It took longer than usual for Thane to leave for work. He seemed uneasy, checking on her constantly, finding things from around the house that she might have need of and putting them all within easy reach. Even that was not enough.

Still he lingered, going as far as to mention calling Brina before Irikah's temper finally got the better of her. She ordered him out and made a show of slamming the door behind him. The sentiment was lost when it jammed on the tiled floor, but Irikah trusted Thane would understand.

She was heavy and dragging. The baby sapped her strength. Irikah waited until the transport had flown out of earshot before lumbering through the house to collect her illicit treasure.

The wind chimes weighed nothing. Her mother had carved them, and they'd hung in the garden at home for as long as she could remember.

Without Thane there, she could hang them herself.

Irikah padded out into the garden. She cast her sandals off and stood, letting the scents of the spring earth greet her. The trees were in bud. All the dead leaves had been swept away.

She chose a spot beside the driftwood seat and reached up as far as the lowest branches. It would have to do. There was no way she could face dragging a chair outside and risk falling off it.

Once the wind chime was in place, Irikah sat herself down on the chair. Within seconds she had fallen asleep.

Pain woke her. Not a dramatic rush, accompanied by a scream for help, but a slow clutch in her stomach. Irikah pushed the floor with her feet and got the swinging chair into an easy rhythm. The pain came and went. She rode the cramps as they came, and breathed easily when they had gone.

Time stretched out, and she supposed it must be lunchtime. She thought this not with hunger, but with a clear sense of detachment as her body started to work. Perhaps she should call Brina.

That had been the plan. Female relatives were always in attendance at a birth. Irikah found she couldn't seem to care. Instead she started for the house, slow steps hindered by the reaching fingers of pain.

Into the house. Another wave. Irikah found her comm, and contacted the only person she wanted with her. She took another breath and sat down at the bottom of the stairs.

They stretched above her, but there was no other choice. One at a time, breathing deeply and focussing on each breath as Thane had taught her, Irikah made it to the top. From there she crawled into the bedroom and rested beside the bed.

The next pain lifted her out of herself. She heard herself cry out. Time passed. When the cramps finally retreated, Irikah reached under the drawers for the supplies she kept there. Blankets and towels, all of them scented with flowers.

Irikah made a token effort at stretching one out and sat calmly down on her heels, hands knitted together, eyes locked on the sway of the trees outside. This time she did not fight the pain.

Footsteps on the stairs told her Thane was home.

"Irikah?" There was fear in his voice. It couldn't reach her. He dropped to his knees beside her, hands running over her shoulders and back. "Where's Brina?"

"I don't need her here." Irikah dropped onto all fours. "I just need you."

Thane opened his mouth to argue, one hand poised over his omni-tool, and Irikah felt the sensation creep through her belly once more, a huge force that threatened to tear her inside out. A wave of pain drew her every last thought onto it and took her away.

There was a rush of warmth on her legs. Thane had moved in front of her, and she leant into him, hands clutching his. Her head was on his shoulder.

He was murmuring, rubbing her back. Irikah inhaled sharply and let go of Thane's hands as she felt something give. There was a slippery rush of something against her thighs. Irikah caught it and sat back on all fours as the agony slipped away unnoticed to reveal something quite unexpected.

Though she had known there was a baby inside her, nothing could prepare her for the tiny creature that squalled in her bloody hands. He was perfect. His teal limbs reaching into the air, fists bunched as he cried out his first breaths.

Thane watched, transfixed, tears running down his face. "Arashu be praised," he said. "We have a son." He moved closer, and they cradled him against their chests, both staring at the new life they had created.

"What's his name?" Irikah asked. She felt light. Love coursed through her, raw and unguarded. They had picked over names, but in the end neither of them had come to a decision.

"Kolyat." Thane kissed the tiny star on his son's head. "We should name him Kolyat."

Irikah left the baby in Thane's arms and sat back as dizziness swept over her. "I think we should call Brina now. I need to lie down."

She laid herself slowly down, resting her head against the soft blanket she had laid out. Though it was far from ideal, Irikah could see everything she needed to. Thane cradling their son in his arms, and the sky outside.

Eventually she found the strength to stand, and Thane helped her into the bathroom. Irikah lowered herself into the bath and reached out for Kolyat. Together they bathed him, washing his teal scales clean before moving onto her.

Thane's touch soothed her, tracing across her skin and easing the last vestiges of pain from her weary body. Once clean he helped her into a robe and guided her to bed.

