“I submitted my evaluations.”
“You submitted numbers,” he replies. “Now I want thoughts. Gut. Instinct. You’ve flown with both of them more than anyone.”
My jaw tightens.
He leans forward, steepling his fingers. “Let me be clear: we both know Yoris is the safe bet. His track record’s clean. His psychological profile's tighter than a flight suit in zero-G. He won't ruffle feathers.”
“And Kaz?” I ask, too quickly.
Trozius eyes me. “Kaz is a risk.”
I say nothing.
“He’s got the instincts. The reflexes. But he’s also unpredictable. One bad week from cracking.”
“He’s been under pressure.”
Trozius lifts a brow. “So has everyone.”
I shift my weight. “Kaz pushes harder because he wants it more.”
“Or because he doesn’t know how to slow down,” Trozius counters. “He’s reckless, Nova. The kind of reckless that makes enemies on the board.”
“But he wins.”
“Sometimes.”
We sit in silence for a breath too long.
Then he says, quieter, “Is this personal?”
My stomach drops.
“No,” I lie.
Trozius studies me. Then nods.
“Good. Because First Ray doesn’t get personal. First Ray leads.”
He doesn’t wait for a reply. Just waves me off.
“Evaluation’s final. You’re dismissed.”
I walk out with fire behind my ribs.
Not because he’s wrong.
But because I know he’s right—and I still want to fight it anyway.
There’s a box outside my quarters.
Small. Square. Unassuming.
My breath catches when I see the handwriting on the label. Tight. Slanted.
Kaz.
I scan the corridor. No one’s around.
