In Distress

Cycles Go ‘Round [Chapter 12]

In our company handbook, which I totally have read more than just a few paragraphs of, it tells us to respond to any distress calls we come into range of on our journeys doing business. The people who I trained under say it’s for the sake of community building, but when it comes down to it, we cover an area so vast that running into any one person more than once outside of business is terribly unlikely. In actuality, when dealing with folks sending out these distress calls, we are instructed to ask them about their insurance status, assuring that they would be covered if they were to find themselves in a predicament another time. I would fathom to guess that tactic drives away any community we could wish to build.

I had never encountered a real one before, but it was clear the transmission I was hearing across several public channels. The frequency was meant to reach far, delivering three short tones, three long, then three more short ones. The computer in the ship was programmed to latch onto the frequency, but it was my choice to engage my navigation to head toward the signal. Company handbook or not, I was going to do something good for somebody and forgo my previous assignment of a cold call to a less-than-forgiving planetoid. I suppose that work was just going to have to wait.

The signal originated along a trade path between two inhabited systems. As I came into reach, I summed up the courage to reach out to dispatch. “Dispatch— Grep, are you there?”

There was a pause followed by a yawn on the other side of the line. “Like always.”

“Sorry if it’s a bad time, Grep,” I replied, feeling slightly bad. “You should have your own vacation some time. Some time I’ll tell you about the place I went on my last break.”

He cleared his voice and smacked his lips. “No, no problem, just wasn’t expecting a call. Was getting my weekly nap in.”

“Weekly?” I thought I mouthed, but apparently, it was enough for him to hear.

“I’ve discovered my rhythm is quite different than yours, a Terran’s,” he chuckled. “Guess that’s why I’m suited for this job pretty well. And I think I do pretty fine for myself, you know, Anna. Between you and me, I don’t actually do a lot of work, physical or mental. Just a little bit of planning for you and the other field agents, that and waiting on calls from you lot and the main branch to sort out assignments.”

“And I take it sleeping isn’t taking up a ton of your downtime? Lucky,” I sighed. “I don’t know about now, but back when I was still in school, I would have killed for the extra time like that. What do you even do with yourself?”

“Do you know what a video game is?”

“Duh, of course.”

“We have something like that, an interactive story, that my people invented. Feeds directly into your brain. Fun for sponging up the downtime.”

“Why have I never heard of this? Could it be fitted into the ship?”

Grep clicked his tongue. “Seems if species besides my own use it, their brains literally turn to mush. So that’s a no-go.”

“Wow, so our brain structures are really that different,” I said, taken aback.

“No so much that we can’t make a good joke,” his voice wavered with a laugh.

“Dang it, Grep. So there is no video game like that, then?”

“Nah,” his chuckling died out. “Instead, I read a lot, I write too. Just as a hobby. Whoa, you’re way off course, girl!”

I snapped out of the comfort that hearing another voice offered out there in the depths of space. “Oh crap! Yeah, I’m responding to a distress call.”

“I see,” Dispatch hummed, finding his professional tone again. “Well, you’ve read the handbook, so you know the drill.”

“Right…”

“Some no-good folks may set up a beacon to lure in the trusting kind, only to steal everything but the shirt off their backs.”

I shrugged. “Not much they can steal from me here.”

“True, but something like that may just make them angry. Especially if they notice you’ve a company ship with a tracker.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve dealt with the unpleasant sort plenty. But it could be someone in actual trouble, too.”

“Which is why we go out of our way,” Grep said with an official-sounding sigh. “Guess I’ll be up for a bit while you get down to whoever it may be.”

The beacon’s frequency crept closer until I was upon a dwarf star system with a few desolate, rocky planets. The second furthest planetoid was where the signal was coming from, and after a few passing scans across the nonexistent atmosphere, I made visual contact with the craft.

The ship was a civilian class carrier, with likely just enough room for a pilot and passenger and a bit of cargo. I offered up a vague greeting over the short band in hopes of finding out whether or not I was going to be robbed or hassled. “Distress beacon, I’m within your vicinity and landing. Anything I can do to help?”

A crackling response came to me a moment later, a breathy, deep voice with whining and near-screams in the background. “Oh, thank the stars! Yes, we could use some help,” he said, voice jerking away from the microphone. “I’m right here still, hold tight!”

I set down just a short way from where I had made visual contact with them and readied myself in the environ suit. I was able to get to the craft on foot, carefully looking about for any possible signs of danger. Their landing seemed slightly haphazard, with a few skid marks from trying to settle down on the uneven, rocky ground. Apart from that, I saw no visible damage, but any smoke would have long disappeared in the void of the planet’s surface.

I sneaked around to the front of the craft to look into the cockpit first, just to get a first look at the inhabitants in the case they wanted something other than to be saved. The sheen of the sunlight made it hard to immediately tell, but as my eyes adjusted, I could see none other than the flailing of tentacles against the glass. I nearly toppled over myself stepping back, but before I could distance myself enough, a face was peering at me from the same area. A mostly normal appendage pointed at me to the side where I assumed there was a hatch.

