Page 177 of The Other Omega

“They are delivering the first baby.” The physician’s voice came through the channel.

Through a gap between the physicians, I saw our daughter lifted into waiting hands, so small that I searched for the rest of her before understanding there was no more. Her limbs drew close to her body, and a thin sound escaped her, barely carrying through the barrier.

They took her directly to the warming station, where a mask covered her nose and mouth.

“She needs help breathing,” the physician told us. I wanted to go to her, hold her against my chest and tell her I had her. Then someone beside Elowen called for more blood.

“She is still bleeding?”

“Profusely. We are treating it.”

Caius arrived as the second team moved forward. Blood had dried on his sleeve and collar. He stopped beside Leon and looked at Elowen.

“How is Elowen?”

“No change,” I said. “Our first daughter is struggling to breathe, but they are helping her.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“They are delivering the second baby now.”

I watched as our younger daughter was carefully passed to a waiting physician. She was smaller than her sister, her little arms and legs limp as they carried her to her station. They placed her beneath the light and fitted a breathing mask over her face. I waited for her to cry as her sister had, but although her tiny chest rose with each assisted breath, she made no sound.

The team adjusted her breathing support, then closed around her.

“They cannot detect a heartbeat. They’re resuscitating her now.”

Leon released my arm and pressed his hand against his mouth. Caius stepped closer to the membrane, his arms rigid at his sides; beyond it, a physician began compressions on a chest almost hidden beneath his hands.

I looked towards my mate, but a physician had moved to her head, blocking my view of her face.

“How long without a heartbeat?” Caius asked.

“Less than a minute.”

On the pad, Lucien had lowered his head. Alaric answered an officer without turning away from the feed, his voice so controlled that I recognised the effort beneath it.

“They have a heartbeat,” the physician announced.

Leon bent forward, bracing his hands on his knees. Caius closed his eyes, then looked straight back at the station.

“Is she safe?” Leon asked.

“Not yet. Her heart is responding, but she still needs considerable help breathing.”

The compressions had stopped, though each rise of her chest still depended on the equipment. I kept watching her chest, afraid they would have to start again.

Our elder daughter’s breathing improved as the teams continued working. Her sister’s heart kept beating, and Elowen’s bleeding began to slow, although her pressure remained difficult to control.

Livia brought water. Eira returned in clean clothes and remained beside the doorway, while Leon held a cup without drinking. Caius asked over the channel whether the girls could hear us, and when the physician said they might, he began to purr. Leon joined him, and I rested my hand against the stone beside the door and tried to do the same.

Nearly an hour after our younger daughter’s heart restarted, the movements inside became less urgent.

Thaddeus emerged after removing his protective equipment. Alaric turned fully towards the feed, and Lucien drew his chair closer.

“Tell us,” Alaric said.

“We’ve managed to stabilise all three for now.”