Chapter 15. Division.

It was almost 4 months after Aster learned that Betty 31 was pregnant with the Maestro's child that she was woken up in the middle of the night by one of the guards roughly shaking her.

"You! Zookeeper! Get up! Now!"

Aster jumped. She didn't know what was wrong, what she had done. Had the Maestro somehow found out about the plants in Wisconsin, or worse yet, the survival of Morbius, and learned that Aster also knew and had not told him? Had he found out about any of the other things she had done, that she probably shouldn't have, such as reading Doctor Llewellyn's books, studying him for weaknesses, listening to the guard's conversations, or stealing food from the kitchen?

Her heard began pounding in her chest. Aster reached for a green bathrobe that was on her dresser, as she was wearing nothing else but a green silk negligee that covered even less than the tunic styled dress that she wore during the day. She actually would have preferred sleeping nude, as she found the negligee uncomfortable in bed, but the other women all wore it at night, and she did not want to attract attention to herself.

"Never mind that!" The guard seized her roughly by the arm and literally yanked her out of bed, causing her toes to bang painfully against the hard floor. "Get up! You come with me! NOW!"

This could not be good. Anything that demanded her immediate presence without even allowing her to put on a bathrobe had to be very bad. She didn't know what she had done, but she was certain the Maestro was going to do something horrible to her. She was afraid to go with the guard, and afraid to run away. Probably if she ran away, the Maestro would do something far worse to her than whatever it was he already had in mind. She went with the guard. Maybe she could find a way to kill herself before the Maestro did.

The guard half dragged her, half let her run behind him, all the way to the Maestro's throne room. When they got there, Aster saw that the reason she had been brought was not because she was in trouble. Or perhaps she was in worse trouble than she had anticipated. The usual favored members of the Maestro's court, who generally were indulging themselves either with food or with sex were either absent, or cowering near the wall in obvious fear. In the center of the room, several feet in front of the Maestro's throne, Betty 31 was lying on the green tiled floor in a pool of blood, moaning in agony. Half her swollen abdomen was covered with an irregular purple and black bruise. The woman's back was bent at an odd angle, her legs were limp. The smell of urine and feces filled the room.

Spine broken. Paralysis. Aster's mind analysed the injury automatically. Probably the Gamma fetus had done it. She felt sick.

The guard gave Aster a violent shove, towards the prostate, pregnant woman. "She's here!" He said to the Maestro.

The green tyrant gave Aster a terrible glare. "Help her!" It was not a request to be refused.

Aster looked around in bewilderment at all the frightened people, then at the Maestro, then down at Betty 31. It was obvious what was happening. It was what Aster had known for the past 4 months was going to happen. A gamma fetus was simply too large and strong for a human woman to carry inside her. Something it had done, kicking, or pulling on it's own umbilical cord, or who knew what, was tearing Betty 31 apart from the inside.

She had known that this was going to happen, but other than the possibility of giving Betty 31 herbs to make her miscarry, which she had cold-bloodedly decided against, she had no idea what to do about it. Maybe giving her the herbs would have been the better idea, because now she was apparently expected to do something about what was happening anyways, and she had no idea what to do. So far as she knew, there was nothing that could be done. She wasn't a doctor! Where was the doctor, anyways. Why wasn't he here?

"Where's Doctor Llewellyn?" Aster asked in a pleading, desperate voice. "I don't know what to do."

The Maestro was too furious to answer her, and everyone else in the room too frightened. Everyone, except one man. Daniel Wolfkiller was there, he had somehow gotten fairly near her without her noticing, but was only just barely in front of the rest of the crowd, obviously not daring to get too close to the woman who was miscarrying the Maestro's child.

"Doctor Llewellyn is dead." The stablemaster said in a grim voice. "He hung himself three days ago. His tools are there, next to her. Do something."

Three days ago had been the last time Betty 31 had been brought up to Doctor Llewellyn for one of her frequent checkups. Aster would have felt regretful, had she time to feel anything but fear, at her projecting of her own guilt onto the Doctor. Obviously he felt more guilt than her, he must have seen some sort of bad sign in how Betty 31's pregnancy was proceeding during his last examination of her, and killed himself out of guilt.

And as for her? She had chosen her own selfish survival. She had chosen it four months ago, and she chose it now. The emphasis in Wolfkiller's last words had been a very clear warning. Do Something. She knew that didn't mean saving Betty 31. The Maestro could care less about her. His promises to make her a Queen had never been anything but a lie. She was nothing but an incubator to him, for his son. Whom Aster was now expected to save, somehow.

