Free Aliena by Piers Anthony Page B

futile. “Aliena, that may not be wise. They probably regard their daughter as dead.”
    “But not their grandchild.”
    Brom was dubious, as were Sam and Martha, but Aliena was determined. The records had the information, and she had aptly researched them, and the parents turned out to live within a few hundred miles. They were contacted by message and told that the person inhabiting their daughter’s body wanted to meet them. They refused absolutely.
    Aliena phoned them. “I am the person your daughter enabled to live. I want to meet--” She broke off, looking at the phone in perplexity. Grandfather had hung up on her.
    “We must go there personally,” she decided.
    “Aliena--” Brom started, knowing that his position was tacitly supported by Sam and Martha.
    “Copulate distantly,” she snapped. “Must I go alone?”
    They went with her. Martha called ahead. “She is determined to meet you,” said to the other party. “We are unable to stop her. With luck you can make the encounter brief.”
    The limo pulled up in front of the house, which was a handsome stucco residence in the suburb. Martha hurried ahead and rang the bell. She gesticulated as she talked to the man.
    They were admitted to the Smythe residence. The man was of middle age, handsome in his solidity. The woman was portly, with long dark hair, bearing a distinct resemblance to Aliena’s body.
    “Be seated,” Johnson Smythe said brusquely. “I am stating on the record that this encounter is occurring under duress. We lost our daughter and do not wish to see her body used elsewhere. Your presence here is unkind. Please say your say and depart promptly.”
    They left it to Aliena. This was her show. She could be phenomenally persuasive when she set her mind to it, as they had discovered.
    “Mister Smythe, I am an alien brain in your daughter’s body, though I ask you not to reveal this elsewhere. You may be repelled by me, but there are three things I must ask of you, and if you refuse I will not bother you further.”
    Brom hoped that they took her reference to alien figuratively: a human brain from elsewhere.
    “You have the nerve to ask favors?” Johnson asked angrily.
    “You may hate me if you choose,” Aliena said evenly. “But I owe you enormously, for donating your daughter’s wonderful body to be my host.”
    “We don’t hate you,” Rebecca Smythe said. “We just don’t want to associate with you. The memory of our dear daughter torments us enough already. To see her body animated by another person is agonizing.”
    “It’s as if she returns as a zombie,” Johnson said.
    Aliena looked at Brom. “Zombie?”
    “A dead body reanimated but still dead,” he said. “A thing of horror.”
    “That is fair,” Aliena said, nodding. “I myself am nothing to you, Mister and Misses Smythe. But I am pregnant with your granddaughter. She is of your blood, as I am not. She must have grandparents.”
    The two were plainly taken aback. They had not thought of this aspect, and of course had not known of her pregnancy.
    “Don’t you have competent help?” Johnson asked after a moment. “Doctor, nurse, babysitting? If you are important enough to rate a caretaker and a bodyguard, and have a husband, you can surely afford such details.”
    “An alien mother is not enough. I have no experience of this nature. The child must be among those who will love her, as I know you will. She is your daughter’s child,” Aliena said, her voice quivering. There was a tear in her eye. How much of this was art Brom couldn’t tell, but it was devastatingly effective. Aliena learned all lessons well.
    Brom saw the man’s granite facade begin to crack. The woman’s icy reserve started to melt.
    “What do you want of us?” Johnson asked.
    “Please, I want you to name her.”
    It was like a hammer blow, knocking them both back emotionally. Names were potent.
    “What else?” Rebecca asked.
    “To let her be with you, when I must be away from her.