by Erik Hanberg
Wulf opened the door and came in to the small bunk room. They exchanged doubtful looks. Shaw grimaced. He hated to say this in front of Ellie, but—
“If Ellie or Jane die during childbirth, what’s going to protect you then, Taveena? The cartel won’t wait a second before they blow up this ship. Your hostages are the only thing keeping you alive. You want to live to fight the Lattice another day? Get your ass in here and help. Now.” Shaw cut the comm link. “If that doesn’t get her in here, I don’t have any other argument.”
Ellie nodded, and then cried out in pain as another contraction came on her.
“I’m ready to tandem, doc!” Shaw said. He rushed in and kissed his wife. “I love you, Ellie. I’ll see you on the other side.”
His ring buzzed and he knew the request was sent. He tapped his implant, recited a security code, and let Coronovschi into his brain. More than just into his brain. She now had control of his brain and everything it was attached to. Speech, motion, bodily functions. She could move his hands, wrap them around his own throat and make him choke himself to death… and he would be powerless to stop her. It was why most people never let anyone except their most trusted friends and family tandem into their implant. But while that was all true, Coronovschi could also use those same hands to deliver Jane and save Ellie’s life.
His consciousness took a backseat as he was disconnected from control of his body. His senses, however, were shared. He felt his hand slip into Ellie’s vaginal canal and his fingertips brush against her cervix. His hand explored around, and Shaw deeply wished he could understand what Coronovschi was learning from the different spongy and firm sensations against his skin. The Lattice could have told Coronovschi everything she needed to know, but he suspected years of training couldn’t be pushed aside so easily. She needed to feel it herself.
“Nine centimeters,” his voice said. “But I can feel where the cord is. We need to address this.”
The bunkroom’s door slid open to reveal Taveena on the other side. Shaw thought Taveena looked almost nervous to be there.
“I’m Olga Coronovschi, Ellie’s doctor,” Shaw told her. “I’m tandeming with Byron for the duration of Ellie’s labor and I need your help. We’re going to do this together. One team, one purpose, whatever issues you have with each other.”
Shaw wasn’t sure but he thought he had suddenly developed a slight Eastern European accent.
“I know you both have gotten used to leadership at one time or another,” he continued, “but I’ll need you to listen to me and follow exactly what I say, no matter what. Can you both do that for Ellie?” Shaw looked back and forth between Taveena and Wulf.
They nodded dumbly.
Shaw smiled and winked. “Don’t look so scared. I might be in charge, but this is a friendly dictatorship, and we’re bringing a new baby girl into this world, so let’s see some smiles, ja?”
That cracked a smile on Wulf’s face. Shaw wasn’t sure he’d ever been so charming.
“Taveena, if you will excuse me for saying so, you’ve spent so long in meditation that you’ve acquired quite a smell. Please go wash. And quickly. Pregnant women can be highly sensitive to—”
“I’ll do it,” Taveena said, nodding.
“Thank you,” Shaw continued. “Wulf, while she’s doing that I need you to cut the speed of the spin by half. I need less gravity for the next few minutes.”
“No,” Taveena cut in, catching everyone by surprise. “No one but me goes into the control room.”
The room was quiet for a beat until Ellie cried out again.
“Then for God sakes, go do it!” Shaw cried as Coronovschi turned his gaze back to Ellie.
A few seconds later, Shaw could feel his insides start to float around a little more.
“Open the comm to Taveena, would you, Wulf?” he asked. “Another twenty percent slower?” Shaw asked when it was open.
Everything in the room started to float a little more.
“Ellie, this would never work on Earth, and I’m ashamed that I’m about to try it, but it’s the most obvious and least intrusive solution my team could think of, given what we have—or don’t have—to work with. Taveena, when I say the word, I want full speed restored.”
“Acknowledged.”
Ellie floated up above the floor, watching her husband and doctor with worried eyes. “Jane is going to be fine,” Shaw cooed. Then he grabbed Ellie’s ankles and yanked her down to the padded bulkhead.
“Now, Taveena!”
