Page 15 of What Makes an Alien a Dad?

“Professor?” Alcus sat on a chair in his dressing room. Dropping his shirt into his lap, he blinked in confusion. “If Maya is safely asleep in her bed, why do you need me at the hospital?”

Good question.

Kear heaved a breath.

Maya was his work. His career depended on the outcome of this study. It was important, very much so. But he had never lost his mind over his work before. Everything concerning her unsettled him so much, he really acted like he’d lost his mind.

“All right,” he said. “No need to rush, I guess. Could you talk to her tomorrow, though? She was very upset today. I found her crying.”

He should’ve called Alcus right after lunch, instead of believing Maya’s reassurances that she’d be fine. Alcus was so much better equipped to deal with upset females than Kear ever hoped to be.

“She was crying?” Alcus looked alarmed again. “Why? What happened?”

“I found her in the rooftop gardens with her tablet. She got some upsetting news from home. Alcus, I need to know what the news was.”

“Why didn’t you ask her?”

Because he feared the questions would make her break down again.

“I will,” he said. “Eventually. But I need to know what’s happening right now, so I can design a plan to handle it. I need access to Maya’s communications.”

Alcus pursed his mouth.

“That would be a violation of her privacy.”

“No,” Kear argued. “The communication affected the physical and emotional wellbeing of my study subject. As such, it falls under the factors influencing my research as covered in the contract. I need to know all the factors.”

Alcus shook his head. The sleeping mask dangled like a swing off his horn, hitting him in the face. He winced and finally yanked it off.

“What does it matter, Professor? You won’t be able to do anything about whatever happened back on Earth.”

“But I will be able to mitigate the damage the bad news has on her. From now on, I want all Maya’s communication directed to me.”

“And what would that accomplish? You can’t possibly sever her connection with her home world. Your contract already disallows the use of social media. Electronic letters are her only link with her family.”

“I’m not saying I’ll cut that link off, Alcus. I just need to know in advance what we’re dealing with to have time to adequately prepare her for the bad news and, hopefully, mitigate the impact they have on her.”

Alcus scratched behind his ear, pondering his request.

“She would need to know about it. You have to tell her you’ll be intercepting all her messages. I suspect she'll object to that.”

“She may. But communication with Earth generally isn’t a private matter, Representative. All earthlings in Voran know it.” For security reasons, all messages from Earth went through the Liaison Committee. AI scanned them first, but the representatives also read them if AI flagged them. “Maya knew when she signed the contract that it came with far more restrictions than the standard marriage agreement between our planets. This study is bigger than you or me, Alcus. It’s bigger than her, too.”

“I’m not minimizing the importance of your work, Professor, or the impact it has on our society. But my job is to ensure Maya is happy on Neron.”

“Then, our goals are the same, Representative. I, too, wish for nothing more than Maya’s happiness.” Or, as it was worded in the contract, the subject’s emotional and physical wellbeing. “On that note, I need to see the last message she received from home.”

“Now?”

“Yes.” He wouldn’t be able to fall asleep, anyway. If he tried to focus on work, he’d think back to this again and again, because Maya was his work.

“But—”

“Listen, Maya already read that message. The damage is done. Now, I need to know what she’s dealing with, because now I’m dealing with the consequences of it, too.”

“Well...” Alcus finally relented, either faced with Kear’s impeccable logic or simply worn out by his stubbornness. “If it’s for her own good.”

“It most certainly is.”

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