I held him tight. “The right name will come to us when the baby is here. Isn’t that what people always say?”
He nuzzled my hair, inhaling the freshly washed scent of it. “I think that’s a good idea… though we’ll keep Skelevor in mind, just in case.”
“I can’t wait to meet our child.”
“Me neither.”
It was a quiet admission to the universe that we still clung to a shared sense of hope about the future of our child. At the end of the day, it boiled down to two things, which nobody could take from us: Navan was going to be a father, and I was going to be a mother.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“What if it just explodes out of you?” Mort muttered, pacing the clinic floor. “What if you… you know… can’t cope, and there’s just blood everywhere, like absolutely everywhere—pools and pools of it, spraying all over the place? And what if it’s born literally half and half?”
I flashed him a look. “Way to comfort a frightened pregnant woman.”
“I’m just saying,” he replied, chastened. “This is a lot of pressure, you know?”
“No kidding!”
It had been another week, and I was so big now that it hurt to move. The baby’s limbs and elbows were visible now and again, protruding through the taut, stretched skin of my stomach. All my organs were squished wherever they could fit, my bladder unable to hold even the tiniest amount of liquid before the need to pee overwhelmed me. Considering this had never been done before, as far as we knew, nobody was sure when I might go into labor, but, judging by the sheer size of me, I had a feeling it might be soon. The thought terrified me. I couldn’t even think beyond it, to meeting my little one. All I could think about was how the hell I was going to get it out… and my body exploding and my blood spraying everywhere, thanks to Mort.
The shifter moved over to the table where I lay, resting his hand on my swollen belly. The first time he’d done it, a couple of days ago, I’d almost wrenched his arm out of its socket, trying to get him off me. He’d shocked himself at the action, claiming he wasn’t sure what had come over him. Now, despite everything, I’d come to allow it. Mort had revealed an unexpectedly caring side to his character, his entire focus always geared toward the imminent child, talking about it as though it were already a tangible part of our lives.
“You ready to come out and see Uncle Mort?” he asked the child. “You going to take it easy on me? I’ve never birthed anyone before. It’s going to be super disgusting, and your poor mom is going to be ruined. Everything down there is going to look like the remnants of a—”
“Mort!”
He flushed. “Sorry, I was just making conversation. I want it to know the sound of my voice before it arrives, so it knows we’re the good guys.”
“You think you’re a good guy?”
He shrugged self-consciously. “For this little one, I can be.”
“And you can stop emphasizing it every time you mention the baby. I know you know, but I swear to God, if you tell me what the gender is, I’m actually going to rip your arm out of its socket. It’s the one thing I have control over knowing.”
“You know, Riley, pregnancy has made you a sour old cow. You used to have a sense of humor.”
“Being trapped on a space station, who knows how many miles from Earth, on the edge of being forced to hand over my child, with a clueless shifter for a midwife, isn’t exactly my idea of a fun time,” I shot back, my irritation spiking. I was still dealing with the addictive effects of the growth serum, craving it every moment of the day, even when I’d just had a hit. A couple of days ago, they’d started reducing the quantity, and I was feeling the lack of it so intensely that I wanted to shred off my own skin to stop it from crawling.
“I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you a cow, especially considering how much you look like one at the moment. It wasn’t nice of me to point it out. The coldblood medics keep telling me I need to lie more to my patients, if I’m going to be a proper doctor,” Mort said sheepishly. “It’s just that I keep seeing your sad little face, and it’s bumming me out. I thought you could use a bit of cheering up, a bit of banter, the way we used to do things.”
I sighed, shifting the weight of the baby so I could sit up. “I don’t feel like myself right now.”
“I’m not surprised. There’s enough skin to make two of you.”
“Those coldbloods are right. You really need to work on your bedside manner.”