The gravity restored so quickly it made Shaw’s stomach lurch. But Ellie was still against the bulkhead, one of Shaw’s hands pinning her down, the other inside her again.
“That was ‘being managed?’” Ellie shouted angrily.
Shaw had to agree with her. He thought he could have handled that procedure on his own without being in a tandem.
“Let’s just say that Plans B, C, and D would have been much more elaborate if that hadn’t worked. And it did work. I can’t feel the cord and my team confirms it’s floated to the side. The AI has reduced the chance of a prolapsed cord to less than one percent.”
“You could have told me,” Ellie grumbled.
“I’m sorry, Ellie. We’re monitoring the baby’s state of mind, and she was already feeling heightened anxiety. If I had told you what I was going to do, you would have tensed, which would have further increased Jane’s anxiety. Not to mention it might not have been as effective. But we are out of the woods. Taveena,” Shaw said into the comm, “go wash off before your return. I need you in three minutes or less.”
Ellie grimaced.
“Do you feel the urge to push?” Shaw asked.
Ellie shook her head, her eyes tightly closed.
“Well. It won’t be long now. We’ll get through the rest of these contractions.” Shaw sang something soothing in a language he didn’t know in a tune he didn’t recognize.
“Your husband has a very nice singing voice,” he said.
“He disagrees,” Ellie said. “He hates singing in front of people. I’ve never heard him sing anything but ‘Happy Birthday.’”
“The pipes are there if you want to use them, Byron,” he told himself before singing a few more bars of what sounded like an Eastern European lullaby. Inside his own body, Shaw was having trouble processing the fact that he was listening to Coronovschi talk to him with his own voice. He was in a jump in his own body, essentially, and he couldn’t get over the strangeness of the situation.
“My back hurts now,” Ellie interrupted.
“That’s Jane’s head. She shifted during low-g. Just keep working on your breathing exercises. Let’s go through this together,” Shaw said.
Shaw watched through his own eyes as Coronovschi prepared for the birth.
Eventually Taveena came in, freshly bathed, to join Wulf as a nurse. It wasn’t a moment too soon, because Ellie reported she suddenly felt the desire to push.
Things moved fast from there, faster than Shaw could chart, even though he had literally nothing to do. He couldn’t turn his head or say words of encouragement—he’d given it all up to make sure Coronovschi could be here to deliver the baby.
Ellie was pushing as hard as she could. Her face had nearly contracted around itself with the straining. She pushed so hard, the smell of poop filled the room. Shaw watched as Wulf took on the job of cleaning it up and listened as his own voice soothingly told Ellie it was natural and that most women do it.
And then something changed. He saw a blueish wedge emerge that parted Ellie’s vagina. It took a second to recognize that the misshapen and purplish object was the head of his daughter. He knew babies didn’t come out of the womb pink and rosy, but this was still a surprise.
“Jane is crowning!” he announced, smiling widely at Ellie. “You’re close, Ellie. Just a few more pushes. Taveena, turn on the warmer.”
“The warmer? What is the warmer for?” Ellie asked.
“The baby, of course,” Shaw answered as Taveena turned
on a hot light rigged over the bunk. “It’s time, Ellie.”
“Oh shit. Oh shit. It’s really happening, isn’t it?”
“It is most definitely happening,” Shaw said.
“I wish I could talk to By.”
“He’s right here,” Coronovschi answered through Shaw. “Grab his hand. That’s his hand, and even though I’m in control, he’s right inside, seeing everything I’m seeing. He won’t miss a minute of this. Now, take a deep breath and give a big push. Can you do it?”
Ellie bore down, straining and screaming so hard that Shaw wished he could have covered his ears. He now saw all of his daughter’s head, but nothing more, and then a few seconds later her head withdrew a few centimeters, as if Jane was turtling back into her shell.
He felt his heart rate leap. That wasn’t too surprising—he was nervous and anxious and excited—until he realized that it was Coronovschi’s mental state his heart was responding to, not his own. He quickly understood: the doctor was stressed. Something was wrong.