Despite what I had seen inside, I accessed the sealed door. The airlock was tight but allowed me in nonetheless. Just as soon as I had removed my helmet, to present myself properly, of course, the pilot grabbed at my hand.

“Oh, once again, the stars, thank them!” He was a primate-like man with hairy features, down to his wide hands which were currently shaking my own up and down. “Please tell me you’re a doctor, or if you have one on your ship.”

There was a loud groan and restrained shriek from the neighboring compartment, the cockpit. “I, uh, sorry. I’m, afraid I’m the only one on my ship. I’m with… well, it doesn’t matter who I’m with, does it? Is everything alright here?”

The primate pulled away, shaking his head and pursing his wide lips. “Better than nothing, I assume. But my wife… Squellatelle, is about to give birth!”

I steadied myself, repeating the words in my head to make sure I understood. “And you… chose to go traveling when you were so close?”

He shook his head ashamedly. “You might need to see to understand.”

The wife was in the cockpit, laid out across the pilot’s and copilot’s seats. She was quite different from the husband, with smooth skin, a bulbous orange head, and tentacle-like limbs that were in the process of constricting every hand-hold and lever in sight.

“You’re not a doctor?” Squellatelle hissed, writhing. “Patch, what are we going to do? Augh, the contractions!”

The husband rubbed at the back of his head. “We had an… incident leading to her pulling on one of the levers too hard during a strong contraction.”

“I said I was sorry!” The wife huffed with heavy breaths, still arching her back.

“And they’re… your children?” I asked despite my hesitation, looking between the couple.

Patch pulled me away back into the doorway. “We are… compatible. As strange as it might seem. We live on my planet. As for the whole… process, the doctor said there may be birthing complications. A doctor on her planet said it could be handled there, and we were on our way, and…”

“Patch!!!” The wife yelled the loudest I had heard.

“We’ll manage, Squell!” He shouted back, the color draining from his face, eyes fixed on me with a pleading look. “You don’t look like the motherly type, either, darn.”

“Thanks…“ I muttered.

“And since you’re on the only one on your ship, I don’t suppose there would be room to get us out of here and to her planet.”

I held up a hand to stall his panic attack while my mind settled on something. “I can… I can call someone maybe. My ship has good range.”

Patch bit at his knuckles, glancing back between me and his wife as I tethered my tablet to my ship’s transponder, hoping I was just close enough. “Grep. Grep? Please respond.”

“Whoa, whoa, Anna.” His voice came through a little bit fuzzy and a little bit surprised. “Everything okay?”

“Uh, hi. Yeah! With me, yes. Maybe a personal question. You have kids?”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t happen to… be involved in the birthing process at all?”

“What sort of—?” Grep shuffled his words. “I was in the room, but I didn’t do much but allow my hand to be crushed under my wife’s grip. And also that was fifty sun cycles or more ago. What’s going on, Anna?”

“The distress call—“ I explained in as few words as possible. “A couple… having a baby. Babies? I don’t know. Patch?”

The primate man glanced at me. “Last we had it checked, there were seven in total. Squell’s kind has quite the litter.”

“Seven,” I repeated to Grep. “Wait, seven?” I couldn’t help but peer around the corner at the tentacled woman’s unremarkable stomach. “Uh, yeah, so Grep, any chance you could offer me… at this point, anything at all?”

Dispatch hummed lowly. “I’m going to fathom a guess that you’ve already tried to get them to somewhere that isn’t… that desolate place you’re at right now. Boy, I don’t even know what species they are. Let’s see, what sort of… exit are we talking? Something all-in-one, thinking like a cloaca, or something… more… traditional?”

Patch jerked toward me and yanked the tablet out of my hands before I could shout ‘that’s company property.’

“Listen here,” he said at the screen with a rising voice. “We’re expecting a live birth here. Does that help?”

Grep stifled a groan. “Hello? Are you the father?”

“Who else would I be?” Patch huffed, accepting a deep breath just as his excitement had seemed to reach its max. “Here, girl, take it back. I’ll listen to whatever you think I need to do.”

I took back the tablet as it was offered to me, making sure the call was still active. “Anything at all, Grep?”

“Well, first thing’s first. How does the mother look, Anna?”

I dared to glance in the cockpit. “As uncomfortable and upset as when I arrived.”

“Ahhhh! It’s coming! Something… is coming…” Squellatelle hissed through her beaked lips, tentacles strung out and latched onto any convenient surface.

“Not that, Anna,” Grep said above the fruitless complaints. “If there are seven… offspring, how big is she, like, physically?”

“A little round, but not like the ready-to-burst women I see with my kind.”

“That’s a boon, at least. It sounds like… maybe she might need to relax.”

“Me, relax? You relax! You— you— ahhhh!” The wife shrieked from the cockpit.

I crept to the back of the compartment and leaned into my tablet. “I dunno, Grep, they might come at any moment. The husband said there might be complications. I have no idea what that could mean, or if I could even do anything.”

