Brenna reviewed the latest work reports. At times it seemed it was all she did, so much so that frequently she felt the numbers and figures never changed and she was condemned to peruse the same information again and again until the end of time. This, however, was not one of those times. The production quotient numbers were different, just slightly, and not in a good way.

Brenna sighed and frowned. They were running dangerously low on the mineral ore that their machines relied on to fuel their cores and the mining shafts were reaching the limits of their yield. Something was going to have to be done, because bit by perilous bit they were falling behind. The machines were already showing strain and signs of stress. Thera had been working on them for three weeks but there was only so much even a brilliant mind like Thera's could do.

Brenna sat back in her chair, though no amount of physical distance would simply make the problem go away. Either problem. Thera had been running herself into the ground trying to come up with an answer. She'd set herself the goal of coming through with a solution to coax the engines to double their workload, an impossible feat but Thera seemed determined to do it. She was coming close to the point of endangering her fetus, and Brenna was determined to step in before that happened.

The answer was simple, really. They needed more ore to fuel the engines. If the mines were running dry then they had to start new ones. Caulder, so far, had not acceded to that recommendation and Brenna understood why. Opening a new mine entailed a long list of hazards and it tied up the manpower of a lot of workers... hours of work that were needed to tend to the machines that kept the metropolis above from succumbing to the ice and snow.

A knock on her door gratefully distracted her from her introspections. "Come in."

Thera popped her head in and Brenna's face fell. Normally she was pleased to see Thera, but lately they had only one topic of conversation.

"Can I talk to you, Brenna? I've run some more numbers on machines seventeen and thirty and I wanted to go over them with you."

"Of course... have a seat."

Thera slipped into the room and made her way toward the single, utilitarian chair free in Brenna's office. Since the clearance of her pregnancy Thera had been placed in a more cerebral work position. Instead of grueling physical and manual labor she was tasked with thinking up improvements to the engines (those Caulder could permit) and overseeing the maintenance of the machines under her care. Thera had a real talent for mechanics. Brenna could name a few pieces of equipment that would be broken by now were it not for Thera's aptitude with machines and patching them together when all they seemed to want to do was fly apart.

As Thera sat down across from Brenna the overseer took a moment to study her. Truth be told, she didn't really look pregnant. The conditions of the caves and the work involved on a daily basis tended to ward off the plumpness of pregnancy that filled out the face and hips of surface women. Brenna couldn't see any indication that Thera's midsection had swollen to accommodate the child within her, either, but then the orange jacket was thick and masking. Brenna thought fleetingly that Jonah would know if she was showing yet.

"I've been going over these projections for two days, and they don't look good," Thera said somberly.

Brenna, reluctant but bound to return to business, nodded. "I know. I've been seeing the same thing in the productivity reports."

Thera frowned bitterly at the floor. "I'm sorry," she said lowly.

"It's not your fault, Thera... these machines are old. Unfortunately, they're vital to our survival."

"I don't know what else to suggest. If the administrator–"

"I know." It was an old argument with Thera. "But as I've explained to you before, we simply cannot turn off the engines for any length of time, even to upgrade them. It's too dangerous."

"I know," Thera said, her expression fixed in a frustrated scowl.

Brenna couldn't think of an answer... not one that Administrator Caulder would like, anyway.

"The infirmary told me your pregnancy illness has abated." A change of topic was more appealing than sunlight at that moment. Thera's medical condition was reported to Brenna with meticulous frequency and as far as clinical details went she probably knew more about Thera's pregnancy and physical state than Thera herself did. Still, it couldn't hurt to ask the source.

Thera, thrown by the jump, looked a little discombobulated before she said, "Yeah, it's better."

"Good." Brenna stared at Thera and found herself caught by that same 'almost' that seemed to surround Thera and made Brenna falter. To Brenna she was 'almost' a comrade, 'almost' an equal, 'almost' a friend, and the sad fact was, thanks to the stamp, Thera believed she wasn't. Brenna had never really noticed the lack of another woman to talk to until Thera showed up. Brenna constantly found herself wanting to bring Thera into her inner circle, to talk with her like she was a colleague and possibly a confidante and friend. She wanted to ask personal questions, to get to know Thera since she was denied getting to really know Major Carter.

But Thera was off-limits. She was a worker and by memory overwrite procedure knew her place. She wouldn't open up to Brenna. She'd reserve that for her own, fellow workers like Jonah and Carlin.

Brenna gave a dejected sigh and Thera seemed to read it as a judgment on her inability to create a miracle for her overseer.

"I'll have to talk this over with the administrator," Brenna finally said. "For now just return to your regular duty."

"It is an honor to serve," Thera muttered dispassionately and stood up and left at a slow, unhappy walk.


Jonah awoke with a gasp and blinked rapidly up into the darkness of the crowded barracks. For not the first time he had to wait for disorientation to dissipate. It was the oddest sensation, because he would recognize his surroundings upon first waking but it would take time for it to make sense to him. He tried once to explain it to Thera but it seemed to defy explanation. Just the same, Thera seemed to understand.

Jonah waited and his eyes skittered over the rock ceiling but he was relentlessly haunted by images... the images he kept seeing in his sleep. He'd started having them weeks ago. They'd been vague at first, disjointed, but the more they coalesced into a coherent scene the more terrifying they became. His and Thera's child kept dying in an accident. It woke him in a panic of sheer, unadulterated fear that he could feel wrap around him in a suffocating shawl. As if that wasn't bad enough, the dreams were evolving with time, and in the latest dreams the child would die and it would somehow be his fault.

