30. Alyssa

CHAPTER 30

ALYSSA

" H ome sweet home, I guess," I say to the pilot who glides our shuttle into orbit around Luna.

"The Admiral is waiting in the IHC Compound, ma'am," he says.

I step off the shuttle, my heart heavy with a mix of emotions I can't quite untangle. The familiar sterile halls of the IHC Compound stretch before me, a stark contrast to the vibrant chaos of Glimner.

"This way, Ms. Dash," an officer directs me, his voice clipped and professional.

I follow the officer, my hand unconsciously resting on my stomach. The weight of my secret feels heavier with each step, a constant reminder of the life growing inside me and the challenges that lie ahead. My mind races, wondering how I'll break the news and what consequences await.

The Admiral's office door slides open with a soft hiss, and there he stands – my father, looking as imposing as ever in his crisp uniform. His stern gaze meets mine, and for a moment, I'm transported back to my childhood, feeling small and vulnerable under his scrutiny. The familiar scent of his cologne wafts towards me, a mix of citrus and something distinctly military. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the conversation to come, knowing that everything is about to change.

"Alyssa," he nods, his eyes sweeping over me clinically, as if I were a piece of equipment being inspected for damage. "I trust you're unharmed?"

"Physically, sure," I say, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice. The words taste acrid on my tongue, a reminder of all I've been through. "Emotionally? That's a different story." I can feel the weight of unshed tears behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Not here, not in front of him.

He waves a hand dismissively, the gesture so familiar it makes my chest ache with a mixture of longing and resentment. "The important thing is you're back where you belong. The Numerian Fist won't be a problem anymore." His tone is matter-of-fact, as if he's discussing the weather rather than the group that nearly destroyed my life. I want to scream, to make him understand that it's not that simple, that the scars they've left run deeper than he could ever imagine. But I remain silent, swallowing the words that threaten to spill out.

I can't help but scoff. "Oh, so now they're not a problem? What about when you were doing business with them? When they were trying to kill me?"

The Admiral's jaw tightens, and I can see the tension rippling across his face. It's an expression I've grown all too familiar with over the years - the look he gets when he's trying to justify something he knows is indefensible.

"It was... an unfortunate miscalculation," he says, his voice strained. The words hang in the air between us, heavy with understatement. I want to laugh at the absurdity of it all, but I can't find the humor. "But it's been solved," he continues, as if that makes everything okay. As if a simple solution could erase the terror and pain I've endured.

His eyes meet mine, seeking understanding or perhaps forgiveness. "I got reports that the enforcer they had sent that kidnapped you was dealt with. You must have seen it yourself."

I feel a chill run down my spine at the memory. Yes, I had seen it, and it's an image that will haunt me for years to come, the sight of a lifeless Laar. But does he really think that one act of retribution can make up for everything that's happened? Does he truly believe it's that simple?

"Dealt with?" I repeat, incredulous. "Is that all you have to say? Your daughter was hunted across the galaxy, and it's just a 'miscalculation' to you?"

He sighs, looking annoyed. "What do you want me to say, Alyssa? It was a bad decision, yes. But in our line of work-"

"Your line of work," I interrupt. "I never wanted any part of this. How do you know they won't send another?"

"If they do, we'll fight them off," he says. "We won't run."

A tense silence falls between us. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what comes next.

"There's something else you should know," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm pregnant."

The Admiral's eyebrows raise slightly – the most surprise he's shown since I arrived. "I see," he says after a moment. "Well, I suppose you'll have the child here on Luna. It's the safest place for you both."

I stare at him, waiting for... something. Anger, joy, anything. But his face remains impassive. My heart pounds in my chest as the silence stretches on, becoming almost unbearable. I search his eyes for any hint of emotion, any flicker of the father I once knew, but find only the cool, calculating gaze of the Admiral. It's as if he's weighing my words, my very existence, against some grand cosmic scale I can't begin to comprehend. The air between us feels thick, charged with unspoken tensions and long-buried secrets. I resist the urge to fidget or look away, determined to face whatever comes next head-on.

"That's it?" I ask. "No congratulations? No questions about the father?"

He shrugs. "I assume it's that enforcer you've been gallivanting around with. Not ideal, but we'll manage the situation."

I feel a surge of protective anger. "His name is Maar, and he saved my life. Multiple times."

"Be that as it may," the Admiral says, turning back to his desk, "you're home now. We'll discuss your future role in the IHC later. For now, get some rest. You look tired."

As I'm ushered out of his office, I realize nothing has changed. To him, I'm still just a piece on his galactic chessboard. But as I place my hand on my stomach again, I know everything has changed for me.