[Incoming Message: HHP-MEDICT]

TEST DUE -- COME IN ASAP

When the message arrives early this morning, and I have no ability to ignore the fluttering feeling in my gut. This is it.

They've done it.

I tap out a new message to Dean.

HEADING TO HHP IN 10

I pull on my boots and utilities.

Simon, who has rarely spent more than five minutes at a time in the room with me, is gone again. I stare anxiously at his cot as I lace my boots in tight knots.

The Rotunda sings today, even though it's barely cracking on 0700. The steam that seeps from crags in pipes whistles its good-mornings. I see smiling faces. Some are pitying, some are mocking, some are still drunk from the night before, but they all grin at me and realize something big is happening. The world beams with us. The URE flows like water down a chute, like everything is going exactly in the direction it should.

I find Dean leaning against the Level 4 entrance. He falls in line with my steps as we ascend in silence. I wonder if he can feel this chipper air that seems to be creeping into our oxygen.

We saunter into the lab and take our positions. The head medic and his crew of maroon lackies fill the room.

"You have been my biggest challenge to date, but we're making history together here, Captain."

He draws my blood. The lead Coat waits for the beep and delivers the blow.

His eyes widen. His jaw hangs open. "It failed."

The free-flowing good vibes of the URE come to a sudden halt. Even the lazy dust specks that float through the air arrest their journeys.

"What do you mean?" I ask. "It can't fail. This was supposed to be it."

"That was it, Captain. That was our last resort." He takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes. "I don't know what went wrong."

"So what now?" Dean's body inches closer. He hovers around me like a door ajar.

"Well, the next steps are simple and out of our hands for you, Captain Lorn." The Coat turns to me. "You will be labeled as 'barren.' You, Captain Freyer, will be reassigned. You both have performed admirably. This whole case will go down in the medical files for our scientists to discover answers from and, maybe one day, we'll find out what happened. Why you two went so wrong."

Barren.

Not pregnant.

Free.

"I . . . I'm done? I don't have to do anything else with the HHP?" I can't hide the grin that escapes.

"I'm afraid you are, Captain. Unfortunately for our system, you have officially broken our success rate." He pauses and looks directly at me, frowning heavily. "Don't be so proud of yourself. You are one failure among three thousand and six successes." He looks over my shoulder. "Captain Freyer, we'll be in touch. There is no medical reason that your contribution should not continue. The next cohort will be convening rather soon. You don't have to attend the official meeting as you've done all this before. It's old-hat for you."

Barren.

Free.

The head medic extends a hand out to me. "It has been a . . ." He struggles for the word. "An interesting experience working with you, Captain Lorn. My hope is that you find your worth in whatever you can for the URE. Just because you cannot contribute in one way, you may yet find a purpose yet."

"I don't know about that. I don't think there are any possible ways that I can be of use to humanity after this debacle." I sigh. "I don't think there's anything I can do to possibly be of any value to society anymore at all. I've damned us all."

The Coat glares at me, his watery blue eyes peering over silver frames. Messy eyebrows like steel-wool rise speculatively. "Goodbye, Captains."

In his departure, the other Coats follow. I'm left there with Dean, the pause being the only pregnant part of this whole ordeal.

I want to shout and turn and throw my arms over his neck, but there's something nagging at me. Something bad is happening inside him.

"I mean, at least now you don't have to worry so much."

He looks at me finally, his eyebrows knit together in disbelief.

"This is good news, Dean. I can work. I can lead without the interference. I will be safe, and I can finally concentrate on the fulfilling the mission and taking care of myself instead of tiptoeing around this problem. Good Lady, what a relief—"

Before I can finish my exclamation, Dean vanishes from the room.