120th Vhalar, Arc 717
When she had discovered that she was pregnant, Faith had been delighted, terrified, excited and a whole plethora of emotions. As those emotions settled down and became a constant state of nervous anticipation, she had started to think about work. In the early stages, while she was still clear and able to think about it, Faith had decided that she was going to continue to work in Zi'da, volunteer and maintain her studies.
She had been, she thought with a slight and wry smile, delusional. Here she was at the end of Vhalar, about to enter the third trimester of her pregnancy and she was exhausted. Faith had been tired before, many many times. As a slave, sleep had not been a right but a privilege and something that Jamal had controlled very carefully. Yet, even then she had not felt like this.
So, a few trials ago, Faith had gone to speak to Galena. She'd discussed the possibility of cutting back her shifts at the Order and Galena had been clear. There would be no cutting back, there would be stopping and that was that. Faith wanted to argue, to say that she could do more of this, or that, but she didn't and couldn't because frankly all she felt was relief. Padraig was going to be leaving in two trials, if she wasn't working anywhere or at all at that point, he would be happier she knew and frankly, so would she.
This, therefore, was her last shift. Until after the baby was born, that was. Faith put her hand down to her stomach; she seemed to be swelling each trial just lately and her bump was no longer small and neat but instead, as she had once said to Padraig in Rharne, she was all bump and bosom. The shift had been a quiet one and Faith was packing up her things, those items she kept here and so on. She'd be going home within the break, Padraig insisting on walking her home because of the howling wind and icy conditions. She'd told him that there was no need, she was much less likely to get blown away at the moment, for all that she looked like a balloon.
It would be strange, Faith thought, not being here as a member of the Order but as a patient. Galena was a calm and compassionate midwife and Faith was grateful for the regular check ups that her mentor insisted on her having, they kept a close eye on her, it must be said. Faith sat down with a sigh and wrapped her hands around the cup of tea she was drinking, looking down at them with a frown. The scars on the palms of her hands were a criss-cross of silver veins, mementos from the kidnapping. Her thoughts were drifting, she realised and then she heard the shout.
As it always did, it sounded calm and almost like the person shouting was just informing them. "Incoming!" Faith breathed in and considered that she should have known better than to think her last shift would be quiet. With less than a break before she went home, of course the call went out. Incoming meant one thing and one thing only. Multiple casualties, severe wounds. So, the young woman heaved herself off the chair and made her way in to find out what the problem was.
She had been, she thought with a slight and wry smile, delusional. Here she was at the end of Vhalar, about to enter the third trimester of her pregnancy and she was exhausted. Faith had been tired before, many many times. As a slave, sleep had not been a right but a privilege and something that Jamal had controlled very carefully. Yet, even then she had not felt like this.
So, a few trials ago, Faith had gone to speak to Galena. She'd discussed the possibility of cutting back her shifts at the Order and Galena had been clear. There would be no cutting back, there would be stopping and that was that. Faith wanted to argue, to say that she could do more of this, or that, but she didn't and couldn't because frankly all she felt was relief. Padraig was going to be leaving in two trials, if she wasn't working anywhere or at all at that point, he would be happier she knew and frankly, so would she.
This, therefore, was her last shift. Until after the baby was born, that was. Faith put her hand down to her stomach; she seemed to be swelling each trial just lately and her bump was no longer small and neat but instead, as she had once said to Padraig in Rharne, she was all bump and bosom. The shift had been a quiet one and Faith was packing up her things, those items she kept here and so on. She'd be going home within the break, Padraig insisting on walking her home because of the howling wind and icy conditions. She'd told him that there was no need, she was much less likely to get blown away at the moment, for all that she looked like a balloon.
It would be strange, Faith thought, not being here as a member of the Order but as a patient. Galena was a calm and compassionate midwife and Faith was grateful for the regular check ups that her mentor insisted on her having, they kept a close eye on her, it must be said. Faith sat down with a sigh and wrapped her hands around the cup of tea she was drinking, looking down at them with a frown. The scars on the palms of her hands were a criss-cross of silver veins, mementos from the kidnapping. Her thoughts were drifting, she realised and then she heard the shout.
As it always did, it sounded calm and almost like the person shouting was just informing them. "Incoming!" Faith breathed in and considered that she should have known better than to think her last shift would be quiet. With less than a break before she went home, of course the call went out. Incoming meant one thing and one thing only. Multiple casualties, severe wounds. So, the young woman heaved herself off the chair and made her way in to find out what the problem was.