There was a sudden shriek. Betty 31 was screaming, more blood poured from between her legs, and as Aster watched in horror, a tiny green fist burst through her skin in a spray of blood, and waved around frantically.

"Oh, my God." Aster felt faint in horror. But she didn't have the luxury of fainting. The Maestro was visibly quivering in fury.

"Do something!" He bellowed. "You've done all those damn surgeries on damned useless animals! Save him!"

It had actually been Aster's father who had performed the majority of surgeries on the animals. Aster had only done a few, most of the time she had just watched or assisted. Well, more than a few, maybe. But she was surely no Doctor. Still, she did know a lot of things. More than anyone else here, now that Doctor Llewellyn was dead.

Cesearean. She thought. Betty 31 was going to die within the next hour or so, from trauma and blood loss. Even if she lived, with the spinal injury, she'd be permanently crippled. But most likely she wouldn't live out the hour. Possibly Dr. Llewellyn could have saved her, though with the paralysis, he wouldn't have been doing her any favors. But Aster lacked Dr. Llewellyn's years of medical training. She had to get the child out before Betty died. She had to get the child out before then. Or fetus, rather. The skin on that green fist was nearly transparent, blood vessels easily visible through it. Was it old enough to survive? She had no idea. A human fetus at 5 months would never have survived. She didn't know if a gamma fetus could. But if she didn't do something, it would definitely die, and the Maestro would kill her if she did nothing.

She could not, however, do surgery on an unanesthetized patient. She didn't have the stomach for it, and the struggles would make surgery nearly impossible.

"I need opium." She said to the Maestro. "I have to put her under."

"No drugs." The Maestro said. His eyes were squinting mercilessly. "It could hurt the child. And there's no time. Do something. NOW!"

You bloody fucking insane bastard. Aster thought. You did this to her, and now you're blaming me, because I can't force a human body to violate the laws of physiology.

There was only one other, horrible, inhuman thing left for Aster to do. At least, if she wanted to live. One narrow, bloody path to survival. At least, for as long as she could survive. And she had made that cold, dark choice, four months earlier.

She reached over for the satchel of Doctor Llewellyn's surgical tools, and took out a large, concave scalpel.

"Betty," Aster said in a trembling voice. "I need you to lift your head up and turn over a little. Over on your left side, you don't want to crush the… the baby's arm."

Tears of pain were streaking down Betty's face. She made choking noises, but nodded slightly. As she made the effort to help Aster turn her to the position she needed, the paralysis caused her to lose control of her bowels, and a foul smell filled the room.

"Someone clean that up." Aster didn't look to see if anyone obeyed her, and paid no attention to the woman the Maestro shoved towards her, who wiped away the wastes with her own silk dress, for want of anything else to use.

"What's happening?" Betty 31 said in a faint voice. "I can't feel anything. I feel cold."

"You… you're going to have a little boy." Aster said. She didn't know the gender of the child, and didn't tell Betty that the reason she couldn't feel anything was because her spine was broken, and the reason she was cold was because of the blood lose. There was nothing Aster could do about any of it. Nothing she could do to save Betty. Nothing… but the one thing she could do to save herself.

"Then… I'll be Queen. Can I see him?"

Aster breathed in. "Yes… you'll be Queen. You can see him pretty soon. Just stay there now."

God save my soul. Aster thought. She took the scalpel firmly in her hand, and with a sudden, swift motion, cut deep, through the woman's throat.

Blood gushed. There seemed a huge amount of it to Aster, despite what Betty had already lost to the injuries caused by her infant. Red liquid splashed on Aster's face, and over her green negligee, plastering it to her body and outlining curves that were finally beginning to resemble that of an adult woman. She ignored it. She tasted a metallic saltiness in her mouth, and other than swallowing it, ignored that as well. Betty 31 looked at her for a moment with wide eyes, full of puzzlement and the pain of betrayal. She gurgled, unable to give voice to her scream, with her windpipe severed. Aster turned away. She couldn't look at those eyes, so was spared seeing the moment when the woman's gaze changed from betrayal and horror to the emptiness of death.

"WHAT DID YOU DO!" The Maestro demanded.

"Be quiet!" Aster ordered him without thinking. "I have only a couple of minutes to do this, if I'm going to have any chance at all to save your child."

