Page 43 of Technically Abducted (Nereidan Compatibility Program #4)

Tev'ra

Finn sleeps peacefully beside me, his breathing deep and even.

The hydration pool session left him exhausted—the combination of physical exertion, emotional intensity, and the lingering effects of transit between worlds taking their toll on his human physiology.

I watch the gentle rise and fall of his chest, still unable to fully believe that he's here—in my home, on my world, permanently.

His face in sleep is softer, unguarded in a way he rarely allows when conscious.

The careful defenses he maintains, born from years of self-protection, fall away completely.

I trace the contours of his features with my gaze, memorizing details I never thought I'd see again after our separation.

The faint freckles across his nose, the slight curve at the corner of his mouth, the way his eyelashes rest against his cheeks—each small perfection a miracle I nearly lost through ignorance.

The exhaustion is understandable. In the span of mere hours, Finn has traveled between worlds, confronted his water anxiety in my personal hydration chamber, and begun the monumental task of adjusting to a completely alien environment.

That he's managing at all is testament to his remarkable resilience—a quality I've admired since our first assessment interactions.

Below us, in the underwater chamber, Alex has also succumbed to rest. The dwelling's monitoring systems confirm he settled into sleep cycles approximately twenty minutes ago, after spending considerable time observing the marine life through the transparent walls.

His adaptation appears to be proceeding with surprising ease, though I suspect the full emotional impact of being on an alien world—particularly one associated with a childhood experience he long believed was hallucination—has yet to fully manifest.

My communication device chimes softly—the fourteenth attempt from my creator-parents since our return.

I've been avoiding this conversation, using the immediate demands of arrival and settlement as a convenient excuse.

But now, with both humans resting and no urgent tasks requiring attention, I have no logical reason to delay further.

I carefully extricate myself from Finn's side, pausing when he stirs slightly at the loss of contact.

Through our empathic bond, I sense his momentary disorientation followed by the warm pulse of contentment as he settles back into deeper sleep.

I pull a thermal covering over his form, ensuring his comfort before I move away.

I step from the sleeping chamber into the communal area, where I won't disturb his rest. The early evening light streams through the transparent walls, casting golden patterns across the dwelling's interior.

Outside, the twin suns are beginning their descent toward the horizon, their combined light turning the water into shifting planes of amber and violet.

The integration process will begin officially tomorrow—Council representatives will arrive to conduct preliminary assessments, establish Finn and Alex's legal status, and initiate cultural adaptation protocols.

Tonight is a brief respite, a moment of private adjustment before the formal procedures begin.

All the more reason to address my creator-parents' concerns now, while we have this window of relative calm.

I activate the communication interface, and the familiar holographic projection of my creator-parents' dwelling materializes in the center of the room. They appear immediately, as if they've been waiting beside the receiver. Perhaps they have been.

"Offspring!" Creator-parent Vel'tha exclaims, his bioluminescence flaring with relief. "We were beginning to consider filing a formal inquiry with the Council regarding your status."

"Fourteen communication attempts without response exceeds all previous patterns," Creator-parent Mor'en adds, his patterns displaying concern beneath his more controlled exterior. "Especially considering the Council emergency notification regarding your sudden transport authorization to Earth."

"I apologize for the delay," I tell them, settling into the conversation alcove. "Events have unfolded rapidly, and I needed to ensure my... guests were properly settled."

They exchange a look of immediate understanding, their patterns brightening with excitement. "You have retrieved Finn then? He's there with you now?" Vel'tha asks eagerly, leaning closer to the projection field.

"Yes," I confirm, unable to prevent my bioluminescence from brightening at the mere thought of him. "He's resting now - the transit was exhausting for him. His friend Alex is also here, under separate circumstances."

"Oh, offspring!" Mor'en's patterns shift to pure joy. "We are so pleased! After everything that happened, after that terrible separation... to have him back with you where he belongs. This is wonderful news!"

"The empathic bond survived the separation then?" Vel'tha asks, though his tone suggests he already knows the answer. "We were so concerned when we learned you'd been forced apart."

