Page 44 of Technically Abducted (Nereidan Compatibility Program #4)

"Some," Finn admits. "We, uh, spent some time in Tev'ra's hydration pool earlier."

The slight flush that creeps up his neck tells my creator-parents more than his words do, and I see them exchange an amused glance.

"The hydration chambers do provide a unique experience," Vel'tha says diplomatically, though their patterns suggest they understand exactly what kind of 'progress' was made. "We're glad you're finding ways to adapt to our aquatic environment."

"At your own pace, of course," Mor'en adds. "There is no rush. You have all the time you need now."

"All the time in the world," Finn agrees softly, and through our bond I feel the wonder in that statement—the reality of permanence still settling into his consciousness.

"Speaking of time," Vel'tha says, "we should discuss your friend Alex's situation. Unauthorized contact with a human child is a serious violation of our protocols. Do you know any details about the incident?"

Finn glances at me before responding. "He was sixteen years old and he was taken by someone who clearly didn't know what they were doing."

"Sixteen years old," Mor'en repeats, his patterns darkening with disapproval. "No researcher should have made contact with a minor, regardless of circumstances."

"The Council will investigate thoroughly," I assure them. "Alex deserves answers about what happened to him."

"And in the meantime, he's staying with you?" Vel'tha asks.

"For now," I confirm. "Until proper accommodations can be arranged. He seems to be adapting well—he's particularly drawn to the underwater chamber."

"We'd like to meet him as well," Vel'tha says. "When he's ready, of course. Any friend of Finn's is welcome in our family circle."

Through our bond, I feel Finn's emotional response to their easy acceptance of Alex—gratitude mixed with that persistent wonder at being included so completely.

"He'd like that," Finn says.

"Then perhaps he'll join us for the illumination gathering as well," Mor'en suggests. "The celebration is meant to strengthen community bonds. All are welcome."

"I'll ask him," Finn promises. "Though knowing Alex, he'll probably want to experience the full submersion parts. He's much braver about water than I am."

"Bravery has many forms," Vel'tha says gently. "Facing one's fears, as you've been doing, requires tremendous courage."

Finn leans into me, and I feel his embarrassment at the praise through our bond, along with a warm pulse of affection.

"We should let you rest," Mor'en says, correctly interpreting our closeness. "The integration procedures tomorrow will be demanding, and you both need to recover from the emotional strain of recent events."

"But we expect regular communications going forward," Vel'tha adds with gentle firmness. "No more fourteen-attempt delays, offspring. We worry."

"I promise," I tell them. "Regular updates as we navigate the integration process."

"And Finn," Vel'tha addresses him directly, "please know that you can contact us independently if you need anything. Our communication codes are open to you."

"Thank you," Finn says, his voice thick with emotion. "That means... that means everything."

"It means family," Mor'en corrects gently. "Which is what you are now. What you've always been, since that first conversation. Rest well, both of you. We look forward to seeing you at the gathering."

The projection fades, leaving us alone in the deepening twilight of the communal space. Finn is quiet for a long moment, processing the conversation.

"They really mean it," he says finally, wonder still coloring his voice. "The family thing. They really consider me family."

"Of course they do," I tell him, turning him to face me fully. "You are my bonded partner. In our culture, that connection is as significant as any biological relationship. More so, in some ways, because it's chosen."

"Chosen," Finn repeats, his hands coming up to frame my face. "I choose you too. Every day, every moment. I choose you."

The kiss is soft, tender, full of promise and permanence. Through our bond, I feel his joy mixing with mine, creating feedback loops of contentment that make my bioluminescence pulse in steady waves.

"I should check on Alex," Finn says when we finally part. "Make sure he's okay down there."

"The monitoring systems show he's still in deep sleep," I tell him. "The adaptation exhaustion will likely keep him unconscious until morning."

"Good," Finn says, a different kind of intent entering his expression. "Because I'm awake now, and I'd like to continue what we started in the hydration pool."

The directness of his desire through our bond makes my patterns flare bright. "The sleeping chamber has better privacy controls," I suggest.

"Lead the way," Finn says with a smile that sends heat through our connection.