Aster took the scalpel and began slicing through Betty's lower abdomen, about halfway between her belly button and the line of her pubic hair. Carefully, she didn't want to accidentally cut the unborn baby, but this was the spot where, to the best of her recollection, one of Doctor Llewellyn's books had shown to cut, to perform a cesarean on a human woman. Sometimes her ability to recall such disparate bits of information, months later, was a curse. Or a blessing. If she hadn't remembered what she had seen in the Hall of Fallen Heroes years ago, she would likely not have realized that Morbius was still alive.

She sliced through skin, fat, and muscle, making a gaping hole, probably larger than it should have been. Not that it mattered, on a corpse. Doctor Llewellyn would have known what to do. Maybe he could have even saved Betty 31. But he was dead. And she was dead. Blood flowed across Betty 31's stomach and legs, and onto Aster's hands. She gave a final slice, and pulled out a baby. Or a fetus. She wasn't sure. It was a boy, green like his father, as large as a normal human baby, but looked undeveloped. The green skin was not only nearly transparent, but covered with a fine down. Lanugo. The limbs were spindly, not chubby like a newborn baby's should have been.

Spindly, but strong. As Aster pulled the infant from the mother it gave a sudden kick that felt like someone had hit her arm with a baseball bat. She bit back a swear word. She flexed her fingers several times, to get back the feeling. Fortunately none of her bones were broken. Surprising, considering what the infant had done to the mother. But perhaps it was weakening. Probably, it was.

As she took the baby out of Betty 31's womb, it was still attached by the umbilical cord. She set it on the mother's pale chest. It was a boy, his mouth opened but no sound came out.

Using every last ounce of her will, Aster forced herself to ignore the woman she had murdered, to ignore the blood that covered her from nearly head to foot and turned towards the weakly (for a Gamma, at any rate) kicking premature infant. It's head seemed too large for it's body, probably due to it's immature state. Had Betty 31 been able to carry it to term, it most likely would have had the proportions, if not the size, of a normal infant.

Again, the green baby gasped, but made no noise. Not good. Aster reached a finger into the baby's mouth and swept it around. No mucus. Definitely not good. Mucus would have been an easily soluble problem. She tried to tilt the baby's head back, but it resisted her, and despite it's premature state and spindly limbs, the tiny gamma boy was stronger than she was. Not good. She needed leverage. She lifted the infant onto the bloody legs of his mother, the mother Aster had just murdered, set his back atop one of Betty 31's thighs and pressed down. Either due to the leverage, or the fact that the baby was weakening, or both, she was able to get it's tiny, green haired head tilted down by pressing on his forehead as hard as she possibly could. Then she pinched the baby's nose shut and breathed into it's mouth.

That didn't help either. Aster's brain raced. It was what she had feared, what had occurred to her on a cold, dark night four months earlier. Even gammas needed to breath air, and the premature infant's lungs were simply too undeveloped for it to breath on it's own. She didn't know what to do, normally the mother's blood provided oxygen to an unborn baby, but the mother was dead, and Aster could obviously not take over the job. There was nothing she could do, but if she didn't do something the Maestro would kill her.

Digging frantically through Doctor Llewellyn's large satchel, trying to find something that might give her an idea on how to save the baby, she came across a long length of clear tubing, the sort used for intravenous fluids, or blood transfusions.

Blood. Aster thought. She knew that the Maestro had incredible healing abilities. When she had read about the fights between him and the Heroes who had survived the War, over in the Hall of Fallen Heroes, there had been many mentions made of how the Maestro had healed from terrible wounds, such as being disemboweled, in only a few minutes. Could his blood somehow heal the baby? Grow it's lungs and save it? Aster didn't know, but it seemed worth a try, and she had to try something.

She took two hollow needles and affixed one to each end of the tubing. Inspecting the baby, she slid one needle into a large green vein behind it's knee. Or tried to. Despite the translucent, delicate appearance of the premature Gamma baby's skin, it was as tough as iron. Even pressing with her entire weight, Aster couldn't get the needle through the skin, and all her efforts got her was a kick in the face from the feeble baby that split her lip open, adding new blood on her face to that of the woman she had already murdered.

Fine. That doesn't work. But that's not the only blood vessel I can use on the baby, is it? Aster picked up the end of the umbilical cord, that snaked into the green infant's belly. She knew there were arteries and veins in the umbilical cord that supplied the infant with blood from the mother. She looked at the end of the cord, and saw three small blood vessels.

