The Phoenix burns through atmosphere, retro-rockets firing in hard, controlled bursts.

  It drops toward Dynesis Two, dust spiraling beneath the landing pads outside the colony gates.

  The Hammonds emerge cloaked and masked, faces hidden in shadow.

  Sean sprints ahead before anyone can stop him, laughing as local kids rush to meet him. He tosses a ball back and forth—carefree, bright, utterly at home.

  Arthur lingers at the ramp.

  From the colony, a figure approaches—Lina. Older now. Weathered. Sharp-eyed as ever.

  Arthur steps forward, arms opening. “Lina.”

  She stops, studying him head to toe. “Arthur.”

  Arthur exhales, shaking his head. “Nope. It’s Thomas.”

  Lina narrows her eyes, a smirk tugging at her mouth. “Bullshit. It’s Arthur.”

  Arthur chuckles. “How do you always know?”

  Lina’s grin widens. “Thomas is always smiling.”

  Arthur gestures at their cloaks and masks. “We’re wearing masks, Lina.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” She pats his shoulder. “I’ve known you too long. Masks don’t hide the weight you carry.”

  Arthur freezes—caught.

  Behind him, Thomas laughs, pulling off his mask, revealing the unmistakable smile.

  “I always tell you to smile once in a while.”

  They head inside together. Arthur shakes his head the whole way.

  —

  Lina’s home is warm and cluttered, full of color and motion.

  The Hammonds sit around her table while she talks—animated, cautious, but genuinely happy to see them.

  Her voice fades beneath Anna’s drifting attention.

  Anna stares out the window.

  Outside, Sean kicks a ball with effortless joy.

  She smiles faintly, and the world softens as she slips into memory.

  —

  Four years earlier.

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  Sean stands with his arms crossed, sulking. “Dance is stupid. When will I ever need this? I could be learning another language. Or a fighting style.”

  He brightens suddenly. “Can we do stick fighting instead?”

  Thomas laughs, shaking his head.

  Anna steps forward, calm and firm. “Nope. But tomorrow we can swap boxing for stick fighting if you want.”

  She softens, meeting his eyes. “Try to think of dance as rhythm.”

  A small smile. “Without rhythm, all your fight training would be useless.”

  Sean frowns, unconvinced.

  —

  The memory dissolves back into Lina’s home.

  Anna pulls out a chair, her expression more serious now.

  Lina notices and offers a reassuring smile.

  “He’ll be fine. That boy is something else. Never seen a child so tuned-in before.”

  —

  It’s a warm, sunlit day. Leaves blaze brown and orange across tall trees.

  Sean sits on a bench, sipping from a canteen.

  Lilly sneaks up behind him with a curious smile. “Hey, Sean. What are you up to?”

  “Nothing. Just sitting here.” He lets his head fall back.

  “The air on the ship isn’t like this. The sun on your skin… I could sit here forever.”

  She sits beside him, leaning closer. “I love when your family visits. There’s always a party.”

  Sean smirks. “That’s because we make the best alcohol in the system.”

  Then, puzzled, “Which is strange, because they don’t drink.”

  “What’s it like living with them?” she asks.

  Sean laughs. “Who? My parents? It’s great. School’s fun. Different.”

  His eyes brighten.

  “Last week we tore apart an engine and put it back together. And yesterday…”

  A grin. “I actually beat Uncle Arthur in sparring.”

  “They’re not your aunt and uncle, you know.”

  Sean hesitates—then shrugs.

  “Don’t listen to stories. I know they aren’t really… yeah. But they are. The rest doesn’t matter.”

  He glances up at her. “If you knew what they’ve been through—”

  Lilly cuts him off with a kiss. He kisses her back.

  A shout rips across the field.

  Jordan storms over, face twisted with anger.

  He shoves Sean to the ground. Other colony boys close in.

  “Stay away from my girlfriend, freak,” Jordan snarls.

  He yanks Lilly’s arm. She winces.

  Sean pushes himself to one knee. “Let her go.”

  He stands fully. “She doesn’t need your help to walk, Jordan.”

  Jordan sneers. “You really want to get hurt, don’t you?”

  Sean steadies—

  —

  The world folds.

  Sean trembles beneath the canopy—not with fear, but anger.

  “Mom. Dad. Jordan’s trying to fight me.”

  Anna leans forward, worried. “You haven’t hurt him, have you?”

  Sean’s jaw tightens. “No. But he wants to fight.”

  Thomas’s voice enters, firm and steady.

  “Don’t start it. Don’t hurt him. But if you need to—defend yourself.”

  Sean nods. “Okay.”

  —

  Back in the real, Sean stands surrounded.

  “My dad says in a fight, everyone loses. Win by avoiding it.”

  Jordan scoffs. “Your dad sounds like a coward.”

  Sean laughs in his face.

  “You don’t know anything about my dad. He’s seen things we can only imagine—and would never want to.”

  He turns to Lilly. “You okay?”

  She nods shakily. “Yeah.”

  Sean turns to leave.

  Jordan punches him in the back of the head.

  Sean collapses. Boots follow. Blood streaks the dirt.

  They scatter as the Hammonds rush in.

  Arthur drops to his knees, cradling Sean’s head.

  Thomas drives the crowd back.

  Anna and Sarah shield him with their bodies.

  Sean forces himself upright—bloodied, but fire still alive behind his eyes.

  “I’m fine. He hit me when I was walking away.”

  He steadies, staring across the field.

  “Coward.”

  The Hammonds step back, letting him stand on his own.

  Sarah rests a hand on Arthur’s arm—let him define this moment.

  Across the field, Lilly lingers. Their eyes meet—hope, guilt, something unresolved.

  She retreats with Jordan, shoulders hunched.

  —

  Over the next few years, Sean grows like a weed into a young man.

  Each time the Phoenix returns to Amor Relo, his roots dig deeper.

  He studies power-plant schematics, grease soaking into his nails.

  He joins the Harvest ceremony, hands stained with bright orange pollen.

  He teaches violin beneath open sky, notes drifting through market stalls.

  He repairs conduits at the power station, the hot metal scent clinging to him for hours.

  People know him.

  Respect him.

  Count on him.

  —

  Leaving the spice shop, the family steps onto the sun-bleached street.

  Across the way, Jordan—older now, shoulders tight, frustration radiating off him—shoves Lilly hard enough that she stumbles.

  “You make me like this!” he snaps, voice cracking.

  “Why are you so stupid?”

  He slaps her.

  The square freezes. A collective intake of breath.

  Before anyone else can move, Arthur steps forward.

  One brutal, practiced strike.

  Jordan collapses instantly, crumpling to the ground. Silence ripples outward; even the wind seems to stop.

  Arthur turns to Lilly, his voice low, controlled, unmistakably protective.

  “Don’t let anyone treat you like that. Ever.

  You are worth more than his childishness.”

  He helps her gently to her feet as the family closes in around her—a quiet wall of safety.

  Sean watches Jordan’s limp body dragged away.

  His eyes track every inch—not disturbed, but thinking.

  He turns to Arthur.

  “You and Dad always say everyone loses a fight.”

  A pause. “But… did you lose this one?”

  Arthur stills. The question lands deep—deeper than he thought a question ever could.

  “Not yet,” Arthur says quietly.

  Sean holds his gaze—not defiant, just growing.

  “Maybe the bigger loss,” he says softly, “is what you let it turn you into.”

  Arthur exhales—pride, fear, recognition tangled together.

  A man seeing himself through the boy he helped raise.

  They stand in silence—not father and son, but something close.

  Something earned.

  The bond shifts—subtly, irrevocably.

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