Anri stood amongst the crowd of the party, heart thumping in beat with both the music and the joyous shouts from the people surrounding her.

It was a large party, maybe the largest since before the war, but certainly the largest she and her co-parents had ever hosted. Amid the throng, Anri spotted them: Keghan was in the center of the dance floor, flailing his large violet body in a manner that could only be described as dangerous. Toan was by the gift table, the light reflecting off her scales as she surreptitiously tried to rearrange the presents in a color-coded pattern. And Nika, self-elected DJ, stood on the sofa, blasting music from her screen and waving all four of her arms. Above Nika’s head, pulsing multicolored lights beamed across a holographic banner that spelled out Congratulations, New Parents! in six different languages.

Nika’s screen interrupted the music with a loud gong, stopping the guests mid-dance. “One hour warning!” she shouted. “One hour until our adoption match is revealed!”

The crowd erupted into cheers, the music restarted, and the party went on in earnest.

Except, suddenly, Anri couldn’t breathe.

Congratulations, New Parents!

New Parents!

Parents!

Anri fled.

Her guests, her friends, her chosen family, all their different bodies blurred together as Anri pushed her way past them, bursting into the empty corridor leading to her personal quarters.

But she could still hear the music, and the glow from the banner was flooding into the hallway, ghostly letters undulating on the floor. Anri scrambled away, reaching for the door leading to her bedroom. She unlocked it and threw herself inside, all but collapsing onto her bed. There, the sounds of the party could still be heard, although faintly, and the only window in the room faced the starlit blackness of space, leaving her room dim. She was alone.

Anri bunched her shaking hands into the fabric of her pants and started breathing in a strict box pattern: in one…two…three…hold one…two…three…out one…two…three…hold one—

She flinched when the sounds of music and laughter and celebration came flooding back in; her bedroom door opened and shut again and then a body sat next to hers, dipping the bed down and rocking her softly. The smell of spice and sweat wafted into Anri’s nostrils, familiar and safe.

Two gentle hands came to rub at Anri’s back, their rough texture catching on her shirt. A third hand came into Anri’s view, wrapping around her own, dexterous fingers untangling Anri’s before settling down as a warm, comforting weight.

“You okay?”

It was Nika, who had followed after her, concerned. Like all Lunarians, Nika was covered in a thick, short brown fur from head to toe, glossy and soft. Large amber eyes regarded her with a well of compassion, too much compassion, and Anri had to resist the unspoken invitation to bury her face in Nika’s neck to hide in the cozy comfort of her friend.

“I’m fine,” she said instead, trying to muster up a smile. “Just a little overwhelmed.” Anri gestured half-heartedly to the door. “There’re, like, a hundred people crowded in our tiny living room. Feels like this is the biggest baby shower ever held.” Anri sniffed and rolled her shoulders. “Speaking of which, we should get back before Toan makes everyone dance according to height or something. Plus, you’ll need to make the next announcement, so let’s just—"

Nika’s hand fell on her shoulder. “Anri,” she said quietly. 

Anri lowered her eyes. “I’m fine,” she whispered back.

Nika sighed. “Stay here,” she muttered, the hand on Anri’s shoulder giving a gentle squeeze before Nika let go and stood.

The party noise rose and fell again as Nika opened the door and left. A moment later, she returned with Keghan and Toan in tow.

“There you are, Anri!” Keghan crowed excitedly, black eyes glittering and cheeks flushed a dark plum. “What’s with the co-parents meeting?” He threw himself on to the bed next to Anri, nearly dislodging her with his weight. Nika shoved him aside to sit back down next to Anri, and Toan came around to face her, making Anri the center of attention amidst her friends.

“Anri?” Toan asked, folding her long limbs together to sit cross-legged on the floor, her normally pale blue scales a smokey grey in the gloom of the bedroom. The thin seam of her mouth ran all the way up her cheekbones, ending beneath eyes that reflected her thoughts and moods and were, right now, deep blue in concern. “Are you—”

“Oh, stars,” Anri groaned. “I’m fine. Everything is fine. I just wanted to be alone.” She glared at everyone around her, but they didn’t move.