They were still laid there when Brina arrived. She halted in the doorway, golden eyes wide and bright.

"Arashu be praised."

She smiled, closed the distance, and sat down at the foot of the bed to admire the tiny creature nestled in between them. "Who is this?" she asked softly, and Irikah responded.

"This is Kolyat. Kolyat, this is your guardian Aunt Brina."

Tears ran down Brina's face unheeded. Kolyat started to squall. Brina started singing. It was a lullaby their mother had sang for them many times as they lay in her arms watching the movement of her lips, and the way she gazed down at them.

It conjured feelings of warmth, and an ache of absence so deep it could never be filled.

"He'll need feeding soon," Brina reminded them afterwards. "I'll go and prepare something."

She rounded the side of the bed and kissed Irikah on her forehead. "Thank you for making me Kolyat's guardian. I will guide him as you wish, keep him safe in your stead, and bless his days with my love."

"I couldn't have chosen anyone better."

Irikah watched her leave, heard the noises of food being prepared, and took a deep breath as the scents drifted up the stairs.

Thane took her hand, and they laced fingers across Kolyat. It was all she could have wished for. She kissed Thane's star and pulled back a fraction to look at him.

Thane seemed dazed. He smiled, blinking slowly, as though rousing from a dream.

"Arashu be praised, for bringing our son," Irikah whispered. "Amonkira be praised, for bringing me you."

The blade of sunlight lay across the bed, lighting the curve of Thane's arm, and waking Irikah with a start.

Kolyat was stirring. Irikah stared at the sunshine in dazed shock. Then, moving quickly, sling flung over her head, she scooped Kolyat up and made for the garden.

All was quiet. In the first few hours of morning there would be no-one around to witness this small miracle—the pale spring sun breaking through the fine sheen of clouds to pierce the dome and light her garden.

"Look, Kolyat." Irikah adjusted the silken fabric sling to uncover Kolyat's face. He squirmed and squinted against the unexpected light.

"That's the sun. Don't get used to it," Irikah said. She surveyed her garden with a contented smile. The trees were splitting their buds, leaves unfurling against the dappled blue and grey sky. The grass pushed against her feet, faded green darkening as spring called the plants out from under the earth once again.

Kolyat gave a small mew. He would be hungry soon. He was always hungry.

"You can wait a little longer," Irikah said. She chose a spot under the Larni tree where the grass gave way to moss, and spread the sling out in a makeshift blanket with Kolyat at its centre.

He waved his hands furiously up at the sky. Irikah watched him, took in the limbs that had already grown after only a few weeks of existence, and thanked the gods for her memory. She would know every change in him. His weight in her arms would always be with her, as would these precious first moments in the sun.

Across the garden, nestled in the straggly lengths of dead grass, Irikah spotted a flower. She left Kolyat in search of things to show him. There were stones beside the water. A couple of Larni pits remained.

Once they were gathered, Irikah went back to her son and lay down beside him.

"This is comes from a Larni tree," Irikah explained, holding the pit where Kolyat could see it. "The one right here above our heads."

"I thought you had stopped teaching," Thane said, and Irikah squinted up to see Thane. He stood, feet at their heads, peering down at them.

Irikah smiled. "This is important. He needs to know all of this."

Kolyat squealed at the sight of his father and reached up for him with blue hands.

Thane knelt down and kissed them both. "I'll bring some food out." He got up and left them, only to return with a small table and a tray that he set by the swinging seat.

The tea sent a golden cloud of steam rising.

Irikah poured as Thane fed Kolyat. The only sound was of a contented baby, gulping down the sweet fruit mush that Brina had recommended.

Tea held securely in her lap, Irikah pushed the seat with her toes and set it swinging gently. The movement and the vague warmth of the pale sunlight filled her with contentment. "I could stay like this forever," she said as she gazed out over the garden.

Thane gave a low laugh as Kolyat attacked his fingers searching for more food.

Somewhere in the distance there was the faint hum of a transport.

The sun faded all at once, leaving them all blinking in the shadow that had fallen.

"I told you not to get used to it," Irikah said. She stretched out her arms for her sticky son, and Thane offered him up without a word. "There," she said as Kolyat nuzzled against her.

"The sun will return," Thane said. He sat down next to her and kicked the seat harder. Over their heads the trees reached out against the sky, covered in tightly budded blossoms that promised a full summer.

Seasons would turn but the memory would always be clear. Irikah relaxed into the motion.