Revealing none of her anxiety level to Ellie, Coronovschi said through Shaw, “I need you to keep pushing, Ellie! I know you’re tired, but keep going!”
Ellie shouted and cried again, as Shaw’s hands applied gentle pressure to Jane’s head. It barely moved.
“Stop, stop, Ellie,” he instructed, cutting her off. “Rest. Six deep breaths and then we go again. Wulf, at my side.”
Wulf scooted closer, his hands full of the towels he’d been managing for the doctor. Shaw grabbed Wulf’s head and pulled his ear to his mouth. His voice was a bare whisper, and Shaw felt bizarrely like he was eavesdropping on his own lips.
“We’re seeing shoulder dystocia—the baby’s shoulders are stuck in the birth canal and are pinching the cord. We’ve got less than two minutes to get Jane out before we lose her. I’m going to try to manipulate her body through but if I can’t, I’m going to perform an episiotomy—that means cutting through her perineum to get us more room for her shoulders. If that doesn’t work, I’m going break the baby’s clavicle so we can get her out. If we get to those procedures, I can’t risk what might happen in low gravity. I will need you to pin Ellie against the bulkhead while I deliver the baby, do you understand?”
Wulf’s eyes went wide. Shaw wanted to scream in agony and frustration, but he was trapped inside his own mind.
“Do you understand?” Shaw hissed.
“Yes,” Wulf answered.
“Good. Ellie, I need your legs up—”
“Is everything ok? What’s going on?” Ellie cried, panicked.
“Everything is going to be fine, Ellie, we’ve got this,” Shaw soothed. “Knees up and legs back, please. Taveena,” Shaw continued, his hands feeling around on Ellie’s pubic bone. There was a bulge, and Shaw understood what Coronovschi had located—Jane’s shoulder that was lodged where it shouldn’t be. “When Ellie starts pushing, I need your fist applying pressure on this point here, OK? Hard.”
When Taveena was in place, Shaw said, “Let’s see it, Ellie! Big push!”
A few seconds of screaming passed. “Push harder, Taveena!” Shaw called over Ellie’s screams.
Nothing moved.
“Stop, everyone!” Shaw said. “Stop. Ellie, rest for a few seconds. This is the big one. I need everything you have and more, OK? Nod if you’re with me.”
Ellie nodded, though her eyes were clenched.
Shaw leaned forward between Ellie’s legs. His mind was in chaos and he could sense Coronovschi’s mounting fear, and yet his hands were steady. He gently turned Jane’s head so she was facing away from him instead of down. He then reached into around Jane’s head and pushed his fingers into Ellie’s vagina. He felt Jane’s small chest and back. He put both hands against her and began to roll her to the right so that her body was at an angle instead of aligned vertically.
He met Ellie’s eyes. He hoped Ellie could see how much he was praying for her despite Coronovschi’s control of his body. “Push!” he exclaimed.
Ellie screamed and Jane slipped out of her mother like it was the easiest thing in the world, guided by Shaw’s hands. The umbilical cord slipped out behind her and Shaw suddenly found himself holding his newborn daughter. He felt his face open up in a wide smile—it was Coronovschi’s smile, but it matched his own.
“She’s beautiful, Ellie,” he said. “A healthy, beautiful baby girl.”
“I want to hold her!” Ellie said.
And then Jane cried. It was a whelp—a tiny and tinny bleat—but it struck Shaw as the most beautiful sound in the world. She was alive. She was breathing.
“Do you have a dry blanket, Wulf?” Shaw asked.
The small room was covered with soaked towels, some red and some pink, and it wasn’t clear there was a dry blanket left.
“No, put her against me,” Ellie said. “I want her to feel my chest. She knows me.”
Shaw placed Jane on Ellie.
“Wulf, grab that wrap. I’ll give you instructions for the placental expulsion through it. It’s time to let Shaw have his body back,” Shaw said, smiling. And just like that, Shaw was in control again. He suddenly felt lightheaded, like his body had forgotten to breathe while Coronovschi and Shaw switched who was in the driver’s seat.
