“That’s good news,” Fisher said. “Is everything in order?”
Bless Fisher for keeping everything professional. Ned ate his toast.
“Yes,” Pendt said. “I would like to talk to the doctors here and get another opinion or two, and then we should work out a way to test if I can manage the station controls.”
“That part’s pretty straightforward,” Fisher said.
“We aren’t doing it that way,” Ned protested, finding his voice at last.
“What way?” Pendt asked.
“When our mother was pregnant and our doctors confirmed I was male, they put her in a pod and sent her to Katla,” Ned said. “She kissed our father on the colonnade, and then walked into the docking bay all by herself. He took the lift up to operations and sent her through. The whole station stopped work, waiting for Katla to send her back. Either the Net would activate and catch me, or we would all be lost to space.”
Pendt swallowed.
“Everyone was very relieved, obviously,” Fisher said. He blinked several times to clear his eyes. “They love my mother, and they were glad of an heir.”
“I would prefer a less dangerous method,” she said. “But I understand if that is necessary.”
“We’ll take you to see Dr. Morunt,” Fisher said.
Pendt started visibly. “Doctor who?” she demanded.
“Dr. Morunt,” Ned said, confused. “He’s the best one on the station. He’s the one who took care of our mother when she was pregnant with us.”
“The Harland doctor was named Morunt,” Pendt said. “She was almost good to me.”
“We can take you to one of the others, if you like,” Fisher said.
Pendt considered it. Even if this new Morunt was related to the Harland’s, he had no way of communicating with her. He couldn’t betray them, even accidentally. And it would be nice to see a familiar face, even if it was only familiar by proxy.
“No, it’s fine,” Pendt said. “Just let me get ready.”
* * *
• • •
Brannick Station’s Dr. Morunt was a heavyset man, well into his fifties. There was an infinitely higher number of body types on Brannick compared with the Harland, but Pendt still stared when she saw someone who looked different. She felt like an infant when she did it: Even working solely off genetic diversity, Brannick would have more phenotypes than the Harland, but she couldn’t quite stop herself yet. She wasn’t used to so many variations on living well.
He had the same open face as the Harland Morunt, but his was not weathered the way hers was, pale from years in space and gaunt from exact nutrition. He examined Pendt quickly and professionally, confirming that she was pregnant and that the foetus had a Y chromosome. He gave her advice on how to deal with her body as it changed and recommended a slight increase to her daily fitness regimen.
“Is it still a slight increase if I’ve never had a daily fitness regimen?” she asked.
He guffawed, which made her jump.
“Well, I suppose not,” he said. “But walking around the station would be good for you, in any case. You’re putting on weight very well, especially in your muscles, and I want to be sure your body learns to use them as they develop.”
“Thank you,” said Pendt. “I like how round I am starting to look.”
“You are still distressingly scrawny,” the doctor informed her bluntly. “If I hadn’t heard through station scuttlebutt that you’d come off a merchant ship, I would be questioning your guardians about their mistreatment of you. As it is, I’m glad you’re here now.”
His vehemence was almost intimidating, but the fact that it was on her behalf made her comfortable. She asked the question that had been poking at her since Fisher told her his name.
“Dr. Morunt, I apologize if this is too personal, but do you have a sister?” she asked.
Dr. Morunt froze in the middle of putting away his stethoscope. His eyes grew sad and he had a faraway look on his face.
“I did,” he said. “She’s been gone a long time.”
Pendt never pressed for information, and she didn’t press now. It was clearly a painful subject, and she was holding enough painful secrets of her own to empathize completely.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Thank you so much for this examination. It has set me at ease.”
“That’s my job,” Morunt said. “Next time bring the boys in with you. I haven’t seen them in forever and they’re going to need to know what’s happening almost as much as you do.”
“I will,” Pendt promised. She slid off the table, the paper gown she’d worn during the visit rustling around her. Not being naked made a big difference when it came to medical exams.
Morunt nodded and left so that she could dress.
* * *
• • •
“There’s one more thing I want to ask Dr. Morunt to do,” Pendt said as they tucked into dinner that evening. Fisher maintained that nachos were a snack, not a meal, but Ned argued that anything could be a meal if you were determined about it. Pendt was inclined to agree with him: Somehow, melted cheese was even better. “If it doesn’t work, it’s easy enough to reverse, and it won’t hurt either me or the foetus.”
“What is it?” Ned asked.
“The Dr. Morunt on the Harland did the procedure on my mother, before I was born,” Pendt said. “Sometimes Lodia would be implanted with two fertilized eggs, but only gestate one of them at a time.”
“What happens to the other one?” Fisher asked.
“In the case of my brothers Willam and Antarren, it didn’t work at all, and they were born as twins,” Pendt said. “But Tyro and I were born a year and a half apart. I’m fine, so I know it works.”
“But you’re not carrying twins,” Ned pointed out.
“No,” Pendt said. “What I’d like to ask is that Dr. Morunt put the embryo I am carrying into stasis. That way, the chromosome will be present, I can still find out if the station will respond to me, and I won’t have to . . .”
She trailed off, but Ned was already nodding emphatically.
“I didn’t know that was possible, but if you can get it to work, I think it’s a great idea,” Ned said. “I know this isn’t something you were worried about in terms of my involvement, but the idea of being a father scares the crap out of me and being an absent one is even worse.”