Seelix has the same nightmare every time: she turns around, and suddenly she's staring down at the long blade piercing her through the stomach,
the Centurion watching her impassively while she chokes out blood bubbles and dies writhing on the weapon it's stuck in her.
She wakes up, pats her stomach, and when there's no blood nor hole, turns over and goes back to sleep.
Not everyone's so lucky.
Always pregnant in her dreams, she was always pregnant, swollen and waddling and strapped to a bed with her knees pressed up almost to her shoulders. It hurt. Everything hurt.
"That's a good girl," Cally heard Galen say with gentle pride as she fussed and fought at the restraints on her wrists. Frankly, it was pretty creepy. "You're doing so good, Cally."
"Make them untie me," Cally said, trying to breathe slowly and carefully. "I'm not going to run."
Then Cally looked up and there they were, the shining steel polished to mirror brightness.
When Cally looked at them too closely, the light from the doctor's spotlight flashed and nearly blinded her.
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