Not unusual. Elena often rose before me, restless energy driving her to the electrical systems bay before dawn cycle. I'd learned to accept her need for motion, for fixing things, for channeling nervous energy into productive work.
But today felt different. The quarters were too quiet. Too still.
I found her in our shared workspace, the corner we'd claimed for her projects after officially combining quarters three weeks ago. She sat cross-legged on the floor surrounded by circuit boards and diagnostic equipment, but her hands were motionless. Just staring at a datapad with an expression I'd learned meant deep thought or existential crisis.
Sometimes both.
"Elena?"
She looked up, hazel eyes bright with something between excitement and terror. "Dana's pregnant."
I processed that. "She told you?"
"Just now. Via comm. She's eight weeks along. Bea confirmed it yesterday but Dana wanted to tell me herself before making any announcements." Elena gestured at the datapad. "I've been reading everything I can find about human-Zandovian hybrid pregnancies. There's not much data."
"And you're worried."
"I'm terrified." She stood, started pacing the small space with that bird-like energy that meant her brain was moving faster than her body could process. "What if something goes wrong? What if the biology doesn't work properly? What if?—"
"Elena." I caught her mid-pace, hands on her shoulders to ground her. "Bea is the best trauma surgeon I've ever seen. Zorn is a genius with xenobiology. Dana has the entire medical staff monitoring her. She'll be fine."
"You don't know that."
"I don't." I pulled her closer, feeling her tension vibrate through her compact frame. "But I know Dana. She's strong. Stubborn. She wouldn't risk this if she thought the danger outweighed the possibility."
Elena pressed her face against my chest, her breath warm through my sleep shirt. "This is terrifying. They're having a baby. An actual baby. Creating life when we've spent so longsurrounded by death and loss and—" Her voice cracked. "What if I can't do this? Be an aunt or godmother or whatever role they need me to fill? What if I'm terrible at it?"
"Then you'll be terrible at it together with Jalina and Bea, and Dana will love you anyway." I tilted her face up, studying the fear and wonder warring in her expression. "This is good news, Elena. Not something to panic about."
"I'm not panicking."
"You're surrounded by disassembled circuits you weren't working on twenty minutes ago. That's your panic response."
She glanced at the workspace, grimaced. "Fine. I'm panicking. But in my defense, this is huge. Dana and Er'dox are having a baby. The first human-Zandovian hybrid born on Mothership. The first proof that we can actually build futures here instead of just surviving."
The weight of that settled between us. She was right. Dana's pregnancy was more than just one couple expanding their family. It was hope made tangible. Evidence that despite impossible odds and cosmic displacement, life could continue. Could thrive.
Could become something new and beautiful.
"Are you thinking about it?" Elena asked quietly. "About us. In the future. Having?—"
"Yes." No point lying. I'd thought about it constantly since the bonding ceremony discussions had started. "But only when you're ready. No pressure. No timeline."
"What if I'm never ready? What if the idea of creating life when I've been surrounded by death feels too?—"
I kissed her, cutting off the spiral before it could gain momentum. When I pulled back, her pupils were dilated, her breathing unsteady for entirely different reasons.
"Better?" I asked.
"Unfair. You can't just kiss me to stop anxiety spirals."
"I can and will continue using that tactic." I rested my forehead against hers. "But Elena? There's no rush. Dana and Er'dox are building their family. We're building ours. Whatever that looks like, whatever timeline works for us. No expectations beyond being together."
She nodded, some of the tension draining from her shoulders. "I should go see her. Dana. Make sure she knows I'm happy for her even though I'm also terrified and probably projecting my own issues onto her pregnancy."
"That sounds very self-aware."
"Bea's therapy sessions are actually working." She pulled away, started gathering her scattered tools with the automatic efficiency of someone who'd been cleaning up chaotic workspaces her entire life. "Are you coming to dinner tonight? Dana wants to make the official announcement to everyone."
