Page 62 of Starfallen
“Do you really think you can?”
“I’m going to try.” He and I pace slowly down the hall while the women chatter excitedly. Fresh cut wood and evergreen sap fragrance the air. I breathe it in, ecstatic it’s not the sterile, stony smell of Mars.
Rhys sticks his hands in his front pockets. “I’m...” The sound of his throat clearing bounces against the walls. “I’m being forced to take a new assignment by the Circle of Elders. It seems between my lack of good judgment with certain red-headed recruits and the loss of a skirmisher—” He gives me a hard glare.
I rub my neck and try to look contrite.
“They’ve decided I need to restore our honor by spending a year rebuilding settlements and teaching humans we’re on their side. They added the extra task of locating the Baltin Queen’s sister as part of my personal debt if I wish our Gods to deem me worthy again.”
Three months ago, I’d have jumped for joy at the news of the mighty Henokan General brought so low. But now? I feel partly responsible.
“I’m sorry. I know we’ve never really gotten along, but if there’s anything I can do to help—”
He waves a hand in dismissal. “Keep our girl safe, that’s all I ask. Take care of her, make her happy. She deserves it.”
“I will. And thank you—for everything.”
His only response is a low grunt, then he strides toward the nursery with me in tow.
****
“YOU DIRTY SON OF Abitch,” Tilly screams through a contraction as she grips my fingers so tightly they’d probably break if not made of ilirium steel. “Youdid this to me.”
“I know.” I wipe her face with a cool, wet cloth. “I’m sorry.”
Granny, Harper, and Rhys sit on the opposite side of the makeshift curtain I’d put up to divide the bedroom, giving her some privacy. A medical carrier stands between her legs, monitoring everything with the augmented system and a hand-held scanner.
Fighting a rising storm of panic, I command the nanobots to inject more anesthesia. For some reason, Tilly’s body carries an immunity to the medication, probably due to the higher metabolic rate thanks to her ancient Baltin DNA.
“You will need to push on the next contraction,” the carrier says in a cool, even tone.
Tilly’s face screws up and she grabs the cloth from my hand, throwing it at the robot. “Pushthis, you asshole,” she hisses.
She lowers her head and lets out a sob, exhaustion written in every shadow of her face. “I can’t do this. I’m going to die.”
“Yes you can, Red.” I squeeze her hand, wishing I could give her my strength. “Just think, any minute now we’re going to meet our baby boy.”
Her face smooths and her eyes cling to mine.
“Okay?”
She nods.
“Now breathe.”
One deep inhale of air into her lungs.
I scour the augmented screen above her body, following the wave of energy rippling through the insides of her pelvic cavity.
“Push,” I urge, wishing I could do this for her, hating to see her in so much agony.
With one enormous, leg-shaking, bone-crushing squeeze, she lets out a high scream and pushes.
The carrier, still positioned between her legs, lowers its hands.
Tilly relaxes, sweat pouring down her temples and into her limp hair.
“How much more?” I ask the carrier, desperate for the torture to be over.
