“You did say two sugars?”

 

Arthur didn’t answer. He was still scanning and checking and going over everything. He wanted to be absolutely certain this time.

 

John sipped his coffee. Left him to it a moment.

 

Then he tried again.

 

“How’re we doing, boss?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I said – how is she doing?”

 

“I think we’re in the clear,” Arthur said.

 

“Vitals?”

 

“Everything’s holding. Better than holding. Cellular growth increasing, neuro-muscular responses stable. She’s thriving. Thank you—"

 

Arthur took his coffee. For a second, it looked like they were going to clink mugs together but they didn’t.

 

“How’s thermoregulation? She’s not too cold?”

 

Arthur flicked to a chart.

 

“Outer shell forty-three degrees. Inner core forty-seven. A touch warm if anything. I’ll ease her down a bit.”

 

Arthur rolled a dial. The thing behind the glass shuddered and pulsed. Swelled a little.

 

The two men drank their coffee.

 

“You’re going to be a very wealthy man,” John said.

 

“Yes, or a very dead one if we turn out another dud. Just keep your eye on homeostasis. I want updates every twelve minutes. We won’t make the same mistake as last time.”

 

“Come on,” John said. “You know what they’re like. Look at her, she’s blooming.”

 

John patted the enormous glass cylinder.

 

“Yes, and you know just how dangerous it is for them when they’re little. Especially down here.”

 

“Yes,” John said. “I know.”

 

Despite their immense capabilities once mature, something about the Earth’s atmosphere proved lethally hostile to them in their nascency. They didn’t really understand why. Nobody did. Dr Arthur Lem and Dr John Lem were two of only five people in the universe who knew the full extent of the thing’s strange life cycle. More auspiciously, they were the only two who had secured one down here. A female, no less.

 

John finished his coffee.

 

“She’ll be on solids soon.”

 

The old man didn’t respond. He did that sometimes. Just didn’t respond. He was getting worse and worse at that.

 

“I said, she’ll be wanting solids soon.”

 

“Yes,” Arthur said.

 

“The same process as before, I suppose?” John pointed at the ceiling but meant much higher. He was referring to the breakthroughs they’d had on Midas 9, when they first found one like her. It was just God’s good luck that it was on a penal planet.

 

“Yes,” Arthur said. “The company has sourced them.”

 

“When do they get here?”

 

“They’re already here.” Arthur sipped his coffee. “Clark’s rolling out the red carpet upstairs. Fattening them up.”

 

“Won’t be long then.”

 

“No,” the old man said. “Won’t be long now.”

 

John watched her as they spoke.

 

In many ways, she looked the same as any other day. Pitched in the corner like a giant chewed-up toffee. She’d move every few weeks or so, though never when they were there. Whenever they were there, she kept very still.

 

But then it started.

 

Great quivers and flutters. Blooming like a lung in breath. The first contractions.

 

John pencilled them in his notebook the old-fashioned way. Time. Duration. Dilation. They were getting closer and closer.

 

He took out his inhaler — squeezed and sucked. Put it back in his pocket.

 

“You don’t think she could do with something now?”

 

Arthur looked at him.

 

“No, not yet. We don’t want to upset her.”

 

“Not even something small?”

 

“Trust me, John.”

 

“I do, it’s just—"

 

“Just what?”

 

“I just want to see her doing well. That’s all. We were so close last time.”

 

Arthur put his hand on John’s shoulder.

 

“And she is doing well. She’s really coming along. But we need to be careful. She’s still only little.”

 

“No, you’re right. I trust you.”

 

“There’s a good lad. One baby step at a time.”

 

“Yes. Yes, of course.”

 

The old man finished his coffee.

 

“Did you want another?” He held up his mug. “I’m all out.”

 

“I’ll go,” John said. “Same again?”

 

“No, tea for me, please. I’m sick to death of this shit.”

 

“A milky one?” John said, smiling.

 

“A milky one,” Arthur said, smiling back.

 

John put on his lab coat and moved towards the door. He looked back at Arthur, watched the years in his face and eyes. His old man was still the best to ever do it.

 

“You look tired, boss,” he said.

 

“Well, like you say, won’t be long now, and I’m set for a good long retirement. The bastards owe me as much. I’ll leave all this for the kids to figure out.”

 

He winked.

 

“We’ve done it this time, John. I can feel it. And I want you there with me when they all realise that. She’s as much yours as she is mine.”

 

John didn’t say anything — just nodded and smiled and listened.

 

“But what she needs is our patience. Let’s not mess it all up now.”

 

“No chance of that, Captain, she’s in good hands. The best hands.”

 

Arthur winked again and went back to his desk. He wanted to double-check dilation progress.

 

“I won’t be long,” John said and closed the door.

 

* * *

 

Even if he had realised what was happening, Arthur would have been too slow. He would never have reached the door before it locked. By the time he was at the window, banging and crying and screaming, John had already started the fluid drain.

 

If Arthur could have heard him, John would have said that he disagreed. He would have said that he wasn’t going to just stand by while he fiddled about with gauges and graphs, killing her with his senile dithering. She was more than ready to move on to proper food.

 

He would also have said thank you.

 

For all the belief and encouragement over the years. For trusting him to carry it all on. For the Little Genius chemistry set. But the old man wouldn’t have heard a thing.

 

The laboratory glass was far too thick.

 

So John just took out his notebook and observed.