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

Finn

Tev'ra finds me in the temporary quarters where I've been sitting for the past hour, staring at the wall and trying not to think about how many emergency calls I'm probably missing.

"Finn Sullivan," he says, and there's something different in his voice. Less formal, more... nervous? "The Council has reached a decision regarding your demands."

I look up at him. "And?"

"You will be returned to your residence for a period of twelve hours. I will accompany you to conduct observational research of your... natural working methodologies."

For a second, I just stare at him. "You're serious? They're actually letting you do this?"

"The authorization comes with strict conditions," he continues, his formal tone back in place. "You must return with me to this vessel after no more than twelve hours. The assessment will then continue under standard protocols."

"And if I refuse to come back?"

Something flickers across his expression—too quick to interpret. "That would be... inadvisable."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you agreed to demonstrate human innovation techniques. I expect you to honor that agreement."

I lean back against the wall. "So this is still your assessment. You're just changing the location."

"Correct. I will observe and document your methods, but I cannot restrict your activities or communications during this period." He pauses, then adds, "You will have access to your normal environment and tools."

"Unsupervised?"

"You will not attempt to flee or contact authorities regarding Nereidan presence on your planet."

"I'm not going to call the cops on you, if that's what you're worried about." I stand up, stretching. "I've got bigger problems than explaining aliens to people who wouldn't believe me anyway."

Tev'ra nods stiffly. "Transportation will commence immediately."

"Good." I head toward where I think the door should be. "Because every minute we waste talking is another minute Rosa's restaurant system stays broken."

The blue light starts, swallowing everything around us.

It's different this time—not the disorienting shock of being yanked out of reality, but something I'm bracing for.

The weightless sensation still makes my stomach lurch, like the world's most intense elevator drop, and for a split second, I wonder if this is all some elaborate hallucination—if I'm going to wake up face-down on my keyboard with an empty Red Bull can imprinted on my cheek.

But then the blue light fades, and I'm back in my apartment.

The familiar hum of computer fans, the slight flicker of my second monitor that I keep meaning to fix, the faint smell of three-day-old pizza—it's all exactly as I left it, like I stepped out for less than a minute instead of being abducted by aliens.

For a second, I just stand there, breathing in the familiar smell of old pizza and electronic equipment.

My monitors are still on, screaming error messages at me from three different client emergencies.

My phone has seventeen missed calls and God knows how many texts.

The Red Bull I was drinking is still sitting next to my keyboard, probably flat by now.

It's been exactly forty-three minutes since I was abducted. Forty-three minutes of other people's businesses slowly dying while I was arguing with aliens.

"Holy shit," I breathe, then immediately grab my phone.

The weight of it in my hand feels almost surreal after the smooth, unfamiliar surfaces of the alien ship.

My fingers automatically enter my passcode, muscle memory taking over as I scan through the notifications flooding my screen.

Each one represents someone whose life is falling apart in real-time, all because I wasn't here to answer their calls.

Six missed calls from Rosa. Four from Juniper. Three from numbers I don't recognize, which probably means word is spreading that systems are down and nobody can reach their tech guy.

I can feel Tev'ra behind me, but I don't have time to deal with his culture shock right now. I drop into my chair and my fingers are flying across the keyboard before my brain fully catches up.

"Okay, okay, what's the damage?" I mutter, pulling up Rosa's restaurant system first. The corruption is worse now—it's been trying to process orders with a broken database for almost an hour. "Shit. Shit shit shit."

My phone rings. Rosa.

"Finn! Oh thank God, where have you been? I just got to the restaurant to start prep and nothing is working! The system won't even boot up properly, and I open in six hours—"

"I'm on it," I interrupt, already diving into the code. "Don't panic. I can see the problem from here."

The fix is straightforward but delicate—I need to restore the database without losing any of the orders that came in while it was corrupted. My fingers move automatically, muscle memory taking over while my brain calculates the repair sequence.

Behind me, I hear Tev'ra make a small sound.

