Page 74 of What Makes an Alien a Dad?

Chapter 24

Kear

It was best to stay busy. Bombarded with a flurry of activities, he had no time to think or to feel.

So many things had to be done. The long study reached the most fantastic conclusion—a baby was born. Both his subjects fared well. Data had been collected and organized, with preliminary findings shared at the assembly.

On top of that, the authorities requested his and Maya’s reports about the ordeal with Egus and Hezer. He tried to shield her from that as much as he could, dealing with them on his own whenever possible.

The research data of Hezer and Egus was seized and analyzed. It turned out that in their effort to beat him, the two had used not just unethical but also illegal practices. For that and for what they did to Maya, the two crooks were heading to jail for the rest of their lives.

Once all these activities had slowed down, however, Kear was left one on one with his thoughts and feelings.

Maya requested a transfer from the hospital. Alcus Hecear, the nice man that he was, immediately moved her to an apartment in the building that belonged to the Liaison Committee. Kear had no power to stop him. Maya had ceased to be under his authority, the moment the study was over.

As per Voranian custom, the baby joined the academy as soon as she was deemed physically well enough to leave the hospital. A staff of trained educators and infant caregivers was now taking care of her, with reports sent to him daily.

He didn’t need to make much effort in raising his daughter, unless he wished to take her home on the weekends, which he would, except that she’d probably be better off with the professionals than with him. Despite all his experience in bringing babies into the world, he knew little about what to do with them after they were born.

Finally, Kear was left alone in his apartment, as he had always been. Only life was far from normal.

He now had human-Voranian couples lining up to use his method for starting their families. He had fame, more money than he knew what to do with, and the opportunity to continue his work for as long as he wished.

But nothing felt the way it should. The silence in his place was normal, but the space rang with loneliness, which was unwelcome and depressing.

He knew where Maya was, but she didn’t want to see him. He wasn’t even sure how long she was planning to stay in Voran. He’d contacted Representative Alcus Hecear and extended an official invitation for Maya to stay on the planet indefinitely at Kear’s personal expense. The Governor would approve her stay as a gesture of gratitude from the country. Maya was sort of a celebrity now, with a special status in Voran. But no matter how many times he’d called Alcus since, the representative could not confirm that she accepted his offer. He feared she never would.

Nothing held her in Voran. She’d made no friends here. Kear had made it difficult for her to meet people by limiting her interactions outside of the study. She could leave any day, and he would never see her again.

The notion twisted in his chest with never ending sorrow.

He’d called the Liaison Committee building so many times, he could swear even his AI drone got tired from connecting the same number over and over again. But she refused to speak with him, declining all his calls.

Maybe she’d be better off without him?

“You have no clue what truth is.”

Her words had stung when she’d said them. And they still hurt. But she was right, he had lied to her.

When he did it, he honestly believed it was in her best interests. He only wished to postpone the pain and suffering of the breakup with her good-for-nothing boyfriend. He hadn’t realized until much later that by doing so, he’d ultimately added to her pain.

In the end, his actions had turned out to be just as bad as those of the human who’d wronged her. Kear was an asshole, just like Walter. They both had lied to Maya.

“I’ve read some wonderful words written by you,” she’d said. “Or were they all stolen?”

He had lied to her. But not to the extent she believed he did.

Yes, he sent his letters to her through the account of her ex-boyfriend, leading her to believe they were from him. But the words he wrote were his. Every single one of them.

He stopped at his desk, hands propped on the smooth surface. One of the screens of his research device flickered to life. He opened his personal correspondence.

The phrases he’d tried to steal when writing that first love letter to her popped on the screen. The words in Maya’s language glowed like squared worms, incomprehensible to his eyes.

“Read out loud,” he ordered the AI.

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