Make Love: Not War
Copyright© 2026 by Komiko Yakamura
Chapter 2: Diplomatic Incident
Vance woke up in what could only be described as a luxury prison. The quarters were spacious—far nicer than his military bunk—with a proper bed, sitting area, and what looked like a bathing pool. Soft bioluminescent panels provided gentle lighting. But the door was definitely locked, and the window showed armed Valtharian guards outside.
He was still processing the fact that he was married when the door chimed.
Zanera entered, carrying a tray of food. Behind her, a Valtharian officer carried what looked like his salvaged gear—including his military comm unit.
“You’re awake,” she said, setting down the tray. “Good. We need to talk.”
“About the whole ‘genetically bonded for life’ thing?”
“Among other things.” She nodded to the officer, who placed his gear on a table and left. “My mother has agreed to return your communication device. Your commanders have been ... persistent.”
“They know I’m alive?”
“Your GPS tracker still functions. They’ve been sending increasingly frantic hails for the past two days.” She paused. “They seem to think you’ve been captured and tortured.”
“Have I been?”
Her smile was wicked. “That depends on your definition of torture, husband.”
Before he could respond, his coms unit chirped urgently. He activated it, and Admiral Chen’s face appeared, looking both relieved and furious.
“Riker! Report! Are you injured? What’s your status?”
“Sir, I’m ... physically fine. Unharmed. I’m being held in Valtharian custody, but I’m being treated well.”
“We’ve been tracking your biometrics. Your heart rate spiked seventeen times in a twenty-minute period two days ago. We thought they were torturing you.”
Vance’s face went crimson. Zanera, visible in the corner of the comm screen, smirked.
Chen’s eyes narrowed. “Riker, why is there a Valtharian female in your quarters?”
“Sir, that’s ... complicated.”
“Uncomplicate it. Now.”
Vance took a breath. “Sir, I encountered Princess Zanera in a crashed dropship. She was critically wounded. I provided medical assistance. During the course of treatment, there was ... cultural miscommunication. I may have accidentally triggered a Valtharian bonding protocol.”
Silence.
“You may have what?”
Zanera stepped into frame. “Admiral Chen, I presume? I am Princess Zanera, daughter of Supreme High Empress Velendra. Your medic saved my life and became my mate-consort through genetic bonding. We are now legally joined under Valtharian law.”
Chen stared. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I assure you, Admiral, Valtharian bonding protocols are quite serious. And permanent.”
Another voice cut in—someone from Alliance Intelligence. “Sir, we’re confirming through diplomatic channels. This is ... actually legitimate. Medic Riker has apparently married into the Valtharian royal family.”
Chen rubbed his temples. “Riker, do you understand what you’ve done?”
“Yes, sir. I’ve created a massive diplomatic incident.”
“That’s putting it mildly. We’ve got the Supreme Empress requesting direct negotiations, something about ‘discussing terms for my son-in-law’s status.’ Riker, you’re not just a POW anymore. You’re a political asset.”
Zanera’s expression darkened. “He is not an asset. He is my mate.”
“Ma’am—Your Highness—Princess—” Chen stumbled over the protocol. “I meant no disrespect. But this situation requires careful handling. We’re at war.”
“Perhaps not for much longer,” Zanera said coolly. “My mother wishes to discuss peace terms. Your medic has given her ... motivation to reconsider our position.”
Vance blinked. “I did what now?”
“We’ll discuss it later, husband.” She turned back to Chen. “Admiral, I am returning your soldier’s communication equipment as a gesture of good faith. He may contact you daily to confirm his well-being. In exchange, I expect you to refrain from rescue attempts that might endanger him.”
“Are you threatening him?”
“I’m protecting my mate from well-meaning but catastrophic military operations. There’s a difference.”
Chen looked at Vance. “Riker, are you there voluntarily?”
Vance glanced at Zanera—at her fierce protectiveness, at the way she unconsciously touched her lower abdomen, at the vulnerability beneath her warrior’s pride.
“Sir, I’m exactly where I need to be.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Yes, sir. It is.”
Chen’s expression shifted—something between frustration and grudging respect. “Fine. You have forty-eight hours before we need another status update. And Riker? Don’t create any more diplomatic incidents.”
“No promises, sir.”
Chen cut the connection.
Zanera dismissed the guards and sealed the door. She leaned against it, one hand still resting on her lower abdomen.
Vance noticed. “How long have you been doing that?”
“Doing what?”
“Touching your stomach. You’ve done it four times since I woke up.”
She looked down at her hand, surprised. “I ... I don’t know. It feels different. Warmer. The medical scan this morning confirmed it.”
“Confirmed what?”
Zanera crossed to him, took his hand, and placed it on her belly. Through the fabric of her dress, he could feel a faint warmth, and something else—a subtle pulsing, like very faint heartbeats. No, multiple heartbeats.
“You’re really pregnant,” he whispered, the reality finally hitting him.
“Yes.”
“How far along?”
“Three days and nine hours. Valtharian gestation is accelerated compared to humans. Four months total.”
“Four months?!” He pulled his hand back. “Wait, you’re three days pregnant and I can already feel heartbeats?”
“Four heartbeats,” she corrected softly. “The medical staff confirmed it this morning. Quadruplets. Two sets of twins.”
Vance sat down heavily on the bed. “F-f-four? Four babies?”
“Yes.”
“In f-four months.”
“Yes.”
