The Lasaran (Aldebarian Alliance Book 1)

by Dianne Duvall

  And if she didn’t…

  Taelon wouldn’t die until he fulfilled his parents’ wishes.

  He wouldn’t die until he wiped the Earth clean.

  Amid the ongoing agony and burgeoning plans for annihilation that filled his spinning head, Taelon felt the brush of something new. Something not malicious. Something fresh, then fearful. A presence nearby.

  What the…? A female voice sounded in his head, so faintly he could barely hear it. He struggled to tune it in like a signal on one of Earth’s radios, but the drug was drekking with him.

  Oh shit! Fear filled him. Her fear. The female’s. Oh shit! she cried again. What the hell?

  Then electricity jolted through him once more and he lost her.

  Lisa sighed. Though consciousness beckoned, she had difficulty making her way toward wakefulness. The thoughts surfacing in her mind whirled around so swiftly she couldn’t seem to grasp one and hold on to it long enough to decipher it. Her head felt thick, her mouth weirdly dry.

  Had she gotten drunk last night? She’d been really relieved about turning in that last final exam, but… she didn’t remember going out afterward. And she really wasn’t much of a party person. Sure, she had attended a few wild parties in high school. But that had come to an abrupt end when her mom had gotten sick. After that, she hadn’t been up for them. And she hadn’t really had a chance to get her life back on track after her mom died before she lost her dad, too. Then it had been one struggle after another, leaving her no time to make friends beyond a work acquaintance or two. So… with whom would she have even gotten drunk?

  Brad maybe?

  He was the only one she could think of. He was friendly and fun to chat with. And she vaguely recalled heading toward the Anomalous Cognition Research Institute. Then…

  Nothing.

  Finally, she managed to pry her heavy eyelids open. A stark white ceiling bordered by gray walls greeted her.

  She frowned. “What the…?”

  The walls in her crappy apartment were all white, not gray.

  When she turned her head, her gaze alighted upon what appeared to be medical devices that monitored her heart rate and she didn’t know what else.

  Weird. Her heart rate was a lot faster than it should be. Her resting heart rate should be a good thirty beats slower than that.

  A bag full of clear liquid hung on an IV pole. Lisa followed the tube descending from it to the bend of her arm.

  “Oh shit!”

  Absolute panic filled her. Not at the sight of the tube inserted in her arm, but at the sight of her stomach. Her large, round, expanded stomach.

  She was pregnant. Hugely pregnant.

  Her heart began to slam against her rib cage. “Oh shit,” she repeated. “What the hell?”

  She wasn’t pregnant! She couldn’t be pregnant! It just wasn’t possible. She had only slept with two guys. One in high school and one since graduating high school, and the latter had happened over a year ago, before her dad’s death. There was no way she could possibly be pregnant.

  She rested her hands on the large mound.

  It felt real. Even more so when she sat up.

  Again she swore. Her breasts were at least two cup sizes larger than they should be and a lot heavier.

  Shoving the covers down to her lap, she studied the hospital gown she wore. It gathered just below her breasts like some maternity dresses she’d seen, then flared out in a loose skirt comprised of two panels tied together down the center. Quickly unfastening the ties, she parted the coarse material and gawked at the big pale belly she exposed. Her hands shook as she cupped it, smoothing them across its surface. It was real.

  When something moved inside that belly and she saw a shape slide across from one side to the other, she yanked her hands back and damn near screamed in surprise.

  Her heart rate increased even more.

  One of the machines beside the bed began to beep.

  A rattling sound drew Lisa’s attention to the door of the small room. The knob turned.

  Lisa hastily drew both sides of her gown together and yanked up the covers.

  The door swung open, and a nurse in dark blue scrubs entered. She looked to be in her late forties and was tall, her weight average. Her dark blond hair was peppered with hints of gray and pulled back in an untidy twist.

  “Oh. You’re awake.” She smiled as the door swung shut behind her.

  “What’s happening?” Lisa blurted. “Where am I?”

