Page 130 of Stripped By the Alien

She reaches out and takes my hand, the marked one, still faintly strange against my own skin even now, and holds it for a moment without saying anything at all. "Are you scared?"

"I am," I admit. "Of the pregnancy. Of what it means for Earth, if the Brood ever learns what's possible now, what a hybrid child might mean to them." I squeeze her hand back. "But I'm not scared of him. Or of this. Not really. Not since the lightning."

Sophia studies my face for a while, and something behind her eyes goes carefully, deliberately still. “I think this can actually be really good. For Earth, I mean. Don't ask me how. But I feel like this could have been much worse, once Earth made contact with the locusts anyway. I mean, one of the other Space Force scouts would have made contact, and it would almost certainly not have ended with a wedding and friends in the highest locust places.”

"Sophia," I say. "How did you actually end up out there? Past the minefield. What was your mission?"

"Same as yours, more or less." She says it easily. Too easily, already turning her attention back to the calf beside us, running a hand along its flank. "Scout, survey, report back if I found anything worth reporting. Standard recon that took months."

"Standard recon," I echo. "Sophia, I flew a standard recon profile. I know what one looks like. I got clipped by a stray mine because I wandered somewhere I wasn't supposed to be curious about. You went missing for months, before you hit that minefield, too."

She shrugs. "Recon can go wrong in a lot of ways. Those were some nasty mines."

I hadn't thought about this before, but now I do, and it doesn't quite add up. "Sure. But you're not answering the question. You're answering a version of it that doesn't actually say anything." I watch her carefully. "What were you looking for?"

She thinks about it. "Whatever Command sends any of us to look for. You know how vague the taskings get."

I don't believe her. I'm almost certain, watching her now, that she knows I don't believe her either, and that she's decided to let me not believe her rather than tell me the truth.

"You're not actually going to tell me." I say it plainly, without accusation, because I recognize the shape of it now that I'm looking straight at it. "This isn't nothing, is it? Whatever you were really doing out here."

She doesn't answer that directly either, which is its own kind of answer. "Nora." Her voice softens, but doesn't waver. "If our positions were reversed, if I asked you exactly what Command briefed you on before that minefield, would you tell me everything? All of it? Or would some of it still be yours to keep, mission or no mission?"

I think about that. I think about classified taskings and standing orders and the weight of things you don't get to share just because you're close with someone. "It depends. For me, now, with all that's happened, my recon mission is clearly done. Hey, Space Force thinks I'm dead. But your situation is different. You had a bigger mission than me. Much bigger, I think. So big it's still secret. And yours isn't over."

She strokes Apollo’s side. "Thank you for understanding."

I do. That's the maddening part. I know exactly what it looks like when an officer is holding a line, because I've held enough of my own. The need-to-know thing is strong in the military.

So I let it go. "Okay. When you can tell me, I'm here. If and when."

"If and when." She squeezes my hand once.

We let the silence settle for a while after that, both of us watching the calf nose curiously at a coil of something along the stall wall, neither of us quite ready to talk about anything else yet.

"What happens now?" Sophia asks eventually. "With Earth, I mean. Really? Not the diplomatic version."

"The Queen didn't promise anything," I tell her. "She made that very clear, right at the end. No concessions. Earth stays exactly what it's always been to them. A rumor, unconfirmed, unlocated. She said it stays that way only as long as it's useful to her, or to whoever comes after her." I shrug, though it doesn't feel as light as the gesture suggests. "So. Nothing's actually safe. It's just quiet, for now."

"Quiet is good, in this case."

"It's good," I agree. "While it lasts."

Sophia's jaw tightens. “We may have to make it last. Force it, if we have to.”

“Krix'vorr will do what he can to keep the Brood occupied with other targets. But in time…” I shrug.

We're still standing there, half-lost in our own thoughts, when the stall's membrane parts without warning, and Sris comes scrambling in ahead of whoever's following her, antennae twitching with an agitation I've never seen from her before.

"Captain… Junior Harrower…" she corrects herself, flustered, "there are visitors. The Inquisitor. He asked for the human Sophia. I told him this was not the time, but he has…" She stops, glancing back over her shoulder as three armored shapes duck through the membrane behind her.

Brax'tok enters first, composed as always, flanked by two Harrowers I don't recognize. They're not the most senior, by the look of their plating, and entirely unbothered, which is somehow worse than if they'd looked uncertain about whatever they're here to do.

Sophia goes very still beside me.

"Inquisitor," I say, stepping slightly in front of her before I've fully decided to. "This is a private moment. Whatever business you have can wait."

"I'm afraid it can't." He inclines his head toward me, politely, as though we're discussing something as mundane as ship's rations. "I've come with a formal notice from Her Majesty. I petitioned for custody of the human Sophia two days ago, on the grounds that her testimony and knowledge remain of significant interest to the Brood, and that as the officer who assisted in her recovery, I am best positioned to oversee her continued... assistance. The Queen has granted the petition." He holds up a small tablet.