The faces of my patients on Earth flooded my mind, followed by Mira’s expression when I placed her son in her arms last night. The way Aeon had looked at me afterward, gratitude and something else—something heated and intense—in those piercing blue eyes.
My stomach fluttered at the memory. I groaned and flopped back down.
“I’m not here to teach them how to be human,” I argued with the ceiling. “I’m an obstetrician, not a—a cultural ambassador.”
Is that what Benjamin had become in those final months before he died? I would catch him sitting with injured cyborg soldiers, explaining jokes, and showing them photos of his dog back home. I thought maybe Benjamin was just lonely and trying to entertain himself. But now, I recognized it as small, human moments shared across an artificial divide.
They’re listening and observing us, Liv, his last lines in my letter had said. They want to be more like us.
A tap at my door interrupted my thoughts. I froze and then heard a deep, hesitant voice.
“Dr. Parker? Are you awake?”
Aeon. My heart did a traitorous little skip.
I padded to the door. “Yes, I’m still up,” I said through the door.
The door soon opened before me. He stood there, moonlight silvering his dark hair, and his imposing frame somehow less threatening than it had been days ago.
“Is there another emergency?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No. I just—” His brow furrowed as he searched for his words. “I wanted to check that you had everything you needed.”
A smile tugged at my lips despite myself. It was such a human gesture of concern coming from him.
“At one in the morning?”
His posture stiffened. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Me, either.” I leaned against the doorframe. “Too many questions.”
His eyes studied me intently. “Such as?”
“Such as what, exactly, am I doing here and what, exactly, am I to you? Am I your prisoner or your teacher or just your emergency doctor?”
Aeon’s shoulders tensed. “You’re none of those things. You’re…” He exhaled sharply. “Important.”
The simple word hung in the air, loaded with implications. I swallowed hard.
“Goodnight, Aeon,” I whispered, turning around before he could see the confusion on my face.
“Goodnight, Olivia,” he replied behind me before closing the door.
I returned to my bed, more unsettled than before. As sleep finally claimed me, one certainty formed in the chaos of my thoughts. Benjamin would have loved this place. And if he were here instead of me, he would already know what to do.
TEN
AEON
I led Olivia through the central plaza toward the council chamber the next day, hyper-aware of her presence beside me. The afternoon light filtered through the jungle canopy surrounding our colony and cast dappled patterns across the stone pathways. Our settlement, nestled within the clearing yet embraced by Planet Alpha’s lush forest, buzzed with the day’s activities.
“Where are we going now?” Olivia asked, her eyes scanning the structures around us with unconcealed curiosity.
“Colony council meeting,” I replied, stealing a glance at her profile. “Our weekly gathering where we discuss concerns, make plans, things of that nature. You might find it... familiar.”
“Like city council meetings on Earth?” Her eyebrow arched.
“Similar concept. Less bureaucracy.” I fought the urge to smile at her obvious interest. The way she absorbed everything around her—calculating and observing—fascinated me in ways I couldn’t properly articulate.
