When he’s done, the doctor stands thinking and then finally beckons us to follow her inside the building.

  If I thought the Great Hall was overwhelming, it’s nothing compared to the facility. While it isn’t grand and beautiful, everywhere I glance are flickering lights and humming screens. If I ever imagined what it would be like to step inside a computer, this would be it. Cables run along the walls, and clear glass windows reveal teams of Grytons busy at work, or patients tucked up in beds.

  “This is incredible,” I whisper to Tor as we hurry along the corridor.

  “The plague killed many of our kind and destroyed the fertility of our Omegas. We have been researching for a cure for many years. And my father is determined that no such disease will ever harm our kind again.”

  I nod, thinking of the huge leaps in science and medicine they made on my own planet, and yet they hadn’t been able to save my parents and my brother. I understand the need to find ways to protect the people we love.

  Finally, we reach what must clearly be a lab at the back of the building. It is empty and I wonder if this is Director Threya’s own personal research space.

  She gestures towards a large seat — similar to the reclining ones in a dentist surgery. “Please sit,” she tells me slowly.

  I glance to Tor.

  “It’s fine, Emma. Director Theya is going to check if it’s safe to fit the device.”

  “I don’t know,” I tell him.

  “You want us to damage your brain,” he says with more irritation than usual.

  No, I definitely don’t want that. I climb into the seat and rest my head against the cushion. The chair tilts backwards and I grip the arm rest, staring up at bright lights in the ceiling.

  The doctor fits cables to my forehead and I feel them buzzing slightly against my skin. I close my eyes and try to think of other things — Tor and I back in our ice station, tangled up together on the bed, or wrapped up in our snow suits staring up at the bright night’s stars.

  It makes me a little sad. Was leaving the right thing to do?

  Perhaps the doctor notices my tension, because she purrs quietly as if to calm me.

  I open my eyes and peek towards Tor. Did he hear that? I assume not, otherwise I suspect he’d have scooped me up and away from this Alpha.

  The doctor moves away towards a computer and taps away, absorbed by whatever she sees and the buzzing at my forehead intensifies, then dies away.

  After this, she comes to remove the cables, talking to Tor as she does.

  “Doctor Theya says it is quite safe for you to use the translation device.” I sigh in relief. “She says our brain structures are remarkably similar. She believes this is a positive sign for the pregnancy. Although she will need to conduct more tests.”

  The doctor strolls towards the walls and opens an invisible drawer, removing a small, silver disc identical to the one Tor had used at the space station.

  She asks Tor a question and he in turn translates, “You already know some Gryton words so the doctor believes the translation device will be effective rapidly. Are you happy for her to fit the device?”

  I meet the doctor’s eye, “Yes,” I say in Gryton, and she presses it to the right corner of my forehead just below my hairline.

  Just like the cables it hums against my skin, and my brain seems to spark into life. My eyes travel over the objects in the room — the chair, the computer, the drawers, the cables — and the Gryton words ping into my mind without me needing to search for them.

  Tor watches me with a hint of concern in his eyes, his golden irises still and pensive.

  “Emma?” he asks.

  “Yes, Alpha,” I reply in perfect Gryton and those golden ribbons dance in his irises.

  “Can you understand me, Omega?” His words are swifter than when he usually speaks to me in his own language but I catch the meaning easily, without effort.

  “Yes.” I smile at him and then the doctor, who observes the expression on my face with clear fascination.

  “Your mate—” she says.

  “Boyfriend,” I correct her.

  “Boy friend?” she cocks her head. “Perhaps I need to tweak the programme,” she mutters.

  “This is what they call a mate on her planet,” Tor explains.

  “But you are not a boy, Prince Tor,” the doctor says simply.

  “Yes,” he agrees, giving me a meaningful look.

  “Whatever. We’re not mated or claimed or whatever you lot call it.”

  “But you believe you are carrying his child?” The doctor sounds somewhat confused.

  “I know it’s his child! We’ve been stuck the two of us for months. There’s been no one else around to get me pregnant!”

  The doctor stares at me like I’ve grown an extra head.

  “We were stranded together on an unoccupied planet in Emma’s universe. She went into heat and we mated.”

  “But you did not claim her?”

  “No,” Tor answers with defiance set in his jaw.

  The doctor turns her attention back to me and my growing stomach.

  “And how old do you believe the child to be?”

  “About three months.” I run my hand over my curved belly, the baby responds, wriggling. I don’t know a whole lot about babies or pregnancies but there was one girl, Mindy, who dropped out of cadet training when she got pregnant. I remember her telling us the news. She was three months gone like me and her stomach was as flat as a pancake.

  “I think Earth and Astia days are a similar length,” Tor explains. “Three Earth months would be about 90 days.”

  “And how many days is a human pregnancy?” the doctor asks.

  “Nine months,” I answer, then do the maths. “270 days.”

  “This is much longer than a Gryton pregnancy.” I search the doctor’s face for signs of concern or alarm but her features remain neutral.

  “How long is a Gryton pregnancy?”

  “Typically 150 days.”

  I glance at Tor, towering in the corner “And the average size of a Gryton baby?”