“Let’s just think clearly, Anna. Let’s assume the… offspring come out nice and easy. Make sure they’re breathing, and get them clean and warm. Uh, unless the mother is cold-blooded. Well, use your best judgment Water! Does the couple have water?”

I turned back. “Patch! Water?”

“Water? No! We left in a hurry.”

“Grep, no water,” I informed him. “And you know my ship…”

Dispatch huffed. “Actually, I do know a thing about your ship. But you’ll have to be quick.”

“Yeah?”

“The ship’s hydrogen reactor can spare some.”

“Reactor?” I coughed. “Listen, I don’t know a whole lot, but a reactor doesn’t sound like something I want to get my hands on. And like… don’t I need it too, for getting… anywhere?”

“Don’t worry, I used to repair ships like yours… for one summer before I found a proper job. It’s safe, I promise! Just go, I can pull up a manual while you go back to your ship. By the sound of it, I don’t think we have the luxury of taking our time.”

I rushed out, barely offering the couple a word. Under Grep’s guidance, I got my prerequisite in spacecraft maintenance before I was allowed to become a proper midwife. With the engine hatch of my ship left hanging open, I returned back inside of the stranded ship with the metal containers of spare water in my suited hands.

Squellatelle was still writhing in the cockpit as I transferred the comms link back to the tablet. “Ok, back inside, Grep. What should I do with this water?”

“I’m guessing the water reservoir isn’t terribly wide. You may need a bigger container.”

I glanced up at Patch. “You got something like that? Like a tub, maybe?”

The husband shrugged. “I’m afraid not.”

“Anything water-tight and wide enough to get the children in and out of.”

I glanced about, seeing the only other viable vessel being the helmet from my environ suit. “Grep, before I tell you what I’m about to do, can you promise me that the company will cover any broken or soiled gear from this trip?”

“If they won’t, I’ll pay for it out of my own pocket, Anna,” He said proudly.

“Something’s coming!” The wife yelled breathily again from the front.

I joined Patch in the doorway to look upon Squellatelle, tentacles tangled about the cockpit. “I’m no expert,” Grep said from his side of the line, “but you better be ready. Let’s see… when my wife was giving birth, her feet were way up in the air, spread to the wind. Mr. Husband, can I count on you for that?”

Patch glanced between my tablet and his wife. “Sure, but I’m not sure if I have enough hands.”

“Hands?” Dispatch puzzled. “Whatever, just do your best. And our lovely baby mama, perhaps, if something truly is coming, this would be a time to push.”

I ducked back to the other compartment to fill up my helmet-turned bath and readied myself. “Push what?!” Squellatelle screamed.

With Patch’s forearms tangled about his wife’s lower tentacles, I focused myself. For the sake of the mother’s privacy, I will not describe what I saw, apart from the sudden popping and exiting of one, then two, then a flood of the rest of the tiny creatures. In their little membranes, they began flopping immediately. Operating on adrenaline alone, I barely was able to catch them one by one into my sloshing helmet where they began to flop, pushing themselves out of the thin covering.

“Oh god, I didn’t even think about the umbilical cords!” Grep fretted loudly from the speakers of the tablet that had ended up on the floor. “Please tell me you have something sharp.”

“It’s okay, Grep,” I shouted back before taking count. “One, two… seven. That’s all of them.”

Patch pulled himself away from his wive’s tentacles, leaning back on the wall with a sigh. Squellatelle pulled herself up in the chair, weakly leaning forward to the makeshift basin. Inside the murky water squirmed the hairy, multi-legged things, bumping into the padded walls. “They have your coat,”

“And your spots,” Patch added.

I shakily offered the helmet toward the wife who was already assuming the role presented to her. “No complications.”

I sat back and picked up the tablet to lay on my lap. “All green, Grep. Thanks for the pep-talk.”

“It was certainly the least I could do.”

Patch turned my way, head down. “Thank you… Anna, was it? We forgot to ask your name, but your… friend said it a few times.”

“Not… a problem,” I forced out the line.

“We’ll name one of the girls after you, for this. And one of the boys will be called Grape.”

“That’s… an honor,” I sighed, pulling myself up. Squellatelle was focused on her children, peeping with low sounds, from the cockpit chair. “Will you be able to fly off this rock on your own, you think?”

Patch nodded. “Now that things have calmed down, I can have a look at the control that got pulled. Thank you again, we won’t force you to stay behind and put yourself out. Oh, but that helmet of yours.”

I waived a hand. “Oh, no, that won’t be necessary. I can… hold my breath for just enough time.”

That statement was just barely the truth. I sucked in a huge breath as I lunged back into my ship, flopping down as the remainder of the adrenaline was flushed from my system.

“Way to keep your head, Anna.”

I pepped myself up as much as my shot nerves could manage. “Yeah. That was… something.”

“One thing though.”

“Huh?”

“You forgot to offer them any one of our policies.”

“You’re kidding me!”

Dispatch chuckled. “I most certainly am. How about you stop at the nearest system and get yourself fueled and fixed up.”

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