Jonah tried to tell himself it was probably a normal soon-to-be-parent response, even though Thera never seemed to have them as far as he could tell. They were just so real to him. No one should ever be that terrified by a dream.

Jonah finally remembered the barracks and his breathing slowly started to even out from its nightmare gasp. He had an impulse to look to the side to find out the time but there was no means of telling time in the caves besides the series of horns and whistles sounded throughout the day to signal work shifts and meals. He never could figure out why he always wanted to look to the side of his cot when he first awoke and some days it was more annoying that others. At that moment it was secondary to the lingering nightmare.

He laid still and listened. There was a din of snoring in surround-sound all around him from the various workers. Usually Jonah slept fine with the ruckus; he was good at tuning out and tuning back in when necessary. Tonight, however, he knew that sleep would not return that simply.

Knowing he'd be in trouble if he got caught but at the moment so shaken and disturbed he didn't care, he silently slipped out of his cot and carefully snuck out of the barracks. Once he was out of the room it was easier to blend in and disappear. The night shift workers were manning the machines and everyone wore the same clothes so Jonah could easily be one of them. Jonah rated only a few glances as he made his way through the thin rotation of workers.

He unerringly found his way to his and Thera's spot. It was a pathetic corner behind a generator, a flimsy, thread-bare blanket on the ground as laughable padding in a dirty, uncomfortable world. Still, it sent a rush of tenderness and calm to Jonah's nerves. He thought of Thera here and that helped.

Jonah sat down, back to the wall, and closed his eyes. He tried to will the dreams away. He doubted they'd listen, but he'd give it a go anyway.

Jonah must have drifted off, because when he felt something brush his arm he jumped and jerked his eyes open.

"Shhhh," Thera whispered as she settled down next to him. She looked sleep-rumpled and mussed.

"You should be sleeping," he said even as he put his arms around her and drew her to him. He wanted to feel her, to touch her, and maybe that would chase away the nightmare.

Thera rested her head on his chest and seemed to luxuriate in him a moment before answering. "So should you. What's wrong?"

Jonah frowned. He didn't want to talk about this with Thera. He didn't want to scare her, and he had a feeling telling her he kept dreaming their baby died would frighten her. It frightened him.

"Jonah?"

"It's nothing."

Thera's arm snaked around his waist as she pulled her head up enough to look up at him. "It's not nothing. Tell me."

Jonah took one hand and traced the outline of her face. Even with the grime and soot of machine-work smudged on her skin her face was still beautiful. He drew strength from it. "Just dreams."

"Of what?"

Jonah involuntarily shuddered and he was surprised that his body had reacted so strongly. Apparently Thera was too, because the alertness in her blue eyes jumped to a new level of heightened awareness and she was riveted on him, concern in her gaze.

"I keep having nightmares. Do you have nightmares?"

"Doesn't everyone?"

"Nightmares about the baby?"

Thera paused and looked closely at him. "Sometimes."

"What are they about?"

Thera pulled her feet up close to her body and sat back slightly out of Jonah's encompassing embrace. "A couple where the baby was born and something was wrong with it, or the administrator comes to take it away. The last one I had was a dream that I couldn't have it... physically, something was wrong with my body and I couldn't deliver and I was in labor forever."

Jonah's eyes turned away from her.

"What are your dreams about?" she asked after a pause.

For only a few seconds did he consider not telling her. "I keep dreaming that it dies."

Thera swallowed, leaned over with her head finding a resting place on his chest, and hugged him. "It's probably normal."

"This isn't normal. I always dream the same thing. There's always an accident of some kind and he dies."

"He?"

Jonah nodded. "It's a son in my dreams."

Thera had gone still in his arms and he wondered what she was thinking and why he was alternately rigid and shaking.

"How long have you been having these dreams?"

Jonah's arms involuntarily tightened around her as he conceded, "A while."

"Always the same?"

Jonah nodded against the top of her head. "Yeah." He felt his body taut and wrung and he clung to Thera, hoping she could keep the world from tilting him right off the edge.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and Jonah thought it was a weird thing to say and yet right all at once. Something in Jonah's chest contracted and his throat closed and his only recourse was to hold Thera tighter. She had to ground him, she had to.

"It's okay," she whispered, and it caused a fracture in the center of his control. He tucked his head down into her hair and he freed one hand from its death-grip on Thera to work its way into her jacket and shirt until his palm and fingers were splayed against her stomach. With the heavy clothing Thera wore the pregnancy didn't show but there was change in her body underneath, her abdomen reflected the life growing inside her. Where once there had been a flat plain of muscle and soft skin there was now a gentle, solid swell.

Thera sat still and let him feel the baby in the only way he could. She just wished it was to the point of kicking; she thought that interaction with the unborn child would help Jonah, ease his mind.

Her heart ached at the thought of Jonah losing a child. Somehow it screamed at her, even more than her own worrisome dreams concerning the baby had bothered her. With Jonah it was sharper, worse, SO much worse, and she didn't know why. She had the horrible feeling it meant she was already a bad mother that it didn't affect her as strongly.

"We should get back," she said softly in an attempt to take her mind off her inadequacies as a parent.

"Not yet..." he croaked, and the emotion in his voice cut through her. "Not... not yet."

Thera settled in more comfortably at his side and dropped her hand to her stomach, keeping his hand in place against her stomach with her own. Even if she wasn't sure why or how, she knew Jonah needed a little time with the baby, and she'd give it to him. As much as she could give him she would.