---Surgery---

---Cường’s perspective---

I sit in an office adjacent to the already prepared operating room, a large, heavily pregnant woman sat facing me.

My intrusive thoughts keep screaming at me that she’s a guineapig and I have to keep reminding them that she isn’t!

The ‘guineapigs’ were the literal hundreds of digital recreations of her species that me and the others performed this operation on in full dive!

We’ve literally spent weeks of accelerated virtual time doing nothing but performing this operation and our success rate is well over 99% at this point!

The only difference is… she’s a real woman… who will really die if I make a cut in the wrong place.

Best not to think about that!

We have a team of Vrakhand accoucheurs ready for if things go wrong.

“Lady Thakhan of the Virhan Realm?” I confirm, outwardly cool, calm and collected.

“That’s right…” responds the very nervous woman.

“And your husband is Broodking Kherr of the Vridhuthan Realm?”

“…Yes…” she almost whimpers.

“May I call you ‘Thakhan’?” I ask, not smiling but nonetheless trying to put her at ease.

“That’s… fine…”

“Alright then, Thakhan. In order to perform this surgery, we need to get what is called ‘informed consent’ from you. This means that I will first be verbally explaining everything we are going to do and all of the risks associated with it… Are you able to read your people’s language?”

“…N-no…” she answers, looking terrified that I’m about to reject her on that basis.

“OK, that’s not a problem. Since you’re not able to read, there’s no point giving you a written reiteration of everything I’m going to tell you to sign. When I’m done explaining everything to you and answering all your questions about it, I’ll just ask you to state that you understand and consent to the procedure we are about to perform. The recording of that will act as your verbal signature. Alright?”

“Alright…”

“OK… I just do want to state upfront that, because I need to focus on all of the risks here, the informed consent portion will likely be somewhat frightening… Please bear in mind that, while there is no such thing as a zero risk surgery, the risks I highlight are very unlikely to actually occur!… I have every confidence that you will survive this procedure and, in a few hours, we will be introducing you to your children.”

She takes comfort in that and smiles, giving me a clench of her fists that the translator tells me is the equivalent to a nod.

“So, we’re going to start by anaesthetising you so you won’t be awake for any of what follows… Anaesthesia isn’t like sleeping though. You won’t just be unconscious, your brain will be almost completely inactive during that time. You will be a little groggy and disorientated when you wake up. Oh and, because your species are conscious breathers, we need to put you on artificial respiration before you go under, so you don’t suffocate once you’re down. The sensation of being made to breathe without choosing to will likely be a little uncomfortable for you but we ask you to bear with it. It won’t last long either side of your anaesthetisation… Do you have any questions about any of that?”

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“…No…” she hesitates.

I cock an eyebrow “You’re sure?”

Silence.

Then “How are you making my brain sleep so deeply I forget to breathe?”

“Ah… well, normally we would use a belt and braces approach of both drugs (substances we put in your body to change how it behaves) and nervejacking (a technological means of achieving anaesthesia by acting directly on your brain itself). In your case however, due to the uncertainty around long term consequences of exposing your children to any drugs we may put into your system, we will be relying solely on nervejacking… You see, your brain is made up of tens of billions of these things called ‘nerves’ and they…”

---Emiko’s perspective---

I watch through the glass, as the surgical team approach the swollen, upturned abdomen of the thoroughly unconscious, ventilated woman.

The two humanitarians (being the ones who’ll be staying on this planet to perform this operation, repeatedly, for the next year to year and a half) are taking the lead, with Gato and Aerlyght acting as support.

The Shings, Lamark and Sknz’h are not in the operating theatre, as it would be a little too crowded if they were… and surgery isn’t Lamark or Sknz’h’s speciality in any event!

The only other person in the room is Twila, in charge of monitoring vital signs.

The operating table has to be both long, to account for just how long the stretched out Vrakhand woman is, and short, to account for just how deep her abdomen is and bring it down to a level that a Human sized surgeon can comfortably work on.

There’s not much that can be done about the many (very in the way) sprawling legs, so they’ve simply been lightly bound together and pulled as far as possible to the top of the table, with her upper body, to allow ease of access to her abdomen.

Out here with me are Lhamo, Ngngomg, Aghogh, Kherr, a team of Vridhuthan accoucheurs… and Khr’kowan… with a long handled axe… ‘just in case’ in her words(!)

It’s… not ideal to have so many personally invested people watching a surgery but… we need this to be witnessed by the Vrakhand so that they can trust it!

“Confirm anaesthetisation successful.” instructs Phan.

“Anaesthetisation successful, Doctor. Confirmed.” answers Twila.

“Opening incision; midline laparotomy.” he states, bringing the laser scalpel to the patient’s soft underbelly.

---Thakhan’s perspective---

Where… am… I?

What… am I?

I didn’t exist for the most recent period of time but… I feel like I did… before that…

I feel… terrible…!

“She’s - đang thức - up!” comes a distant voice… I only half understand.

I seem… incomplete… I feel my mind reaching for capacity it knows should be there… but isn’t…

I’m thirsty…

I’m nauseated…

And my lungs are inflating and deflating without my say so!

I become aware of something intrusive stuck in my mouth and throat.

Realising I have a hand, I reach for my mouth to get rid of the thing.

Before my hand reaches, I feel two small, squashy hands wrap around the armour of my forearm.

“No, no, no - không, không, không, không! - You still - cần - that - để - breathe!”

I can feel that there is almost no strength in the arms… but there is even less in mine…

My eyes open and show me eight, identical, strange, fangless faces arranged in a rosette.

“Bạn cảm thấy thế nào?” ask the octuplet healers.

“Uwah?” I ask through the metal device keeping my mouth open.

“I asked how you’re feeling?” they say, speaking in only one voice.

“Kerrivuw…!” I moan “Kang I hab sung wokuh, fweaz? I’ng wirwi hirsgi!”

They shake their heads, cohering into fewer than they were.

“No fluids yet… Like I said, remember?”

I give no answer but a pitiful moan.

At this point, the part of me that remembers how and why I’m here wakes up.

I push my upper body into a halfway upright position, over everyone’s fervent protests and ask “Whur gagies?”

“We’ll bring you one! Just please lie down!” plead the multiple healers, frantically, still speaking in just one voice.

Not really having the strength to hold myself up any more, I collapse onto the weird thing I’m lying on.

Moments pass… or maybe eons… I can’t really tell…

Then, the healer (now having the decency to be only one man) appears before me, holding something small and fluffy.

“Here… Here’s one of your babies… They all made it!” he reassures.

I reach out an arm toward what he holds just out of reach and happily exclaim “Gaaagyyy!”