A look of sheer panic crossed Deanna's face as Will placed a protective arm around her.

"There's no reason to worry." Beverly gave the couple a reassuring smile. "In centuries past, your pregnancy would have been a real challenge, but significant gains in the survival of ever increasing orders of multiple births have occurred over the past few centuries. The first surviving quintuplets, sextuplets, and septuplets were born in the twentieth century, the first surviving octuplets in the twenty-first century, and the first nonuplets and decaplets in the centuries since then. I'll have to keep a close watch on your pregnancy, of course, but there's no reason not to expect a successful outcome."

"How many boys and how many girls are there?" asked Will.

"Three boys and eight girls," Beverly told him.

He arched his eyebrows. "Our sons will be quite badly outnumbered."

Deanna chuckled. "Oh, Imzadi, you know you're going to love having eight daughters!"

Will rolled his eyes. "If I can survive it." His wife gave him a playful poke in the ribs with her elbow.

"I'll see you again in a couple of weeks' time," Beverly told Deanna. "In the meantime, eat plenty of fruits and vegetables, and get plenty of rest. I'm going to prescribe prenatal pills and iron supplements for you. It's very important that you take them as instructed."

Arkady stood alone in the motel, wondering where Irina, Will, and Deanna had gone. He'd looked forward to seeing the inside of a twenty-fourth century space ship, and now it looked as though the opportunity had been snatched away from him. Some kind of accident with the instrument known as a transporter must have beamed the other three onto the space ship while leaving him behind, he figured.

He hoped Irina would be all right. They both wanted this baby so badly, and there was no way of knowing what the futuristic devices aboard a space ship from almost four centuries in the future might pose to an early pregnancy. Although Will and Deanna had assured the twentieth century couple that Irina would be completely safe, Arkady still had his doubts.

He drummed his fingers on his chin, wondering what to do. In the end, he concluded that he seemed to have no other choice but to remain at the motel and await his wife's return.

Irina was on her way back to the apartment when she heard the news on the radio. Two policemen had been injured in a convenience store robbery, one of them seriously. Her heart began to beat faster, and she felt her palms perspire as they gripped the steering wheel.

All the anger she'd felt over Arkady's lie quickly drained away to be replaced by ice cold fear - fear that she'd never see her husband alive again, that she'd never have the chance to tell him how much she loved him. How could she ever live with herself if that happened?

She changed her plans and headed for the hospital the radio station had said the injured policemen had been taken to. Somehow, she found a parking spot, parked, and dashed to the emergency room as fast as her legs would take her.

"Is my husband here?" She was practically shouting. The receptionist looked up at her and blinked. "His name is Arkady Renko," Irina continued.

The receptionist consulted her computer. "He was admitted to the emergency room with a gunshot wound to the chest about forty-five minutes ago. He's still in surgery. That's all the information I have for now. I'm sorry."

Irina located the surgery department and asked the secretary there how Arkady's surgery was going. After the other woman told her that no information about him was available yet, she collapsed into a chair in the waiting room and burst into tears.

Several hours later, a surgeon emerged and asked whether she was related to Arkady. "I'm his wife," she replied.

"He's stable for now," the surgeon told her. "He lost a lot of blood, but the bleeding has tapered off, and his vitals have returned to normal."

"When can I see him?"

"We'll have him settled in a room in about half an hour. You can see him then."

When Irina entered her husband's hospital room, she was shocked to see how pale he was. His chest was heavily bandaged, and an IV ran into his arm. His eyes were tiny slits.

"Arkasha!" She ran to him, and he looked up at her. "I was so scared!"

"Irina - " His voice was very weak.

"I'm right here, darling. I'm so sorry I ran out on you like I did! Please forgive me! I couldn't have stood it if I'd lost you!"

"It's all right." He sounded just a little bit stronger. "I'm - thirsty -"

Irina filled a Styrofoam cup with water from the small plastic pitcher on the tray over Arkady's bed, inserted a straw into it, and helped him drink it. He lost most of it but managed to swallow a drop or two.

"Better now?" asked Irina.

"Da - spasibo -" Still woozy from the anesthetic, he'd reverted to his native tongue.

"It's going to be all right, sweetheart." She kissed his cheek and swept the hair back from his forehead with her fingers. "You're going to be fine."

Just then the door opened, and she gasped as she watched her husband's double enter the room.