The Human Pet: A Sci-Fi Romance

Part 35

Kayla

The bright spot of a penlight shines in my eye.

A scourge speaks, and a robot translates. "Can you tell us if it feels like we are touching you and if so, where?"

Someone softly brushes the pads of my fingers. "My fingertips."

"Map to the sensory cortex of the brain, front digits."

"Moving the surgical probe 10 micrometers."

They are exploring and mapping my neuroanatomical structure, which is better than randomly implanting the chip into my brain.

"Tell us your planet of origin."

"Earth," I say, wondering if the robot translator even knows that word.

"Mapping to the speech cortex."

"Tell us the name of your owner?"

I can see his face in my mind, but I can't speak. I panic. Why isn't my brain working? "Nnn..."

I need to leave this place, but I can't move. Why?

"Area marked for potential candidate implantation site."

Candidate site? They definitely do not know what they are doing. No, just no. My lips twitch. "Nnn!"

"Sedate the patient."

There's a sharp, cold prick on the inside of my arm.

Darkness.

***

The faint odor of antiseptics hangs in the air. Everything, from the walls to the sheets, is white, and I'm in a strange bed. My mind is a bit foggy, but I slowly figure out everything: I am in a hospital, probably post-surgery.

Rigel is at my bedside. He gazes at me, but his eyes look pinched. Why are his wings fluttering?

I lift a hand to my head, but one of his hands snaps out and he grips my wrist. "Be careful with the bandages."

His fingers are still lightly holding my hand and my too-slow mind suddenly realizes something. There does not appear to be a wall unit or translator in this room, yet I understood Rigel's words. Does that mean the operation worked?

Wait, where is Tarak?

I part my lips to ask, but Rigel's wings flutter and one of his fingers goes to my lips. "Shh."

An angry scourge bellows. We both turn our heads toward the doorway where Tarak looms with his protruding fangs. He glares at our interlaced fingers.

Rigel drops my hand as if my skin is dipped in poison. "Since you were both sedated, the medical team requested my presence."

Tarak strides into the room, growling at Rigel.

Rigel steps back from my bedside, but he is not fast enough. Tarak rushes forward, knocking over a metal tray and pushing Rigel against the wall.

"She is mine," roars Tarak.

I open my mouth to tell Tarak that everything is alright, except no sound comes from my throat. My hands shake and I reach for my neck. Why can't I speak? Did the operation go wrong? Do I have brain damage? Will I never be able to speak to my Tarak again?

I sob and even that sounds odd, more like a pitiful squeak.

Tarak releases Rigel and rushes to my bedside. He climbs into my bed, situating himself behind me, and he pulls me against him.

Maybe I should think out my words first. This time, I mentally prepare by imagining myself saying the words, but when I try to speak for real, it sounds like a pitiful whimper.

Rigel leans close to me, placing his finger on my lips. "Kayla, stop. The medical team explained to me that since humans cannot produce scourge-like sounds, in addition to implanting the chip in your brain, they took it upon themselves to do surgery on your vocal cords and reposition your hyoid bone so that you can sound more scourge-like. That also means that..."

Tarak tilts my head back, examining and lightly touching the outside of my neck.

"Tarak, perhaps it might be better to leave those bandages alone," says Rigel.

Tarak makes a sad bellow.

Rigel returns his attention to both Tarak and me. "The surgeons told me that Kayla is likely to heal and resume full use of her voice, but for now, it's important that Kayla does not speak for several days, or until they give the all-clear. So please–"

"Kayla. Stay quiet," says Tarak.

"Yes, don't speak," said Rigel.

I lean back, resting against the rock-hard body of my alien. Tarak must sense my need and his big, muscular arms hugging me tighten. Rigel stands by the door, and I can't help noticing that his feathers are fluffed up making him look bigger. The image of an eagle standing guard pops into my mind.

I exhale, my breath stuttering, but I relax. Somehow in a hospital room, covered in bandages, even though my voice is temporarily lost, I feel safe, loved, and protected by my guardian aliens.