“Whoa,” Keghan said. She felt his bulk shift as he sat up. “Where’s this coming from?”

“You’re…you’re not regretting the adoption, are you?” Nika asked.

Anri felt her heart break a little at the worry in Nika’s voice, the tiny hint of betrayal and disappointment. And though Anri had been uncertain of the decision to collectively adopt a war orphan (at the time Nika suggested it, they were attending a remembrance ceremony and were all more than a little drunk), in the early months of the process she had warmed to the idea, liked it, wanted it.

“Not the adoption, but…” Anri trailed off, holding her hands out as though to physically grasp the words.

“Is this a Human thing?” Keghan blurted.

“What?”

“Human families traditionally form from romantic and or sexual relationships between parents,” Toan reminded everyone, eyes flickering an intelligent yellow.

“Stars, Humans are so strict about everything,” Nika griped, crossing two of her arms. “Lunarian friends co-parent children all the time. Most species do.”

“Friendly, platonic co-parenting,” Keghan said seriously. “That’s exactly what this is. There is absolutely no expectation of any sexual or romantic obligations from any member of the co-parent team. None at all.” Keghan grinned, waggling his fingers in their direction. “I mean, no offense ladies, but ew.”

“Ew, yourself!” Nika snapped. “I’m glorious in bed.”

Anri blew out a breath. “That’s not what I’m—”

“Clians cannot procreate outside our species.”

“Who said anything about procreating? I was talking about fun sex.”

“We don’t do that either.”

“I know, but for everyone else—”

Nika held up a finger in all of their faces. “No one in this house is having sex with anyone else in this house, fun or otherwise,” she said.

Keghan shoved Nika’s hand away. “That’s what I’m saying! Unless…Anri did you want to?”

Everyone turned to her.

“No!” Anri threw her hands up in frustration. “I don’t want to have sex with any of you, and I do want to adopt this child. I really, really do.”

“Then what’s wrong?” Nika asked. “What changed tonight?”

Before Anri could say anything, Toan spoke, “Our child’s biodata,” she said, and Anri didn’t need to look at her to know her eyes were shining purple with sadness. “We’ll soon know their species.”

Everyone went quiet. They always did whenever species and Anri were brought up in the same sentence. She could almost feel the gazes of her friends meet around her, trying to determine who was the best one to handle this. Anri hated that she needed to be handled.

Anri let her gaze wander away to the window. She could just barely see her reflection there in  the domed glass, a lone Human face amid countless stars, billions and billions of them. Some planets, some suns.

But none of them were Earth. Not anymore.

Anri whispered to the stars, “What if our child is Human?”

“Anri,” said Keghan gently. “The Human population… it’d be a pretty slim chance.”

“But there’s a chance,” Anri said, voice catching halfway. Nika pressed close against her, and Anri felt Toan place a hand over her foot. Neither were comforting.

“Even if they are Human, would that be so bad?” Keghan asked.

Anri scoffed and pushed to her feet, stepping over Toan to lean against the wall, breath puffing on the window as she growled, “You don’t get it! None of you do! I’m the only Human for lightyears. If this kid is Human, it would be on me to raise them with all our history and what’s left of our culture. Who else would there be to tell them about what happened to the rest of Humanity? What happened to their family, my family? Assuming, of course, the mere sight of our child doesn’t send me spiraling because I’m such a messed up, useless, waste of—"

Thick purple arms, hard with muscle, wrapped around her middle and squeezed her tight, cutting off her words. “It’ll be all right, Anri,” Keghan’s voice rumbled through her back. Anri tried to push out of his hold.

“No!” she cried. “Don’t tell me it’ll be all right! You don’t know that! You don’t know that!”

“I do know that. I know it with every fiber of my being,” Keghan said.

“No, you don’t,” Anri sobbed.

“I do,” Keghan insisted. “I do because you, Anri, are not a useless waste of anything. You are strong and intelligent and one of the kindest people I have ever met. You are going to be a great mom.”

