Page 36 of Technically Abducted (Nereidan Compatibility Program #4)

Tev'ra

The emergency summons arrives while I'm watching the twin suns set over Sil'than's crystal waters, painting the sky in shades that remind me painfully of the Chicago starlight Finn preferred over my own homeworld's constellations.

At first, I consider ignoring it entirely.

What could the Council possibly need that justifies interrupting my pathetic attempt at recuperation?

I have submitted my assessment report, completed the required documentation, and followed all protocols precisely.

My next assignment doesn't begin for another cycle, leaving me free to continue wallowing in my beautiful, useless solitude.

But the message header stops me cold: URGENT: Council Directive RE: Empathic Bond Disclosure - Assessment Subject Finn Sullivan - Immediate Response Required

My bioluminescence flares so bright it could probably be seen from orbit. Empathic bond disclosure. They know. Somehow, impossibly, the Council has discovered what I've been omitting.

Panic floods my system as I activate the communication link, expecting to face formal charges for protocol violations, for allowing personal attachment to compromise professional objectivity, for the dozens of ways I've failed to maintain appropriate boundaries during the assessment period.

"Council session initiated," Elder Va'ril's voice is stern, carrying none of the warmth I remember from previous interactions. "Researcher Tev'ra, you are required to appear before the full Council immediately for questioning regarding security breaches and undisclosed empathic bonding protocols."

Security breaches. My panic intensifies. "Elder Va'ril, I can explain—"

"Explanation will be provided during formal session. Transport authorization has been granted. You have thirty minutes to reach the Council chambers."

The connection terminates, leaving me staring at the empty communication display while my mind races through worst-case scenarios. How did they discover the bond? Have they somehow contacted Finn? Is he in danger because of my failure to report our connection?

I pack with mechanical efficiency, my bioluminescence dim with dread. Whatever consequences await me, at least Finn is safely on Earth, protected by distance from whatever fallout my concealment has created.

The transport to the Council chambers passes in a blur of anxiety and self-recrimination. I should have reported the bond immediately upon recognition. I should have prioritized Council protocols over personal attachment.

But as I approach the Council chambers, I'm struck by an unexpected observation: there are more life signs present than a standard session would require. The biosignatures register multiple species—not just Nereidan Council members, but others.

Which makes no sense for a disciplinary hearing.

The chamber doors open to reveal the seven Council members seated in their traditional configuration, but what stops me mid-step are the three humans standing beside their Nereidan partners in the observation area.

Humans. Three of them. Here, in the Council chambers, looking comfortable and unrestrained and completely at ease in a way that defies every assumption I've made about human-Nereidan interactions.

"Researcher Tev'ra," Elder Va'ril's voice cuts through my shock. "Please approach the center platform."

I move forward mechanically, unable to process what I'm seeing.

One of the humans—dark-haired, average height, wearing what appears to be standard Nereidan civilian clothing—is standing beside Zeph'hai with an easy familiarity that suggests long association.

Another, taller and more muscular, stands near Kav'eth with similar comfort.

The third, sharp-featured with an intense expression, is positioned beside Ry'eth.

I've known the brothers for decades, though we were never close.

"Council members," I manage, forcing myself to focus on the official proceedings rather than the impossible presence of humans in the chamber. "I understand there are questions regarding my recent assessment activities."

"Indeed," Elder Va'ril says, their tone unreadable. "We have received concerning communications from your assessment subject, Finn Sullivan, along with disturbing allegations about unauthorized contact protocols."

My bioluminescence flickers with confusion. "Communications from Finn? I don't understand. Assessment subjects are returned to their point of origin. They have no means of contacting Council operations."

"Under normal circumstances, that would be correct," Councilor Myr'esh interjects. "However, your assessment subject has proven... resourceful. Along with another human who claims to have been abducted without authorization ten years ago."

Another human. Ten years ago. My mind races through possibilities while my gaze keeps drifting to the three humans observing the proceedings with obvious investment in the outcome.

