The Line of the Sol Empress

Chapter 9.4

She smiled at him. "Yes, I can feel it. Let's go to the med-bay."

With one hand around her waist and the other under her forearm, Moon guided Celeste to the padded examination table. Sai, as Nanny-bot, and Mihra, as an image on a view panel, stood by.

Sai asked, "How are you feeling, Priestess."

She blew out a breath. "Like I'm ready to pop out some babies."

Sai said, "Priestess, the process should not involve any popping noises."

Celeste grinned. "An expression, Sai. I am excited at the prospect of giving birth."

"Oh yes, Priestess. I am excited as well. I can't wait to hold the babies. Please lie back for a scan."

The head of the table tilted up as Moon helped her lie down and covered her with a thin white blanket. The scanner plate passed over her belly. A clear plastic basket lined with white blankets sat in readiness nearby on a small table.

Mihra said, "Everything looks good, Celeste. They be knocking at the door. Won't be long now."

A queasy feeling swept through Moon, tingling from his gut to his fingertips, as the enormity of events gripped him. Recent changes to his life forced by the woman beside him were small compared to what was coming. His children, one of which would become the rightful Sol Empress, were about to be born here in the deep of space. But they came into life with a death warrant, the shadow of the Grim Reaper an ever-present companion. Even now, during this critical period of labor, he felt Death peered at them from the darkness, waiting.

Someday, Moon promised himself, someday we will strike back at those who would do us harm.

"Are you with us, Moon?" Celeste's voice pulled him back to the present.

He squeezed her hand. "Yeah. All the way."

She gasped and rolled her eyes back as another contraction seized her. As the pain became too much to contain. She cried a song of agony between faltering sobs. Her hand trembled in his grasp.

Moon's breathing became rapid, shallow. Every bit of his being wished he could take the pain away. But he couldn't. All he could do was help her face it. He bent down and whispered, "Remember the breathing exercises. Breathe with me." He pursed his lips and puffed in and out as they had practiced.

With a pale face, Celeste turned her head and mimicked his actions. He smiled. "Good. Keep it up. You've got this."

Her eyes widened. She muttered between puffs. "I need... I need to push."

Nanny-bot replied. "Do so, Priestess. We are ready."

She wheezed, "Help me lean up."

With Moon's support, Celeste lifted her head and shoulders from the bed. Closing her eyes and holding her breath, she pushed from within. A raspy groan came from behind gritted teeth. After a moment she flung her head back to the pillow and pulled several deep desperate breaths. Then she pushed again. Three times this process repeated until the contraction subsided.

Mihra smiled on the video feed. "The first baby has crowned. You be almost there!"

Celeste turned her head toward Moon and squeezed his hand. He gently brushed the hair from her face. Her lips turned up as he nodded.

After hardly more than a minute, Celeste's mouth opened and her head tilted back. She said in a strained voice. "Here we go again..."

She pushed from the start. Moon leaned in to support her shoulders with one hand while keeping hold of her hand with the other. On the third push, a baby emerged, and Nanny-bot deftly guided the newborn into her arms. After a quick suction of fluids from nose and mouth, a high pitch wail emerged. Tiny arms and legs flailed in tiny movements, protesting the imposition of birth.

"A daughter, Priestess. And by all appearances, quite well." Nanny-bot placed the baby in the prepared basket and clamped off the cord. She held up a pair of surgical scissors. "Sir, by tradition, the father would cut the umbilical cord."

Moon stood stunned, his mind not yet able to take in what just happened. Celeste tugged on his arm. "Go ahead... Father."

With a deep breath, he nodded. Taking the scissors, he separated the physical connection between daughter and mother, the birth now completed. He gazed at his daughter, all wet, slimy, wrinkled, and pallid, as Nanny-bot swaddled her in a soft warmed blanket.

She is so beautiful.

Mihra beamed from the panel display. "One down. Two to go." As Celeste's eyes widened, Mihra nodded. "Don't worry. They should come easier than the first."

Within twenty minutes, two more newborns joined their sister by the same process. Swirling emotions filled Moon. For the first time in decades, uncontrollable tears traced his cheeks. Celeste smiled as she looked up at him.

A chaotic symphony of newborn wails filled the room. Not so long ago, crying babies irritated Moon, but here and now, they were the sweetest sounds he had ever heard. He turned glossy eyes toward Celeste as joyful tears spilled from her eyes. All the pains of pregnancy and delivery melted away in the moment. One by one Moon placed the tiny squirming bundles across her chest and in her arms. They quieted, seeming to recognize the woman who gave them life.

"You are Faith," she whispered to the firstborn. "You restore my belief in love. May it be so for all of humanity."

"You are Hope," she whispered to the next. "You are my light in dark times. May you guide us all."

She took the third, cuddling him between the other two. "And you, my little boy, you are our strength."

Moon tilted his head. "Umm, we aren't going to name him 'strength', are we?"

Celeste grinned. "That would be a strange name. Any ideas?"

As Moon put a hand to his chin, Sai spoke through Nanny-bot. "If I may suggest, sir, Gabriel. It is a name given to an archangel in several old Earth religions, and from the ancient Hebrew, it means 'strength of God', or simply 'strength'. From ancient Greek mythology there is Hercules. Or from African Igbo tradition, Ikenga is the god of strength and war. Or, more recently--"

Moon interrupted, tilting his head to Celeste. "I like Gabriel. I was named Elijah, after a Hebrew prophet."

Celeste slid her pinky-finger across the palm of the newborn and felt him reflexively grasp it with tiny fingers. "You are strong, little one. Gabriel, it is." She placed gentle kisses on the forehead of each baby. "Faith, Hope, Gabriel, know this always - you are loved."

A euphoria swept through Moon like a flash flood, and he staggered on his feet. From that point on, a father's commitment became forever etched on his heart.