Free Wanderlust by Ann Aguirre Page A

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