What Ferris didn't know about alien biology could fill an encyclopedia.

 

At least he knew A'lii was Basoran. To Ferris' eyes Basorans looked like dainty, pink-skinned brontosauri. Dainty for 400 pounds, anyway. A'lii was a medic. Their stubby fingers weren't exactly suited to delicate surgery, but Basorans were a mildly empathic race. A'lii could pinpoint medical problems simply by laying hands on a patient. Which is what made them such a valuable member of the Interplanetary Rescue Corps' 53rd Contingent.

 

Ferris, on the other hand, was just a dumb grunt from Earth. At least that's what he used to tell A'lii. IRC Contingents were interdisciplinary squads, dropped into disaster zones across the galaxy. Ferris had gotten to know A'lii well in the 12 months they served together. He liked them. They trusted him.

 

Which made Lucadia VI all the worse.

 

The natives weren't a spacefaring race, but they'd been raided for decades by pirates and blackbirders and were well aware of other inhabited worlds. Their planet was also subject to violent tectonic activity, which is what brought the IRC. While pulling survivors from the chaos of a ruined hamlet, someone took exception to the outworlders and came at A'lii with a steel sword. Ferris reacted. A second too late.

 

Back on the evacuation shuttle, he tried to comfort the Basoran while others worked on the wound.

 

“You're going to be fine,” said Ferris.

 

“No, I am not,” said A'lii with customary directness.

 

He wanted to say “I'm sorry,” but the words wouldn't come out.

 

“I need you to do me a favor, Ferris. … I am carrying a child.”

 

This was news to Ferris. A stunned “Oh.” was the best he could muster.

 

“My people can carry offspring, as an egg, up to five years. The egg can only hatch in the soil of my homeworld. I have been unable to return. I will now need you to take my egg back to Basor.”

 

“Can't the, uh, father do it?”

 

A'lii laughed, a soft hum that Ferris always found comforting. “My race reproduces asexually.”

 

A'lii reached down to their belly, closed their eyes and, without so much as a noise, extracted a leathery, watermelon-sized egg. They handed it to Ferris.

 

“But I'm just ...” Ferris started to say.

 

“No. You are more. I feel this. You were a soldier. You gave up fighting to save lives. You are my friend. And you are the person I trust to deliver my child.”

 

With that, A'lii pulled a teardrop-shaped pendant from their long neck. “My clan medallion,” they explained. (Although it explained little to Ferris.)

 

An hour later A'lii passed away quietly, and Ferris was left cradling a warm, green egg in his lap.

 

Two weeks later Ferris set down on Basor in a borrowed shuttle.

 

Combing through the ship's cultural database, he was able to match the symbols on A'lii's necklace to a rough geographic area of the planet. Hopefully, it was close enough to their birthplace to count.

 

A short hike though an alien jungle brought Ferris to a well-organized village. He knew a handful of Basoran words, which didn't get him very far with the locals. Showing the clan medallion and pulling the egg from his backpack seemed to make things clearer.

 

He tried his best to explain that A'lii was dead and that the egg belonged with them.

 

“Human, insii,” insisted the locals, which didn't make a lick of sense to him. After much discussion, several older and wiser Basorans decided that “insii” translated as something close to “midwife.”

 

The job, it seemed, was his.

 

The Basorans pointed toward a mountaintop that peeked over the treetops. With vague gestures and a couple English words as instruction, Ferris returned A'lii's egg to his pack and set out.

 

By the time he got there, the heat was unbearable. The black soil and the wisps of steam that snaked about told Ferris he was in the middle of a volcanic field.

 

A guttural hissing set Ferris' old combat instincts ablaze.

 

Following behind him, out of the jungle, came a low, scaly creature with a head like a crocodile. Needles lined its jaws and its tail split into a whipping, tentacled mass.

 

It moved with surprising speed, snapping at Ferris' shins. He leaped out of the way, twisting his body to fall on his chest, so he didn't crush the cargo in his backpack.

 

The creature spun around and moved toward him again. Ferris hadn't even thought to bring his guns.

 

Ferris scrambled along the hot soil and his hand found a dried-out branch. He snatched it up and flailed back at the toothy creature. He rapped it on the snout, and it stopped long enough for him to regain his footing.

 

The creature regarded him warily and did not approach.

 

Not so long ago, the only thing Ferris knew for sure about aliens was how to kill them. He contemplated leaping forward and crushing this creature's skull. Then he thought of the small, round life nestled against his sweaty back.

 

Instead, he screamed and pounded the ground with the stick.

 

No longer sure of easy prey, the predator turned and scampered back into the jungle.

 

A kilometer later, Ferris took the egg out. He set it on the warm, moist ground and stroked it gently.

 

Unsure what to do, he started talking.

 

“I knew your mother—or your parent, I guess. They were smart and kind and a very good friend to me. A'lii saved a lot of lives on a lot of planets, mine included. I'm sorry they're not here. … I'm sorry I couldn't save them.”

 

After a moment, the egg started vibrating under his hand. Ferris stood up.

 

The black sand underneath the jade egg danced. Slowly, the egg burrowed itself into the ground. Ferris watched it sink. The volcanic sand swallowed it, and the vibrations stopped.

 

Soldier. Rescue worker. Now midwife? Maybe A'lii was right. Maybe he was more.