The stars looked closer here. The mother other pressed her face to the shuttle’s small window, watching clusters of light shimmer in colors she’d rarely seen—violet and blue painting the darkness in brilliant streaks. Her husband squeezed her hand, smiling with that familiar expression she’d come to love during their years among the stars.

They’d been waiting so long for this moment. Years of applications, tests, and seminars just to bring a new life into the world. Now it was finally happening. In minutes, they would meet their daughter.

The shuttle descended toward the medical facility, a gleaming tower perched on a cliff above a sparkling ocean. The purple sky made everything look like a dream. Here, in this advanced corner of human space, new life could be created. Each birth was a miracle, crafted by geneticists and timed to perfection.

The shuttle touched down with a soft thud.

“This is it,” he whispered.

They walked down the ramp into the facility’s warmth. Bio luminescent panels lined the walls, casting a gentle, pulsing light through the corridors. A technician greeted them with a calm smile, not hiding their excitement.

“You should see her readings,” the technician said as they walked. “Remarkable stability across every band, zero anomalies. The memory cortex is developing faster than our models predicted. I haven’t seen a synthetic gestation run this clean in years.”

The mother’s heart swelled with pride, her pulse quickening as they finally reached a set of silver doors, which parted soundlessly. Inside was a small, softly lit room, where a clear cradle rested in the center, surrounded by panels reading the newborn’s vitals. A staff member hovered nearby, finishing the last of the routines before releasing the baby to its parents. The technician glanced up and nodded, stepping aside as the mother and father approached.

There, in the cradle, was their daughter.

Her skin glowed in the dim light, a gentle blush on her cheeks as she stirred. The mother felt everything else disappear. Tears pricked her eyes as the father reached forward hesitantly, afraid she might vanish if he moved too fast. When the baby’s tiny fingers wrapped around his, he laughed softly.

“She’s perfect,” he whispered.

The mother knelt beside the cradle, studying the soft hair, the delicate eyebrows. She breathed in the baby’s scent, softer than anything. The world had never seemed brighter, full of endless potential.

They stayed there for a time, speaking in whispers about the life they would build together. They imagined the worlds they would explore, the stories they would share, and the endless time they’d have with her. A millennium, they had forever.

A sharp alarm cut through the air.

The lights flickered. The floor shuddered beneath their feet.

The technician’s wristband chimed. She glanced down, then turned away, speaking quietly into the device.

“Confirming fluctuation at Node Theta… No, not system drift… that sector.”

Their voice dropped lower. “Protocol Two might be compromised. Watch for outer ring signatures.”

They turned back to them, face pale. “We have to evacuate. Follow me.”

“What’s happening?” the mother whispered, clutching her daughter.

The technician led them down different corridors—darker, narrower ones. They stopped at a checkpoint and placed their hand on a scanner, waiting for authorization.

“They’re after her,” the tech said quietly, nodding at the baby. “The upper levels aren’t secure anymore. We need to reach the evacuation pod.”

Who would want to hurt a child? But as they hurried through the winding halls, the mother realized this wasn’t just any child. In a world where children were almost mythical, where birth itself was rare and sacred, their daughter was something special.

They came to another door, and the technician placed their hand on the access panel once more, this time hesitating.

The door slid open, revealing a dark chamber with the faint outline of an escape pod inside. Just as they took a step forward, a voice rang out from behind them, cold and commanding.

“Stop, go no further.”

They turned to see the masked figures standing at the far end of the hall. The leader, his mask a sleek, golden beak, stepped forward, his eyes fixed on the baby in her mother’s arms.

“Hand over the child,” he said, his tone low and unyielding.

The mother tightened her grip on her daughter. The father pulled out a small device and pressed a button. A shimmering blue force field appeared around them, humming softly as it separated them from the masked figures.

The leader tilted his head, studying them through his gold mask. He raised his hand, signaling the others to wait.

They stood locked in tense silence, the force field humming between them like a barrier of light.

“Give me the device,” the technician said, reaching for the force field generator. “They don’t need me. They’re after the child.”

The masked figures pressed against the shield, pushing its strength.

“Go!” the technician urged, pushing them through the doorway and slamming the door controls. It sealed shut just as the first masked figure reached it.

Through the thick glass, the mother saw the hawk-masked leader staring at her. His gaze never wavered, even as the door locked with a loud click. He tilted his head slightly, as if making a silent promise.

They would meet again.