Page 10 of What Makes an Alien a Dad?

For the rest of the day, he focused on his work, not giving much thought to their encounter.

Kear thrived on routine. It kept him focused, which facilitated accomplishment. All his daily activities strictly followed a predetermined plan. Taking almost an hour out of his schedule for lunch with Maya had shifted the rest of the items on his list, forcing him to catch up.

Despite that, he finished work only half an hour later than usual. The rest of his nightly activities still happened on time.

At six thirty, he left the office and took the elevator up to the top floor of the same hospital wing as his clinic. His personal suite took up two top floors of the wing, with several covered terraces adding to his living space. It was extremely convenient to work and live in the same building. Of course, that also meant he hardly ever left the hospital grounds, but he saw that as a benefit.

At seven, he ate dinner—alone, like always, while sitting at his desk.

At nine, he read for an hour—mostly the peer-reviewed articles from one of the several medical publications he subscribed to.

At ten, he closed the journal, used the bathroom, and changed into his pajamas.

By ten thirty, he was in bed.

Normally, he’d fall asleep to the vision of charts, numbers, and plans for the next day floating through his brain.

Tonight, however, his brain decided to focus on Maya. He hoped she was also in bed, getting the necessary rest. But what if she wasn’t?

He never learned what had upset her. What kind of news had she received from home that had made her cry so inconsolably?

What if she was crying again right now?

What if she hadn’t eaten her dinner?

Unable to relax, he got up, grabbed his tablet from the shelf by his bed and checked the hospital drone record. The dinner had been delivered to her apartment on time. But did she actually eat it?

Sleep deserted him completely. He sat on the bed, wondering what to do. He could call her apartment. But what if she was in bed and sleeping already? The call would wake her up and disrupt her natural cycle, which wouldn’t be good for her or for his charts the next morning.

Of course, if she wasn’t sleeping, it wasn’t good either.

He got up and paced in a circle around his bed, running his hand through the fur on his head. The best thing would be to check on her in person. After all, she was in the same building, just a short elevator ride down.

Having made the decision, he left his suite. He’d make sure Maya was all right, then they both could get some sleep.

When he reached her place, he leaned with his ear against her door.

And jumped back.

The sharp noise of punches, followed by weapon blasts came from behind the door.

Was Maya being attacked?

His military training kicked in. He got into position, ready to break the door down.

Then, a commentary came from behind the door. Maya’s television unit was on, he realized. She was watching a war documentary by the sound of it. Which meant she was still up. But she should be sound asleep at this hour.

Then, another sound came. A loud wail, interrupted by shuddering sobs. The woman was at it again. His worries turned out to be well-warranted. His subject was in distress and crying.

He had to put a stop to this.

Hitting the AI button by the door, he barked into the unit, “Professor Thormus here.”

It took her some time to respond.

“Professor?” Her voice finally came through the communication unit by the door, though she didn’t turn the video screen on. “Is everything all right?”

No. Obviously, it was not. Something was terribly wrong with his most important study subject. And he had to get to the bottom of it.

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