Mort gazed down at my stomach, watching the baby move. “I know you’d rather have a real doctor helping you through all of this, but I’m trying.” He paused, his red-veined eyes lighting up. “Actually, I have something for you. I nicked some blackwatch tubers from the pharmacy storeroom, to see if they can help with your addiction symptoms.” He hurried over to the far side of the clinic and plucked a small jar out of a drawer, returning with it a moment later. Through the glass, I could see long, dark, dried-up husks that reminded me of vanilla pods.
I pulled a face. “What do I do with them?”
“I can brew you up a batch of tea with them, and then you’d have to drink it a couple of times a day,” he explained. “The blackwatch plant is notorious for its suppressive qualities, so I figured they might be good to take the edge off your cravings. I’ve seen it used for other addictions on my home planet, Mallarot, and one of the medics here suggested it might be good—I didn’t mention you. I just said I was interested in the subject. If you keep drinking it after the injections stop, I think it might kill your addiction altogether.”
“I think Ezra will do that for me,” I said sourly.
“Oh… yeah, I forgot about that.” He offered an apologetic look. “You never know, he might keep you around.”
“Lucky me.”
Mort sat down on a stool, his flesh pooling over the seat. “Do you think he’ll let the baby live?”
Tears pricked my eyes. “I don’t think so, Mort. I don’t think he’ll let any of us live, maybe not even you.”
“Well, I always thought I was the most important thing in the universe, but I’m starting to think I don’t matter so much, in the grand scheme of things,” he replied, staring at my bump in a near trance. “In fact, I’ve been thinking of ways I can trick Ezra and Aurelius into keeping you all here. Like, I could make something up about the baby needing to be near its mom and dad, because otherwise its blood will get all infected and be no good. Or, I could say that they’ll need to wait a while before extracting anything, because the blood isn’t fully formed yet. That way, we’d have some time to figure out an escape plan.”
I smiled at Mort as he continued to ramble on, his ideas getting more and more outlandish. There was talk of hijacking the space station and flying it to safety or wrapping the baby in a spacesuit and sending it out into the ether, with a beacon attached. He even mentioned trying to seduce Ezra and Aurelius by shifting into Queen Gianne and throwing himself at them, slitting their throats in the midst of passion.
Truthfully, I was touched to see just how much Mort cared about the child’s survival, even if his affection barely included me and Navan. Having to spend at least an hour every day in the clinic with him had bonded us more closely than I could ever have imagined after the way we’d parted. Frankly, I was glad to have the friendship. Mort seemed to be changing in front of my eyes, his selfishness fading away, and it was all thanks to the remarkable child growing inside me. It was changing all of us, shifting our priorities.
“I never expected you to side with us,” I said suddenly, interrupting his graphic explanation of how we might escape through the sewage pipes.
“I never expected to care,” he admitted, resting his hand on my belly again as the baby turned, the jut of what looked like a wing-tip sticking out. “It’s like… even though the little weirdo isn’t born yet, I feel like I understand it. I know what it’s like to be an outcast. If we can break the child free of this place, that’s what it’ll inevitably become in certain parts of this
bastard universe. No one is ever as tolerant as you think, no matter what they claim.” He paused, his eyes taking on a faraway look. “There’s a reason Ezra keeps calling it an abomination, even though it’s going to bring him everything he’s ever wanted. They can’t help themselves—it’s unnatural to them, and that mindset will never change. Although, the kid seems pretty freaking great from where I’m standing.”
He’d surprised me again. “You’ve never mentioned why you were an outcast on Mallarot. You say things now and again, about how you wanted out, and would have done anything not to end up a gumshi farmer, but you’ve never really spoken about why you didn’t fit in.”
He shrugged. “Never seemed appropriate. Anyway, nobody wants to listen to mopey sob stories. I sure as hell don’t. I don’t need anyone bringing out the violins for me, no way.”
“Humor me… I don’t want to go back to the room just yet, and I’m tired of talking. I’ve barely got the energy to waddle to the bathroom so I can pee. Come on, tell me a story, Mort,” I urged him, lying back, feeling ridiculous as my bump stayed put, a huge mountain that was almost all I could see if I looked down.
