Free Wanderlust by Ann Aguirre

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.