Anri flinched. “I can’t,” she moaned. “Not if they’re Human. What if they’re Human?”

Keghan let go of her long enough to spin her around so she could face him, see her splotchy red face reflected in his shiny black eyes. He grabbed her hands and swung them gently back and forth in a steady, soothing rhythm. “Then we will teach them. We all signed those adoption files, Anri. It’s not just on you.”

“But—”

Keghan rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t matter! Were you planning on leaving it all to Toan if they’re a Clian? Or me if they are Charoite? Were we all doomed if they are Flexian or Tish?” Keghan knelt to be at eye level with her. “Anri, right now in this moment…do you love our child?”

The words came easily. “Yes, of course.”

“Me too. And so do Nika and Toan. And we don’t even know who they are. Will that change when we find out their species? Will you not love them?”

“No!”

Keghan let go of Anri and spread his hands as if to say there you have it.

Anri took a deep breath. “You’ll help?” she asked quietly. “Even with the Human stuff?”

Keghan grinned as he stood back up. “I’ll help exclusively with the Human stuff if you want. I’ll take a class on Human culture and be solely responsible for teaching them history.”

“Uh, no,” Nika interrupted. “If anyone is going to be homeschooling our child, it’s going to be Toan.”

Anri laughed, a bubble of emotion bursting from her chest and releasing her. She wiped at her eyes, feeling a little foolish and embarrassed. She sucked in a breath, trying to calm herself down. Hold one…two…three…

Anri’s breath stuttered out in surprise when a sharp, high-pitched ping sounded. She peered around Keghan to see Toan passing a screen to Nika who was now typing something into it. When she was done, it pinged again, and Nika held the screen out to Keghan.

“What’re you doing?’ Anri asked. She stood on tiptoe to see the screen that Keghan was tapping at and recognized the login portal of the adoption agency. “What are you doing?” she asked again with more urgency. “If we log into that, it’ll show us all the kid’s info!”

“That’s the idea,” Nika said cheerfully.

“But the party!” Anri gestured wildly to the door and the cheers still going on outside it. “The reveal isn’t scheduled for, like, an hour.”

“Forty-four minutes and seventeen seconds,” Toan provided. The screen pinged again as Keghan finished entering in his password. He held the screen out to Anri, but she backed away.

“We agreed to wait. To find out at the party,” she said weakly.

“We did wait, and we are at the party,” Nika pointed out.

“But it’s just us.”

“At the end of the day, it really only concerns us,” Keghan said, still holding out the screen. “Everybody else will find out when it’s time, but we’re the parents. It’s our job to introduce them to everyone else. We should know early.”

“But—”

“I want to know now, too,” Toan said.

“Me too.”

“We all do.”

Anri pressed her palms into her eyes roughly. She wanted to say something, tell every one of her stupid friends how much she loved them, but she didn’t want to cry again, even if it was for better reasons. Instead, she silently held out a hand. The familiar weight of the screen settled into her palm, and Anri turned it around. The portal needed only her password to unlock, and then right in front of her would be their child’s profile.

Their child.

“Oh, stars,” Anri hiccupped as she typed. “I’m going to be a mom!”

“You’re just now figuring that out?” Nika said, flapping her many hands impatiently. Anri hit enter, and the screen slowly began to load.

“Actually, the forms say we’re Guardians or Primary Caretakers,” Toan said.

“Caretaker?” Keghan repeated in disgust. “That sounds terrible!”

“Technically—"

“Good morning, Caretaker? Can I have a snack, Guardian? You hear how awful that sounds, right?”

“I suppose our given names would be just as accurate.”

“Nope! I’m Dad. End of discussion.”

“What about us?” Toan drew a circle with her finger to include Anri and Nika. “We can’t all be called Mom. That’ll be confusing.”

“Dibs on Mama!"

The screen pinged loudly. Everyone crowded around Anri, skin and fur and scales pressing together in a warm, sticky mass that should’ve been uncomfortable but to Anri was perfect. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply the smell of her friends, her family.

In one…two…three…

Anri opened her eyes to meet their child.