*.*.*

At Spacedock, for that one day we'd been up, Command had quickly and quietly installed a new translocation assay in the science lab and given me my orders in regards to its use: we were to fiddle with the vaccine we were carrying in an attempt to prepare for possible mutation variables on planet. Apparently, they were concerned that the strain of neural parasite on Deneva Prime was different from what they'd seen before, at least according to the field reports they'd received.

How different, I couldn't seem to get anyone at Command to tell me, however. I was flying blind, and so had to come up with a variety of possibilities, given what was known of the colony's environment and its usual cadre of visitors.

I looked up at the clock on the wall.

2:24 p.m.

One more hour until tea.

My stomach rumbled. I'd skipped lunch, because I hadn't wanted to see him today.

In fact, I'd gone out of my way over the last five days since we'd left the Terran system to not have to interact with Draco, except on the most urgent of business. I sent my reports to him via computer and kept our communication to the comm. I skipped staff meals and ate in my quarters or in my office, usually replicator food, which wasn't as nutritious as what they served in the Mess Hall, but it did the trick. He didn't come down to see me in the lab, and I didn't go to the bridge.

Perfect stalemate.

I left my lonely office then for the distraction of the busy lab, determined not to wallow in self-pity for the remainder of the day. These pregnancy hormones were worse than I'd been told to expect, and I was up and down more often that a kangaroo on a long hop. Better not to be alone when I was a beat away from bursting into tears.

Two members of my staff, Luna and Neville, newly married and as mad for each other as they were for their jobs, were working in competition on twin vaccine variants nearby, one that came at the parasite from the phytological aspect and another from the zoological aspect.

"Good news, Doctor, the plant-based variant seems to have a lethality rate for the parasites of seventy-six percent," Neville stated as I approached his bench and observed.

"That is very promising. That still leaves a twenty-four percent margin of error, however," I pointed out, absently noting how those two numbers—2 and 4, in that order—seemed to keep cropping up lately. "Can you account for it?"

I listened as Neville explained where he believed the altered vaccine failed, and offered him advice on how to tweak up its rate of success. He beamed at me and got back to work.

As I considered the problem, I made my way back to my office.

"I was right, it seems."

I whirled to find Captain Malfoy at my office door. His deep, rich voice was a familiar caress that made me shiver, his crooked smile an unintentional lure to my libido.

"You were made for this work, Hermione," he said, speaking my name with a hushed sort of reserve, almost reverence. "Cutting edge science is in your blood."

Stifling my imprudent reactions to him and mentally reinforcing the wall I'd silently built up between us all these weeks, I dropped my attention to the report on my desk, pretending at busy work. "Thank you. Is there something I can help you with, Captain?" I asked. "I am rather busy at the moment."

My tone was clipped and professional, and easier to hide behind.

"I just came to see how your work was progressing," he said, less reactionary than I'd have liked. He was trying for personable, while I was prodding for anger. "Seeing if you needed anything?"

"The lab is fully stocked, thank you. We've had some positive results so far," I stated, picking up the techpad and swiping across the screen to bring up other notes, trying to look official. Nothing I was doing was actual work; it was all a ruse, buying time to avoid looking up at him, hoping he'd take the hint and leave. "Two of the last six trials have been successful. We're still trying to understand why four failed, however."

Again, two and four.

Those numbers in that particular sequence was becoming quite the odd coincidence…

"Four failed?" he asked in a playful tone, and I could feel the air shift as he moved closer. "That's hardly like you. You're usually a 'total success' kind of woman."

"I try," I replied and continued to swipe through the project notes, pretending to read them. "Is there something else I can help you with, Captain? As I said, I have a lot of work to accomplish before the day's done."

He was quiet for an awkward minute in the face of that admonishment.

"You won't even look at me anymore."

Steeling my nerves, I set the techpad down and looked up at him. It was harder than I'd expected to meet those lovely grey eyes I'd fallen into more than once, harder still not to flinch. Somehow, though, I accomplished it.

"I'm busy," I reiterated, but that was about all I could push past my tight throat at that moment.

His frown was pronounced, and the regret in his eyes unfeigned. "I know," he softly replied and sighed, shoving a hand through his hair and pushing it back off his face. "That's my fault, too. I just wanted‒"

I stood up and turned my back on him, looking out the window at the empty space before me, needing to put as much of the same kind of void behind me as possible. "I know what you wanted and we both know you got it, so you can stop the prevaricating," I said, feeling the rush of anger replacing my hesitancy. "I'm here, right where you arranged it, and my transfer request is in the bin." I glared at his reflection in the glass. "Did you really think I wouldn't guess why Admiral Zabini refused to see me? As I recall, you were old friends back in school."

He didn't bother denying it. "You're the most brilliant microbiologist in four quadrants, Hermione. This ship needs you. Deneva Prime needs you‒"

I scoffed. "Well, it seems everything's worked out then, hasn't it? Not only did you manage to recruit me to your team five months ago with a few sly words and some convincing moves, but now you get to keep me here, too, at least until the mission is done. And curing Deneva Prime…I think we both know that will bring a nice, shiny pip to your collar. A very well-laid plan, Draco. Excellently done."

And all it cost was my heart.

"Hermione, it wasn't like that. I‒"

"Don't bother," I said, turning quickly and waving off the rest of what he'd intended to say. "You said it already: your career is everything. I get that, probably better than most. My career is all I have now. Let's just leave it there."

