Page 5 of Secretly Abducted
"Why?" I turn back to face him. "So I can sit there like a good little human while you tell me I can't thank the person who saved my life?"
Tev'ra makes a small noise—could be a suppressed laugh, could be a warning. I ignore it and keep pacing. The floor beneath my feet has a subtle give to it, like it's designed to be walked on by creatures who spend half their time in water.
"This person kept me alive for three days while my body went through hell. Three days. And you're telling me they won't even let me say thank you?"
"Your gratitude has been conveyed through appropriate channels."
"Through bureaucratic channels? That's bullshit." I kick the base of the petitioner's chair, which accomplishes nothing except making my foot hurt. The thing is apparently made of some alien material that's harder than it looks.
"Mr. Park—"
"What if I promise not to pressure them?" I plant myself in front of Kav'eth's elevated seat, looking up at him like I'm making a business deal. "What if I sign something saying I won't pursue them if they don't want to meet? I'll respect their decision, whatever it is."
Kav'eth shifts slightly, and three other Council members lean in from their seats around the chamber's curve. They're all watching me with those golden eyes that never quite blink at the right times.
"Your promises have been included in the communication," Kav'eth says.
"So that's it? I just wait and hope?" I spread my arms wide, gesturing at the whole ridiculous formal chamber. "Look, I get it. Your researcher fucked up. Grabbed a human teenager instead of whatever they were supposed to grab. Probably violated a dozen protocols. I don't care."
One of the other Council members—skin more green-tinted than Kav'eth's blue—makes a harmonious sound that might be disapproval.
"I've been sober for ten years because of those three days," I continue, my voice echoing off the curved walls. "Ten years. I went from a kid who was maybe three weeks from dying in an alley to someone with a life, a career, friends. Don't I deserve to at least say thank you face to face?"
"We understand your position—"
"I seriously doubt that." The sarcasm comes out sharp enough to cut. I lean against the window, my reflection overlapping with the alien city beyond. "Have you ever had your entire life trajectory changed by someone you can't even identify? Have you ever spent a decade thinking you hallucinated the most important thing that ever happened to you?"
Silence fills the chamber. Even the subtle background hum of alien technology seems to pause. Kav'eth's skin patterns slow, shifting to something more deliberate.
"The researcher is aware of the significance of their actions," he says finally. "The impact on your life has been... extensively communicated. The decision to meet or not meet rests entirely with them."
"And if they choose not to?"
"Then you will need to find closure without that meeting."
The words sting more than they should. I push off from the window, walking back toward the exit. "Just... tell them thank you. Tell them the boy they saved is okay. More than okay."
I pause at the threshold. "Tell them I'm not angry. I'm not looking for apologies or explanations. I just wanted to say thank you." I pause before turning back to look at the councilone more time. "And tell them if they ever change their mind, I'll be here. However long it takes."
Outside the Council chamber, the corridors are a maze of curved walls and soft lighting that seems to come from the structure itself. Tev'ra catches up with me as I'm trying to figure out which direction leads to the exit.
"This way," he says, guiding me left at an intersection that looks identical to the three we've already passed.
We walk in silence through what must be the government district. Other Nereidans pass us, their skin colors ranging from deep purple to pale green, all of them moving with that fluid grace that makes me feel clumsy and too solid. Some stare at me—the human novelty—but most are too polite or too busy to gawk.
"This is such bullshit," I mutter as we exit onto a platform overlooking the city. The air here is humid, mineral rich, with an underlying sweetness I can't identify. Multiple levels of walkways connect buildings that seem to grow from the water itself, and everywhere there's the sound of flowing water.
"The agricultural district has excellent viewing platforms," Tev'ra says, apparently apropos of nothing. He gestures toward a transport pod that's just arriving at the platform—a smooth, organic-looking vehicle that moves on tracks I can barely see. "The water is particularly clear today. Many find the view of the zhik'ra forests calming."
I look at him suspiciously. "Are you trying to distract me with seaweed?"
"I am suggesting that if one were frustrated and needed to think, the observation platforms near the cultivation zones provide an excellent location for contemplation." We step into the transport pod, which adjusts its interior configuration to accommodate both human and Nereidan passengers. "Section C is especially peaceful this time of day."
Section C. That's oddly specific.
"Right," I say slowly, gripping the rail as the pod accelerates smoothly. Through the transparent walls, I watch the city blur past—markets where Nereidans trade things I can't identify, children playing in fountains that seem to defy gravity, gardens where plants glow with their own light. "I guess I could use some air. Water. Whatever."
Tev'ra's skin brightens in what I'm starting to recognize might be amusement. "The transport will take you directly there. I must return to Finn now."
