Chapter Text
My relationship with Mandarin is… less than professional. This was obvious. He never said he had favorites, but I was still second in command. While we were rarely affectionate, we didn't hide when we were. What wasn't so obvious was the cause of the 'food poisoning' and unexplained fatigue I have had for the past week.
During meditation, I do a routine once-over of my body. A very useful and common meditation practice. I check my extremities, focusing on the very tip of my tail as I float above the sand. My focus moves from all my metal digits to closer to my core. I was very nauseous at the moment. My breathing is clear, effortless. My heartbeat is a little faster than I expected, but that could be attributed to anxiety. I take a deep breath and focused on my other vital organs. I stop before my pelvis…and I sense... a tiny, almost imperceptible flicker of life. It couldn't have been bigger than an orange seed. My eyes shoot open, concentration shattered. I fall onto the sand of my meditation room with a soft 'plop', as the reality of what was happening began to dawn on me faster than I wanted it to. I check over it again. The same. Third check. Still there. I finally accept it. Without the sensitivity of using the power primate within one’s self, this would’ve likely remained a mystery for another few months.
I am in the process of creating new life, and it was Mandarin's fault. I'm pregnant, as most would say. I press a hand to my stomach...
And nearly vomited into the fountain.
Gibson catches me in the hallway as I make a beeline for the bathroom, when my mind was already going 300 megafathoms a second.
"Antauri, how are you fee-" he begins, before I make a vague hand gesture, and continue speed walking on my path.
I really hoped the sound of my retching answered his question.
He knocks, and I make no attempt to respond. He opens the door slowly, though I couldn't see him due to my current status of 'puking', I hear him set a glass on the sink. It occurs to me in that moment, that what I was experiencing was traditionally called ‘morning sickness’, despite the fact that I happen to be doing this at four o’ clock in the afternoon. I sit on the floor, and lean on the toilet. Gibson gives me a smile, handing me a cloth to wipe my mouth.
“Thank you, Gibson.” The taste still lingers in my teeth.
“Here, drink some water.” He says, handing me the glass. I drink nearly half the glass when I suddenly remember why I was vomiting in the first place. Taking deep breaths, I manage to suppress the urge to vomit again. “If this lasts much longer, it may prove debilitating, Antauri”
“I am aware, though I doubt that this’ll last more than a week”
“You ought to let me examine you, and run a couple tests, it cou-"
"I'm sorry Gibson, but I'd rather avoid any extensive tests." Another wave of nausea makes me face the toilet again, “and, I am definitely not up to it at the moment.”
“Of course, you need to rest. Please, skip training today if you aren’t feeling up to it.”
I smile at him, before dry-heaving once more.
Ugh.
I take up his offer to skip training, not to rest, but to think. Sitting on my bed, I allow my thoughts to race. It could prove beneficial to my current situation. First question; do I keep it? Due to my upbringing I have never thought about having children. Now the possibility was staring me in the face, and I wasn't totally opposed to the idea. But I didn't have to take this responsibility, I could crush them with zero effort using the power primate. End this right now. My instincts say no. All logic says yes. My role as ‘defender of Shuggazoom’ does not lend well to childcare, I know I would easily make a good parent, but I have no idea if Mandarin would… or the rest of the team. Mandarin’s temper is not something I’d want anyone without training to encounter, and I’d have to depend on the team for almost everything… though I’d trust them all with my life.
Another thing to consider was the incredible amount of modifications everyone on the team has. My body is such a far cry from whatever species of monkey I once was, they might not even survive. I have no idea how they’ve survived this long in the first place, considering my less than stable lifestyle as well, and when the majority of what I call myself is cybernetic. The specifics of that is… Very useful information to know, actually. I step out of my room and head for the tubes. The floor that Gibson’s lab is on is above the living quarters, which was two floors above the training room. Bless the convenience of the layout, nobody would even realize I moved at all.
The tube wooshes and I find myself in the command center. Gibson keeps any medical diagrams in the med bay, and he enjoys them enough that he keeps them up as decoration. I step quietly, despite knowing nobody is around, and plug my communicator into the main computer. What I want is displayed on the giant screens making up the walls, and I download a copy of all six of our complete biomedical guides for reference.
In my room I pull up every document I can, getting the exact numbers of every chemical pumped into us. We all were modified on the genetic level, though the modifications seem to be mostly to the immune system and fur colors. Mandarin and I had our genes for fur color untouched, according to the documents. I catch my mind wandering to possible fur color combinations and I have to remind myself of their probability of survival. My internal organs are similar to the rest of the team’s, but we all seem to have different amounts of modification. Some of us having certain organs replaced, while those same organs are outright removed in others', only the vitals are consistent. Mandarin stands out, being the only one with nearly complete arms, likely the reason he wears gauntlets instead.
Half of the team has a different set of reproductive organs than the other. Mandarin and I are in different halves. I don’t look too closely at the other team members' organs.
My reproductive system had been left nearly untouched, but not on purpose. One tube having been cut and removed near a place in my digestive system that has clear modifications. I can only imagine that the person who installed must have slipped while cutting…
Who did do the upgrades on us?
My train of thought is thrown off course then righted as fast as it left the tracks. I immediately forget what I was thinking about.
I don't see anything that would spell certain doom, but nothing particularly promising either. My hip bones are notably small for purposes down the line. In fact, the head to body ratio of the team is ridiculous. If I did what every instinct is telling me to do and run off into the woods to deal with this myself, I’d likely bleed out without proper medical intervention. Dying alone is a scary thought. The fate of the tiny creature I am creating seems to be entirely in the hands of a roll of the dice. Or possibly, in the hands of the power primate, as the child of two incredibly powerful monkeys.
Nothing was helping me with my decision, so I will leave it up to my freshly-existent child. If they can survive until the second trimester by fate, I will do anything in my power to help them.
Three months until I find out.