My ex seemed to struggle with the desire to explain himself. Predictably, though, he kept his mouth shut.

That was Draco Malfoy all over, wasn't it: playing his cards close to his chest, poker-faced to the end.

"When the pandemic is over and we're back at Spacedock, though, you're going to contact the Admiral and convince him to assign me elsewhere," I told him, not brooking any debate. He'd tricked me to keep me here, but I wouldn't be tethered to him under the circumstances. All that would do was break my heart in half every day, until there was nothing left of me. "I want off this ship."

He looked crestfallen, as if I'd taken the wind from his sails. "Where will you go?"

I shook my head, turning back to look out into the blackness of space. "Anywhere. Maybe Regula One. They're looking for a new microbiologist." In the reflection of the glass, I watched as my mouth turned down with the same kind of bitterness that haunts every woman after she's been defeated by a bout of inconvenient feelings for a lover. "Maybe there, among my own kind…among the brains, as you said…maybe I can find a new life."

Draco was quiet for a long while, before he said, "I'm sorry, Hermione. I only wanted to see you continue doing what you loved. And I thought you could do great things here, but… Maybe you're right. Maybe it's better that we sever all such ties."

The hiss of the door shutting behind him a moment later was my cue that he'd run away from awkward emotions once more.

By remaining silent about my pregnancy, I'd done the same.

*.*.*

"How's your project coming?" I asked Luna, coming up alongside her and glancing at her work screen, which showed her attempt at engineering a better vaccine from her particular angle of expertise.

She pressed a few circles on the screen and a nutrient fluid was injected into the sample below. The results were reflected on the monitor before us: her sample turned blue. "Negative, so far, it seems."

I patted her shoulder. "Keep trying. Maybe we'll find a breakthrough on both ends that can meet in the middle."

She glanced at me with owlish eyes. "That could be true for you and the Captain, too, you know."

I jerked back and felt my cheeks burn.

Great, my co-worker knew about me and Draco now, too. Just perfect.

"Neville and I are working together, after all," she reminded me. "He wanted to stay on Earth, but I wanted to explore the cosmos. We compromised and asked Command to keep us assigned to the same ship for the next five years, after which we'll accept an assignment on a terrestrial planet for five years, and then switch off again."

"But that will limit you both, won't it?" I asked.

She shrugged. "Our careers are fulfilling, but they're only a part of our lives, Hermione. They're the part that's for us alone. The other half is for each other." Her smile was soft and secret as she glanced at her husband over her shoulder. He was engrossed in his work, oblivious to our discussion, thankfully. "I wasn't willing to have the first at the sacrifice of the second. Thus, compromise."

"I…I've never been very good at such a thing," I admitted.

"You're a perfectionist," Luna agreed. "But ask yourself this: is the quest for perfection worth a lifetime of unhappiness?"

I wasn't sure how to reply, so I concentrated on the work before us. Luna seemed to understand my need to ruminate over the perspective she'd dropped like a bombshell into my lap.

As usual, the work kept me well distracted.

*.*.*

A vaccine is only as good as preventing an outbreak, but a cure…that's every researcher's dream, as it could turn the tide of any pandemic by eliminating the threat all together, even in those already infected.

Oddly enough, it had been Luna and Neville working together to discover our cure to Deneva Prime's neural parasite problem: bioluminescent arthropods and specific cave-dwelling plants native to Deneva Prime were naturally immune to the parasite's attempts to infect them. When we extrapolated out why that might be, we discovered that ultraviolet wavelengths killed the parasite on contact.

From there, it was easy enough to convince Engineering to create a mechanism that was very similar to a radiation arch. It zapped people with a low level of UV radiation when they walked through it. The parasite died, but didn't harm the infected. Then, we assured there would be no chance of a repeat by inoculating everyone with the vaccine we'd gotten from Command.

It had taken days and a lot of rigging by the various tech types to make it happen, but in the end, everyone had been rendered immune to the parasite's influence, with only very little loss of life attributed to the outbreak.

"This was worth it," Draco said as the last residents of Deneva Prime stepped through the arch and received their shots. At my side, he looked mighty pleased with himself. "I don't mind cancelled shore leave when there's a happy ending like this one."

"Yes, it was worth it," I agreed, utterly worn out from the entire episode. It seemed pregnancy was also incredibly taxing on my energy reserves, not just my emotions. "Permission to return to the ship, sir," I requested, holding my techpad close to my chest. "I've reports to send to Command about our findings and success here."

Draco looked disappointed in my leaving. "There's to be a celebration dinner at the Governor's mansion tonight. Formal dress, dinner and dancing. I'd…hoped you'd attend."

I declined the offer. "Thank you, but I think it best I get these reports done as soon as possible and get some sleep."

He straightened, as if just then realising how tired I looked. "Yes, of course. You've been working at an accelerated pace since we left Spacedock. Get some rest."

"Thank you, sir."

I returned to the ship, and despite my insistence on working tonight, I found I just hadn't the heart when I sat to record my thoughts, so I gave up the ghost. Retiring to my quarters instead, I took a long, hot shower, and then snuggled into bed and gave in to my exhaustion. My dreams were not pleasant, however. They were haunted with thoughts of a future unknown, of decisions unmade, and of words unspoken.

It took me several days to finish my reports. By that time, we were re-entering the Terran system.

TO BE CONTINUED...