  The nurse held up a hand. “Easy,” she said softly. “You’re in the hospital. Try not to get upset. It isn’t good for the baby.”

  “What baby?” Lisa came close to shouting. “I’m not pregnant.”

  The woman’s gaze dropped to her belly. “I hate to tell you this, hon, but it’s a little late for you to be in denial.”

  Lisa shook her head. “I’m not in denial. I can’t be pregnant. It’s not possible.”

  The woman’s brow furrowed. Approaching the bed, she touched Lisa’s wrist and examined one of the machines. “Try to calm down. The more you wake up, the less hazy things will seem.”

  “Hazy?” Lisa parroted in disbelief. “Try impossible! I’m telling you, I can’t be pregnant!”

  The woman released her wrist. “You don’t remember?”

  “Remember what? Getting pregnant? I’m pretty damn sure I would remember that.”

  The nurse shook her head. “The accident.” Pulling a light out of her pocket, she leaned forward and shined it first in Lisa’s left eye, then the right.

  “What accident?”

  “You and your husband were in an accident. A teenager was texting and…”

  All the breath left Lisa’s body. Her pulse pounded so loudly in her ears that she couldn’t hear whatever else the woman was droning on about. “Husband?” she blurted.

  The nurse broke off and stared at her. “Yes.”

  “I’m not married.” Nor was she pregnant. She couldn’t be. But the big belly that was shoving her enlarged breasts up into her throat seemed determined to prove otherwise.

  The nurse sent her a sad look. “Oh dear. We had hoped there would be no lasting damage, but…”

  “But what?”

  “Maybe you should wait and speak with the doctor.”

  “Screw that. Tell me yourself.”

  “You suffered a traumatic head injury. Though we’d hoped otherwise, it seems to have impaired your memory.”

  Lisa shook her head. This wasn’t happening. “What husband?”

  “Bradley Sykes.”

  And the shocks kept coming. “Brad? From the Anomalous Cognition Research Institute?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know where he worked.”

  Lisa pounced on the word. “Worked? As in past tense?”

  “Yes.” The nurse patted Lisa’s forearm. “I’m sorry, honey. He didn’t make it.”

  Her heart clenched. “Brad is dead?”

  “Yes. I’m so sorry. The doctors did everything they could to save your husband, but—”

  “This isn’t right. There’s been some kind of mistake. A colossal mistake. Because Brad can’t be dead. I can’t be married to him. And I sure as hell can’t be pregnant!”

  The nurse studied her for a moment, then reached over and pulled the covers down to Lisa’s thighs.

  “What are you doing?” Lisa wore no underwear and yanked the covers back up to cover her lap when the woman tugged the hospital gown panels aside to expose her big belly.

  Retrieving the stethoscope from around her neck, the woman put the earpieces in her ears. While Lisa watched, the bitter taste of fear filling her mouth, the nurse placed the cold bell on Lisa’s tummy and began slowly moving it around. She paused, listened for a moment, then nodded. Keeping the bell in place, she tugged the earpieces out of her ears and held them out to Lisa. “Here.”

  Lisa hesitated a moment, then took them. As soon as she placed them in her ears, she heard it—a low, rapid heartbeat. Moisture gathered in her eyes as
she listened. The skin on her belly was stretched taut. A weird line ran down the center of it, almost like a faint pink crease. And her innie belly button was now almost flat.

  “This isn’t happening,” she whispered hoarsely. Tears spilled over her lashes and raced down her cheeks. “This can’t be real.”

  “I’m sorry,” the nurse said quietly. “But it is.”

  Her mind racing, Lisa shook her head. “What’s today’s date?”

  The nurse told her.

  Seven months since she had turned in her Biology II final. “How far along is the pregnancy?”

  “Seven months.”

