Page 44 of Alien Soldier's Heir

Laughter ripples around us, but it’s hollow. The kind that hides something sharp underneath. I play along anyway. That’s what I do. Hide the sting with swagger.

When the crowd disperses, I spot Nova standing at the far end of the hall near the observation glass. Neutral expression. Arms behind her back. She’s all protocol and poise again. Untouchable.

And I hate that I miss the version of her who wasn’t.

The mess deck is chaotic at lunchtime.

Trays clatter, cadets shout over each other, someone’s started a betting pool near the water dispensers. The top three’s the only thing anyone’s talking about.

I’m sitting across from Swan, who’s eating like he’s still in disbelief.

“I swear, man,” he says between bites. “They must’ve finally noticed how consistent I am.”

“Or they just needed someone who doesn’t scare the brass,” I tease, jabbing at my protein bar.

He grins. “That too.”

Yoris slides onto the bench beside us without asking. “Consistency’s cute,” he says, reaching for the salt packet. “But First Ray’s not about playing it safe.”

“Guess that’s why they didn’t cut you,” I shoot back.

He smirks. “No, they didn’t.”

There’s a beat—sharp, electric. The kind of moment that smells like ozone before the thunderclap.

Swan clears his throat, sensing the tension. “Let’s not make this a thing, yeah?”

But Yoris leans in, voice dropping just enough for only me to hear. “Word is you’ve been… distracted lately. Thought maybe the instructors would see through it. Guess not.”

I freeze.

He smiles wider. “Congrats, though. Really. Must’ve been quite the comeback.”

I grip my fork so tight the metal creaks.

Swan’s hand lands on my wrist before I can stand. “Kaz,” he warns. “Don’t.”

“Distractions,” Yoris says louder now, feigning innocence. “Can’t imagine what those could be.”

The table goes quiet. Too quiet.

I shove back from my seat so hard it screeches against the floor. Every eye turns toward me.

“Watch your mouth, Yoris.”

He raises a brow. “Just making conversation.”

“Make less of it.”

Swan stands too, stepping between us. “Let’s cool it. Both of you.”

I glare at Yoris one last time, then storm out before I say something I can’t take back.

The flight deck’s quiet by comparison.

Evening drills haven’t started yet, and the air smells like ion dust and cold metal. The light’s thin, fading gold through thehangar slats. The kind of light that makes everything look like a memory.

She’s there—checking maintenance reports, pretending she doesn’t see me walking straight toward her.