Page 80 of Baby for the Alien Warrior
If she was pregnant—if—that meant she was carrying Selik’s child. A hybrid baby, half human and half Cire. She had no idea if that was even viable. No idea what kind of complications might arise. No idea if her body could sustain a pregnancy when it had failed so many times before.
And if she could carry the baby to term…
She’d never be able to go back to Earth. Medical facilities there weren’t equipped to handle hybrid births. Hell, most people on Earth didn’t even know aliens existed. She’d be a pariah, a freak, the woman who’d had an alien’s baby. Even assuming somegovernment agency didn’t whisk her away to experiment on her or her child.
Not that she’d been planning to return to Earth anyway. Last night she’d told Selik this was home. She’d meant it. But there was a difference between choosing to stay and being unable to leave.
“You’re thinking too hard,” Chanda said gently. “One step at a time. Get the test, find out for sure, then worry about what comes next.”
“Right. One step at a time.”
Except her steps felt unsteady as she stood, her whole world tilting sideways.
Chanda insisted she take the rest of the day off. She protested weakly but gave in when another wave of nausea hit. She walked to the medical center on legs that felt like they belonged to someone else, her mind a chaotic mess of thoughts and emotions.
Pregnant.
The word kept repeating, a mantra she couldn’t escape.
She thought about David, and the hopeful attempts that became scheduled obligations that eventually faded into resigned acceptance. He’d been kind about it and told her it didn’t matter, that they didn’t need biological children. But she’d seen the disappointment in his eyes. The way he’d look at other families, other babies, with a longing he never quite voiced.
And now, with a man she’d known for less than four months, she might be pregnant.
The universe had a twisted sense of humor.
Dr. Kelos was a Tilaren—small and blue with four arms and the kind of calm demeanor that probably served her well in medicine. She listened to her symptoms without judgment, asked questions about her cycle and sexual activity with clinical detachment, and drew blood for the test.
“Results in an hour,” she said. “You can wait here or return later.”
She waited.
The clinic’s waiting room was small but comfortable, with windows that looked out over the harbor. She watched boats come and go, watched vendors setting up their afternoon market stalls, watched the two moons track slowly across the sky.
One hour stretched into what felt like ten.
When Dr. Kelos finally called her back, her expression was professionally neutral. “The test is positive. You’re approximately eight weeks pregnant.”
Eight weeks.
Not long after they’d arrived on Tillich Two. Before they’d settled into their house, before they’d found their rhythm, when everything was still new and uncertain and terrifying.
“Is it…” She swallowed hard. “Is it viable? Human-Cire hybrids, I mean.”
“I see no reason why it should not be. While I am not aware of any specific Human-Cire case studies, other hybrid pregnancies have been successful. We will monitor your progress of course,and I will do some additional research, but I see no reason why you should not have a successful pregnancy.”
She was two months along. That meant seven months until she gave birth.
Seven months until everything changed forever.
“What about complications?” she asked. “Risks?”
“I see no cause for concern at this point.” The doctor smiled at her. “Congratulations.”
Congratulations.
She thanked her numbly and accepted the data pad loaded with information about prenatal care and nutrition, then walked out of the clinic into bright afternoon sunlight that felt too cheerful for her current state of mind.
I’m pregnant.
