Exceptional pilot. Superior reaction time. Outstanding adaptability in combat scenarios. Displays measurable improvement in coordination and leadership roles. Candidate demonstrates potential for long-term command assignment.
No commentary. No emotion. No… him.
I sign it. File it. Close it.
And immediately feel like I’ve just buried something alive.
By the time I make it back to my quarters, the lights in the corridor have dimmed to twilight mode. My body’s running on fumes and caffeine. I drop my datapad on the desk, peel off my jacket, and let the weight of the day settle across my shoulders.
The room feels too big tonight. Too quiet. The silence presses against me until it’s almost a sound of its own.
I fill the kettle, letting the mechanical hum of the heating coil drown out my thoughts. The scent of jasmine tea fills the air—sweet, grounding. I pour a cup, wrap my hands around the warmth, and stare at the wall until the reflection of the stars in the viewport shifts into focus.
For a moment, I can almost convince myself I’m calm. Then the memory of Kaz’s grin flashes across my mind, wrecking it completely.
He’s infuriating. Arrogant. Undisciplined.
And he’s learning.
He’slistening.
I remember the zero-G training. The way he led, not for the sake of control, but to protect. The way his voice steadied the younger cadets. The way he moved—measured, not for show.
I sip the tea, but the warmth doesn’t reach my chest.
The comm pad buzzes against the table.
Kelsey. Again.
Her hologram flickers to life before I can stop myself. She’s sitting cross-legged in her Earth apartment, hair in a messy bun, mug in hand. “Nova Starling, you look like a woman who’s either about to break protocol or confess to a war crime.”
“Neither,” I say. “And it’s late on your end.”
“Which means you’re calling at your ‘emotional crisis’ hour.” She grins. “What’s wrong, space ace? Someone outflew you?”
“Don’t start.”
She leans forward, eyes narrowing. “Oh no. You’ve got that face.”
“What face?”
“The one you had when you first got accepted to Barakkus. Equal parts terrified and thrilled.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re imagining things.”
“Sure. And I’m the Empress of Mars.” She sips her drink, watching me carefully. “It’s the Vakutan, isn’t it?”
My silence is enough of an answer.
“Nova…” Her voice softens. “You can’t keep doing this thing where you bottle everything up until it eats you alive.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Then what’s it like?”
I open my mouth to lie but can’t find a version that sounds convincing. “He’s… unexpected.”
“Unexpected’s usually another word fortrouble.”