Three? The odd number puzzled her. Then she shrugged. She could worry about it later. Right now she needed to find out which of those vessels were arteries, and which were veins. She took the hemostat off, and saw blood flowing out through just one of the vessels, the largest one, as it happened. Fine. That was a vein. The other two had to be arteries.

She jammed the needle as hard as it would go into one of the paired arteries, then called up to the Maestro. "I need you down here. The baby can't breath, it's lungs are too undeveloped. I want to try giving him a blood transfusion from you. Maybe it'll heal him. Mature his lungs or something."

Moving with surprising speed for someone that large, the Maestro got off his throne and knelt down next to Aster, holding out his arm. His veins were much larger than the premature infants, bulging from his muscles, but Aster remembered the problem she had had with the baby.

"I'm not strong enough to get the needle through your skin." She said. "You'll have to do it."

The Maestro obeyed instantly, and took the tubing and needle, no bigger than a thread in his huge fingers, and pushed it into a large vein in his elbow.

Or tried to. The Maestro was, no doubt, strong enough to push a needle through his own skin. But the needle itself was not strong enough to penetrate through his inhumanly strong hide. Rather than going into his vein, the needle bent at right angles as he pushed on it.

"DAMN IT!" He roared. "Get me another needle!"

Aster shook her head. She got another needle, but knew as she removed the broken one and replaced it, that it was pointless. The needles were designed to be used on ordinary human beings. She wasn't sure what they were made of, aluminum or steel, or something, but whatever it was, it simply wasn't strong enough to get through the Maestro's skin. She handed him the needle, but again, it bent in his hands.

"Aren't there any… adamantium needles?" The Maestro almost seemed to be pleading.

Aster looked baffled. "I… don't know what that is."

A weasel faced man, Aster recognized him as the Maestro's prime minister, shook his head slightly.

The Maestro gathered up the infant to himself.

"Do something!"He roared at Aster, spraying her with foul smelling spittle, but the roar almost seemed to be begging.

"There's nothing I can do." Aster said. "I can't make him grow a pair of lungs. I would if I could. He's just an eensy baby. It's not his fault. But there's nothing to be done."

Aster knew the last sentence was a lie. And she knew the Maestro knew it was a lie, too. There was one thing he could do. He could change back into his human form. Make himself vulnerable. Then there would be no problems with getting the needle into him. But she was not about to suggest that to the Maestro. The Maestro didn't know that she had seen him in his human fom, and if she told him that she knew, he would kill her. He would never let anyone even know he could do that, much less ever do it in front of them.

Not ever.

Not even to save the life of his own son.

Like Aster, he chose his own life. At the cost of another.

Almost tenderly, the Maestro gathered the baby up in his arms, seemingly trying to get the infant to look at him. But the eyes of the green infant remained unfocused and panicked, and a few minutes later, it died with a terrible choking noise.

The Maestro was quivering, Aster wasn't sure if he was crying or enraged. She almost felt sorry for him.

Almost. Then she remembered what he was. The things he had done. To her. To the other women. To the people in Dystopia. To his own son, that he had let die, rather than display a moment's weakness.

Screw him. Aster thought. Let him be sad and in pain. She didn't care. He deserved it. Nobody cared about her sadness and pain, especially not the Maestro.

She made a mistake then, and drew attention to herself by speaking.

"Maybe… maybe we should bury him with his mother." It was a way to deal with her guilt. Perhaps a small way to let the woman she had murdered be Queen, as she had dreamed of, even if it was after her death.

The interruption infuriated the Maestro, and whatever momentary remnants of human feelings he might have felt for his son were burned away like mist in fire. He swatted out with one huge hand and knocked Aster halfway across the huge throne room. She felt her left arm twist at an awkward angle, and there was a snapping noise.

"STUPID USELESS FOOL OF A ZOOKEEPER!" The Green monster roared. "THE SLUT COULDN'T EVEN KEEP HIM ALIVE A FEW MORE MONTHS UNTIL HE COULD BREATH ON HIS OWN. SHE'S AS USELESS AS YOU!"

Still holding the dead premature baby in one arm, the Maestro violently kicked Betty 31's corpse across the room, and it landed near Aster.