  Again she shook her head. There was just no way. It didn’t make sense. She would’ve had to get pregnant that same day. But Lisa didn’t have one-night stands. She didn’t sleep with guys on the first date or the second or the third. She was shy by nature and had been out of the dating loop for so long that she had to work her way up to that kind of intimacy. And the fact that she was self-conscious about her skinny, less than lush figure made it even harder. Hell, it had taken her almost two months to sleep with Phil, a customer who frequented the bookstore she worked at, after her mom died. And she had not enjoyed it. So no way in hell would she just suddenly jump into bed with Brad no matter how nice he was or how comfortable she felt around him.

  “How long have I been married?”

  “Five and a half months.”

  Which implied she had married him as soon as she found out she was pregnant.

  Even if she had done something completely contrary to her nature—gotten drunk and had a one-night stand with Brad—she wouldn’t have married him as soon as she found out she was pregnant.

  Doubt rose. Would she?

  She thought about it a moment.

  No. She’d had too many friends over the years whose parents had gone through bitter divorces. She wouldn’t have risked marrying a man she didn’t love. And even though Brad was attractive, she had never felt that kind of spark with him.

  The nurse smiled and patted Lisa’s arm, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I can see you need some time to adjust. I’ll be back with lunch in an hour.” She headed for the door. “Oh. And your physical therapist will stop by soon to help you.”

  Lisa frowned. “Help me with what?”

  “We’ve been using neuromuscular electrical stimulation to prevent the muscle atrophy prolonged immobility can cause. Your physical therapist will want to evaluate the effectiveness of the treatment and your mobility.” Without another word, she opened the door and slipped out into the hallway.

  “Wait. What hospital is this?” Lisa called after her.

  The door closed.

  There were no windows in the room to help her determine where exactly she was. Nor was there a telephone.

  She stared down at her belly.

  It just didn’t make sense.

  Two days later, it still didn’t make sense. Lisa slowly paced the confines of her small room. Apparently the neuromuscular electrical whatever they’d used on her while she was in the coma had worked. Though weak, she had no difficulty walking. She just tired quickly.

  A hard cramp rippled through her belly.

  Lisa grimaced and leaned on the edge of the bed until the pain passed. She had freaked out the first time one struck, thinking she was going into labor. The nurse had assured her she wasn’t. And Lisa figured if no baby had arrived after forty-eight hours, the nurse must be right. She had only seen one doctor. He had been abrupt, unfriendly, and not at all helpful in clearing up her situation, either evading her questions or ignoring them entirely.

  “Yeah,” the nurse had whispered after he left. “He really needs to work on his bedside manner.” She had smiled when she said it. But again, the smile hadn’t reached her eyes.

  “Bedside manner my ass,” Lisa grumbled.

  The nurse evaded Lisa’s questions, too. First she encouraged Lisa to relax and try not to think about things. Stress wasn’t good for the baby. Then she offered half-assed responses that only heightened Lisa’s concern.

  As if summoned by her thoughts, the nurse entered the room, carrying a tray. “Up and about again, are you?” she asked with a smile. Her sharp eyes scrutinized Lisa.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s good. It will help you rebuild some of the muscle you’ve lost. How are the pains?”

  “Still coming. Still hurt like hell.”

  “That’s why so many pregnant women panic when they feel Braxton-Hicks contractions.” She placed the tray on the rolling cart by the bed. “Here’s lunch when you’re ready.”

  Lisa nodded. “Can I have a telephone in my room?”

  “I’m sorry. We don’t allow phones in patient rooms anymore.”

  Lisa forced herself not to frown. “Not even cell phones?”

  “Not even cell phones. Too many patients complained about calls interrupting their rest.”

  In this electronic-device-dominated world? I don’t think so. The average adult spent over three hours a day on his or her phone. If patients complained about anything, it would be about not having a phone in their room.

  “Can I use one at the nurses’ station then? I just want to call Brad’s parents to let them know I’m okay.” And confirm you’re telling me the truth, that I actually did marry their son and that this baby is his.

  The nurse waved a hand and busied herself with pressing buttons on one of the machines beside the bed. “We’ve already tried to contact them for you.”

  “Tried?”

