I notice how lately River has been more distant to me, and also seem to have gotten sickly. Often she seems to wake earlier than usual with nausea.
I’m worried that she’s gotten some sickness that I brought with me to the planet. Though for the life of me I can’t recognize the symptoms as those of any disease I knew of.
I let her have her space, and since she doesn’t seem to want me to worry about it, I try not to.
And I’m sad to say we haven’t been as… intimate after she started to be ill. I’ve spent my newfound spare time walking around in the city that has arisen around me.
I notice that my hunch was right, and there seems to have been a religion created around me. I notice sculptures made out of pale clay made in the likeness of me and Crusoe in the windows of most homes.
I notice a building that seems more like a church than anything else, and I decide that it is best to ensure that they haven’t twisted me into something to justify evil deeds, as most religions had back on Earth.
When I enter the chamber, I notice that it seems more constructed as a sanctuary with books, tables and chairs.
I smile slightly, as I see that the natives have put the printing presses I gave them into use. I’m just glad that the citizens had helped me produce paper. After all, a printing press is no good without paper.
There is an altar, where I can see minor gifts of food, especially meat, left as sacrifices to me.
I pick up one of the books, and open it, and within I find the tales of Master-of-beasts, avenger of the young. I pick up another one, and I see that they contain descriptions on how to make the various tools and items I had helped them create.
I’m glad to find that none of the books I can find contain any justification for innocent bloodshed, and I choose to slink out of the building before anyone notices me inside and thinks it some sort of sign. Instead I pat Crusoe on the head, and venture out of the city. It was far too long since we hunted together.
We run beneath the sunlit trees, and a few startled birds and other minor beasts flee our presence. We pay them no heed as they aren’t what we’re hunting.
We’re following the tracks of a herd of large Gillahn, the large prey-creatures that we have hunted so many times before, while not knowing their names.
Their prints are clear in the sunlit mud. It had rained tonight, and the hoof prints are fresh.
Crusoe is panting, his tongue hanging freely from his mouth.
It had been weeks since I had let him run free, and I’m sorry for that.
I really should pay him more attention. After all, he’s one out of two creatures on this planet that I trust.
And he was my oldest, and probably best, friend.
We could see them up ahead, now, three of the graceful creatures. They spot us, and they flee as fast as they can.
They might be faster than us, but we don’t lose their trail.
Time and time again they run, time and time again we catch up.
Eventually, they can’t run anymore, and that is when we kill.
Crusoe’s fangs dig into the throat of one of the Gillahn, the large male. It stumbles and falls as Crusoe adds his weight to the grip. I am upon it moments later, letting my spear pierce into its heart, ending its misery.
I pat Crusoe on the head.
“Good boy.”
He starts licking my face, and I laugh. For the moment, all my worries are elsewhere, and I scratch his stomach.
I pick up our prey and place it over my shoulders, and we start our trek back.
When I reach the city, I hand the Gillahn over to one of the butchers. He seems overjoyed, but if it’s from my gift or from the fact that I was the one giving it, I do not know.
I decide that I should head back to our home, and check on River. After all, I couldn’t stop worrying about her now that the thrill of the hunt was over.
I grab some food on my way back to the house, and I settle on something easy to digest, since I do not know the actual condition my beloved is in.
I enter the house, and I see River sleeping in our bed as usual.
I walk over and seat myself next to her on the bed, and slowly stroke her black hair out of her face.
She stirs softly, and smiles at me.
“Hey…”
I smile back at her, and I hold up the bowl I brought.
“I brought you some food.”
She sits up in the bed, and takes the bowl.
“Thanks.”
She kisses me before she starts eating.
Halfway through the meal, she starts to look queasy.
I put my arm around her.
“Are you allright?”
She smiles slightly, and she seems to settle.
“Y-yes, I’m fine.”
I let my brow furrow.
“Do you know what sort of sickness you’ve caught? Because it is not one that I brought with me, unless it has very different symptoms in you than in us…”
She giggles.
“Yes, I know what it is. And I’m not sick, I’m… pregnant.”
I see her face flush, and I can’t help but look at her with a face of complete surprise.
“Is it…?”
She looks at me, nearly offended.
“Of course it’s yours! I haven’t been with anyone else.”’
Everything I know about genetics (well, I’m not that kind of doctor, so I can’t be sure) tells me it’s impossible.
We’re from two different species, evolved on two different planets. How could it happened?
I mean sure, I had wished for children, but unless there is some god out there toying with the fundamentals of life I do not know how it would be possible.
I push aside such doubts. She had trusted me in my worst moments. The least I can do is trust her now.
I take her in my arms and I kiss her.
Later, after searching my memory for the slightest clue as to how it could have occurred, I see only one option.
It must be a defect in the nanites I have in my bloodstream that every Alliance species gets to help deal with diseases mutated in the billions of Humans there are out there, and help with the recovery of injury.
I think the chance must be one in a billion, but it had happened.
I wondered what the consequences would be for the child. I feared that it would be deformed or carry some sort of genetic disorder that would plague it for life, or even cause its’ death.
And I found myself praying to no god in particular for the sake of my child.
As the months continue to roll past, I witness River’s belly slowly swell in size, as our child grows inside her.
Of course, I am still plagued by the doubts of it truly being mine. After all, what sane man wouldn’t?
The possibility of a child between us is next to impossible.
But when the time came to pass, and I held our daughter in my arms for the first time, there could be no doubt.
She was much like her mother, with her hair, her face, her skin, but her eyes were green like mine.
I had never seen green eyes in any of the natives, and that was all the proof I ever needed.
She was mine.