"THROW HER DAMN STINKING CARCASS IN THE CHARNEL PIT, ZOOKEEPER. MAYBE YOU'RE GOOD FOR GARBAGE DISPOSAL. YOU DAMN SURE AREN'T GOOD FOR ANYTHING ELSE. AND I'LL TELL YOU ANOTHER THING, YOU ARE NOT GOING TO TRY AND SUGGEST THE SHULK TO ME, EITHER. I KILLED THE LAST MAN WHO TRIED THAT, AND I'LL KILL YOU IF YOU'RE FOOL ENOUGH TO MENTION HER AGAIN! AS FOR MY SON, HE WILL HAVE A PROPER FUNERAL AS BEFITS A ROYAL CHILD!"

The Maestro's pain filled scream was so loud that the roof actually trembled and several pieces of an ornate plaster frieze that decorated the ceiling fell to the floor. Aster's ears rang with pain. She didn't know if that hurt worse, or her arm did. It seemed like it had broken at the same place where it had broken before, three years earlier, during the Maestro's rape of her. Or maybe it was a different place. It hurt too badly to tell, and she wasn't sure who was going to set it, now that Doctor Llewellyn was dead.

Maybe he was the smart one. Aster thought. The Maestro was likely to do any terrible thing, to anyone, in his present state of mind. And who in the hell was the 'Shulk' that the Maestro had mentioned in his tantrum. Some sort of 'her', apparently. But Aster had never heard mention of such a woman before, which implied that the Maestro did not want anyone talking about the 'Shulk'. Whoever she was. Probably if the Maestro hadn't been in such an overwhelming rage, he wouldn't have mentioned her either. Well, Aster would take care to obey what the Maestro said, and not mention this 'Shulk' person, but she would certainly find out about her, whoever she was, as soon as she could.

Something itched in her lungs, and she swallowed desperately, trying not to cough. The way the Maestro was acting, he might very well kill her just for coughing. Her eyes teared, and she struggled to her feet, biting her lip against the pain of her arm. The Maestro had specifically ordered her to throw Betty 31's corpse in the charnel pit, so it would be prudent to do just that, regardless of the pain. Besides, once she was out of the throne room, she would be out of the worst of danger. The worst, at least. For all she knew, the Maestro in his current grief and rage might slaughter everyone in the palace and Dystopia as well before the night was over.

She bent over, her lungs itching worse, and took the mangled corpse by the ankle with her good right arm. She thanked whatever Gods there might be for enslaved sex toys of a monster that she had put on several inches of height and tens of pounds of bone and muscle in the past few years. As a 14 year old, she never would have been strong enough to manage the weight, especially with only one good arm.

She looked around as she dragged the body from the room. Most of the onlookers were still obviously terrified, afraid to move, almost afraid to breath. Wolfkiller had gone back by the wall, blending into the rest of them, but simply looked grim. She remembered what he had told her, all those years ago. Keep it under your hat. If only she had understood him and listened, none of the horrible events of the past few years would have even happened to her. And despite the fact that every time she forgot what Wolfkiller had said, horrible things always happened, she still kept forgetting and drawing attention to herself.

But then, she thought as dragged the body, if none of the horrible things had happened to her, if she were still at the Zoo with her father and Thumb, then she also wouldn't know that Morbius was still alive. Betty 31 had let her know that. And look how she had repaid her. With betrayal and murder. Was she really any better than the Maestro himself?

But regardless of what sort of horrible person she was, and what sort of horrible things she might have suffered, perhaps knowing that Morbius was alive was more important than all that. His blood drinking, despite how fixated he and everyone else had been about it, was probably the least important thing about him. Aster gave the body another pull, getting it around the corner of the door. It was probably hundreds of yards to the door that opened out into empty space, above the pit where the Maestro disposed of his garbage, including the people he killed. With the pain in her arm slowing her down, it might take her all night to get there. She didn't care. She had nothing but time. And too little time. She would buy her own life with blood and tears, if that's what it took. Nobody else knew the vampire was alive. Or at least, nobody who knew enough to try and protect him, instead of killing him. And if Morbius died, then that last little island of life, in Wisconsin, where the dead woman she was dragging behind her had come from, would die.

And after that? Nothing left in all the world, maybe. When the Maestro destroyed Dystopia, and Iceland, and everywhere else where anything had survived the war. Not a single place left for any animals, anywhere, ever again.

She pulled on the corpse, with renewed determination despite the weight and the pain. Regardless of the things she had done, she was still a Zookeeper. She was not going to let that happen.