  She nodded. “We couldn’t reach them. They’re out of the country.” She shrugged. “I guess they don’t have an international calling plan. But we left several messages, so I’m sure they’ll contact you as soon as they return.”

  Would Brad’s parents really leave the country when their grandbaby was so close to being born? Particularly when, according to the nurse, doctors had had a difficult time keeping her from losing the baby during her coma?

  “Then I’ll email them.”

  “Oh, we can’t let you use a hospital computer. If anyone found out, there would be lawsuits accusing us of putting other patients’ privacy and confidentiality at risk.”

  “I wouldn’t do anything other than access my email account and send Brad’s parents”—whoever they were—“a quick message.”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t let you near a hospital computer. It’s against the rules.”

  “What about your cell phone? I can email them and message them from that.”

  She shook her head. “That’s against the rules, too. I’m not even allowed to bring a cell phone into a patient’s room. It’s meant to protect patients’ privacy.”

  “But I’m giving you permission.”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t afford to risk my job. Would you lie down for a moment, please?”

  Lisa returned to the bed and reclined against the pillows.

  The nurse used the stethoscope to listen to the baby’s heartbeat, then smoothed her hands across Lisa’s big belly, applying pressure here and there. “Any problems beyond the cramps?”

  “No.”

  “No spotting or bleeding?”

  “None.”

  “Okay.” She pulled the covers up over Lisa’s legs, then drew the tray closer and uncovered it.

  “Can I be moved to a room with a window?” Lisa asked.

  The nurse shook her head. “The medication we administered during your coma has left you very sensitive to sunlight.”

  Lisa frowned. “My eyes?”

  She shook her head. “Your skin. You’ll sunburn too easily. Any exposure at all and you’ll start to pinken. But don’t worry. It won’t last. Any and all side effects from the medication should wear off in a month or two.”

  “I’d still like a window.” So I can see for myself where the hell I am. “I can keep the shades or curtains closed during the day and only open them at night.”

  “I’m sorry. We live in such a litigious society now that we have to
play it safe. It’s just for a little while though.”

  “Can I leave my room and walk up and down the hallway? I could really use the exercise.”

  Again the nurse shook her head. “Your immune system has been weakened by the coma. We don’t want to expose you to any germs fellow patients or their visitors might carry. Certainly not while you’re having such a difficult time with your pregnancy.” She motioned to the unappealing meal on the tray. “Try to eat as much as you can. You need to rebuild your strength.” She left without another word, closing the door behind her.

  And Lisa knew if she checked it, the door would be locked. That merely heightened her suspicion and concern. The first time she’d gotten out of bed by herself, she had grown tired of waiting for the nurse to return but hadn’t found any call buttons the way there had been in her mother’s hospital rooms. So she had tried to open the door, intending to venture out and ask the nearest hospital employee some questions, and found it locked.

  The next time the nurse had come, Lisa had demanded to know why the door was locked.

  “Well, I didn’t want to tell you this, honey,” the nurse had said with yet another of those false smiles, “but you’re in the psych ward. When you found out your husband died in the accident, you tried to kill yourself.”

  With a baby in my belly? I don’t think so.

  Lisa knew herself better than that. If she had actually fallen in love with Brad and married him, she wouldn’t try to kill herself and their child when he died. She would instead do everything she could to keep their baby safe. To safeguard the part of him he had left with her. And even if there hadn’t been a baby, no matter how grief stricken she had been, committing suicide would not have occurred to her. She knew loss. She had survived it twice. She could survive it again.

  “That’s why you were in a coma. Not because of the accident that took your husband’s life. But because grief drove you to try to take your own. That’s also the real reason you can’t have access to a cell phone. Too many people become enraged or are overwhelmed with despair as a result of texts or voice mails. And we want you to remain as calm as possible.”

  Utter. Bullshit.

  All of it. Her having sex with Brad the day of her Biology II final. Her marrying Brad as soon as she realized she was pregnant. Her trying to kill herself because Brad died in an accident.