“She’s a councilor, as you know,” Aeon said between breaths. “Her voice matters here. If something happens to her or the baby?—”
“Nothing’s happening to either of them.” The firmness in my voice surprised even me.
The observation area doors parted, revealing the tall, elegant form of Councilor Mira on the bed, her short red hair plastered to her forehead with sweat. The monitoring equipment beeped frantically beside her, displaying readings I immediately recognized as alarming.
“Dr. Parker,” she gasped, clutching her belly. “The pain started an hour ago. It’s not… It’s not right.”
I moved to the monitors, scanning the readings closer. My stomach dropped. “She’s in active labor, and the baby’s heart rate is decelerating with each contraction.” I turned to Aeon. “I need a surgical kit, sterilization field, neonatal warming unit?—”
“We don’t have all that equipment,” he interrupted, panic flickering across his face.
“Then get me what you do have.” I locked eyes with him. “Now.”
The room transformed into controlled chaos. Laine—the medical technician I’d met days earlier—appeared along with two others whose names I didn’t catch. Aeon moved with precision, gathering supplies, his hands steady despite the tension radiating from him.
“Mira,” I said, pressing my palm against her clammy forehead. “Your baby needs to come out now. Do you understand?”
She nodded, her eyes—so much like Aeon’s in their intensity—fixing on mine with complete trust that staggered me.
“I need you to hold on just a little longer,” I said, squeezing her hand before turning to the improvised surgical setup.
Aeon stepped beside me, rolling up his sleeves. “Tell me what to do.”
“You’re assisting?” I asked, surprised.
“Battlefield medic programming,” he replied. “I can follow your lead.”
For the next twenty minutes, we worked in sync. I called out instructions, and he anticipated my needs before I voiced them. His hands remained steady and his focus absolute. It struck me that I had never worked with someone who complemented my movements so naturally.
When the baby finally emerged—small but perfect—the silence lasted only seconds before a strong, indignant cry filled the room.
“It’s a boy,” I announced, relief washing through me as I checked his vital signs. “A healthy boy.”
Mira’s tears flowed freely as I placed her son on her chest. Across the bed, Aeon’s eyes met mine, something profound passing between us—gratitude, respect, and something deeper I couldn’t name.
“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice catching slightly. “He wouldn’t have made it without you.”
As the adrenaline ebbed, I watched mother and child, feeling the weight of what had just happened. These people—whom I’d thought were just machines, whom I’d been trying to escape—had needed me. And despite everything, I wanted to help them.
The realization settled uncomfortably within me. If I left, who would deliver the next baby? Who would handle the next emergency?
Aeon stripped off his dirtied glove before tentatively touching my shoulder, and I didn’t flinch away.
“You saved them both,” he said softly.
“I just did my job,” I replied, but we both knew it was more than that.
Later the next morning, I entered the colony marketplace with Aeon at my side, still giddy from lack of sleep after the emergency delivery. The morning suns cut through the jungle canopy in glittering shafts of light, illuminating the surprisingly charming settlement. Stone pathways wound between structures built from a combination of salvaged spacecraft parts and local materials. It was primitive yet advanced, chaotic yet orderly—just like its inhabitants.
“They’re staring,” I whispered to Aeon, feeling dozens of eyes tracking our movement.
“They’re grateful,” he replied, his deep voice sending an unexpected shiver down my spine.
Before I could say anything, a group of women approached us. One carried a woven basket filled with strange purple fruits.
“Dr. Parker,” she said, offering the basket. “For Councilor Mira’s son. For my nephew.” Her eyes, the same piercing blue as Aeon’s, brimmed with emotion. “You saved them both.”
“I… thank you,” I stammered, accepting the gift. “How are they doing this morning?”
