The air outside the Birthing Hut vibrated. It wasn't just the hum of the dome’s shield generators anymore; it was the sound of thousands of survivors holding their collective breath.

  "Nathan!"

  Dr. Brown’s head popped out of the woven vine entrance. His surgical mask was hanging off one ear, and he looked manic.

  "I need you here, inside."

  Nathan planted his feet, resting his hands on his tool belt. "Uh oh, No way! I’m a carpenter, Doc. Unless the structural integrity of the roof is failing, you don't want me in there."

  "I... I need a bouncer," Brown snapped, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Half the colony is trying to get in to see the 'miracle.' I need crowd control. No more than ten people in the room. Period."

  Nathan sighed, looking at the crushing crowd of well-wishers. He nodded. "Ten people. Got it."

  He pushed his way through the entrance, his broad shoulders effectively sealing the gap behind him. Inside, the air was hot, smelling of crushed herbs and copper.

  Kim was on the central cot, propped up by pillows that looked too white for this dirt floor. She was pale, sweat plastering her hair to her forehead, gripping Jason’s hand so hard Nathan saw the man’s knuckles turning white.

  "Doing great, Kim," Brown said, sliding back onto his stool at the foot of the bed. He did a quick check. "Six centimeters. Good progression. We’re getting there."

  The vine-door rustled again. Nathan moved to block it, his hand going to his hip… then he froze.

  It wasn't a colonist.

  Patrick floated into the room.

  The Nexus avatar was smaller than usual… about the size of a ten-year-old child… and encased in a shimmering, sterile glass bubble. He hovered silently, clutching a metal case to his chest.

  Nathan grunted, though he stepped aside. You didn't tell the landlord he couldn't come in.

  "I am essential personnel," Patrick stated, his voice modulated to a softer, kinder frequency than his usual monotone. He floated to Dr. Brown’s side. "I have studied the archives. I prepared a kit."

  Brown looked skeptical. "A kit?"

  Patrick opened the case. He laid out the tools on a side table with surgical precision.

  "For the birth. Suction bulb for airway clearance," Patrick listed, pointing a glass finger. "Sterile blankets woven from non-allergenic fibers. Umbilical clamps. Suture kit with bio-degradable threading." He gestured to a hovering, glowing basket near the wall. "And a heated neo-natal isolation unit, should emergency resuscitation be required."

  Dr. Brown picked up the suction bulb, squeezing it. He looked at the alien avatar with genuine impressed surprise. "You did your homework."

  "I processed four terabytes of obstetrics data in twelve minutes," Patrick agreed. He floated toward Kim. "I can also help if you require pain cessation."

  "Pain meds??? uh...No," Kim gritted out, her face scrunching up as she worked through her contraction. "No.... alien drugs. But... thanks, Patrick."

  Patrick nodded. "I will observe."

  The next few hours were a blur of noise and heat. Nathan stayed by the door, keeping the chaos at bay. But he couldn't shut out the sound. The primal, guttural roar of a woman bringing life into the world.

  It terrified him. It was so fragile. They was no hospital, just dirt under their fingernails, trusting biology to work.

  "Head’s crowning!" Brown shouted. "One more, Kim! Give me everything!"

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Kim screamed. Jason cried.

  Nathan couldn't see the birth, but he could hear it. Wet movement, Dr. Brown moving.

  And then, a new sound cut through the heavy air.

  A high, thin wail.

  Nathan felt the breath leave his own lungs. He watched as Dr. Brown lifted the small, slick form and placed it directly onto Kim’s chest.

  The baby was pink, wrinkled, and covered in fluid.

  The alien leaned forward inside his glass bubble, scanning the infant with a beam of blue light.

  "It is a female," Patrick announced, his voice filled with a strange, logical wonder. "She is structurally sound. Four limbs. Ten digits. Her respiratory function is optimal."

  He paused, tilting his head.

  "She is symmetrical," Patrick declared.

  "She’s perfect," Jason sobbed, burying his face in Kim’s neck. "She’s perfect."

  "Evelyn," Kim whispered, stroking the damp hair of her daughter. "Her name is Evelyn. Evelyn Tigart, after her father, Jason Tigart. Evelyn Solace Tigart."

  "Evelyn Solace Tigart," Patrick repeated, logging it. “The Architect will be pleased that his tools were helpful to you Dr Brown.”

  “The Architect? Who’s that?” Dr Brown asked.

