Page 9 of Alien Soldier's Heir

I sit down across from Swan, tray untouched.

“Eat,” he says.

“Not hungry.”

“Drink something, at least. You look like you’re one sim away from spontaneous combustion.”

I take a sip of water and it tastes like metal.

Swan leans closer. “You like her.”

“I don’t?—”

“Youdo.”

“I like flying.”

“Bullshit. You’re obsessed. You’ve been chasing First Ray like it’s the only thing that matters, but it’s not the title you’re chasing. It’s her.”

I look down. Can’t meet his eyes.

“Even if I was,” I mutter, “it’s over.”

“Then why are you still trying so hard?”

Because I want her to see me.

Because I want her tofeelwhat I felt on that porch.

Because I’ve never cared this much about anything but flying, and now I’m crashing without a chute.

When I finally look up again, she’s gone.

The chair across from her sits empty, lemon slice still floating in her drink.

I don’t know if I lost something that day, or if this is just the beginning.

But I swear to the stars, I’m not done.

Not by a long shot.

CHAPTER 5

NOVA

Sleep doesn’t come.

It’s one of those nights where the silence in my quarters is so loud it starts to sound like a pulse—steady, mocking, endless. I’ve tried reading. I’ve tried training sims. I even went so far as to start reorganizing my flight logs alphabetically by sortie class. Nothing helps. My brain keeps looping the same three seconds on repeat: the way his mouth felt on mine, the heat that rolled through me, and the sting of my own voice when I told him to leave.

The projection clock on the wall ticks past 2300 hours. My quarters are clean, immaculate, suffocating. Medals line one wall, each one polished within an inch of its life. They look like proof I used to believe in things—discipline, order, the perfect control of chaos. Tonight, they just look like noise.

My compad chimes. I don’t have to check who it is. Kelsey’s the only one persistent enough to call this late.

I hesitate, then accept the holo link. Her face flickers to life—tousled hair, wide grin, the warm clutter of her Earth apartment behind her.

“Nova Starling, as I live and breathe! You look like death reheated.”

“Thanks,” I mutter. “Just what I needed.”