Unraveling Whispers

Published by: eXtasy Books

Author : Gabriella Bradley

ISBN :978-1-4874-4368-9

Page :251

Word Count :68900

Publication Date :2025-11-28

Series : #

Heat Level :

Available Formats :

Category : , Science Fiction Romance , Science Fiction , Fantasy

BrandsExtasy Books
Product Code: 978-1-4874-4368-9

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After surviving a deadly alien attack and waking from an induced coma, an astronaut hears mysterious whispers in a language he doesn’t know but understands…

An astronaut wakes in a sterile medical bay, his past erased and his body altered by an experimental procedure designed to save him. But with his awakening comes a curse.

Dr. Natasha Geraldo, a renowned scientist, is drawn to the enigma—and to him. As she fights to protect the man with impossible regenerative powers, their connection deepens into a passionate, forbidden bond.

Natasha must risk everything, her career, her loyalty, and her heart to help the mysterious survivor confront the alien force within.

Lynn knelt in the smoldering ash, every breath tasting of char and cinder. Her scanner’s emitter glowed dully in the grey light, sweeping over yet another patch of ground that was raised and coal-black. The planet’s ruin stretched to the horizon, splintered trees, shattered rock, and silent shadows of what once lived. Then the scanner emitted a soft, crystalline ping, so delicate it seemed impossible here. Lynn froze, disbelief tightening her chest. After hours of cataloging nothing but corpses, the life-sign indicator blinking on her display felt like a cruel trick. She frowned, toggled the device’s sensitivity, and reran the scan. The result stayed the same, faint, tremulous, undeniably alive. Her pulse leapt.

“I found the last one. I’ve got a heartbeat!” she shouted, her voice cracking. The sound echoed across the rubble. “I need a medical team here now!”

Moments later, the silent wasteland was broken by the staccato pop of comm-unit crackles. Through the drifting ash and heat haze, figures in white-and-silver med-gear slithered forward with urgent grace, their boots gilded by the dying embers underfoot.

Chief Medical Officer Reyes arrived first, her hair tucked under a visor that reflected the desolation in dusky violet. She dropped to one knee beside Lynn and thrust out a hand, her fingers flicking as she activated her diagnostic scanner. “Show me.”

Lynn pointed to what had looked like another lump of burnt soil and debris. Now, under the beam of Reyes’s light, the shape resolved into the hulk of a human form, the limbs contracted, and the features melted into a charcoal mask. Yet somewhere beneath that charred surface, their instruments detected the impossible…a living heartbeat.

Reyes’s scanner hovered inches above the corpse. “Male, pelvic morphology suggests,” she murmured, her voice low. “But this…this defies logic.” Numbers danced across her holo-display.

Heartbeat: present but erratic.

Blood pressure: near null.

Brain activity: intermittent spikes.

Temperature: frozen-low for any uncryostatted life-form.

“Get the trauma kit,” she ordered. “Full life-support. Now!”

As more responders arrived, they unfolded a sleek hover stretcher whose anti‐gravity coils pulsed blue. Others primed portable stabilizers that hissed steam. Lynn watched their faces, each one a mask of professional calm layered over pure astonishment.

“How is this possible?” Technician Okafor asked, his voice steady despite the tremor she detected. He very carefully fitted a vascular support array to the mangled torso. “The tissue damage…total. Nothing left to keep him alive.”

Reyes didn’t look up. “Stabilize first. Questions later.”

They moved in a choreographed flurry, nutrient gel smeared gently to shield the exposed dermis, molecular sealant sprayed to bind fluid, and a neural support collar slid around the charred neck. Each action felt both utterly necessary and utterly absurd, treating burns so catastrophic that the victim should have perished within minutes.

“I still can’t get a DNA match,” Lynn said, frustration creasing her brow as she swapped analyzers for the third time. She tried to draw blood, but there was nothing. The device chirped out its verdict. “Insufficient viable material for analysis.”

“Try the resonance sequencer,” Reyes suggested, her tone flat with weary expectation.

Lynn clicked through the sequencer’s protocols. “Nothing. It’s as if the DNA’s been scrambled at the molecular level.”