CHAPTER 11
l put aside my misgivings about
the man March used to be. People can change; I’m living
proof of that. “You want me to take a look?”
March manages a
smile. “Unless you want to drive.”
I’m just never going
to hear the end of that. When we made our escape from Hon-Durren’s
Kingdom, I banged the hell out of the Folly. Shaking my head, I push out of the nav chair
and make my way back to the hub. Koratati flails uncontrollably,
but she’s still wrapped up in that heavy cloak, so I can’t tell
what’s going on.
Surge looks frantic,
Jael appears unconcerned, and Vel . . . he’s observing the scene,
putting the pieces together before he makes a judgment. Dina has
made herself scarce. I guess she figured she discharged her duty
when she notified March.
“Has she been sick?
You idiots, we don’t have facilities on this ship. She’d have been
better off dirtside, new immigration laws or not.” I bend toward
her, and Koratati lashes out.
“Don’t touch
me!”
Her fist feels like a
hammer as it connects with my cheek. I reel back, steady myself on
the wall. That’s gonna leave a mark.
Under her voluminous
robe, something . . . moves. Okay, this really isn’t right. I wish
Doc was here.
“She’s not ill,”
Velith says while I rub my cheek. “She’s in labor.”
“I had to get her off
world.” Surge paces around the hub, watching Koratati with a worry
that tells me she’s not just his jumper. “She’s not due for days
yet, though—”
“Imbecile.” Even
I know that stress can jump-start this
breeding business, and I’m not exactly an expert. “You know we
can’t jump, right? Did you even consider what the pressure and/or
environmental shifts could do to an unborn child?”
“I . . . no.” Surge
shakes his head. “I just didn’t want my kid to suffer or be treated
like a second-class citizen because of those new immigration laws.
At least if he’s born up here, they don’t apply.”
“She!” Koratati
pushes her way out of the cloak. She has a jutting jaw, a fine
dusting of gold fur, and powerful haunches. Mary help us, she’s
Rodeisian. Wait, his kid? I didn’t even
know they could crossbreed with humans. They’re a large, humanoid
race from a small planet in the Outskirts.
“You knew you needed
to get off the planet in a hurry, and you gambled away your ship?”
That makes no sense.
The woman’s scream of
pain derails my train of thought. We need medicine, a doctor,
somewhere she can lie down—
Shit, why am
I in charge?
“When they broke the
news about the reforms, I didn’t have the credits to provision the
ship,” Surge explains. “Or even refuel it. Then I ran across you
and March. Did some digging to see how it could help me, and when
we saw your mechanic drinking in the Den . . .”
“You saw your chance
and took it. Then you pushed your way on board, talked March into
taking you up, and the rest is history.”
Koratati screams
again, and March’s voice comes over the comm. “What the hell is
going on back there?”
“It appears we’re
having a baby.”
“We’re what?”
I realize how that
sounds, but unfortunately, I don’t have time to tease him with it.
“Surge brought his wife on board, and she’s about to deliver any
minute.”
“I’m not his wife,”
Koratati grits out.
I don’t know enough
about Rodeisian customs to understand why she’s so adamant on this
point. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. More to the point, what the
hell am I supposed to do?
“Let’s get you to one
of the bunks where you can lie down.” I try to help her up, but she
shoves me away.
I stagger back, and
Mary, either her adrenaline is running amok or she’s the strongest
woman I’ve ever met. Dina isn’t going to like that. I’ve never
sparred with a Rodeisian partner, but then again, most of my combat
experience comes from being liquored up and starting something in a
station bar.
“That will only make
it harder,” she grunts. “I need to stay upright so gravity will
help me.”
Great, we need one of
those old-fashioned birthing chairs. I glance around the hub and
don’t see anything better suited than the seat she’s already
sitting in. She can’t have a baby here;
this ship is old, filthy, and—
“Vel, help me out
here!”
The bounty hunter
turned cultural liaison lifts a brow at me, appearing completely at
ease. “What do you expect me to do?”
“I . . .” Have no
idea.
Thankfully March
appears in the corridor leading from the cockpit. He’ll take over,
right? The man takes in my frantic expression and scrubs a palm
across his face. “You were serious.” Turning to Surge, he adds,
“You smuggled a pregnant woman on board my ship? We’re tied to
hauling straight space now, and I don’t know what kind of
provisions Dina laid in. We expected a clean jump to
Lachion!”
