No.

Shit.

Shit . . .  Fuck.

Shit fuck holy shit fuck noooooooooooooooooo.

The internal groan bursts into the room.

"Are you experiencing discomfort?"

"You could call it that." My head drops into my hands.

"My guess is that you've discovered this news is problematic on many levels."

For the first time, our eyes meet. I can sense him searching me without the beeps of machinery, the tick of my PAHLM with the fluctuating charts, or the thrum of instruments around us.

From the tumult in my gut, a new fear emerges. Kai or Dean, both are already contracted. Having a child outside the HHP's precise matching is unprecedented. What would happen to me if they found out? What might happen to Dean?

"I can't let anyone know." We both face the empty doorway. "Not even my father."

He folds his arms as he breaks the silence. "Quite fortunate you were dragged in when you were."

"Yes. Thank the Lady I got stabbed."

He hums. "I do suppose it was short of a miracle you were pierced precisely here." He points at the brown spot on the bandages. "If the weapon had been angled any lower, it may have hit your uterus and killed the fetus. If he had aimed any higher, he would have punctured your lung. Quite fortuitous, if you ask me. No harm done. As a bonus, I was able to deliver the good tidings in person."

I scowl, crossing my arms over my chest and flinching.

"Medic K, I'm surprised I've never met you before."

"That's not surprising at all. I don't like people, but they're desperate today. "

"So, why are you up here? Why are you even a Medic if you hate people."

His own arms tighten across his chest. "The device on your hand . . . "

"You mean this?" I raise my left hand to flash my PAHLM with the craggy, pixelated display.

"Oh, Christ, it kills me to see what you people do to the thing. Of course, stupid. The only device strapped to your hand and every other hand in this euphoric plane of existence. I invented it."

"You invented the PAHLM?" I gape at him. This old, bitter man is the creator of the device that constructs or shatters my day. It's how I buy bread—how I enter a room. It's how I check if my friends are alive. It's how I say hello to Simon when I haven't heard from him in a while. This little machine is what rattles me awake and what reminds me to sleep.

"Out of the numerous surprises today, I didn't believe this would be the most shocking."

I huff.

"I have taken the liberty to add a fetal monitor to your PAHLM so you may indulge in your over-coddling mummy fantasies." He studies me for a second longer. "Because you're in the market for discretion, I'll program a separate, private application. I could add a feature for touch recognition, however I'd need your hardware . . . " While murmuring to himself, he hits the triggers on my knuckles, detaching the PAHLM with a simple click.

The brush of cold air against the center of my naked hand sends chills through my body. I long for him to return it. Without the blue haze over my hand, the dark calluses of my open palm seem pitiful.

"What are you doing with it?"

"Am I to be questioned for every act of decency I perform for you today? I'm fixing the device you've managed to bungle. How in hell did you manage this?" He retreats from the room and resumes his rambling monologue as soon as he disappears from view.

After a few minutes of sitting in heavy silence, my hands grab my hair. "Holy Lady, no."

I'm pregnant.

Not only pregnant, but a third of the way done with being pregnant.

I am leaving for space in nine days.

And I am leading two-thousand people to a whole new planet.

I'm pregnant.

And it's Kai's. Oh Lady, it's Kai's.

Maybe Medic K is wrong. Maybe the timeline is off. Please let the timeline be off.

My stomach twists like spiders in knotty webs. What have I done?

My heart lurches forward, crashing against my concrete ribs. It slaps the stony surface again and again and again, until I am exhausted from the pain. This isn't even close to the agony it will cause Dean.

He doesn't deserve this. My gut joins my heart in its bombardment. It's cold in here. My arms prickle in the icy room. My veins have become hollow tunnels. Molten guilt plows through them without stopping.

He will never know. He can never, ever unearth this. Out of all the times I've hurt Dean, this would be the worst. I can imagine his face falling, his heart breaking in between my teeth as I chew out those words to annihilate any hope we harbored for our future.

I laugh to the empty room. After all our efforts, it will all be for nothing. He's never going to want to see me again.

If he finds out.

The agonized noise increases in volume until the room laughs with me.

Quiet settles as Simon wanders in, my clothes folded neatly like sandwich meat between his hands.

"I got the good ones! You're going to feel like a million bucks when you strut on out of here."

"Yeah, I bet."

"Seriously, I mean how often does someone survive a stabbing?"

"This is a third or fourth time for me."

"I'm so sorry, Nika. I had no idea he'd do that. This is my fault." He lands with careful precision on the cot and stretches his hand over mine.

"I could have told you."

"To think I exposed you to that danger, dragging you in front of that lunatic—that absolute maniac. That what I created—"

"No, this was my stupid mistake. I should have seen it coming. I let my guard down. This is my own fault."

"Nika?" A stoic voice from the hall slips into our room.

