"If you prefer, or we can sit and talk." He motioned to a bench along one wall.
Kiera went to it, not yet comfortable with the complete lack of privacy of the otherwise reserved Anshans. Zanan sat at the far end of the bench.
"I'm, um, late for my … you know, woman's monthly curse," she said in a low voice.
"Where does it hurt?"
"Nothing hurts. I mean, my period."
He was studying her hard.
"You know how a woman bleeds every month?" Her face felt hot. It was one of the many times she wished the translator bud at her ear had some sort of rewind-and-delete button.
"Ah, of course," he said. "Forgive me. I misunderstood. Anshan women did not bleed for many years. They were not fertile until you came." He looked particularly pleased with this information. "This is an honor, nishani, to be the first to know of our dhjan's son."
Awkward. "Um, thanks. So, do you need to examine me?" Kiera cleared her throat, not about to take off her clothes in front of all the open windows. "Here?"
"I do. Come." He strode to another of the machines.
This one stretched from floor to ceiling and resembled a tanning booth she'd visited once. It wasn't much friendlier looking than the cell-regenerating coffin. Zanan touched the control panel on the side, and a door slid open.
"This will examine all your processes," he said as she stared at the dark opening.
"Do I take off my clothes in there?"
"What? Of course not, nishani."
Her face felt hotter at his startled look. She stepped into the exam box. The door slid closed behind her. It was dark and cool. She stood perfectly still, waiting for the bizarre sounds that the coffin made the few times it had healed her. The exam box was silent. After a few minutes, the door slid open again.
"You may come out," Zanan called to her, out of sight.
Kiera did so and saw him at the control panel on the side opposite the door. Consternation crossed his features as he took in the geometric shapes that made up their writing. The shapes flashed across the viewer while different touchpads around the control panel lit up in silent communication.
"It is not a son," he said, puzzled. "Your readings are different than an Anshan's." He continued to stare at the writing and flashes in silence.
She waited a few minutes before prodding him. "What does it say?"
"It cannot be possible."
"Oh, god. It's not twins, is it?"
"No, nishani. I am not certain what this means."
"Tell me!" Growing concerned, she inched closer, peering at a screen covered with writing she wasn't able to read.