Page 2 of Technically Abducted (Nereidan Compatibility Program #4)
Tev'ra
I have never requested an emergency Council session before.
I have never had a reason to request an emergency Council session before.
The human is contained in temporary quarters—not secured, simply.
.. placed there while I determine how to proceed.
He made no attempt to escape, which somehow makes this situation worse.
He simply walked into the room, sat on the sleeping platform, and folded his arms in what I can only interpret as preparation for an extended period of non-cooperation.
I pace the length of the communication chamber, my bioluminescence flickering with anxiety patterns I haven't experienced since my final assessment at the Academy.
The reflection of blue-green light pulses against the metallic walls, a visual manifestation of my internal disarray.
This was supposed to be straightforward—a career-advancing assignment, not a potential diplomatic crisis.
The mission brief had been clear: acquire a human systems specialist, assess their technical capabilities, and evaluate compatibility for the broader integration program.
Simple. Methodical. The subject profile had indicated Finn Sullivan was an ideal candidate—isolated, professionally focused, with minimal social attachments that might complicate extraction.
The probability models projected a 94.7% chance of successful assessment completion.
None of the simulations had accounted for a human who would simply refuse to participate.
I adjust the environmental controls with a gesture, lowering the chamber temperature by two degrees to help regulate my rising stress response.
My gills flutter slightly at the base of my neck, a physiological reminder that I need to maintain composure.
Council members are particularly sensitive to displays of emotional instability.
The communication array flickers to life, and within moments, the holographic projections of the seven Council members materialize around me.
Elder Va'ril appears first, her silver-blue skin catching the light in patterns that suggest mild irritation at being summoned at this hour.
Her age is evident in the deeper azure tones that edge her features, the result of centuries of bioluminescent activity leaving permanent traces in the epidermis.
"Researcher Tev'ra," she begins, her voice carrying the formal weight that means this conversation will be documented. "You have requested emergency consultation regarding your current assessment assignment. State the nature of the difficulty."
I straighten, adopting the posture required for formal address, shoulders aligned, head tilted at precisely the angle that conveys both respect and professional confidence.
The neural implant at the base of my skull activates automatically, sensing the formal proceedings and establishing the subvocal connection that will record my statements for the official archive.
"Esteemed Council members, I am experiencing... unprecedented resistance from the human subject."
Councilor Kav'eth's projection solidifies, and I see his golden eyes narrow slightly.
He has recent experience with human assessments—successful experience—which makes my current situation even more problematic.
His bioluminescence patterns are controlled, revealing nothing of his thoughts, a skill that comes with both rank and experience.
I find myself envying that control as I feel my own skin betraying my anxiety.
"Define 'resistance,'" Kav'eth says, and there's something in his tone that suggests he suspects what I'm about to report.
"The human subject has refused to participate in any assessment protocols," I state as formally as possible. "He has demanded immediate return to his home planet and threatened complete non-cooperation for the duration of the assessment period if this demand is not met."
The silence that follows is... significant. I can see subtle shifts in the bioluminescence patterns of all seven Council members—ripples of blue-white concern, flashes of yellow surprise, and in Kav'eth's case, a momentary pulse of deep indigo that might indicate disappointment.
"Clarification required," says Councilor Eth'nor, the cultural anthropology specialist. His lean frame seems to tilt forward in his projection, deep curiosity evident in the intensity of his gaze. "When you say 'refused,' do you mean the subject requires additional persuasion, or—"
"I mean absolute refusal," I interrupt, immediately regretting the breach of protocol.
My gills flutter again, a stress response I struggle to suppress.
"The subject stated, and I quote: 'Either you send me back to my apartment where I can do my actual job, or I'm going to sit in whatever room you put me in and do absolutely nothing for the next three days. '"
Elder Va'ril's bioluminescence flickers in what I recognize as deep concern, a wavelength pattern that ripples from her core outward. "Has the subject exhibited signs of psychological distress that might impair his judgment?"
"No, Elder. His reasoning appears entirely logical from his perspective.
" I bring up the initial assessment data on my neural interface, the information flowing through my consciousness before I verbalize the conclusions.
"The abduction interrupted critical work that affects multiple other humans' livelihoods.
He views our assessment as secondary to his professional responsibilities. "
"Professional responsibilities," Kav'eth repeats slowly. "To other humans."
"Correct. The subject appears to maintain several simultaneous client relationships requiring immediate technical support.
" I hesitate, then add what seems most relevant, though outside standard reporting parameters.
"He expressed significant distress about abandoning these obligations.
His primary concern was not for his own comfort or safety, but for the impact his absence would have on others. "
I pull up the detailed scan of the human's brain activity during our initial confrontation, projecting it into the shared visual field. The neural pathways associated with obligation, responsibility, and distress are clearly highlighted, pulsing with activity.
"As you can see, the anxiety response is linked directly to his concern for these other humans, not to fear of our procedures or presence."
Councilor Lyr'tha, the medical specialist, leans forward in her projection.
Her scales shimmer with the iridescent quality that comes from extensive time in deep-water research.
"Tev'ra, in your assessment of the subject's psychological state, is this refusal motivated by fear, anger, or genuine ethical concerns? "
I consider this carefully, replaying the confrontation in my mind.
The human's posture, vocal patterns, and neurological readings flash through my awareness.
"A combination of anger and ethical concerns, I believe.
The subject demonstrated technical competence and emotional investment in his work.
He appears to view our actions as deliberately harmful to beings under his protection. "
The memory of his expression when he mentioned someone named Rosa haunts me—the way his voice changed, the subtle alterations in his posture.
It was not merely professional concern, but something deeper.
Something I hadn't expected to find in a subject specifically selected for minimal attachment patterns.
The Council members exchange glances—or rather, their projections simulate the appearance of exchanged glances. The subtle harmonic vibrations in the communication field suggest they are engaging in private neural exchanges, assessing information outside my access level.
"Researcher Tev'ra," Elder Va'ril says finally, her tone measured, "in the entirety of the Compatibility Program's implementation across seventeen different species, we have never encountered absolute refusal to participate.
Subjects have required adjustment periods, cultural explanations, even emotional support, but none have simply. .. declined."
"The human's exact words were 'watch me,'" I report, feeling my own bioluminescence dim with embarrassment. The blue glow of my skin recedes to barely more than a shimmer, a physiological reaction I cannot control despite my best efforts.
Another silence. I feel the weight of seven evaluative gazes, calculating probabilities, measuring my worth as a researcher against the unexpected data point I've introduced.
"Researcher Tev'ra," Kav'eth says, addressing me directly, "you understand the significance of this assignment. Human technical innovation represents a critical area of study for our people's integration efforts. The Council has invested considerable resources in this assessment."
"I understand, Councilor." My voice remains steady despite the tremor I feel in my bioluminescent patterns.
The historical weight of this moment is not lost on me—our people have been watching Earth for generations, carefully evaluating compatibility for potential integration.
The Nereidan population crisis has reached critical levels; without external genetic diversity and cultural innovation, our civilization faces decline within three generations.
"Do you?" His projection shifts slightly, and I can see the intensity in his golden eyes. "Because if this assessment fails due to subject non-cooperation, it reflects not only on the program's methodology but on your competence as a researcher."