Page 59 of Alien Soldier's Heir

But I do.

RE: Reassignment Approval – KAZIMIR, D.

Status: Confirmed. Departure: Immediate. No forwarding contact.

My stomach flips.

And then I run.

Not to the comms. Not to the base map. To the sink.

I vomit everything—rage, grief, guilt, bile.

My arms tremble as I brace myself against the counter. My forehead presses to the cold metal. My hair’s damp with sweat. My throat’s raw.

Everything inside me feels broken. Except the one part that isn’t.

Because it’s still there.

The quiet flutter.

The constant, nauseating, anchoring truth.

I press a hand low on my abdomen.

Life.

Kaz’s.

Ours.

I haven’t told him.

I was waiting. I thought… after the trials. After the mess. After we figured out who we were outside of uniforms and missions.

Now he’s gone.

He left with no words.

And Swan…

Swan won’t come back.

I don’t need a prediction model to tell me the odds of survival on that kind of op.

The med wing is empty when I arrive.

Private clearance has its privileges. I sit in the sterile hush, feet swinging off the edge of the exam table, staring at the faint shimmer of the vitals screen.

The nurse is gentle. Kind. Says all the right things.

Healthy gestation.

Early still, but stable.

“You’ll want to consider your options soon,” she says quietly. “Command doesn’t?—”

“I know.”