to change the day he and Susan talked about having a baby.
Sulu had known the conversation was coming for a while, ever since they’d attended a friend’s baby-welcoming party the previous summer in Anchorage. Being just a couple wasn’t enough any longer. They’d both been silent in the shuttle ride back, although perhaps preoccupied would have been a more appropriate word.
It wasn’t just Susan who’d been affected; Sulu had found himself bitten by the baby bug too.
It wasn’t an easy feeling to describe—as a matter of fact, Sulu wasn’t completely sure he could explain. All he knew was that suddenly it felt like something was missing, something important. It began to play on their minds like an itch that was just too far out of reach to be scratched.
“I’ve been thinking, maybe it’s time we had a baby,” Susan announced, apropos of nothing, one night while they were lying in bed. “Well, what I mean to say is, I’ll have the baby. Your part pretty much stops after the conception.”
She sat up then, and the overhead lights came on in response to her movement. “I’m serious, Hikaru.”
“Hey!” The light was almost blinding, causing Sulu to pull the covers up over his head. “Computer, reset light parameters.”
“Please specify required setting.”
“Anything, I don’t care. Just turn it down a little.”
“Computer, reduce lighting by thirty percent,” Susan said, then she reached over and pulled the covers from his head. “No hiding from me, mister. We should talk about this.”
“Do we have to do this now? I’ve got to be up early in the morning; I promised Mister Scott I’d fly him across to the shipyards,” Sulu said.
But Susan was adamant. “This can’t wait.”
“Look, Suze, we talked about this, we agreed that we don’t have the time for a baby right now. You said that things were really starting to happen for you down in Biomechanics, and with the Enterprise refit coming along quicker than they’d anticipated, there’s talk that the launch date could be brought forward to next year.”
“I know, but—”
“It’s just not practical,” Sulu told her. “You know that. It’s not that I don’t want to be a dad . . .”
Susan looked up at him then, her eyes wide with surprise. A smile tugging her lips.
Sulu held his hands up, as though surrendering. “Yeah, okay, I admit it, ever since seeing Beth and Gil with their new son . . .”
“I knew it!” Susan slapped him playfully on the arm. “I knew the sight of all those toddlers running around the place would melt even your icy heart!”
“But this would be different, Suze,” he said. “This would be ours, for keeps—no giving it back at the end of the day. It’s one thing going to parties where the kids are other people’s and we can leave once we’ve had enough. You said that you didn’t want a stranger raising your child. So who would be looking after the baby during the day when you’re down at the lab? I’ll be flying around the galaxy studying wormholes and escorting peace delegations to Babel. My mother really isn’t up to—”
Susan shrugged. “I could always give up the lab.”
Her words stunned him into silence. She had said them so calmly, so matter-of-factly, that just for the briefest of seconds she sounded to Sulu like the strongest, bravest person he had ever known.
That was the first time he’d realized how serious Susan had been about the idea of motherhood, and that’s when he’d known that they were about to become parents.
Sulu felt a hand rest lightly on his shoulder and he glanced up from the incubator. Doctor Hautala was standing at his side, a tight, concerned smile on her face.
“You look exhausted. Go home and get some rest,” she ordered.
“But they need me,” Sulu said, jerking his chin toward the baby. “ She might need me.”
“But you won’t be any use to either of them if you’re exhausted.” Hautala carefully turned him away from the