He grunted, spinning around on his stool. “I was just never very good at anything,” he said reluctantly. “I wasn’t good at my studies, I didn’t have many friends… I didn’t have any friends, in fact, and I couldn’t even come to terms with the mindless work of a gumshi farmer. My parents were gumshi farmers, so it was pretty much my lot in life to follow the family trade, but I hated it. I used to split open the gumshi to get out the sour noodles, and I’d ruin them so often that my ma and pa put me on the task of washing the fruits that were being taken to market. Bear in mind, nobody ate the skin, so it didn’t even need to be washed.”
I smiled sympathetically, waiting patiently for him to continue. He started to rub my stomach in small circles, absentmindedly, like the action brought him some kind of comfort. It felt a bit weird to begin with, but I let him carry on, relaxing into it.
“I was tired of being this no-good, idiotic laughingstock—a burden to my parents and a running joke to everyone else—so I decided to do something that was 100 percent forbidden,” he continued, after a pause. “I took the shape of someone important and traveled out to the next planet over.”
“Almaghura?” I asked, remembering how close the merevin planet was supposed to be to the shifter planet.
He nodded. “Met a saucy fish-girl out there, which made it worth it for a while—even if she did go off with someone else eventually—but I got in a whole load of trouble in the end. I got away with it for like four years, masquerading as a famous shifter diplomat and getting treated like a king, but then the real diplomat was sprung on me unexpectedly and I got found out. As you know, shifters can see the true forms of other shifters, where others can’t. But it was even more obvious when two of us were thrown into the same room and the merevin leaders started demanding an explanation.”
I nodded.
“Well, it was a big scandal, and everyone hated me for it. We don’t even have the death penalty on Mallarot, but there were talks of bringing it back, just for little old me. It was about the only time I’ve ever felt special in my life,” he said wryly. “My own parents didn’t want to know me, calling me an embarrassment, no matter how many times I tried to explain why I’d done it. So, I figured it was a good time to seek new pastures. There’s nothing like total exclusion to make you rethink your career options.”
“That’s terrible,” I replied, not knowing whether to feel sorry for him or not. As ever, Mort’s moral compass was somewhat skewed, though I could understand his reasoning. “Was that when the stuff with Orion started?”
“I messed around for a bit, doing different things in different places, trying to scrape an existence together. About a year in, I came across a band of shifters who’d left Mallarot behind, and joined in with them for a while. That’s where I met my friend, the one Orion killed,” he said. “I still didn’t feel like I belonged, and shifters are pretty hated wherever we go, but it was better than home.”
“I’m so—” I sat bolt upright, a sharp jolt of pain ricocheting through my abdomen.
“Riley, if you needed to pee, you should’ve said so. Now I’ve got to clean up your mess. I’ve half a mind to make you do it, just for the comedic value of watching you try and bend,” Mort muttered, jumping down from the stool to fetch a mop.
I shook my head, panicked, as a second ripple of pure, cramping agony set my body on fire. Sweat beaded on my forehead, a few droplets trickling down the back of my neck. A third spasm shot through me, making me feel like someone had buried a knife deep in my womb and was twisting hard.
“What—what is it?” Mort looked as terrified as I felt.
“It’s… coming. Oh God, oh God, oh God… I think… it’s coming,” I gasped between contractions. I’d heard they were supposed to start off far apart, the time gradually reducing, but these were coming rapidly. And this was no ordinary pregnancy.
“Now?!”
I nodded, huffing out strangled breaths. “Mort… Mort, I’m scared… Mort!”
“Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap, you’re really having it now? It’s really coming?”
“I’m pretty freaking sure!” I screamed, as another blinding bolt coursed through every muscle.
“Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I should go and get another doctor, see what they can do,” Mort muttered, pacing frantically beside me. I grasped at his arm, gripping his malleable flesh, pulling him close to my face.