"It survived," I confirm. "Muted and painful, but intact. The reconnection was... intense."

"I imagine so," Vel'tha says gently. "And his friend? This is the Alex he spoke of during our conversations?"

"Yes. Alex was instrumental in helping Finn establish contact with the Council. He also has his own connection to us- an unauthorized childhood encounter that requires investigation."

My creator-parents exchange another meaningful look, this one tinged with concern. "Unauthorized contact with a human child? That is deeply troubling."

"The Council is investigating," I assure them. "Alex seems to be adapting well so far. He's resting in the underwater chamber."

"Two humans in your dwelling," Mor'en observes, his patterns showing amusement. "You never do things simply, offspring."

I'm about to respond when I sense Finn's approach before I hear him—the empathic connection growing stronger as he moves through the dwelling. The light pulse of his consciousness seeking mine, still hazy with sleep but drawn toward our connection with instinctive certainty.

I turn slightly as he appears in the doorway, his hair tousled from sleep, wearing nothing but the loose sleep garment I provided earlier. Even in this disheveled state, the sight of him creates an immediate brightening of my bioluminescence that I couldn't suppress if I tried.

"Hey," he says softly, his voice still rough from sleep, blinking in the glow of the holographic projection. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt."

Through our bond, I can feel his momentary self-consciousness—aware of his disheveled appearance in front of my parents again, though this time mixed with genuine warmth at seeing them.

"Finn!" Vel'tha exclaims before I can respond, their bioluminescence flaring with delight. "Dear one, how wonderful to see you again!"

"You are not interrupting at all," Mor'en adds warmly. "Come, join us. We have been so worried about you both."

Finn's face softens at their obvious pleasure in seeing him, and he moves to join me in the conversation alcove. The empathic bond transmits his mix of emotions—lingering nervousness but also genuine affection for my creator-parents, remembrance of their previous kindness.

"It's really good to see you both again," Finn says as he settles beside me, my arm automatically sliding around his waist. He makes the formal greeting gesture with much more confidence than before. "I'm sorry about my appearance. I just woke up."

"Nonsense," Vel'tha waves away his concern. "After interstellar transit? We're amazed you're conscious at all. How are you feeling, dear one? The journey must have been overwhelming."

"I'm okay," Finn says, leaning slightly into my side in that way that's become so natural. "Tired, but okay. It's still hard to believe I'm actually here."

"We can hardly believe it ourselves," Mor'en says, his patterns warm with approval as he observes our easy physical connection. "When we heard about the separation, we were devastated for you both. That private conversation we had, Finn... we feared those words might have been our last."

I feel Finn's emotion spike through our bond—remembrance of whatever my creator-parents told him during that thirty-minute private conversation before he left, something that had moved him to tears.

"I thought about what you said," Finn tells them quietly. "Every day. It helped, knowing that... knowing what you told me."

"And now you're here permanently," Vel'tha says, their patterns bright with satisfaction. "Where you belong. With our offspring, with a chance at the life you deserve."

"The integration process begins tomorrow," I explain. "The Council will formalize his status and begin cultural adaptation protocols."

"And we were discussing the seasonal illumination gathering," Vel'tha adds, turning their attention back to Finn with obvious enthusiasm. "We would be honored if you would attend as part of our family group."

"Family group?" Finn echoes, and through our bond I feel his complex emotional response to the word—longing, uncertainty, hope.

"Of course," Mor'en says firmly. "You are our offspring's bonded partner. That makes you family, Finn Sullivan. We thought we had made that clear during our previous conversations."

Finn's eyes grow slightly bright, and he has to clear his throat before responding. "You did. I just... I'm still getting used to it. But yes, I'd love to attend. Though Tev'ra mentioned it involves water?"

"Observation platforms are available for those who prefer to stay dry," Vel'tha assures him with gentle understanding. "We remember your concerns about swimming from our earlier discussions. No one will pressure you to enter the water if you're not comfortable."

"Though our offspring mentioned you've been making progress with your water comfort?" Mor'en asks carefully.