"I'm afraid I don't understand the relevance of these other incidents," I say carefully. "My assessment of Finn Sullivan followed all established protocols. He was returned to Earth with standard compensation after the seventy-two hour evaluation period."

"Yes," Elder Va'ril says slowly. "That is precisely the issue we need to address."

One of the humans—the one standing beside Zeph'hai—steps forward. "Sorry, but can I say something here? Because I think there's been a massive misunderstanding."

The casual way he addresses the Council, the comfortable informality of his posture, the fact that no one seems surprised by his interruption—it's all completely contrary to everything I understand about human-Nereidan interactions.

"Jake Morrison," Elder Va'ril says with what sounds almost like fondness. "Please, share your perspective."

"I'm Jake," the human continues. "And I've been living here with Zeph for over a year now, ever since my assessment period. Just like Derek here—" he gestures to the muscular human "—has been with Kav'eth, and Owen's been with Ry'eth."

The words are hard to hear, and harder yet to understand. Living here. Over a year. Assessment period leading to permanent residence.

"I'm sorry," I interrupt, my voice sounding strange and distant. "Did you say living here? Permanently?"

The three humans exchange glances, and I see something like sympathy in their expressions.

"That's the whole point of the integration program," Derek says gently. "Successful assessments result in the option for permanent relocation. We all chose to stay."

"Chose to stay," I repeat, the words feeling foreign in my mouth.

"Standard procedure for all confirmed compatible partnerships," Councilor Lyr'tha explains. "Upon completion of assessment periods, humans who have formed successful bonds with Nereidan researchers are offered full integration into our society."

My legs feel unstable. "Standard procedure?"

"Tev'ra," Elder Va'ril's voice is surprisingly gentle. "Are you telling us you were unaware that integration options existed for your assessment subject?"

"I..." I struggle to form coherent thoughts. "I followed protocols. Seventy-two hour assessment, return subject to point of origin with compensation, submit evaluation report."

"But you formed an empathic bond," Owen observes, his tone matter-of-fact. "We can all see it. Your bioluminescence has been dim since we arrived, you look like you haven't been functioning properly for weeks, and the way you're reacting to seeing us here... you're bonded to Finn, aren't you?"

The direct question from a human—a human who somehow understands Nereidan empathic responses well enough to read my condition accurately—leaves me speechless.

"The bond is irrelevant," I say finally. "Finn was required to return to his life on Earth."

"Required by whom?" Zeph'hai asks, and there's something sharp in his tone.

"By... by protocol. By assessment procedures."

"Tev'ra," Councilor Eth'nor leans forward, their expression serious. "Did you request an integration assessment for your human subject?"

"Request what?"

The silence that follows is deafening. I can see understanding dawning in the faces around me—Council members exchanging glances, the three humans looking at me with expressions of growing horror.

"Oh no," Jake breathes. "Oh, Tev'ra, no. You didn't know."

"Know what?" My voice comes out sharper than intended.

"That you could ask for him to stay," Derek says quietly. "That bonded pairs don't get separated unless the human chooses to leave."

"That the whole point of this program is finding humans who want to build lives here with us," Owen adds.

I stare at them, my bioluminescence stuttering with system overload as the implications crash over me. "Are you telling me that Finn could have remained here? That I could have requested..."

"Standard Integration Protocol Seven," Elder Va'ril says formally. "Any researcher who forms an empathic bond during assessment procedures may request evaluation for permanent subject integration. The success rate for such requests is ninety-seven percent."

"Ninety-seven percent," I repeat numbly.

"The only reason it's not one hundred percent is because sometimes the humans choose to return to Earth anyway," Jake explains. "But if they want to stay, and the bond is genuine..." He shrugs. "Of course they're allowed to stay. Why wouldn't they be?"

The chamber seems to tilt around me. I reach out blindly for the nearest support surface, my legs no longer reliable as the full magnitude of my error becomes clear.

"I sent him away," I whisper. "I sent him away for nothing."

