Page 45 of Alien Soldier's Heir

“Captain,” I say, sharper than I mean to.

“Lieutenant,” she replies without looking up.

Her tone’s clinical. Distant. Might as well be talking to a stranger.

I stand in front of her, hands tight at my sides. “Did you have anything to do with the list?”

She sets her data pad down, slow. “That’s confidential.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting.”

Something in me snaps.

“Don’t play games with me, Nova.”

She blinks once, calm as ever. “Games?”

“You knew. You always know. You pull the strings, you make the calls, and now you want to pretend this justhappened?”

Her eyes narrow, but her voice stays level. “You’re out of line.”

“I’m asking you a question.”

“And I’m giving you an answer.”

“Bullshit.”

That cracks her composure, just a fraction. Her jaw tightens, her chin lifts. “You think I’m manipulating command boards for you?”

“I think you’re the only one who could.”

She steps forward, closing the distance between us by an inch that feels like a mile.

“You’re making it very hard for me to remember why I rooted for you,” she says quietly.

The words hit harder than a punch.

I flinch before I can stop myself. It’s instinct. She sees it. She doesn’t apologize.

I swallow the lump in my throat and look away.

“Yeah,” I mutter. “Guess that makes two of us.”

She exhales—soft, shaky, almost human—and then turns, walking toward the far end of the deck.

“Get your head on straight, Kaz,” she says over her shoulder. “Because talent doesn’t mean anything if you keep flying like you’re already crashing.”

I watch her go.

I don’t follow.

Back in my quarters, the quiet’s unbearable.

I’ve never noticed how loud silence can be. The hum of the ventilation. The occasional creak of metal. My own heartbeat, like a malfunction I can’t fix.

On the desk, her note sits where I keep pretending it doesn’t exist.