  “The average baby is 7kg.”

  “7kg?!” Mindy’s baby had been just over four and I remember how she’d winced when she recounted the birth. “How much did you weigh at birth, Tor?”

  He stands a little straighter and puffs out his chest.

  “7.4kg.”

  “Jesus,” I moan, everything between my legs clamping in alarm.

  “Do not worry,” the doctor says, gesturing for me to lie back in the chair once more. “You are in safe hands here at the Medical Facility. If you will allow me, I will run some tests now and we will determine if this pregnancy is putting any undue strain on your weaker body.”

  “Weaker?”

  The doctor blinks.

  The tests she runs last an hour. Laser scans similar to those we have developed on Earth track up and down my body, but other devices I am unfamiliar with beep and flash at me too. She takes a vial of my blood and attaches more tubes to different parts of my antimony. Clearly, she is keen to look at every part of my body. Tor paces in the corner of the lab, and every so often a Gryton passes the door and peers inside curiously.

  Finally, the doctor seems satisfied, and lifts my chair to a sitting position, gesturing for Tor to sit as well.

  This immediately has my blood running cold and I reach for Tor’s hand.

  “Is the baby OK?” I ask, chewing my bottom lip. This baby was unexpected but not unwanted. I’ve been trying to push the concerns Tor has vocalised to the back of my mind. Why worry when there is nothing I can do? But now those worries come crashing to the forefront and a sob of panic threatens to break free.

  “The baby is perfectly healthy.”

  “An Alpha?” Tor asks, eagerly.

  “You wish to know the sex and designation of the child?” the doctor asks.

  “No,” I say at the same time Tor answers yes. “I want it to be a surprise.” I am an Omega — a source of fascination to these aliens. An Omega carrying an Alpha, or perhaps even an Omega will surely cause even more excitement. But perhaps the baby will be a Beta and then what? I wish to protect him or her for as long as I can. “Let’s wait until we meet them.”

  “The baby appears perfectly healthy, albeit a little small for a Gryton baby. But this is to be expected given his mother.”

  “How much longer do you think I have until the birth?”

  “It is hard to tell but Omegas have evolved for breeding and I expect you will be able to deliver your baby safely. Your body will know when the time comes to give birth.”

  This sounds like utter bullshit to me. Perhaps we would’ve been better off heading to Earth after all.

  “I’m not a real Omega though, am I?”

  “You are,” the doctor says simply. “You have the Omega markings in your DNA.”

  “But …” How do I explain that there are no such things as Omegas and Alphas on Earth? How do I tell Tor that I’m still dubious about the whole concept? It sounds like gobbledegook to me. Like something from a fairy tale.

  “She’d never experienced a heat before.”

  “Your first heat happened after you met Prince Tor?” the doctor asks.

  If she means the intense horniness I experienced back there on that ice planet where Tor and I had fucked every way possible for four days straight — yes that was the first time that had happened to me. But then I’d never met a man like Tor before, never been in love.

  My cheeks burn as I answer, “yes.”

  “Then I think the appearance of an Alpha in your close proximity activated your Omega genes — genes that had lain dormant until that point.”

  Another look of pride flickers across Tor’s face and I roll my eyes.

  “I think I just fancied him,” I mumble.

  “A heat is more than simple attraction,” the doctor states and I have to admit to myself that she is right. I’ve liked guys before and not begged them to fuck me like that. I think I would have scratched my own eyes out, torn at my own flesh, if he hadn’t taken me. And then there is the whole knotting thing …

  “You won’t experience another heat while you are pregnant but once the baby is delivered, it won’t be long before you have another.” She eyes me all of a sudden like I am something she might like to eat. “You will need to claim her, Prince Tor, or you’ll have every Alpha in the palace attempting to take her.”

  “I know,” Tor tells her, throwing me another knowing look.

  I shake my head. I won’t be rushed into things. Our relationship has already moved at galatic speed and I need a bit of space to catch my breath and settle in my new home.

  “There is more.” The doctor twists a computer screen our way.

  Please don’t let it be twins, I pray.

  “More?”

  “Yes.” She points to undecipherable squiggles. “The Omega’s DNA shows that she has a Gryton ancestor.”

  The lines on the screen swim and I blink. “A Gryton ancestor? I don’t understand.”

  “You have faint traces of Gryton DNA in your own. Judging by this, I’d estimate the ancestor mated with a human some one-hundred thousand years ago.”

  “But … we were still living in caves back then … how could a Gryton and a human have even met.”

  The doctor stares at the screen. “I don’t know but I am very certain of this. The Omega designation has lain dormant in your ancestry for all this time and Prince Tor has activated it.”

  “Does this mean there are other Omegas on Earth?” Tor asks her.

  “Most definitely, yes.”

  Chapter 6 — Tor

  I leave Emma at the medical facility with strict instructions for her to be closely guarded, while I answer my father’s request to see him in private. I will return to the medical facility as quickly as I can and watch over my Omega tonight. I will not leave her alone for long.

