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"So – you knew?"
"I suspected. The implant should have broken down by now – but there were no symptoms."
"Your medical records are chaotic, Officer. Frequent reassignments, incomplete checks. . . When did you last have a full medical?"
"I cannot remember. Can you tell me how long ago it happened?"
"You would like to know when, to know who . . .?"
"Yes I would. Can you end the stasis?"
"You wish the foetus to grow?"
"I do," Aeryn said simply.
"That is a separate procedure – it is not appropriate today. Make arrangements with the Tech as you leave." The surgeon was already ungloving, his back turned, consultation over.
She wished she could have insisted that he tell her – but how could she explain to a PeaceKeeper surgeon how eager she was to discover if her potential child could be a hybrid?
* * *
"Any other oaths of silence I should know about?"
Aeryn shook her head, her mind half on the secret she would soon share with John.
"So you could tell me, if you were pregnant?"
Thoughts chased through her head – surprise, questions, relief even. 'Alright,' she thought, 'maybe we'll tackle this now.' But even as she drew breath, searching for the words to begin, John turned, drumming impatiently on his thigh – and he was gone.
'Frell!' she thought; 'how did he find out?'
* * *
"So, when will you be turning Moya into a nursery?"
"I don't know D'Argo. Does it matter?"
"Crichton deserves to know."
"He knows as much as I do."
"Parenthood, Aeryn, brings great responsibilities."
"I know that . . ."
"Here on Moya, right now, is not the safest place for a baby."
"I know that too, but when will we ever be secure? D'Argo, do you want me to leave?"
"I did not say that." The big man was clearly uncomfortable, as was Aeryn – his hostility was something she thought they had left way behind them.
"So what do you expect me to do?" she asked, but he was already getting to his feet.
"Parenthood also brings great disappointment. . . ." he rumbled.
"Thanks, D'Argo," she said thoughtfully, to his retreating back.
* * *
"So – you need a PeaceKeeper surgeon to kick-start this baby?" Chiana asked brightly.
"Ideally."
"Could be difficult – "
"Yes."
"Given our current status with the PeaceKeepers."
"Yes."
"Still – you say you have seven cycles? That's plenty of time."
"No. The embryo has seven cycles from the time it is implanted – but as I don't know when. . ."
"What happens then? If it's not released from stasis?"
"I believe it is reabsorbed. It dies, Chiana."
"But, if it's John's you have what, six cycles?"
"Maybe rather less."
Chiana's curiosity was piqued, but Aeryn wasn't giving any more. Never mind – Chi could wait.
"And if it isn't Crichton's – "
"What?" Aeryn asked. "It doesn't matter? No, Chiana you're wrong. Whoever the father may be, the child is also mine, and it will be born – if I have anything to do with it."
* * *
"So – so – so – " Noranti crooned to herself. "As you sow . . . . New life. New life. A blessing. A gamble. An – "
"You!" Aeryn cut in, "have nothing to do with this. You do not come near me – us. In fact, you can get out now, until I am finished."
Noranti fussed out, as though that was exactly what she had intended anyway, and Aeryn resumed rummaging through the storage pots.
"Why," she asked herself aloud, "is it impossible to eat on this ship without running into her? Don't worry," she added, talking to her middle. "the old mad woman and her foul herbs will not come anywhere near you."
Rygel floated into view. "So – talking to yourself now? You'll have to stay alert to keep out of her way."
"I know. Do you think maybe it's time we dumped her?"
"You may have need of her, erm, skills sometime."
"Not you too Rygel? Are you going to bless me with pearls of advice?"
"Would you heed them?"
"Good point."
He pressed on regardless. "My first would be what you have already noted, keep away from the ministrations of that witch. The second – which comes too late –would be, don't do it! Life on Moya is precarious enough – without one of our soldiers encumbered with maternity." Rygel patted his own ample stomachs with self-satisfaction.
"Thank you, Rygel. That's a big help!" Aeryn said, tucking into a heap of innocuous looking crackers.
* * *
"So – I hear I saved two lives when I found you in that Prowler?"
With a sudden flash of insight Aeryn said – "But you already knew that."
"I must confess . . . " he smiled.
"You keep out of this Scorpius. I kept my word. The rest is nothing to do with you."
"You defy PeaceKeeper protocols again. Monitoring failed dismally in your case, Officer Sun – a strong independent streak. . ."
"Perhaps."
"And another Sebacean hybrid on the way?" he said.
"You know that for a fact?" she asked, keeping the eagerness from her voice.
"No – " Scorpius admitted. "The incompetent surgeon did not think to ascertain that information. And you allowed him no time to correct his error."
"Hmmm . . ."
"High command would be displeased."
"They need never know," Aeryn said quickly, defensively. "Does Grayza know?"
"Not from me." Scorpius purred. "An able overseer of cadets should have picked you out for special forces."
"Well, that's a comfort at this stage. I doubt we can persuade them to select me now –"
Sikuzo, haunting Scorpius' quarters as so often, had been sitting quietly disregarded until she said, with an air of surprise; "So it's true? You are pregnant?"
Aeryn did not even bother to snap at her. She favoured her with her best withering glare, and marched out.
* * *
"Officer Sun – Aeryn – you shared my DNA once. Will that – - matter?" Pilot asked gently.
"I just don't know, Pilot."
"Moya is aware of how you felt about Talyn. How you tried to protect him, to teach him. She will do what she can to protect your child. As will I." He looked up and met her eyes.
Aeryn blinked hard. "Please thank her, and, Pilot – thank you too." She turned to go, hands clamped over her wide gun belt possessively, and her mouth twitched into a small smile. "Well, baby; we'll have a home at least," she said thoughtfully.
* * *
"So, little one – it's you and me against the galaxy.
Have you noticed how not one of them has asked how I feel about this? Let me tell you, I'm terrified. Nothing prepared me for this. There is no manual, no training. I know less than nothing about being a parent.
Face it, with my record, my parentage, I was the last one they were going to permit to procreate. You are something of a miracle – fated maybe," she said as her mind drifted off down a side track, wondering.
She shook her head – no use thinking that way. "Yet I'm going to be all you have. You'll be safe, I can promise you that; as safe as it is in my power to make you. I'm a soldier, a warrior, and I'm good at that. They trained me well – I'll watch your back, trust me for that. But as to the rest - - -
Well, I know that the way I was raised is not good. We won't do it that way. I am totally unprepared for the practicalities of this. I was hoping that Crichton, John, would help with teaching you, caring for you. But he is so hurt right now, so fatigued, so space weary – I can't reach him. And my priorities – he has to see my priorities have changed.
"You will have to use your charms on him when you arrive – there's a very good chance that he is your father – in which case . . . Of course, if you turn out to look like a little Pilot . . ." she frowned at the mental image. "Only time will tell." Aeryn patted her still taut stomach. "Stick with me, little one – I'll do my very best for you. . . ."
Aeryn stretched out on her bed, and puzzled once more over the problem of finding a sympathetic Sebacean surgeon. First things first.
