Piper Marston was in the middle of an extremely delicate step required for the Anjovian fern propagation when her comm beeped to indicate she had an incoming message. Since she couldn't set down the equipment, she wasn't able to intercept or reject it in time. She had only a brief few seconds of warning that the missive came from Olympus Station to brace herself.
She didn't want to talk to anyone who lived there, since her father had transferred to Excelsin three years ago with his promotion. She certainly had nothing to say to Pippa, even though they were sisters. "Barely," she muttered under her breath as she braced herself to see her selfish sister's face fill the screen.
Instead, she caught her breath as her brother—in—law's face appeared before her instead. She hadn't seen Weston—or Pippa for that matter—in four years, since Wesley's funeral. When Pippa had made it clear Piper wasn't wanted even at her little nephew's interment, she boarded a transport to return to the Greer Rare Plant Breeding Facility and hadn't looked back.
She braced herself again, wondering what Weston wanted. Considering she hadn't seen him in four years, she shouldn't have been so easily able to read the lines of stress etched into his face, or see the sadness in his eyes. Perhaps it was because his expression was similar to the last one she'd seen him wear, when he was grieving his son's death. She decided that was the best explanation for her, not wanting to delve deeper or consider the possibility that she remembered that much about the man she'd loved long before her sister deliberately seduced and married him to spite Piper.
"What do you want, Weston?" Her tone wasn't exactly gracious, and she was girding herself as though she was going to battle. She couldn't risk leaving herself vulnerable to him. He wouldn't actively hurt her, but his indifference in previous years had been enough to do so more than once.
If possible, his face drew even tighter. "Sorry to disturb you, Piper, but I have news for you."
She nodded. "What would that be?" The news must have something to do with Pippa, since she wasn't calling herself. Not that she ever did, but Piper didn't either.
"There was a freak accident today with a malfunctioning lift, and Pippa was crushed in it."
She blinked, looking for some trace of sadness or grief. There was perhaps a little dart, but nothing to label as mourning. "I see. When is her funeral?" Not that she intended to attend.
"She isn't dead yet, Piper, but I need you here."
She arched a brow. "Pippa wants to see me?" She couldn't hide the shock and disbelief in her tone.
He hesitated for a second before shaking his head. "No, I mean, I don't know. She's in a coma, and our doctor doesn't think she's going to wake. Right now, she's keeping her alive strictly with machines."
Piper frowned. "Why is she doing that if there's no hope?"
Weston let out a heavy sigh. "Pippa is three months pregnant, and there's still a chance we might be able to save her baby."
Her frown deepened. "What does this have to do with me?" A kernel of dread made her stomach clench.
"You are identical twins, even though you don't look alike."
She snorted before she could think better of it. "That's because she couldn't stand to look like me. I'm not the one who wasted my inheritance from our grandmother on plastic surgery."
He put up a hand before running it through his black hair. "Be that as it may, you're identical on the inside if not the outside. Gretel—our doctor—says that makes you an excellent candidate for a womb transplant."
She scowled. "You want me to offer up my body to host your child for the next how—many—ever months?" She sounded gruff and nonplussed, which was almost the exact opposite of how she really felt. The thought of carrying Weston's baby was one of her long—held dreams, at least back when she'd still been in love with him. Now, she was over that, of course. And the other part of the fantasy would've been her baby, not her sister's. "I don't think I can do that."
He sighed heavily. "I understand, but I wanted to check with you before I authorize Gretel to remove life support for both."
Something about the way he said that sent a lurch through my chest. Part of it was on behalf of the helpless infant who might survive if she was willing to participate in their science experiment. The other part was a sharp pang of grief that struck her as she recalled the lifeless body of Wesley in the glass tube. Her sweet nephew had gone too soon, and she could vividly remember Weston's obvious grief. Even Pippa had been suffering at that point—though it hadn't kept her from behaving like a horrible bitch.
But that was behind her, four years in the past, and no longer relevant to the present. If she agreed to do this, she would be doing it for Weston and his child, not for her sister. "How long do I have to get there?"
"The sooner the better, though Gretel thinks we can hold off a few days while you're traveling."
She frowned as her mind whirled. "Don't you need some kind of special permit for this sort of thing? I mean, we aren't partners, so…"
Weston nodded. "Your father is seeing to that."
If anyone could expedite and push it through the Coalition's Reproductive Board, and their mountain of red tape, it would be the admiral. She could well imagine how excited he would be at the thought of a new grandchild, having been extremely close to Wesley. That was another reason that she opened her mouth and said, "Okay, I guess I'll be there as soon as I can."
Obvious relief crossed his face for a moment, and then his expression settled into one that was harder to read. "Thank you. I know what a sacrifice this is, Piper."
She heaved a sigh, looking at the Anjovian fern. She'd spent the last three weeks prepping it for this delicate process, and there were still myriad steps involved. She hoped one of her colleagues could step in and take over the project. It was difficult to walk away from the project that she had been so excited to plan, but the fern meant little when compared to Weston's child. "I'll leave as soon as I can arrange things on my end."
After arranging a transport that would pick her up in the next few hours, Weston rang off, and the screen went dark. Piper stared at the plant and equipment in her hands, but didn't see the delicate fronds. Instead, she imagined her own body ripening with someone else's child, and a shiver went down her spine. She wasn't entirely certain if it was fully apprehension, or perhaps a slight touch of anticipation.
Anticipation strictly for experiencing what it was like to bring life into the world, she clarified to herself immediately. Without an officially recognized partner, she would never get a permit to reproduce. Being stationed at Greer, which was toward the ass—end of the galaxy, and surrounded by people who were just as studious about plants as she was, her odds of finding a partner any time in the near future were grim. She'd deliberately chosen to immerse herself in her work and not worry about finding a partner or having a child, but now the opportunity was before her.
