Where's an All-Night Pharmacy When You Need It
Chris connected the dots. And now that he had, wondered why it had taken him this long. The indications were subtle but there. A jumble of symptoms and changes that had, at first, concerned and then worried him.
An uncharacteristic melancholy. Out of the blue testy responses. An abrupt and intense dislike of eggs. A glass of mostly ice with a little water always within reach.
An aversion to the scent of coffee. Pushing food around on the plate rather than eating it. Frequent tears.
And her body was responding differently to his touch. What had given pleasure now seemed to cause, at the least discomfort, and he suspected, at times, oversensitivity and perhaps even pain. And while she had not declined any requests for sex, the past two weeks she was more content curling up in his arms than making love.
She was also pale, needed extra sleep and her skin felt warmer than usual. Had the nearly impossible, or was improbable the right term, happened? Was he going to be a father?
Now that he had acknowledged the possibility, he sat with it a bit, allowing feelings and questions to surface without judgement.
Unexpected and unplanned – hell yes.
Life-altering – a major understatement.
Unwelcome … … …, be honest he reminded himself, … … … … … not necessarily.
OK. What would life look like then?
Maybe, in the future, families would be common on Starfleet ships, but that was beyond his lifetime as today space exploration was too unpredictable and dangerous, the Federation's adversaries too aggressive.
Honestly, he would deeply miss life on board his ship.
But he would never be an absent partner. That commitment had always been absolute and unwavering. Nor would he choose to be an absent father.
So life would be different. He could teach at the Academy. Retire and take up a different career. Devote all his time to raising a family.
Those options could be interesting.
Stop being selfish, he thought. You are not the one who will carry and give birth to the child. You are not the only one whose life and career will change.
Did she also suspect a pregnancy? It would be unlike her not to share it with him. Since the obvious indicator was not reliable and the crew was experiencing discomfort as they traversed the nebula, she may not have considered the possibility.
Should he broach the subject? No. If he were wrong that would only hurt her unnecessarily. He decided to wait and watch carefully.
Two Weeks Later
I couldn't shake this nausea and slight dizziness. Ever since entering the nebula four weeks ago a fraction of the crew had been experiencing the same symptoms. Slight gravimetric waves were bombarding the ship and penetrating the shields. Medical determined those with sensitive inner ears were vulnerable and would adjust over time. The others had. My symptoms were getting worse.
Food was no longer just unpalatable, today I couldn't keep anything down.
Oh.
But that shouldn't be. It was unlikely and … both Chris and I took contraceptives just in case.
I tried to remember the date of my last period. But going several months between cycles wasn't unusual for me and was the reason I never considered the nausea to be … morning sickness. Seriously? Morning sickness? Try all day long sickness.
Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.
OK, don't panic.
Should I tell Chris?
If I go to Sickbay it will be officially on my record. Which will trigger a set of choices. And then Chris is likely to find out before I have a chance to tell him. And the whole ship will know by tomorrow. And if …, if it's true and doesn't prove viable, then everyone will know that as well …
Privacy can be non-existent on a starship. Where is an all-night pharmacy in deep space when you need it?
Oh hell, we're in the middle of a nebula, over eight months from home at high warp. No matter your long-term options, you would be having a baby on a starship.
OK. Think.
Yes! I still have that medical tricorder I borrowed. Perfect, I can confirm, talk to Chris and then … we'll go from there.
As the panic subsided a little, I realized something else – if my suspicions were wrong, I would be … disappointed? I thought I had made peace with the reality that it was unlikely I would have a child.
I searched the desk drawers. I searched the clothes drawers. I searched the closet. Nothing. I searched again, this time less neatly and close to tears. I was standing in front of the closet frantically tossing out clothes, blankets, and boxes when I heard the doors to our quarters whoosh open.
Chris took in the growing mess. And then settled me on the sofa. Sitting opposite, he took my hands in his. "Ready to talk about it now?"
"What?" I asked absentmindedly, still trying to remember where I stashed that damn tricorder. His gentle expression and touch were grounding, and I relaxed a bit. "What? … Oh … you figured it out?"
He nodded.
"When?"
"A couple of weeks ago."
"How could you know before me …" I shook my head. "Never mind." Chris missed nothing. Which was preternatural and one of his superpowers.
He pointed to the piles on the floor.
"I was looking for a medical tricorder." I answered his unspoken question.
His mouth twitched as he held back amusement. "I see. Interesting strategy."
I was the one who laughed first. Well, it was more of a nervous giggle. Unable to hold back the tears any longer, I asked in a quiet voice. "What are we going to do?"
He smoothed the hair out of my eyes and wiped away the tears. Sat beside me and gathered me in his arms. "Either path will be good."
"You are remarkably calm." Which is unsurprising, I thought.
"I've had more time to get use to the idea." After kissing the top of my head he continued, "For me, it's always been a choice. For you, your life was built around the framework that you didn't have a choice. You must be feeling shocked, overwhelmed and afraid."
I nodded.
"And wanting to keep it a secret."
I nodded again.
"That may be out of our hands."
I sighed.
The practical Captain took charge.
He brought a cold cloth to soothe my puffy, red eyes and picked up the items I had flung on the furniture and floor. Coaxed me to drink a cup of mint tea for the nausea.
"Ready?" He asked.
I nodded slightly, not ready, but accepting it was better to know than to continue speculating.
He called Phil to our quarters. When the doctor arrived, Chris pulled him aside and explained.
"Could it truly be possible?" I asked.
Phil smiled and replied, "Life finds a way. I like that about the universe."
The scan required only a few seconds. Chris held out his hand to mine. Phil kept his face neutral as he reported the results…