Later, much later, we lie tangled together in the sleeping chamber, watching the moons rise through the transparent ceiling. Their combined light turns everything to silver and shadow, creating patterns on Finn's skin that make him look almost Nereidan.

"Tell me about the illumination gathering," he requests, his fingers tracing idle patterns on my chest. "What should I expect?"

"The alignment of our moons occurs twice in our solar cycle," I explain. "During the alignment, the combined gravitational forces trigger bioluminescent blooms in our oceans. Billions of microorganisms synchronize their light production, creating patterns visible from great distances."

"Like aurora borealis, but underwater?"

"An apt comparison. Families gather at traditional viewing sites, share ceremonial meals, and participate in community bonding rituals. Children often receive their first formal swimming instruction during the gatherings."

"Will there be a lot of people?" Finn asks, a note of anxiety creeping into his voice.

"The specific location my family uses is relatively private," I assure him. "Perhaps thirty individuals at most. All family connections or close associates. You won't be overwhelmed."

"And they'll all know about us? About the bond?"

"Word has likely already spread," I admit. "Empathic bonds are rare enough to generate significant interest. But Finn, our culture views such bonds as precious. You'll be welcomed, not judged."

He's quiet for a moment, processing this. "What about Alex? How will they react to him?"

"With curiosity, likely. His situation is unique—a human with childhood exposure to our world. But my family will extend him the same welcome they offer you. He's under our protection now."

"Our protection," Finn repeats, smiling slightly. "I like how you say 'our' so easily now."

"We are bonded," I remind him. "Your concerns are mine. Your friend is my responsibility as well."

"He's going to have so many questions when he wakes up," Finn says. "About everything. About what happened to him as a kid, about why he's here, about what happens next."

"The Council investigation will hopefully provide answers about his childhood encounter," I tell him. "And he can stay here with us as long as he wants." Through our bond, I feel Finn's relief. His loyalty to Alex runs deep, and I would never ask him to abandon someone so important to him.

"You know," Finn says after a moment, "a year ago, I couldn't have imagined any of this. I was alone, convinced I always would be, just trying to survive each day. And now..."

"Now?" I prompt when he trails off.

"Now I have you. I have your parents calling me family.

I have a home on an alien planet where the water glows and the technology responds instantly to my voice and my boyfriend literally lights up when he sees me.

" He turns to look at me directly. "It's like every lonely moment, every fear that I'd never belong anywhere, was just preparing me for this. For you."

The profound gratitude in his voice, the wonder that still colors his perception of our connection, makes me smile. I pull him closer, letting my bioluminescence express what words cannot adequately convey.

"You saved me too," I tell him quietly. "Before you, my existence was efficient but empty. I completed assessments, filed reports, fulfilled obligations. I never understood what I was missing until you showed me."

"We saved each other," Finn corrects, settling against me with a contentment I can feel resonating through our bond. "And now we get to figure out what comes next. Together."

"Together," I agree, watching the moons' light ripple across the water visible through our window. "Always together."

The integration process will begin tomorrow.

There will be challenges—bureaucratic procedures, cultural adaptations, Alex's investigation, the complex reality of building an interspecies life.

But tonight, in this moment, with Finn warm and pliant in my arms and our bond humming with shared contentment, I am complete in ways I never imagined possible.

"I love you," Finn murmurs, already half-asleep again, the emotional exhaustion of the day finally catching up with him.

"And I love you," I respond, though he's already slipped into sleep, his breathing evening out against my chest.

I lie awake a while longer, monitoring his peaceful rest through our bond while simultaneously tracking Alex's biosigns in the chamber below. Both humans are safe, adapting, beginning their new existence on a world that will challenge them but ultimately, I believe, embrace them.

Finn stirs slightly in his sleep, unconsciously seeking closer contact. I shift to accommodate him, marveling at how natural this has become—this constant awareness of another's needs, this automatic adjustment to ensure their comfort.

This is home. This is family. This is the future I never knew I was swimming toward, through all those years of solitary existence.

The moons continue their celestial dance, their light playing across the water in patterns that speak of permanence and change, separation and reunion, the eternal rhythm of worlds that brings souls together across impossible distances.

Tomorrow will bring challenges. But tonight, we are together, and that is enough.

That is everything.

The End