"Drack!" she yelled. "I need more ryncol!"
Ryder screamed as another contraction ripped through her body.
"Kid, you're just having a baby. You don't have to scream!"
The krogan midwife was peering between Ryder's legs, checking the dilation. "What the fuck are you looking at!" Ryder snapped, attempting to close her legs despite the stirrups.
"She's ready," the midwife declared.
Drack hurried over to Ryder with another bottle. "This is probably a very bad idea but I'd rather you stop screaming," he growled as he handed her the opened bottle.
"All right, so what now?" Ryder asked, chugging from the bottle.
The midwife frowned. "You know I typically do this for krogans and do you know how many babies I've delivered because of the genophage? None!"
Ryder groaned, this was just what she needed. A krogan midwife who just read up on humans on the extranet. Sweat streamed down her face and back in rivulets. Her oversized t-shirt was quickly soaked. The intervals between each contraction were getting closer and closer. This was the worse pain she had ever experienced. And for Ryder, that’s saying a lot.
"This is a fucking bad idea, having the baby is a bad idea," Ryder yelled. "Why the fuck did I do this? What the fuck is wrong with me?"
The baby was coming. The baby had their fist hammering on the door from inside her. There was no stopping this now. It's coming out with or without her help.
Ryder shrieked, higher and louder than she thought possible. "All right, all right," she panted. "I have a worse idea."
“Worse?” Drack asked, his voice almost fearful if that was possible.
“Yes, worse. Worse than the idea of having this baby in the first place.’
The niggling edges of a shitty plan was coming to her. The krogan midwife was coming towards her with a pair of scissors. Ryder tried to scooted back wards on her extremely vulnerable position. "What the fuck are you doing with that?" she demanded.
"I need to cut you open, unless you want your vagina to just tear?" the krogan asked, snapping the scissors’ blade open and shut in quick succession.
That gesture wasn’t endearing her to Ryder a single bit. Ryder glared at the krogan midwife. The krogan merely snorted and repeated the gesture. Ryder narrowed her eyes, keeping a tight grip on the overwhelming urge throw her bottle of ryncol at the krogan. No, the ryncol was better with her. She took another drink.
"Fine, do it," she snapped.
The midwife was quick. Two snips, Ryder hissed with each one. Blood was flowing freely between her legs. The pain was a sharp lance through parts that should never experience anything like that. It was worse than in Eos. It was worse than her first period, her first cramps. Worse than the times she died, however many times she did the moment she was Pathfinder.
"Fuck this shit! You get out of the way" Ryder barked, she gestured roughly with the bottle of ryncol. "Drack stand two metres in front of me. And get ready."
The midwife scrambled to the side. Drack followed her orders, as if she was still Pathfinder, as if this was a battlefield.
"What the fuck do you want me here for?" he growled, averting his eyes. This felt so wrong for him to look at her like this.
“Two metres, Drack!”
Drack shuffled forward, his eyes pointed everywhere but her business end. Ryder grunted when she was satisfied with his distaince. "Just get ready."
"For what?" he repeated.
"To. Fucking. Catch!"
Colour drained from Drack’s face. Ryder corralled her tattered remains of her strength, summoning the blue energy from her core.
The baby was expelled from between her legs, taking the placenta and all. The umbilical cord snapped, spraying blood everywhere. The baby was a cannonball that landed in Drack's waiting hands. Ryder slumped back against the bed.
"Now please don't let me bleed to death like this," she gasped, as she passed out.
The bottle of ryncol slipped from her slack fingers, shattering on the floor.