Page 5 of Human Required
A light kick to my boot jarred me.
“Rise and shine,” Tegan quipped. “We’re approaching Planet Alpha’s orbit. Need your help with landing protocols.”
I blinked sleep from my eyes, surprised I had actually dozed off. “How long was I out?”
“Long enough to miss my riveting monologue about interstellar navigation.” He gestured to the viewscreen where Planet Alpha loomed, a vibrant sphere of blues and greens against the black void. “Home sweet jungle.”
I took my position at the copilot controls, guiding our descent through the atmosphere. The ship shuddered as we broke through cloud cover, revealing the vast canopy of the rainforest below. In the distance, the glass domes of our colony gleamed in the alien sunlight.
“She’s going to hate it here,” I muttered.
“Or she might surprise us,” Tegan countered, easing the ship toward the landing pad. “Humans are adaptable. It’s why we’re modeled after them.”
The landing gear engaged with a metallic groan, and the ship settled onto the pad with a slight bounce. I could see a gathering crowd through the viewport—council members, medical staff, and curious onlookers, all eager for their first glimpse of the human doctor who would save their future.
I moved to the sleeping quarters, where Dr. Parker still lay unconscious. Her sedation would wear off soon. Would her first memory of Planet Alpha be fear? Anger? Would she look at me and see only her captor?
I lifted her gently, cradling her against my broad chest. Her warmth flooded through my uniform, her head nestling naturally into the crook of my neck. For a moment, I allowed myself to imagine a different scenario—one where she had come willingly, where her eyes would open with curiosity rather than terror.
“Time to face the music,” Tegan said from the doorway.
I carried her through the ship’s corridor and down the ramp, into the humid air of Planet Alpha. The assembled crowd fell silent at the sight of her in my arms.
“Medical bay,” I ordered, striding past their stares. “And I want everyone out except essential personnel. She’s not a spectacle.”
The colony’s medical facility was our pride—equipped with salvaged and adapted human technology but lacking the human expertise to use it effectively. I placed her on the main diagnostic bed, carefully arranging her limbs in a comfortable position.
As I prepped equipment, I caught myself studying the curve of her jaw, and the slight part of her lips. Soon those lips would likely be shouting accusations at me. Soon those eyes would open, and whatever trust might have existed between us would be shattered before it began.
But at least she’d be safe. At least she’d be alive.
And maybe, just maybe, once she understood our situation—once she saw pregnant women like Helix, desperate for her help—she might forgive me.
THREE
OLIVIA
I blinked against the harsh light that burned through my eyelids. My head pounded with each heartbeat, a steady rhythm of pain that reminded me I was alive, if nothing else.
“What the hell?” My voice cracked, my throat dry as sandpaper.
The ceiling above me wasn’t the familiar off-white of my bedroom, nor the speckled tiles of the hospital. Instead, a seamless metallic surface reflected my blurry image, the light emanating from no visible source. I tried to sit up, my muscles protesting with every movement.
This wasn’t right. None of this was right.
The memory hit me like a punch to the gut—hands grabbing me in my driveway, the prick of a needle, and darkness swallowing me whole. I touched my neck where the sedative had entered my system and winced.
“This isn’t happening.” I swung my legs over the edge of what seemed to be a medical bed, far more advanced than anything I’d ever worked with at Memorial Hospital. “This cannot be real.”
The room around me hummed with energy. Sleek equipment lined the walls, displays flickering with readings I couldn’t interpret from this distance. The air tasted different—recycled and purified. Simply wrong.
“Oh my god.” The realization crashed down on me. “I’m not on Earth anymore.”
I laughed, the sound brittle and hollow in the sterile room. The kind of laugh you made when the alternative was screaming at the top of your lungs.
“This is ridiculous. People don’t get kidnapped and taken to other planets. That’s not a thing that happens to normal people like me anyway.” I ran my fingers through my tangled hair. “Definitely not a thing that happens to an overworked obstetrician who just wanted to go home and sit with a cup of hot tea and wallow in her grief.”
Suddenly, another flashback hit me. Before I lost consciousness, I remembered seeing him—a face too perfect to be natural, his movements too precise to be human. A cyborg. Like the ones from the war but different somehow. His eyes had seemed almost... concerned? No, that couldn’t be right. The sedative must have messed with my perception.