  Although the medical director, Director Theya, seems confident that she is well and safe, she wishes to observe Emma overnight. Neither of us are happy about this. I want to bundle Emma back to my chambers and love every part of her body until the early hours of the morning, ensuring our combined scents permeate every fibre of my rooms. But her health is my priority.

  My father and I have never been close — our relationship has always been formal and stiff — and so I have rarely visited his private chambers. They are heavily guarded. Ten of the fiercest looking Gryton soldiers stand to attention at the doorway which is almost as grand as the one that leads to the Great Hall.

  I announce my presence and the soldier in charge radios my arrival before opening the doors and allowing me through to the entrance chamber. Here my father’s right-hand man, Prince Dram waits for me, one of my many half-brothers. He is a larger Alpha than me, more solid and powerful, with muddy brown braids and small eyes that sit too close together on his face, a permanent twist of disgust about his mouth. We have never been close. While I may be a favourite among my peers, Dram has always been my father’s favourite.

  “Prince Tor,” he sneers at me, “You are returned — and with an Omega I hear.”

  “Yes, I completed the mission our father set for me successfully.” I know this will rattle Dram. I suspect he and my father concocted my mission to find Omegas together — one they expected me to fail.

  My father has many Alpha sons which leaves the question of his succession open. I suspect my father likes it this way. A chosen heir would provide someone for his enemies to coalesce behind. He refuses to name one. Many suspect it will be me because of my popularity among the Alphas. Others believe it will be Dram. But we may both fall out of favour with my father and the Gryton lords. There are other brothers in the running too.

  Dram scowls at me. “And yet instead of presenting the Omega to our father like any good, loyal Gryton, you claimed her for yourself.”

  I don’t tell him Emma remains unclaimed. Dram has never been a brother I would willingly tell my secrets. “I am a good and loyal Gryton.”

  Dram snarls at me. “Our father should throw you in the cells for your disrespect and imprudence.”

  Perhaps he is right. I wonder what punishment my father can have in store for me.

  “You pay far too much interest in me and my business, Dram. Perhaps if you weren’t such a miserable stig, you’d have more friends and more to occupy your time. Then perhaps you’d have been chosen for the mission and you would now have a child growing in an Omega’s belly.”

  My brother’s eyes flash with scarlet and his snarl grows along with the violence of his scent.

  “Our father is expecting me. We should not keep him waiting,” I remind him.

  He glares at me, then seems to collect his composure. “Yes, he is in his study.” He leads me through the maze of my father’s rooms, adorned with the wealth he has collected over his reign, and through to what he describes as a study but looks more like a war room to me.

  A large table dominates the centre and on its top holograms of the terrain of our planet flicker. On the walls a parade of digital maps flick from one to another and a giant screen shows various parts of the palace including the well guarded entrance to the Omega compound.

  My father stands at the far side of the room peering out of a huge wall of glass. Below him the sea crashes against the rocks and the sky is a rich glittering purple.

  “Prince Tor to see you, my lord,” Dram says, hesitating as if he wishes to say more, but my father nods and signals for Dram to leave us.

  Then, with his hands clasped behind him, my father drags his gaze from the view and turns slowly to acknowledge me.

  “Tor,” he says simply and I bow low before him. “Your Omega is well, I hear.”

  I am not surprised this news has already reached him. My fathers sources are everywhere, always watching, always listening.

  “Yes, my lord. She and the child are in good health.”

  “And the director believes there may be more like her?”

  “Yes.”

  My father’s eyes glitter with satisfaction before twisting darker.

  “You mated her, impregnated her, but you have not claimed her?”

  “No,” I lift my chin to meet his gaze. “I will not claim her until she asks me.”

  My father scoffs at this. “But you had this Omega without requesting my permission.”

  “Yes,” I say with defiance. “She is mine.”

  My father’s eyes flash and his tail whips across the ground. “You are young and lack control and perhaps I should not berate you for this. Although you cannot leave her unclaimed … unless you are already tired of your little alien pet and wish her to be given to another.”

  “No!” How do I make my father understand how I feel about Emma? How what we have is precious and fragile and I would not risk breaking it for anything in the three universes? My father has never cared for his Omegas, their feelings, their wants and wishes. I picture my Omega writhing in pleasure, lifted to pure bliss by my actions, and I doubt my father has ever experienced such overwhelming pleasure. “She is mine,” I repeat.

  My father runs his hand over the smooth surface of the desk that lays between us, then he sits, motioning at me to do the same.

  “How much do you know of the rising in the East?”

  I hesitate, surprised by the sudden turn in our conversation. I decide to be honest. My father may already know how much I have been told.

  “The battle has been long and difficult. Our soldiers grow tired and disillusioned.”

  “Perhaps.” My father dismisses this thought with a wave of his hand. “But your allies have told you, I suppose, the cause of the uprising. Do you know who leads the rebels?”

  “Yes, my lord. Governor Krindo.”

  My father’s fist strikes the desk in a sudden show of frustration and around us the holograms and displays blink.

  “Governor Krindo. Who I trusted like a brother. Who has ruled over the East as a loyal servant to me all these years and has been well rewarded with riches and an Omega of his own. He has lived in comfort and luxury because of my generosity and this is how he rewards me! Turns my own subjects against me.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22