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“Unexpected good or unexpected bad?”

He looked up at me. “You have a match.”

“Yes, indeed!” Xeranos piped up. “Congratulations!”

For a moment, I didn't understand the words. I knew what they meant, of course. I'd taken the test expecting a result of some sort, and I'd understood that a match was possible, though the odds were slim. But knowing something might happen and hearing that it had actually happened were two entirely different things.

“I have a what?”

“A match,” the medic repeated, sounding almost as stunned as I felt. “The system has identified a compatible mate.”

I stared at him, then at the display. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a small, practical voice pointed out that the test had taken less time than some routine cargo inspections I'd conducted over the years.

I had spent three years protecting crates, machinery, and whatever else paying customers wanted transported from one place to another. I'd finally decided I wanted a life on a planet, a job that mattered to the people around me, and a chance to build something lasting.

Now, apparently, I also had a mate waiting somewhere at the end of this journey. I grinned. I’d always hoped to someday meet the one the stars had selected to be only mine, and me theirs.

The medic cleared his throat and turned the display away from my direct line of sight. “There's something you need to understand about Dragonii mating responses. We won't be providing you with a photograph, a voice recording, or a profile to read before you meet your match.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Why not?”

“Because Dragonii have a limited window once they lay eyes on their mate. Seven days to satisfy the mating response. We don't want to risk triggering that response prematurely, particularly when the two of you are separated by several days of travel.”

I considered that. “And a picture could do it?”

“We don't know for certain that it would, but it has turned out to be the case for us Mylos, which is precisely why we don't take the risk. The same applies to hearing your mate's voice or reading a personal profile that might provoke an unusually strong response. You have a confirmed match, and you'll meet in person soon enough. Until then, the identifying details will remain restricted.”

I couldn't argue with that logic. There was no point in risking a biological response that had a strict deadline attached to it simply because I was curious. And I was most definitely curious. More than curious, if I was honest, but I wasn't about to make a problem for myself or for the person I was apparently destined to meet before we had even been introduced.

The medic looked at me carefully. “How are you taking the news?”

I considered the question before answering. “Better than I expected, actually.”

“You don't seem distressed.”

“Should I be?”

“No, but some candidates find the news overwhelming.”

I smiled. “I'm going to New Haven. I've got a job waiting for me, and now I know there's someone there I should meet who is my stars-granted perfect match of a mate. That sounds like a good start to colonial life to me.”

He relaxed a little, apparently pleased by my response. “That's a sensible way to approach it. I'd advise you to keep yourself occupied until your arrival. Don't spend the next several days imagining every possible detail about your mate. That can make the wait more difficult than it needs to be.”

“I think I can manage that.” He gave me a doubtful look, and I laughed. “Really. I've spent years working security on a merchant ship that worked beyond the Core of the Galactic Alliance. I'm perfectly capable of concentrating on something other than my personal life.”

That was true, at least in principle. Whether it remained true now that I knew I had a mate was another question, but I wasn't going to let anticipation get the better of me. I had fifteen days of transit to finish, and the last thing I wanted was to arrive on New Haven distracted, exhausted, and so caught up in the prospect of meeting my mate that I forgot how to have a normal conversation.

The medic offered me a few final instructions, confirmed that my results would be immediately available to the appropriate New Haven personnel, and reminded me again not to seek out information that might trigger my mating response before the meeting.

I promised him I wouldn't.

“If it makes you feel better, he’ll be surprised by the news too. As it happens, in a wonderful example of destiny, he was just waiting for them to analyze his results too, back on Earth!” Xernos said cheerfully. “Ooops! I’ll zip my lips now!”

The medic looked chagrined at the AI’s “accidental” slip and made a shooing motion toward the door. I left sickbay, grinning like an idiot. I had a match!

The words kept repeating in my head, and I couldn't quite make myself stop smiling. I didn't know his name, what he looked like, what he did, or whether he was the quiet sort or someone who could talk the ears off a statue. I knew almost nothing about him, beyond the fact that the system had identified him as my mate.

Him.