The Jesus Incident

Chapter Sixty-Five

This fetus cannot be brought to term. It cannot be a fruit of the human tree. No human could accelerate its own fetal development. No human could tap the exterior world for its needed energy. No human could communicate before departing the womb. We must abort it or kill both mother and child.
- Sy Murdoch, The Lewis Exchange, Shiprecords
WAELA SAT on the edge of the cot in the obstetrics alcove they had improvised. She could hear Ferry working with the wounded out in the emergency area. He had not even noticed her leave his side. Supply crates screened her area and she sat in the fabric-diffused shadows, taking shallow breaths to slow the contractions.
The prediction of Hali's pribox and her own inner voice had been correct. The baby was going to be born on its own schedule and despite anything else that might be happening.
Waela leaned back on the cot.
I'm not afraid. Why am I not afraid?
She felt that a voice spoke to her from her womb - It will be as it will be.
The quiet was broken by a babble of voices and another rush of footsteps into the medical shelter. How many batches of the wounded did that make? She had lost count.
A particularly hard contraction forced a gasp from her.
It's time. It's really time.
She felt that she had been put on a long slide, unable to get off, unable to change a single thing that would happen. This was inevitable, growing from that moment in the sub's gondola.
How could I have stopped that? There was no way.
"Where's that TaoLini woman? We need her help out here."
It was Ferry's familiar wheeze. Waela thrust herself upright, staggered to her feet and made her way heavily back to the emergency area of the shelter. She paused in the entrance as another contraction gripped her.
"I'm here. What do you want?"
Ferry glanced up from applying celltape to a wounded E-clone.
"Somebody has to go outside and decide which people are most in need of emergency treatment. I don't have time."
She stumbled toward the exit.
"Wait." The bleary old eyes focused on her. "What's wrong with you?"
"It'.... I'...." She clutched the edge of the treatment table, looked down at a wounded E-clone.
"You'd better go back and lie down," Ferry said.
"But you nee...."
"I'll decide what has to be done!"
"But you sai...."
"I changed my mind." He finished with the E-clone on the table, looked down at the bulging eyes which protruded from the corners of the clone's temples. "You. You're well enough to go outside and see that I get the worst cases first."
She shook her head. "He doesn't know anything abou...."
"He knows when somebody's dying. Don't you?" Ferry helped the clone off the table, and Waela saw the burn splash across the man's right shoulder.
"He's wounded," Waela protested. "He can'...."
"We're all wounded," Ferry said. She heard hysteria in his voice. "Everybody's wounded. You go back now and lie down. Let the wounded take care of the wounded."
"What will yo.... ?"
"I'll be back when I've finished with this lot. The...." He leered at her, old yellow teeth. "Maybe a baby. You see? I'm a poet, too. Maybe you'll like me now."
Waela felt the old snake of fear wriggle up her spine.
Another burn victim staggered into the emergency area, a spidery young female with elongated neck and head, gigantic eyes. Ferry helped her onto the emergency table, signaled a clone from secondary treatment to come in and help. A stump-legged figure clumped in, held the wounded woman's shoulders.
Waela turned away, unable to look at the pain in the woman's eyes. How silent she was!
"I'll be in soon," Ferry called as Waela left.
She stopped at the fabric closure to the rear of the shelter. "I can tend to myself. Hali taught me t...."
Ferry laughed. "Hali, sweet bloom of youth, taught you nothing! You're not a young woman, TaoLini, and this is your first baby. Like it or not, you'll need me. You'll see."
Another contraction seized her as she stumbled into her alcove. She doubled over until it passed, then made her way through the gloom to the cot, threw herself on it. Another long, hard cramp rippled the length of her abdomen, followed immediately by an even harder one. She inhaled a deep breath, then a third constriction began. Suddenly, the cot was drenched with amniotic fluid.
Oh, Ship! The baby's coming now. She's comin....
Waela clenched her eyes tightly closed, her entire body taken up in the elemental force moving within her. She had no memory of calling out, but when she opened her eyes, Ferry was there with the long-fingered dwarf she had seen in the outer area of the medical shelter.
The dwarf bent over her face. "I'm Milo Kurz." His eyes were overlarge and protruding. "What do you want me to do?"
Ferry stood behind the dwarf, wringing his hands. Perspiration stood out on his forehead and all the hysterical bravado she had seen in the emergency area was gone.
"The baby's not coming now," he said.
"It's coming," she gasped.
"But the med-tech's not back. The Natal...."
"You said you could help me."
"But I've neve...."
Another contraction rippled through her. "Don't just stand there! Help me! Damn you, help me!"
Kurz stroked her forehead.
Twice, Ferry reached toward her, and twice pulled back.
"Please!" Waela screamed it between gasps. "The baby must be turned! Please turn her!"
"I can't!" Ferry backed away from the cot.
Waela glared up at the dwarf. "Kur.... please. The baby has to be turned. Could yo.... ?" Another gasping contraction silenced her.
When it passed, she heard the dwarf's voice, low and calm. "Tell me what to do, sister."
"Try to slip your hands around the baby and turn her. She has one arm up and keeping her head fro.... ohhhhhh!"
Waela tasted blood where she had bitten her own lip, but the pain cleared her head. She opened her eyes, saw the dwarf kneeling between her legs, felt his hands - gentle, sure.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh," he said.
"Wha.... wha.... ?" It was Ferry, standing at the exit from the alcove, ready to flee.
"The baby tells me what to do," Kurz said. His eyes closed, his breathing slowed. "This infant has a name," he said. "She is called Vata."
Out, out.
Waela heard the voice in her head. She saw darkness, smelled blood, felt her nose stuffed wit.... wit....
"Am I being born here?" Kurz asked. He leaned back in a rapturous movement, held up a glistening infant wriggling in his hands.
"How did you do that?" Ferry demanded.
Waela threw her arms wide, felt the baby delivered to her breast. She felt the dwarf touching her, touching the infant - Vata, Vata, Vat.... Visions of her own life mingled with scenes which she knew had occurred to Kurz. What a sweet and gentle man! She saw the battle at the Redoubt, felt Kurz being wounded. Other scenes unreeled before her closed eyes like a speeded holo. She felt Panille's presence. She heard Panille's voice in her head! Terrifying. She could not shut it out.
The touch of the infant teaches birth, and our hands are witness to the lesson. That was Panille, but he was not here in the medical shelter.
She sensed the people they had left aboard Ship then - the hydroponics workers, the crew going about their business along the myriad passage.... even the dormant ones in hyb: All were one with her mind for an instant. She felt them pause in their shared awareness. She felt the questions in their minds. Their terror became her terror.
What is happening to me? Please, what is happening?
We live! We live!
All the other people vanished from her awareness as she heard/felt those words. Only the speaker of those words remained with he...tiny voice, a chant, an enormous relief. We live! Waela opened her eyes, looked up into the eyes of the dwarf.
"I have seen everything," he whispered. "The infan...."
"Yes," she whispered. "Vat.... our Vat...."
"Something's happening," Ferry said. "What is it?" He put his hands to his temples. "Get out of there! Get out, I say!" He collapsed, writhing.
Waela looked at Kurz. "Help him."
Kurz stood up. "Yes, of course. The worst of the wounded first."