“If you abandon me now, Mort… I swear to God… I will rip your skin off… and wear it as a cape!”
He gulped. “Jeez, labor is giving you a frankly disturbing imagination.”
“Mort!”
“Okay, okay, I’ll be back in two seconds. Just let me get Navan,” he said.
“Don’t leave me!”
He gripped my hand. “I promise you, I’ll be back. I wouldn’t miss this kid being born for all the serrantium in the universe.”
With that, he morphed back into Doctor Ulani and vanished, disappearing behind the bulk of my bump. I heard the clinic door open, followed by the sounds of frantic screaming, making me wonder if there was another woman going into labor somewhere. But the voice was very clearly shrieking: “Navan, Navan, Navan!”
I fought against the agony of the contractions as they tore through my body, trying to keep calm. I thought of Kaido’s serum, wishing I had some to make me stronger, but he was on Vysanthe and I was here, having to do it the old-fashioned way. In my mind, I pictured jets of blood and me, half dead, on the hospital bed.
Is this it, little one? Is this where I go, and you stay? I thought, exhaling through the contractions, the way I’d seen women do on Jean’s beloved hospital dramas. Only, they weren’t trying to expel a half-alien child through their lady parts. I’ll do it. I’ll let that happen, but only if they let you live. You have to live, little one. You have to! If you don’t, then none of this is worth anything.
A moment later, I heard the clinic door open again, but nobody burst into the room. Confused, I lifted my head, barely able to see the clinic entrance, but I could hear an altercation taking place a short distance away.
“You have no right to forbid us!” Aurelius’s voice exclaimed.
“He’s right—that child is our property. You have no reason to hold us out here,” Ezra chimed in.
“You’re not coming in here, and that’s final,” Navan countered.
“Yeah, you’re not coming in because the patient is already at extreme levels of stress, and, when stressed, humans can release poisonous fluids into their bloodstream which, if left unchecked, can kill the fetus. Do you want that? Hmm? Do you want your presence in that room to kill the miracle baby? Do you want to risk losing all your precious samples because of your own self-centered stubbornness?” Mort fired back, his voice bellowing out into the hallway beyond, where it looked like a crowd had gathered.
“What?” Ezra sound
ed incredulous.
“You heard me!” Mort snapped, as he slammed the clinic door in their faces.
Mort hurried over to where I lay, with Navan taking my hand in his and perching on the stool beside me. He looked worried and excited, a nervous smile curving up the corners of his lips as he gazed down into my eyes.
“You’ve got this, Riley. I know you do,” he said.
“Yes, well, I haven’t, so if you could come down to this end, that’d be great,” Mort barked, pulling on a pair of latex-like gloves in a most unsettling fashion. The snap of them sent a shiver down my spine. What in the universe have I gotten myself into?
Navan stared at Mort in horror. “You want me to—?”
“Well, I’m not doing this by myself, grayskin,” Mort replied curtly. “If you help, we’ve got a better chance of not killing her. A problem shared, and all that.”
Navan gawped. “But I don’t know what I’m doing!”
“I’ve got news for you, pal… neither do I!”
I winced as another contraction ripped through my abdomen, making me wonder if the baby had already torn itself out, taking matters into its own hands after growing tired of waiting for my clueless midwives to get their act together.
“I hate to… break up… your repartee, but… do you think… you could help… get this… freaking baby out of me!” I screamed, clenching my fists so hard that the nails broke the skin.
“Of course. Sorry, Riley,” Navan mumbled, jumping into action as he threw on a pair of gloves and joined Mort at the business end. I was in too much pain to be mortified, and, to be honest, it was no less than he deserved for putting the baby in there in the first place.
“Breathe!” Mort shouted.
“You’re doing great!” Navan added.
“Is she?” I heard Mort mumble.
“I don’t know. You’re supposed to be the medical professional.”