The week trudges by as the pairs dive into their partnerships head-first. I watch from the sidelines at my table.

My PAHLM cuts into the silence, notifying the inhabitants of the room that a PMAIL has downloaded. A note appears behind the broken-pixel image as I strain to read it.

Captain Janika Lorn,

The fertility specialists at the Human Hope Project require a specimen. Come to the Level 2 lab before 1900 today to determine your results. Please read the following attached document for early pregnancy health information. Come with your questions.

Sincerely,

HHP New Mother Orientation Team

Dean must have heard the beep and assumed what it meant. He strides over immediately while Major Birgar's mouth hangs open in mid-sentence.

"Is it time?"

I shrug and touch the edges of my tablet, pretending to be immersed in the squiggles and circles.

"I want to come with you."

"You know that's not necessary. Everything from here on in is my—"

"I want to be there." He takes the tablet from my hands and flips it around.

"Whatever. If it makes things easier for you."

I can't understand why Dean has this fascination with the whole stupid process. His part is done. They got what they needed out of him, and now it's my job to act like a human lab for nine months. I don't want him there. I don't want him near me. I can tell he's trying to maintain his distance, but I've been trained to be aware of my surroundings and especially be aware when someone is aware of me. It's annoying when the over-observant culprit is a towering six-foot-six mass of muscles and frowns.

"That's exactly what I want." He lays the blueprints on the table.

I analyze the ship again and examine the routes I had already strategized for possible evacuation procedures. All my progress is upside-down and wrong. Viewing it this way clears the mess. Slightly.

Freaking Dean.

"Why?" I demand while balling my fists and leaning over the table to unpin the markers from the file. "Why do you have to be involved in any of this? Why is this so interesting to you?"

He looks like I asked him to saw off his arm. "Because I care about this life and yours," he whispers while lowering himself to brush his lips close to my ear. "Because it's what families do."

His breath hits my skin, causing me to shiver behind the desk. My hands flatten against the tabletop to keep my balance. We haven't talked. Not this week, anyway. This is the closest we've been since the break during the first briefing.

He has kept his distance, but now he has decided to invade my space again. He brings his hot breath and heavy words making me remember his hands, his chest, his lips. It's the entire list of parts I'd rather not be focusing on.

"Fine," I say. "You can come. But it's probably going to be boring. Just me getting more HHP junk injected into my ass cheek. No one wins."

"I know someone who does." He releases my arm and wanders to his table without even looking back at me. His touch was so gentle, I didn't even realize his hand was there.

He's teasing me. With my eyes narrowed and my mouth slightly open, I glare at his retreating back.

"Close your mouth, soldier. There's enough hot air in here already." The click of Hayomo's boots approaches slowly.

"Why didn't you say I was reading the prints wrong, ma'am?"

"I wanted to see how long it would take you to figure it out." She chuckles as she crosses to Table 8 and pointing at something on their tablet.

I've come to grips with the fact that I'm on my own in this mission, but for the first time since accepting this status, tendrils of choking loneliness seep through the cracks of my façade.