25. MERCURY

THE CASE OF MERCURY RISING, 25

We both realised in the instant we saw the make-shift crib that time was of the essence. And also we both hoped that the thing was air-tight because the only thing we could do was take it back to Mercury Rising and from then see what we could do to help or even save the child.

“It can’t be more than a week or two old at the most,” said Angelina, “come on, Royston, help me!”

She was already trying to lift the crib on her own, but there was a pipe and some wires attached to it Indeed, the whole thing had a jerry-built feeling to it, as though it had been lashed together in great haste, but with immense care. What the wires might be doing I had no idea but the pipe almost certainly carried an air-supply.

“I’ll disconnect it and we must run!” I shouted.

“Seal the pipe first,” ordered Angelina, “cut it and tie it!”

I saw the reason why she suggested that. If it was feeding the crib with air the moment it was cut and there was a vacuum the air would leak out, and as we made the short crossing to our own vessel the inside of the crib and the baby would experience a fatal lack of air pressure. I nodded, and managed to sever the pipe with a rusting but sharp blade that had been left nearby, probably one of the tools used in its very construction. With around a foot of pipe loose, I tied a knot in it and hoped that would seal the air inside the crib for the short rush to our ship.

Then the two of us, carrying the precious burden between us, hurried back to our vessel It was shining in the unfiltered sunlight like a gigantic and very noble rugby ball on spindly legs and strangely enough it even felt like home..

Before I went, though, I took a moment to check the four motionless individuals in their chairs, just in case one of them still showed a sign of life, but none of them did. They all looked stone cold and very, very dead. The thought flashed through my mind that maybe I should bury them under moon dust in the crater, but I knew I didn’t have the time. Our half hour was already almost up. So I lturned to go with Angelina, and whispered a quiet farewell, which not one of them would ever hear but which made me feel better about leaving them.

Back in Mercury Rising and with the airlock sealed behind us we both removed our vacuum suits and attended to our precious cargo, for new life is always precious.

“So this is what Sandy meant when he said one of their number was pregnant,” whispered Angelina as I worked out how to unseal the cover to the crib and actually get access to the baby within.

“They’ve gone to some trouble to make sure it’s safe,” I said as I worked out how the container had been put together, “I wonder where they were hoping to take it?”

“If we returned unexpectedly and they were still alive then they’d be ready for a quick getaway?” suggested Angelina.

“Could be. But I rather suspect it was to protect the baby from whatever infection or virus did for them,” I said as I finally lifted the lid off the makeshift crib. The noise of infant crying suddenly filled the air with the kind of sound that we couldn’t help reacting to.

Angelina reached in and carefully picked up the child and held it close to her.

“There, there,” she said softly, and betrayed the inner instinct provided by evolution, a woman caring for a helpless child even though that child wasn’t her own.

“It’s very wet,” she said, “and the smell suggests she might be more than just wet!”

I examined the inside of the crib. It had been provided with a means of heating so the baby had been kept warm. But it must have been a frightening experience for one so very young, no caring arms embracing it, no whispered words of love and affection, just a sterile, albeit heated, crib.

“I’ll bet the poor little thing’s starving,” I said.

“You get some milk,” ordered Angelina, “the dried stuff we use in our drinks will have to do until we get home. Mix it thoroughly and let’s hope that it will do. Meanwhile, I’ll see about putting the poor little soul into some dry things.”

“We don’t have any baby things...” I began, but Angelina interrupted me. “Where there’s a will there’s a way,” she said, “and we do have spare towelling.”

Then she was gone to the toilet whilst I followed her down to what passed for a kitchen and mixed up some of the powdered milk we had. I only hoped that such a new born baby could cope with an artificial fluid which I hoped contained most of the ingredients essential for life, but what kind of life? New born life or adult life, for which it had been intended? I didn’t know, but it was all we had.

Finding a means of feeding the baby also presented me with a problem. True, I had a supply of small utensils, one of them almost identical to a baby’s bottle, and I managed to create a make-do n****e out of a condom. Not beautiful, but I thought it would do the trick. The condom was one of those things I’d got used to taking around with me in my pre-Angelina days, ‘just in case’. I still had one or two in my wallet!

Angelina beat me back to the living quarters and she was doing her best to comfort the child, but I guess it was too hungry to take much notice of the kind of soothing noises the love of my life was making.

“Well done!” she said when she saw my bottle with its attached rubbery substitute n****e, and she let the baby know it was there by placing it next to its tiny mouth. I’ve never seen any mortal thing get the message so quickly! The child sucked greedily and the condom with the tiny hole I’d made in it worked a treat.

“Well, she likes that,” sighed Angelina.

“She?” I asked, “so she’s a girl, is she?”

“So her genitals say,” grinned the love of my life with an unbelievably maternal expression on her face.

“A pretty young lady,” I said, now that I could see the child properly.

“She most certainly is,” agreed Angelina, “and one of the next things we must do is try and raise Igor. He ought to know he’s got an addition to his family!”

“Attention,” intoned the ship’s computer, once again anticipating our needs, “Igor is standing by.”

“Oh good,” I said, grateful the computer had expected our request, “put him on the monitor please.”

The monitor lit up and Igor’s face appeared. He looked haggard, although it was hard to see much under his whiskers. “It seems you have an emergency,” he said, “Mercury Rising has informed me that you require to consult me on a serious matter.”

“We need supplies of nappies and baby milk when we get back,” I said, “we’ve got a baby.”

There was tangible silence and a crease formed on the only hairless part of Igor’s face, his brow. Then he opened his mouth and immediately closed it as though unsure of what he might say.

“Have both baby milk and nappies standing by when we land,” I said when it was clear he was still too flummoxed to actually say anything.

Then, in a strangled voice, he said “I thought we agreed on contraception? I thought you said you were going to be ultra careful and not get that woman with you pregnant!”

“Oh, she’s not,” I said, smiling, “we’re on the moon and we’ve found a baby here. Look: can’t you see Angelina feeding it with a bottle capped with a contraceptive jonny for a teat? But if you can’t I’ll tell you. It’s a tiny girl, maybe a couple of weeks old, and of mixed race, which makes her too beautiful to be ignored. And we’re bringing her home with us because her parents are dead. Poor things.”

“A baby!” gasped Igor, “wait till I tell Margie! That her sister’s had a baby!”

“Didn’t you hear me, Igor?” I asked, “we found the baby on the moon and it was in need of a feed, so we’re bringing her home with us!”

“Found… on the moon? Impossible!” snorted Igor, “what’s it’s name?” he demanded.

“Oh, that’s easy,” smiled Angelina, “we’re calling her Mercury. And Mercury’s made all that nonsense about diamonds worth the effort after all. Say hello to Igor, Mercury!”

And to my delight the baby gurgled as the screen went blank.

© Peter Rogerson, 08.03.20