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Once she finished making sure I no longer looked like I lost the battle to the bathroom sink, we took the elevator down to the clinic. Bhesur was there. When he didn’t travel on board the ship, he usually worked the late evening and night shifts here at HQ.
The medic was the only personnel on duty at the time. He looked alert when he saw me storm through the entrance. “Is there a skirmish on the city outskirts? I didn’t hear the alarm.”
“There’s no attack. We need you to do a scan.”
“For?”
Cammie held up the pregnancy test. “This.”
The medic looked from her to me and back again. “That is very exciting.” He searched the room. “Let me find the diagnostic tool while you take a seat on the table, ambassador.”
I assisted Cammie in getting up on the table. I felt so jumpy, even though I wasn’t the one about to have the scan.
My mate was pregnant. With our child.
I stopped. But the little test stick could have inaccurate results, couldn’t it?
“Found it.” Bhesur returned with the scanner. “Lie back, please, ambassador. This won’t hurt and will take only a few minutes.” He pressed a button on the remote and it rose over the table and hovered above Cammie’s stomach.
I remembered to breathe as I observed the blue light on Cammie. The medic pressed another series of buttons, making the diagnostic tool rotate in the air. I fought the urge to lean forward and peer over the medic’s shoulder to see what he had on the handheld monitor.
“Just a moment while I get an image to project.”
I heard a tapping on the floor and soon discovered it was my own foot. Chagrined, I put a stop to the movement. “Apologies.”
Cammie gave my hand a squeeze. I was the one who should be reassuring her, not the other way around. Already I was doing a subpar job. Unacceptable. I had to correct myself.
“The test stick was accurate. The ambassador is pregnant.”
I was struck by the smile on Cammie’s face as the results were confirmed. The room filled with a steadytap-tap-tap.
“What’s that?” Cammie asked.
I looked down at my feet. “Not me this time.”
“It’s the heartbeat.” The medic brought up a holographic image on the diagnostic.
In the next several moments, I heard him explain more about the fetal heart rate, and where he was looking on the monitor, something about an electrocardio-whatnot. As my eyes were trained on the image, all I could focus on were tiny limbs and the shape of a small, rounded head.
There it was. Our baby.
“Bhesur, can you tell the sex of the baby?”
“Not the way it’s turned.” The medic twiddled with the remote to show different angles of the image with no luck. “They tend to move around in there. We might see it next time.”
“Can you zoom in on the head?”
Cammie turned to me. “The head? Why?”
“Male members of the Zol species are born with horns.”
“Horns?” I watched her lips part and her eyes get as round as the diagnostic tool floating over her. “Did I just hear you say what I think you just said?”
“Ambassador,” the medic joined in. “Zol males are indeed born with horns but they are not as big as what you see on an adult such as Commander Rone.”
“They’re soft at first,” I added, seeing the mounting panic on her face.
“Soft as my womb? I think not.”
