I..." I hesitate. The systems are impressive, sure, but I'm not about to sign up for some long-term alien internship. "I mean, it's fascinating technology. But I've got responsibilities on Earth."

His skin dims slightly. "Of course. Your clients."

"It's not just that." I lean back, putting some distance between us. "This is all theoretical anyway, right? It's not like I could take any of this back with me. Your people aren't exactly sharing advanced AI with humans."

"No," Tev'ra admits quietly. "That would not be... permitted."

"So we're talking about me leaving my life behind to work on alien tech that I could never use to help the people I actually care about." I shake my head. "That doesn't sound like collaboration. That sounds like brain drain."

Tev'ra's bioluminescence shifts to more muted patterns. "The assessment parameters did not anticipate this level of... technological disparity concern."

"Of course they didn't." I stand up, suddenly restless. "Look, your stuff is impressive. Really impressive. But I'm not some desperate tech guy looking to abandon his life for the chance to play with alien toys."

The silence stretches between us, awkward and heavy. Tev'ra's bioluminescence has dimmed to barely visible patterns, and I realize I might have been harsher than necessary. The guy's just doing his job.

I run a hand through my hair. "Sorry. That came out more hostile than I meant it."

"Your position is... understandable," Tev'ra says quietly. "The program structure does create certain... imbalances."

Something in his tone makes me look at him more closely. For the first time since I've met him, he looks uncertain. Almost vulnerable.

"The swimming lessons," I say suddenly, changing the subject. "Are they part of standard Nereidan protocol education, or..."

"No," Tev'ra admits, his skin brightening. "That was a personal initiative."

"Personal initiative." I can't help smiling. "Very un-protocol of you, Blue."

"Yes," he says, and there's something that might be satisfaction in his voice. "Perhaps collaboration requires some deviation from standard approaches."

We sit in the assessment room, the tension from earlier dissolved into something closer to partnership.

"So," I say as we reach the door, "about those swimming lessons."

Tev'ra stops, his skin brightening. "You are interested in aquatic instruction?"

"I'm interested in not drowning if I end up spending more time on your ship," I say, which is mostly true. "Plus, you did say it was a basic survival skill."

"I did say that, yes." He looks serious as he nods. "The instruction would need to be... gradual. Humans have different physiological requirements for aquatic environments."

"I'm a quick learner."

"Yes," Tev'ra says, and his glow shifts to that golden-edged pattern again. "I have observed that you are."

Sitting there in the assessment room, looking at this alien who's somehow become less alien over the past few hours, I realize something has fundamentally changed. I'm still not thrilled about being here, still worried about my clients, still frustrated by the whole situation.

But I'm also curious. About the assessment, about Nereidan technology, about what other problems we might solve together.

And maybe, just maybe, about what it would feel like to trust someone enough to let them teach me something I've always been afraid to learn.

"When do we start?" I ask.

Tev'ra's smile is barely visible, but it's there.

"Whenever you are ready," he says.