He stared at her. “Zanera, I’m a combat medic. I’ve delivered exactly three babies in my entire career—all human, all single births, all with proper medical facilities. I don’t know anything about Valtharian pregnancy or multiple births or—” He ran his hands through his hair. “Four babies. Jesus Christ.”
She knelt in front of him, worried now. “Vance, are you ... do you not want this?”
“What? No, I just—” He looked at her, saw the fear in her violet eyes. “I’m processing. You have to understand, in human terms, this is insane. Two weeks ago I was trying not to get shot. One week ago I didn’t even know what your species looked like. Three days ago I found out I accidentally got married. And now you’re telling me I’m going to be a father to four children in sixteen weeks?”
“Technically thirteen weeks now.”
“That’s not helping!”
Zanera stood, turning away. “I understand if this is too much. Valtharian males are raised expecting this. You weren’t. The medical staff can arrange—”
“Whoa, wait.” He grabbed her hand, pulled her back. “Arrange what?”
“Separation. The children would be mine, but you could return to your people once the peace treaty—”
“Stop. Just stop.” He stood, cupping her face. “I’m overwhelmed, not abandoning you. There’s a difference.”
“You said this was insane.”
“It IS insane. That doesn’t mean I don’t want it.” He pulled her close. “Zanera, I’ve spent six years in a war zone watching people die. I’ve held soldiers while they bled out, telling them it would be okay when I knew it wouldn’t. And now you’re standing here telling me that in four months, I’m going to help bring four new lives into the universe. Lives that we made together. That’s not something I walk away from.”
She was crying now—silent tears tracking down her pink cheeks. “You’re sure?”
“I’m terrified. But yeah, I’m sure.” He laughed shakily. “Four though. You couldn’t start me off with one?”
“Valtharians don’t do single births. When we conceive at all, it’s always multiples. Two, or three to six, typically.”
“Six?!”
“The medical staff says four is actually modest for a first pregnancy.”
He groaned. “Modest. Right. What else should I know?”
She wiped her eyes, composing herself. “Valtharian infants develop rapidly. They’re born with most motor functions already active. Walking within days, speaking simple words within two weeks.”
“That’s ... actually kind of terrifying.”
“They’ll need constant supervision. Valtharian young are curious and fearless.”
“So I’m going to have four super-strong, super-fast toddlers with no sense of self-preservation in about four months.”
“Yes.”
Vance sat back down. “Okay. Okay. I can handle this. I’ve survived firefights, I can survive fatherhood.” He looked up at her. “But I’m going to need help. Like, a lot of help.”
“We’ll have nursery staff. It’s traditional for royal births.”
“And you? How are you feeling about all this?”
Zanera sat beside him, taking his hand again and placing it back on her stomach. “Vance, I was sterile. Broken. Worthless in the eyes of my people. And now...” Her voice caught. “Now I’m carrying four perfect hybrid children. I’m terrified and exhilarated and so grateful I can barely breathe.”
He felt the multiple heartbeats under his palm again, stronger now that he knew what he was feeling for. “They’re really in there.”
“They are.”
“Our kids.”
“Our children,” she corrected with a smile.
“I don’t even know how to be a father. My dad died when I was eight.”
“Then we’ll figure it out together. Neither of us knows what we’re doing.”
He laughed. “That’s supposed to be comforting?”
“Is it working?”
“Surprisingly, yes.” He kissed her softly. “Four babies. In four months. This is completely insane.”
“You’ve said that three times now.”
“Because it bears repeating.” He pulled her closer. “But I’m in. All in. You, me, and our litter of four.”
She smacked his arm. “Don’t call them a litter.”
“Fine. Our quartet. Our pod. Our—what do you call multiple Valtharian babies?”
“A blessing,” she said softly.
“Yeah.” He rested his forehead against hers. “Yeah, that works. Our blessing.”
They sat like that for a long moment, his hand on her stomach, both of them adjusting to this impossible reality.
Then Zanera grinned. “Want to see the medical scans? You can actually see them moving already.”
“They’re moving? At two weeks?”
“Valtharian development is rapid, remember?”
“Right. Because nothing about this situation is normal.” He stood, pulling her up. “Okay, show me. I want to see what we made.”
She pulled up a holographic medical display from a data tablet, and there they were—four tiny, glowing forms, already distinct, already moving. Part human, part Valtharian, entirely theirs.
Vance stared, his eyes getting suspiciously wet. “Holy shit.”
“Indeed,” Zanera murmured, leaning into him.
“We made people.”
“We did.”
“I’m going to be a dad. Times four.”
“Yes, you are.”
He turned to her, wiping his eyes. “Okay. I’m done freaking out. Now I’m just ... excited. Terrified, but excited.”
“Good. Because in about thirteen weeks, terrified excitement is all we’ll have time for.”
He laughed, kissing her. “Bring it on.”
The rest of the day passed in a strange blur. Zanera had meetings with the medical staff—pregnancy monitoring that Vance was invited to observe. The Valtharian physicians were fascinated by the hybrid development, running scans and tests while explaining the accelerated timeline in clinical detail that made Vance’s head spin.
“The embryos are developing hybrid skeletal structures,” one physician explained, pointing to the holographic display. “Human bone density with Valtharian flexibility. The cardiovascular systems show dual-chamber hearts—a perfect merger of both species’ biology.”
“Is that ... normal?” Vance asked.
“There is no ‘normal’ for human-Valtharian hybrids, Medic Riker. You and Princess Zanera are creating an entirely new genetic template.” The physician looked at him with something like awe. “These children will be extraordinary.”
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