Probably horrified by my setup. Can't blame him—compared to his sterile spaceship, my apartment looks like a tech graveyard.

Cables snaking everywhere, empty energy drink cans serving as paperweights, pizza boxes stacked on every available surface.

Three monitors showing different client systems, a fourth with my music playing, LED strips casting blue light over everything.

I catch Tev'ra's reflection in one of my monitors, his tall blue form standing awkwardly in the middle of my living room, trying not to touch anything.

His pristine uniform looks absurdly out of place among the organized chaos of my apartment.

He's holding his hands close to his body, like he's afraid he'll contaminate himself if he makes contact with any surface.

But it works. This chaos works.

"There," I say, hitting enter on the final command. "Rosa, try logging into the system now."

"It's working!" Her voice is almost crying with relief. "Oh Finn, you saved me. If this wasn't fixed before opening... How much do I owe you for the emergency call?"

"Don't worry about it right now, we'll talk details later." I hang up and immediately dial Juniper.

She answers on the first ring. "Finn? Is that you? I've been calling—"

"I know, I'm sorry. Emergency came up. Give me your admin login again and I'll have your flash sale running in ten minutes."

While she explains what she's seeing on her end, I glance back at Tev'ra for the first time. He's standing near my door like he's afraid to touch anything, his golden eyes wide as he takes in my apartment. His perfect posture and glowing skin look completely out of place against my lived-in mess.

"This is your... workspace?" he asks, his voice carefully controlled.

"This is my life," I reply, pulling up Juniper's site. "Welcome to human innovation in action."

The database fix is even simpler than Rosa's—just a server timeout that reset the connection parameters. I have it running in five minutes.

"Juniper, you're live. Flash sale should be processing orders now."

"You're amazing! Thank you so much. I'll send payment right away."

Two down, one to go. I check the third number that called—a new client, probably referred by someone else. I'll call them back once I make sure my existing systems are stable.

Only then do I let myself really look at Tev'ra.

He's examining my setup like it might be contaminated. His gaze keeps moving from the tangled cables to the empty food containers to the complete lack of any personal decorations. No photos, no artwork, nothing that says "Finn Sullivan lives here" beyond the technology.

Because that's all there is. The tech is my life.

"You work from this... environment?" he asks, and there's something like horror in his voice.

"This environment is optimized for my workflow," I say, settling back in my chair. "Everything I need is within arm's reach. Multiple systems running simultaneously, redundant connections, backup power supplies. It's actually a pretty sophisticated setup."

"It appears..." he pauses, clearly struggling to find diplomatic words. "Chaotic."

"Controlled chaos," I correct. "There's a difference.

On your ship, everything is so clean and perfect that there's no room for anything unexpected.

Here, I can adapt on the fly. See that cable running along the wall?

That's a backup ethernet connection in case my wireless goes down.

Those pizza boxes? They're protecting my spare drives from dust while keeping them accessible.

Every piece of apparent mess serves a function. "

Tev'ra's skin shifts to a different color pattern as he processes this. "You have designed inefficiency to create... efficiency?"

"I've designed flexibility to create resilience," I say. "Your systems work perfectly until they don't. Mine work imperfectly all the time, so when something breaks, I'm already adapted to work around it."

I gesture to a tangle of wires running from my UPS battery backup to various essential equipment.

"See this mess? If the power goes out, I've got the most critical systems backed up for four hours.

That rat's nest of adapters by the wall?

That's so I can hook up any client's legacy hardware without having to order special parts.

And that?" I point to what looks like a random pile of circuit boards and components on a side table.

"That's my parts bin. I can Frankenstein a solution out of that pile faster than most people can submit a help desk ticket. "

Tev'ra approaches the table cautiously, studying the jumble of electronics with evident fascination. His fingers hover over the components without touching them, like he's cataloging each item in his mind.

"There appears to be no organizational system," he observes.

I laugh. "Oh, there is. It's just organized according to how often I need each part, not by some arbitrary classification system. The stuff I grab most often is on top."

My phone rings again. Unknown number.

"Sullivan."