Page 23 of Zalis
“Is that you, or do I have to go somewhere else for the exceptional care?”
The doctor glowered. Straight up glowered. He glanced at the tablet again. “You have a ninety percent compatibility with Zalis, which is far from ideal.”
And not legally enforceable. 98.5 was the magic number to take away her autonomy and force her to marry a stranger. “Is ninety percent allowed?” she asked.
She glanced at Zalis for any sort of clue on how he felt about the situation and got nothing. Behind that blank expression, he could be overwhelmed, unhappy, or reciting commercial jingles.
“Anything is allowed when you volunteer, but I must inform you of the risks,” the doctor said. He handed her a pamphlet.
Gemma clutched the glossy paper in disbelief.A pamphlet.That was so pre-invasion. No one used paper anymore. It was all digital documents or QR codes sent directly to phones.
“Ignoring your recent injuries, you are healthy. Conception should not be difficult,” the doctor said.
Another glance at Zalis for any sort of reaction. Did he want kids? Would he want kids with her? Did she want kids with him?
Nothing. Zalis remained an inscrutable lavender enigma.
The doctor continued his lecture. “However, the likelihood of experiencing complications is high. Closely monitoring your progress will be required.”
“No one’s knocked up yet,” Gemma muttered as she flipped open the pamphlet. Nor would anyone become pregnant anytime soon. Children was a topic she needed to discuss with Zalis. Alone. Without the doctor. Just like they needed to discuss sex, expectations thereof, the whole surprise marriage thing, and basically everything they zoomed right past.
Fine, she did the zooming. Zalis was an innocent bystander.
Rather than dwell on her misdeeds, Gemma focused on the pamphlet. A long list of complications filled the page: high blood pressure, gestational diabetes, depression, and preeclampsia. In a slightly smaller font was another list of presumably less serious conditions: iron deficiency, severe nausea, and vomiting.
Delightful.
“In the case of twins, bedrest is required,” the doctor continued. “No exceptions. The risk to the mother’s life is too great.”
“Thanks. Consider me informed.” Gemma crumpled the pamphlet. Having a kid was hella risky and definitely one of those situations you shouldn’t stumble into.
And definitely something to be discussed with Zalis. Add it to the list.
“Wait, why is this in English?” She waved the abused pamphlet at the doctor.
“We have pamphlets available in the most common galactic and human languages. Sangrin, Spanish, Mandarin, and Hindi. Would you prefer one of those?”
“English is fine,” she said, suddenly tired and wanting to be anywhere else that wasn’t a hospital. She was sick of hospitals and that disinfectant smell. “Are we done yet?”
“Nearly. Now that you are informed, sign the marriage contract.” He shoved the tablet at her.
Gemma reared back, holding up her hands in self-defense. “Wait, just like that? Shouldn’t there be a ceremony or something?”
The doctor looked shocked. “That is a private matter.”
Gemma had no idea what she said that was so offensive. “I just need a minute.”
“I am very busy. You are well aware of the situation. Now sign so that I may spend time with my mate and child,” the doctor said.
Gemma turned, facing Zalis. “Is this what you want? Don’t feel like you have to go through with this just because?—”
“I agreed,” Zalis said, finally speaking. He grabbed the tablet and signed without hesitation before handing it to her.
Zalis Layneno.
His signature was an inky black squiggle on the screen. She hadn’t even known his full name until that moment.
Gemma took a deep breath. She wasn’t going back to Earth. This was protection. Nothing else. She signed before doubt and, frankly, reason, stopped her.
