FIFTEEN YEARS LATER

  The Phoenix floats alone in space, its hull glimmering faintly—scarred from decades of use.

  A haunting violin drifts through the ship, echoing against the stars—fragile, human notes in the endless dark.

  Arthur sits near the viewport, staring into nothing. His reflection looks older, worn, yet unbroken.

  “We haven’t been back in twelve years,” he says quietly.

  He turns toward Thomas.

  “We should’ve gone years ago.”

  Thomas leans against the frame, arms crossed, doubt tight in his voice.

  “He doesn’t want to see us… me.”

  Arthur looks back to the stars.

  “Thomas, you’re his father. He loves you.”

  He glances at Anna, searching for reinforcement.

  “Anna, back me up here.”

  Anna sets down a datapad, her voice steady, certain.

  “I’ve told you both more times than I can count. We should’ve gone.”

  Arthur straightens, resolve knitting together.

  “The fight was stupid.”

  He turns again, eyes sharp.

  “It’s his birthday. I’m not missing another one.”

  He sits beside Thomas, lowering into the chair with a sigh.

  “And what about Miles and Rebecca? We haven’t seen them in twelve years either.”

  His mouth twitches into a reluctant smile.

  “Maybe she’ll make us some of that delicious stew.”

  Thomas falters—guilt pulling one way, longing the other.

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  “Okay… but if he still hates me—if this makes things worse—”

  Arthur cuts him off, sliding into the captain’s chair.

  “Then we deal with it.”

  His fingers move across the console. The ship hums in response, old systems waking like a creature stretching after a long sleep.

  The Phoenix banks, catching starlight across its battered hull. Atmosphere blooms around it as it dives toward the planet below.

  “We were here the whole time?” Thomas murmurs, regret edging his voice.

  The Phoenix descends toward the Amor Relo Colony.

  Landing rockets fire—steady, precise—guiding it to one of the new pads carved into the city.

  Arthur watches through the viewport, half in awe.

  “This place has changed. Landing pads now—no more kicking up dust.”

  He smiles, soft and nostalgic.

  The ramp lowers with a hydraulic hiss.

  Sarah steps off first, smiling, energy bright and hopeful.

  “I can’t wait to see them.”

  Thomas follows, but his smile strains—nerves slipping through.

  “No reason to gloat. I want to see him too.”

  His head hangs.

  “He said he never wanted to see me again.”

  Anna slips an arm around him, grounding him effortlessly.

  “He loves you.” She squeezes his arm. “You’ll see.”

  They approach an old but well-kept home.

  Arthur knocks.

  A woman’s voice calls from inside.

  “Hold on.”

  The door creaks open.

  Arthur stands there, excitement flickering in his eyes.

  “Is Sean here?”

  The woman looks confused.

  “Who?”

  Arthur falters. His heart stutters.

  “Sorry. We must have the wrong address.”

  They turn and walk away together.

  Silence drapes over them—heavy, uncertain.

  Sarah closes her eyes and steps into the White Void.

  Rain drizzles, dripping from the canopy into shallow pools—soft, rhythmic.

  Sarah leans forward, voice gentle.

  “Sean… can you hear me?”

  Sean appears in the Void—older, his outline flickering faintly. His presence feels both close and impossibly far, like a memory trying to breathe.

  “You’re back.”

  He steps forward and hugs her, tight and relieved.

  “Is everyone else here too?”

  Sarah smiles faintly.

  “Yeah. We came for your birthday. Your mom made a cake.”

  Sean hesitates.

  “Is my dad here?”

  Sarah nods, voice soft.

  “He’s really sorry for the things he said.”

  She sinks into one of the chairs.

  “Honestly… I think he’s embarrassed. Scared you won’t forgive him.”

  Sean exhales, shoulders easing.

  “I’m at work. You can come see me here.”

  He sits beside her.

  “I’ll be off in about thirty minutes. Top of the hill—you can’t miss it.”

  He places his hands on hers.

  “I love you. All of you.”

  The Hammonds climb toward the hill, weaving through streets alive with markets and new construction.

  Anna smiles, balancing the cake carefully in her arms.

  Sarah touches Thomas’s arm.

  “I already laid the groundwork, Thomas. All you have to do is say you’re sorry.”

  They crest the hill—the city center rising tall and modern against the sky.

  “He works for the city,” Arthur murmurs.

  “He’s doing good things, I bet.”

  The family steps inside the lobby—clean, polished, bustling with workers.

  A receptionist looks up.

  “Can I help you?”

  Arthur approaches the desk.

  “We’re here to see Sean Hammond.”

  “Is Mr. Hammond expecting you?” she asks, checking the schedule.

  “Yes,” Arthur says with a smile.

  “We talked with him about twenty minutes ago.”

  Anna nudges Thomas lightly.

  “Mr. Hammond,” she says proudly.

  The doors part.

  Sean strides out—broad-shouldered, built like a lumberjack. His beard is long but carefully kept, his presence grounded and strong.

  The years show in his eyes—but so does warmth.

  Anna drops the cake and runs to him, arms thrown around his neck.

  Sean hugs her back, fierce and unrestrained.

  “Mom. It’s good to see you.”

  He nods toward Thomas—a small gesture, but it carries weight.

  The receptionist watches, stunned.

  Under her breath:

  “Mom…?”

  Arthur steps forward, handing Sean a small box.

  “Happy birthday. From all of us.”

  Sean opens it—a photo of the whole family: Sean, Thomas, Miles, Rebecca, Anna, Arthur, and Sarah sitting at a picnic, happy.

  A tear slips down his cheek.

  “Thank you.”

  Arthur hugs him tight.

  “The beard looks good on you.”

  Sean smiles.

  “Thanks.”

  He turns to the receptionist.

  “Linda—I’m gone for the day.”

  They step out into the city streets together.

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