Page 47 of Alien Soldier's Heir

Still the one who put Kaz on the damn list.

I walk out of tower control like my bones are made of lead.

My office is dim, curtains drawn tight to keep the desert light out.

I drop into my chair like I’ve been shot.

The final evaluation scores sit open on my screen, blinking expectantly.

Kaz is ahead.

By 0.4%.

A fraction. A breath. A heartbeat.

I tell myself there’s still time. That Yoris could edge him out. That Swan might pull a miracle.

But even as I think it, I know the truth.

Kaz is going to win.

He flies like he has something to prove. Like there’s a fire chasing him and he doesn’t care if he burns with it. Every maneuver sharper than the last. Every mission faster. Riskier. Like he knows the clock’s running out and he’s racing to beat it.

And the Academy?

They love it.

They eat it up. His flair. His instincts. His unpredictability masked as brilliance. They’ll crown him First Ray and send him into a death trap wrapped in gold stripes and press releases.

Because he’s the best.

And the best always pay the price.

My fingers tremble as I swipe open the training footage. Kaz in the sim room, weaving through a gauntlet of enemy droneslike he’s dancing. Precision and chaos. Sweat beading at his temple. Mouth tight. Jaw set.

He doesn’t look like he’s chasing glory.

He looks like he’s chasing something he’s afraid to name.

I close the file and press the heel of my hands into my eyes until colors explode behind my eyelids.

Do something, Nova.

Fix it.

I open a report.

Subject: Flight Behavior – Kazimir D.

Concerns: Aggressive tactics. Repeatedly pushing ship limitations. Unpredictable sim runs. Deviation from standard safety margins.

Recommendation: Psychological re-evaluation prior to final assignment.

My thumb hovers over “Submit.”

My breath stutters.

I delete it.