Both our heads whip toward the doorway. Dean's hands stretch across the entrance as if he was attempting to hold the whole structure together. In four swift strides, he's at my side.

His arms engulf me in his tampered attempt to squeeze the life from my lungs. His body bends away to avoid the bandage, but he crushes my face into his chest with no regard for my throat. I can feel his muscles stiffen as he holds his real intensity at bay.

I choke but not from anything he's doing. Lies clog my throat.

"I heard about what happened." He releases my neck and sits at my side. His long fingers caress my burning cheeks. His thumb brushes the warm flesh. "The whole URE's been talking about your knife fight with Tahn."

I avert my eyes, hoping he'll drop the topic. But he doesn't.

"I saw the blood trails. Everyone assumes you're dying in some secluded corner of the clinic. I couldn't find you in the regular intake rooms."

"Then how did you get in here?"

"I have my tactics." His fear melts into a grin.

"I'm fine," I tentatively shift to try and sit upright. "Did they catch the asshole?"

"He's been apprehended. I heard he'll be spending his last few days on Earth in a cell. Once we begin embarkation, they'll transfer him right to the brig." Dean rests a comforting hand on Simon's shoulder—a shoulder trembling with minute jerks. "You won't have to worry about him for a while."

The two men in my life sit on either side of my bed. While attempting to comfort me, Dean has also managed to find a way to bring peace to Simon, even when I didn't think to. I marvel at Dean's ability to juggle multiple emotional outputs when I short-circuited from the effort of managing just one.

Simon offers a rueful smile. He fiddles with a loose string of my folded shirt. I know he's shielding us from his fear.

Medic K re-enters the room, his head mere inches above the PAHLMs in his hands. When he notices Dean, he balks. His coat floats around his body as he considers the intruder. "Who's this?"

"A friend." I hope he's smart enough to remember to keep his mouth shut.

"Trauma clinic doesn't do visiting hours."

"I'm not visiting. I'm here to admonish Commander Lorn for partaking in street fights without her second to cover her six." His intent stare never wanders from mine. I desperately want to squirm away, but I worry my aversion will expose my secrets.

Medick K rolls his eyes. "Cute."

"It's fine, Freyer. I'm fine. Everything is okay. I'm sure I'll be out of here in no time. Right, Medic K?"

"Relatively."

"See!" I pat Dean's hand with quick reassuring taps. "Don't worry. I've dealt with worse. Everything is under control."

"Her condition is not fatal. Everyone must quit fretting." Medic K's sonorous baritone reverberates around the room, rattling my bones.

"My dad's a few rooms over in the next sector. I'll be there visiting him for a bit. PIM if you need anything." He hesitates, lingering over my lips in the presence of our spectators. I prepare myself for him to reconsider the situation.

Dean doesn't waver. He steals a kiss. My belly, filled with my traitorous deed, lurches with self-loathing.

Medic K clears his throat.

When he's gone, I sob in small hiccups.

"Oh, do cheer up, woman. You're going to be released tonight."

"Excellent." The shards of my heart scrape against my ribs, making it difficult to breathe.

My torment festers in the silent room. Simon smoothes the blanket around my legs. When Medic K clears his throat again, Simon doesn't react.

"I must discuss a few basic rules for sanitation with our valiant victim. It's a tad sticky in some of the lower bits."

"Say no more." Simon's hands flash up in surrender as he backs out of the room.

"Check your PIMs. See the file from me? Download it." He reverently hands me a pristine PAHLM. 

I click it back into place. The blue pixels rising above the soft surface of my skin are more defined than ever before. The holographic quality is luminescent. For a quick second, I'm mesmerized by the luck at winning such a new upgrade. Then I crash when a few beeps later, a new icon appears in the shape of a simple, innocuous star hovering right below my ring finger.

I despondently glance at it.

"Tap it," he instructs.

"I can't."

"Don't be absurd. Bend your finger—"

"No," I interrupt. "Twelve weeks? Are you sure?"

He shrugs. "I'm sure."

I freeze. This can't be how we end.

"But," he continues in a softer voice, "as you have already discovered, conception is not a precise science."

His words provide limp tendrils of possibility.

"Christ, woman. Will you press the icon already?"

I hit the little star with the tip of my thumb. The red icon pulses.

"This is the heartbeat of your fetus. Slight red indicates normal readings. Blue indicates abnormal. When blue pulses are received, I will be notified directly. When your icon flashes green, come see me. You don't need an appointment since I hate everyone and refuse to keep them."

"But—" I sputter, "We're leaving in nine days. What good is all this going to be?"

"Ah, you haven't received the joyful news then, have you? I am scheduled to depart this Earth aboard your lovely vessel, the ARC10."

"Oh." I sit back, relieved. "Janika Lorn." I extend my hand to shake in proper introduction.

"I know that." He sneers, vanishing from the room.