She relaxed a little more, waiting for the next pain. There was nothing to worry about; she had absolute faith in the red-haired major.
The major himself was not so sure. He sat in his office, massaging his fingertips and looking worriedly at the clock on the wall.
The Chief Nurse at a nearby desk took off her glasses and looked at him speculatively. "Something wrong, doctor?"
"Incubator," he said, without taking his eyes off the clock.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Incubator. We can't deliver a seven-month preemie without an incubator."
The nurse's eyes widened. "Good Lord! I never thought of that! What are you going to do?"
"Right now, I can't do anything. I can't beam a radio message through to the Earth. But as soon as we get within radio range of White Sands, I'll ask them to send up an emergency rocket with an incubator. But—"
"But what?"
"Will we have time? The pains are coming pretty fast now. It will be at least three hours before they can get a ship up here. If they miss us on the next time around, it'll be five hours. She can't hold out that long."