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With the final effort, the pain left her.

‘Good ’n’ healthy one, far as I can see, but small. Mine was all threaded. Too long in the womb.’

Mira heard the door open.

Linnea deftly wrapped the baby leftovers up and transferred them to a large receptacle. Then she pulled a sheet up over Mira’s lower body.

Dolin was first to enter the room, hurrying to the crib. He pored over the readouts before, finally, lifting his gaze to Mira.

She sipped on a sweet juice Linnea had produced for her and wondered at the expression on his face. He seemed confused.

‘I want to hold my baby, Dolin,’ she said.

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Just a moment.’

More clinicians arrived, crowding around the crib.

‘What? What is it?’ Mira demanded.

Finally Dolin lifted the baby from the observation bubble and passed her to Mira.

As she took her child in her arms, an overwhelming swell of emotion and responsibility surged through her. She had brought this child to life, and now she must ensure her survival.

Mira pressed her lips to the baby’s tiny wrinkled forehead and studied her features. Fine dark hair covered her peeling scalp, and her lips were pursed in a red slash that gave colour to the palest of little faces. She hadn’t cried or uttered a sound, and her eyes were open. She stared back at Mira with open curiosity.

‘She can see me,’ said Mira, startled. ‘Her eyes are focused.’ She knew enough of babies, from Villa Fedor, to know that humanesques did not focus their eyes immediately. It could take weeks, sometimes longer.

‘Yes,’ said Dolin. ‘The baby has some unusual characteristics, as we suspected.’

‘Please stop saying that and explain.’

‘Baronessa, there is no other way to say this than plainly. Your baby doesn’t have reproductive organs of either sex.’

‘My baby is a eunuch?’

‘I’m not sure … We need to do further tests to determine exactly.’

‘What sort of tests?’

‘Genotyping, and more … neurological and body scans.’

Mira took a deep breath. She could deal with anomalies in the baby’s reproductive organs. But neurological anomalies … What had the Post-Species done to her child? ‘I will be present during the tests,’ she said decisively. She did not trust even Dolin to take the baby from her sight.

‘The tests will take time, and you must be tired. We can take the child and feed—’

‘No!’ Mira held the baby close. Something told her not to trust the seemingly benign scientist. ‘I will feed her myself. And I will be present at the tests.’

Dolin glanced at the others. ‘Very well.’

‘Is my baby sick?’

‘No.’

‘Is she in danger of dying from her prematurity?’

Dolin scratched his head. ‘Remarkably, no. The gene accelerant seems to have worked better than we could have hoped.’

‘Thank you for saving her. But please leave now, while I acquaint myself with my daughter. Your other tests can wait that long, at least.’ She stared Dolin down, until he nodded and motioned everyone out of the room again.

Linnea stood at the foot of her bed with her arms crossed. ‘You’ve got a way with you for someone so thin and pale. What’d you do, swallow a whale’s backbone?’

Mira wasn’t sure that she properly understood the woman’s meaning. She shrugged and lifted the baby to a more comfortable position on her lap. ‘Please. Could you show me how to feed my baby?’

Linnea’s mouth dropped open, and she burst into a loud laugh. When she finally stopped, she shook her head and wiped tears from the corners of her eyes. ‘You just stared down a roomful of our most high and mighty scientists, but you don’t know how to feed your own baby. Where the hell was it that you said you came from?’

‘Araldis,’ said Mira, her face warming.

‘That the place where those aliens landed and killed everyone?’

‘Si.’

‘Been all over the ’casts. So you’re the one that escaped.’

Mira nodded.

The woman gave a heavy sigh. ‘You’ve been through a lot, love. Here, let’s teach you some mothering things, before the fermenters come back.’

‘Fermenters?’

‘That what we call ’em. Ferment anything in a dish, they