  “Dr Callum Hartley Head of Medicine in Terra Dome.

  Nathan froze. His hand was on the door latch, but he didn't pull it. He turned slowly.

  "The what?" Nathan asked. "Medicine? Terra Dome?"

  Patrick rotated his glass bubble to face Nathan. "The secondary habitat. Sector Two. The Architect, Dr. Callum, is less encouraging of biological reproduction."

  The name hit Nathan like a physical blow. He crossed the room in two strides, ignoring Dr. Brown’s startled look. He grabbed the edges of Patrick’s hovering containment unit, bringing his face level with the alien avatar.

  "Callum?" Nathan’s voice was ragged.

  "Affirmative," Patrick blinked, unfazed by the aggression. "He is the Architect of Terra. We exchange structural schematics daily."

  Nathan’s heart hammered against his ribs, loud enough to drown out the baby's cries. If Callum was alive... if there was another dome...

  "Is she there?" Nathan demanded, his grip tightening on the glass. "Patrick, check the list. Check the schematics. Is there a Christine? Christine Reeves? Or... or Christine Lance? Her maiden name…"

  Patrick tilted his head. His eyes… glowing blue optical sensors… flickered as he processed the query.

  "Accessing Terra personnel manifest," Patrick droned. "Cross-referencing with Architect Callum’s logs."

  The silence in the room was absolute. Even Kim seemed to stop breathing.

  "Processing..." Patrick said. Then the blue light steadied. "Result: Negative."

  Nathan felt the floor drop out from under him. "Check again."

  "There is no designate 'Christine' in the Terra Dome," Patrick said simply. "There are only 512 residents of Terra. The list is small. I checked many times."

  Nathan stared at the alien. The hope that had flared for ten seconds turned into ash in his mouth.

  "Negative," Nathan whispered.

  "Affirmative," Patrick said. "Would you like me to describe the symmetry of the infant again?"

  Nathan let go of the bubble. He stumbled back, his hands shaking. "No. No, Patrick. I’m good."

  He turned and shoved the vine-door open, stepping out into the night.

  Not long had passed before the center of the camp had turned into a roaring celebration.

  Bonfires roared in the pits, spitting sparks up toward the shield. Someone had broken into the last of the rum rations. Music… played on handmade instruments… thumped against the hull of the Nexus ship.

  It was an early Choosing Ceremony in everything but name. The relief had turned into adrenaline, and the adrenaline had turned into lust. Couples were disappearing into the shadows. Laughter was loud and raucous.

  Nathan stood at the edge of the light, leaning against a support beam, watching the sparks die in the air.

  "She’s beautiful, isn't she?"

  He turned. Elara was standing there. She looked radiant, her hair loose, her cheeks flushed from the celebration. Or maybe from the wine. She pointed towards the celebrating parents' hut. “The baby?”

  "Yeah," Nathan said, his voice gravelly. "She is. Beautiful."

  Elara moved a step closer. She wasn't subtle. The air between them felt charged, heavy with the invitation Mara had pushed her to make.

  "It makes you think, doesn't it?" she asked softly. "Seeing that? Seeing life can go on?"

  Nathan looked at her. He saw the hope in her eyes. He saw the intelligence, the kindness. He saw the offer of a warm bed and a fresh start. A way to stop being the lonely man who built houses for everyone else. He felt her warmth, but his pain rejected it.

  All he could hear was Patrick’s voice. Result: Negative.

  Christine wasn't just missing anymore. She was gone.

  His chest tightened, a physical ache that was sharper than any hammer blow.

  "Elara," he said. He didn't step back, but he didn't step forward. "I… can't."

  Her smile faltered, just a fraction. "Nathan, it’s been…"

  "I know how long it’s been," he cut her off, gentle but final. "But I’m not... I’m not there. My heart..." He touched his chest, rubbing the sternum where the ache sat. "It hurts too much to let it break again. I’m sorry."

  Elara held his gaze for a long moment. Then, she nodded. She didn't look angry. She just looked sad. For him.

  "Okay," she whispered. "Okay, Nathan."

  She squeezed his arm… a brief, comforting touch… and then turned back toward the fire, where Mara was waiting.

  Nathan watched them for a second. He watched Elara shake her head, watched Mara wrap an arm around her waist and pull her close.

  Nathan turned away from the fire.

  He walked past the celebration, past the music, past the laughter of the new families being made in the dark.

  He walked to the edge of the perimeter and sat down in the dirt alone.