Shaw blinked and cleared his ears until he felt more like himself. He recovered and gave a silent moment of gratitude to the doctor for the smooth delivery. He leaned over and kissed Ellie’s forehead, his hand stroking Jane’s back.
“The cord,” Taveena said, and something in her voice caught Shaw’s attention. She was smiling at Ellie, maybe even teary-eyed. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her smile like that.
Taveena picked up the shears they had scavenged from the maintenance locker and sterilized. Thank God they hadn’t needed them for a C-section. It was that thought that made Shaw realize it was truly over. They’d done it. Ellie had done it.
Relief washed over him, his muscles slack.
Until Taveena gripped her hands around the blades of the shears and held them across Ellie’s midsection, offering them to Shaw rings first. He looked up at her in surprise.
“The father should be the one to cut the cord,” she said.
Shaw slipped his fingers into the rings. In a daze, he took in Ellie’s smiling and sweaty face. Her eyes were sleepy and yet full of life. Looking back at them, he felt what could only be described as clarity. He couldn’t put his finger on what had changed or what he was clear about. But something had shifted inside him. Some tumbler in a lock would never be reset.
He would do anything now. And he had the tool in his hand to do it.
Jane was on Ellie’s breasts, and Taveena lifted up the long cord that snaked back down between Ellie’s legs. Shaw fit the shears around the cord. He looked at Ellie.
“This is for you and Jane.”
He focused on the shears. He snipped, feeling the powerful blades of the thick metal cut effortlessly through the umbilical between Jane and Ellie.
They were sharp enough. The blades that separated mother from daughter might also be the blades that saved their lives.
The cord was severed.
The next moment felt like an eternity to Shaw. Even though he kept pushing the shears forward in a single smooth motion, it was as if the whole world had slowed down.
Ellie had her eyes closed, thank God.
Taveena was watching her.
Wulf was busy with the towels.
And Shaw…
Shaw lunged forward, arm straight. It was as if the shears were pulling him.
He didn’t rest until he had lodged the shears, all the way up to the rings, right in the middle of Taveena’s chest.
Part Two:
Saints
Chapter 4
He was in a coffin. There was no other explanation for the intense darkness or the growing claustrophobia. His bare feet kicked against his narrow enclosure. His elbows bruised as he hammered them against the side walls. When he raised his head, his forehead bounced off
a flat surface.
There was no noise of an outside world, no sense of motion. It was a coffin, right? What had happened? What was this? And where was he?
He couldn’t catch his breath. He was panicked, and he tried to gather himself, but he could never quite get a lungful of oxygen. He didn’t know how long he’d been inside, but he assumed that if there was no sound, there was probably also no air source. How much longer did he have before he ran out of breathable air?
He focused on trying to control his breathing, while his hands groped everything they could within their narrow range of motion. The surface was familiar and without blemish. He knew instantly that he wasn’t truly in a coffin. It was a capsule made of nitrogen diamond, the same material of the smooth black spheres and pipes that Taveena seemingly could command at will.
But where was he?
He held his hand up to the top of the capsule and let it fall. It hit against his stomach. So there was gravity. Was he on board the spinning Walden in a prison of Taveena’s design? Or—
The capsule around him began to vibrate. A high-pitched but muffled whine came from somewhere on the outside.
His breath was shorter and shorter. There was another blackness added to the edges of his vision that blended with the blackness of the capsule. He was running out of air. Seconds until he blacked out, he thought. Minutes until he was dead.
Taveena was torturing him. Or killing him without having to lift a finger.
He clawed for air. The new blackness had almost entirely engulfed his vision.
Then there was a blinding light accompanied by a rush of air into his lungs.
He breathed in deeply over and over. His body was getting the air he needed but his mind was still trying to catch up to the change.
He felt hands on his shoulders and arms, pulling him into a sitting position, and heard but did not understand that someone was speaking to him. Everything was still bright white around him, and he shut his eyes against the glare.
“You’re alive,” he finally understood someone repeating. “You’re alive. You’re alive.”