"You sent him away because you didn't know you had a choice," Kav'eth says, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "The fault lies with inadequate briefing protocols, not with your actions."

"Does he know?" Owen asks suddenly. "Does Finn know that other humans have stayed?"

"No," I manage. "He believes all assessment subjects are returned to Earth. He has no awareness that integration is even possible."

"Well, that explains the security breach," Derek mutters. "He's probably pissed and missing you."

"Security breach?" I look around the chamber, noting again the emergency status indicators, the formal composition of the Council session.

"Your Finn and his friend have been quite.

.. emphatic in their demands for answers," Elder Va'ril explains with what might be amusement.

"They've managed to spread a message across significant portions of Earth's digital infrastructure claiming knowledge of our programs and specifically naming you as the researcher involved in his assessment. "

"They mentioned the empathic bond specifically," Councilor Myr'esh adds. "Along with allegations about unauthorized contact with a minor ten years ago. Very detailed information for humans who should have no knowledge of our operational procedures."

I close my eyes, feeling the weight of catastrophic failure settling over me. "He's trying to get your attention."

"Successfully," Elder Va'ril confirms. "Which brings us to the immediate issue: we have a bonded pair separated by ignorance rather than choice, a security situation that requires resolution, and a human who has demonstrated remarkable innovation in forcing contact with our operations."

"What do you recommend?" I ask, though part of me already knows the answer.

"Emergency integration protocol," Jake says immediately. "Bring them both back, explain the situation, offer them what should have been offered weeks ago."

"Both?" I question.

"Finn and his friend Alex," Owen clarifies. "From what we can gather, Alex was the minor who was taken years ago. Another situation that needs resolution."

The hope that flickers in my chest is almost painful after weeks of resigned acceptance. "You would authorize retrieval?"

"Tev'ra," Elder Va'ril says firmly, "you are bonded to that human. Keeping you separated serves no purpose beyond causing unnecessary suffering to both parties. Of course we're authorizing retrieval."

"Immediately," Councilor Lyr'tha adds. "This situation has gone on far too long already."

I stare at the Council members, then at the three humans who are living proof that everything I believed about assessment outcomes was wrong. The possibility that Finn might return, that our separation was never necessary, that the empathic void I've been enduring could actually be healed...

"Thank you," I say, my voice breaking with emotion I can no longer suppress. "Thank you."

Jake steps forward and, to my complete shock, places a hand on my shoulder in a gesture of comfort that would have been unthinkable weeks ago.

"Welcome to the family," he says with a grin. "Though next time, maybe ask about your options before sending someone away, yeah?"

Despite everything, I find myself almost smiling. "I will remember that for future assessments."

"Future assessments?" Derek laughs. "Buddy, once you're bonded, your assessment days are over. You're moving into the domestic partnership track now."

Domestic partnership. The phrase sends warmth through my bioluminescence for the first time in weeks.

"Transport authorization is already being prepared," Elder Va'ril announces. "You'll depart for Earth within the hour to retrieve both humans and provide proper explanation of integration procedures."

An hour. In one hour, I might see Finn again. Might have the opportunity to explain that our separation was never necessary, that the connection we formed can be permanent rather than a painful memory.

"One more thing," Owen says, his expression serious.

"When you see them, you need to understand that they've been fighting for answers.

They've risked everything to get your attention.

That kind of loyalty, that determination to fight for what they want.

.. that's exactly what makes humans perfect partners for you all. We don't stop and we don't back down."

I nod, understanding flooding through me along with profound gratitude for the humans who have taken the time to help me comprehend what I nearly lost through ignorance.

"I won't fail him again," I promise.

"Good," Jake says, his expression growing serious. "Because any human brave enough to hack their way into forcing contact with an alien species deserves someone who'll fight just as hard for them."

As the Council session concludes and transport preparations begin, I feel something I haven't experienced since Finn's departure: hope. Not just for reunion, but for the possibility of building something permanent with someone who chose to fight for answers rather than accept dismissal.

In one hour, I'll discover if the human who called me Blue still wants to see the stars.