As if responding to a
summons, she appears with an armful of odds and ends. “We have
enough organic to run the kitchen-mate for a week, if we eat light,
enough paste to keep us going for another two weeks.”
March mutters, “Fuck.
All right, let me check the charts to see what our options are,
given fuel and supply levels.” He narrows his eyes on me. “You.
That wasn’t funny, not even a little bit.”
“Do I look pregnant?”
“You look like a
refugee,” Dina says while laying out the things she’s
collected.
To my vast relief,
she handles the situation, spreading a blanket that I hope she’s
sterilized somehow beneath Koratati’s feet. I don’t even mind the
slam, which stings more because it’s true.
“Give her your hand,”
Dina instructs.
After all the abuse
I’ve taken, I’m not precisely eager, but I don’t want to wind up
orchestrating this comedy of errors. So Koratati squeezes down, and
I’m pretty sure I hear my bones popping. That can’t be a good
sign.
From somewhere behind
me, Jael says, “If we don’t need to be strapped in, then I’m off to
quarters. I’d rather not watch.”
“You prefer the
baby-making, do you?” I’m amazed Koratati can find the wind to be
flippant, but she manages to make an obscene gesture at Jael as he
retreats. “Go on then, get out of here, you gormless
coward!”
“If you insist.”
Surge pretends he thinks she’s talking to him, heads for the
hallway, and calls to Jael, “Slow up, lad, maybe we can get a game
together.”
This looks insanely
painful. If I’d ever been inclined to romanticize motherhood, this
would’ve dispelled those illusions straightaway. Koratati’s belly
roils with her labor, and she sits forward, knees splayed wide. The
golden fur running down her neck is wet with sweat. She smells
funky, too. By the way Kora bares her teeth, it’s just as well
Surge took to his heels.
A gush of fluid
spatters the blanket Dina laid down. The mechanic whispers soft
words of encouragement with a surety and comfort that astonishes
me. She correctly interprets my surprise and shrugs.
“Back on Tarnus, I
was present at my mother’s bedside for every birth. I had three
sisters. It was tradition.”
Her family is dead
now. I wonder what she’d do in my place, given what my mother has
asked of me, what Dina would’ve done to save them, if she’d had any
power in the matter. Koratati growls low in her throat, signaling
that she should be the center of attention, as she crushes my
fingers in hers.
“You’re doing great,”
Dina murmurs. “I’m timing you, and it’s time to push.”
That’s Vel’s cue.
Despite our racial differences, he’s still quintessentially male,
and this is a woman thing. I sigh.
I wish I had a penis.
March’s amusement
ripples through me. Yeah, that’s going on the
list of things I never want to hear again. I grin, knowing I’m
not going to explain the context.
“I think I will go
see what they’re playing,” Vel says, and hurries off.
I’d like to say the
birth affected me profoundly, that it was beautiful and miraculous.
Maybe even report the experience changed me forever. But that would
come across as pure bullshit to anyone who knows me.
So I’ll tell the
truth: The ordeal struck me as painful, bloody, smelly, messy, and
a whole lot of trouble. I can’t believe women go through it on
purpose. Kora looks positively beatific when we lay her daughter in
her arms, though, a wrinkly, squalling little thing with tufts of
gold hair. So I suppose she must think it’s worth it.
As for me, I resolve
never to pass along my genes. The guys return when the coast is
clear, first Surge and Jael, then March and Vel. They admire the
child dutifully and then break open a bottle of homebrew Surge
brought on board. He knew he’d have something to celebrate.
The mood on board
shifts from tense to festive, but I know it won’t last. I can tell
by March’s expression he has crucial information, and we may not
like it. Then again, when do we ever?
Like a good captain,
he lets them celebrate for a while, though. Doesn’t want to bring
the mood down too soon. Dina coaxes some music out of the ancient
comm system, and Jael shows off a surprisingly deep singing voice.
Kora basks in Surge’s proud fatherness. I don’t think I’ve ever
shared a moment like this with anyone.
Finally, March has to
speak because time marches on, as that’s what time does. I’m
shocked to find we’ve been up hauling straight space for over
twelve hours. “I have bad news and worse news. Which do you want
first?”
Shit. I hate this
game.
