With the doctor on one side and Chandler on the other, Rachel was helped into sickbay and laid on a hospital bed. She groaned in pain as contractions seized her. Nathan wasn't helping.
The destroyer and father-to-be was shifting his weight constantly, worried for his wife's safety. Eventually, Chandler had enough.
"Nathan, quit fidgeting and be still!" He roared.
Nathan instantly complied. It wasn't worth a pop on the butt and Chandler knew how to deliver one too. His still sore stern could attest to that.
"God damn it!" Rachel swore. She'd helped delivered hundreds of babies but now she pitied all those mothers. Giving berth sucked, period!
"Push Rachel push!" Chandler ordered.
The WHO doctor did, gasping for breath as her chest heaved, sweat gleaming on her forehead.
Night began to fall and still no joy. Rachel was still struggling. Eventually, the doctor decided to perform a C-section. This baby simply would not come out on its own. It was also likely that Rachel's passage was too narrow for it anyway, due to its half ship heritage.
Rachel was put under and Nathan tugged on his anchor nervously. He was eager for this baby to be born and at the same time, fearful for his wife's safety. He knew the risks of such a union. Rachel could easily die from a childbirth like this. Ships weren't meant to be born out of humans, and humans weren't meant to carry them to full term, simple as that.
Eventually, the baby was located stuck halfway between the uterus and the canal. It was too big to be born normally. Chandler gently removed it from the sack and gave it a sound smack that made even Nathan wince to get its lungs working. And what a pair of lungs they turned out to be too.
The shipling's wail sounded throughout the ship, making everyone stop and look up. A few offered their congratulations and patted Nathan's bulkheads.
The newborn had his father's look. He was clearly an Arleigh Burke-class destroyer. At a mere 60 lbs he was a runt but Nathan supposed that had to do with his half human heritage. His mast was flat to his back to protect itself as it grew, the little radar mast already fully functioning. As typical of a shipling, his eyes remained closed and his hearing almost none existent. He went by feel alone. His little props, no more than little points of flexible jelly (they would harden over time), tickled Chandler's chin as he lifted him up high.
"Congrats Nathan." He said after a moment. "You have a son."