In the surgical bay of the Phoenix, hours crawl.
Arthur and Thomas work side by side—bloody, surgical, focused.
Sean drifts in and out of consciousness.
Rebecca sits in the corner, clutching Miles, silent tears streaking her face.
—
In the Void, Sean sits with Sarah and Anna.
Rain patters faintly—steady and calm—into the shallow pools of water just outside the canopy.
“You did good,” Sarah says gently. “You protected Rebecca and Miles.”
Sean lowers his head.
“I shouldn’t have had to.” His voice rises, thick with anger.
“I’m not special. I don’t heal. I’m going to grow old and die.”
He slams his hand on the table.
“They wanted me and Miles.” His voice cracks. “That was it. I had to protect him.”
Sean’s composure breaks. Tears spill hot down his face.
“I was so scared. Not for me—for him. For them.”
He stands, taking a shaky breath.
“What if something had happened to them?”
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Sarah rubs his back. Anna pulls him in and holds him tight.
“I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t know what to do,” he says.
“Why? All the training, and still this.”
Sarah leans forward, her voice soft.
“Talk to Rebecca about this. Don’t be like your uncle. He never talks about the past, because it hurts too much.”
She wipes away a tear before it can form.
“But he never really heals either.”
She stands and walks to the edge of the canopy.
“I learned to live with that. Rebecca might not be able to.”
Sean wipes his face, trembling.
Anna pulls him back into a hug.
They sit together in silence—listening to the rain.
—
Later that night, Sean stirs—pale, drenched in sweat.
He breathes. Alive.
Relief washes over Arthur’s face—but the cost shows in his eyes.
Arthur leans in, giving him a sip of water.
Sean takes his hand weakly.
“Why?” He pauses to breathe.
“Don’t you talk about the past? Dad does.”
Arthur looks at him, says nothing—afraid of what might come out.
“He doesn’t give a lot of detail, but he talks to Mom,” Sean says.
“You’re the same person. Or you started that way, right?”
Arthur exhales slowly, eyes distant.
“We were.”
He thinks for a moment.
“But your dad and I…”
He shakes his head.
“When I was created, I already felt like Arthur—the original. Your dad never had the chance to grow into him.”
He lowers his head.
“I was Arthur before he ever could be.”
He meets Sean’s eyes.
“Why do you ask?”
Sean leans forward, soft but steady.
“Aunt Sarah told me—if you never talk about things, you never really heal.”
He draws a slow breath.
“I just wanted you to know… if you need to talk, I’m here. And so is she.”
—
ONE WEEK LATER
Jordan glares across his desk, bitter.
“You Hammonds—troublemakers my whole life.”
He looks out the window.
“And now the power terminal’s blown. Completely destroyed.”
He turns back, shaking his head.
“For what? So someone could come after you?”
He locks eyes with Arthur.
“Well, they can have you. I don’t want you in my colony.”
His voice sinks into a sneer.
“You can take that son of yours too.”
Arthur’s voice is calm, measured.
“We’ll go. But this is Sean’s home. The only one he’s ever known.”
Jordan turns away.
“Fine. But if I see you here again, I’ll call them back to get you.”
Arthur steps closer, eyes narrowing.
“What did you just say?”
Jordan freezes, realizing he’s said too much. He scrambles.
“I said I’ll call them. Tell them you’re here.”
Arthur grabs Jordan by the neck and slams him against the wall—knife drawn, inching toward his throat.
Then he lowers the blade and turns for the door.
“Let’s go, guys.”
Anna lingers, fury burning through her.
“We’ll be back. And if Sean isn’t here—or he’s hurt… or if he doesn’t think you’re his best friend anymore, I will find you and make you wish I had killed you.”
She storms out after the others.
Jordan shifts, uneasy.
He glances out the window—smoke rising from a pyre in the distance.
Three colonists burn among a dozen soldiers.
Jordan knew every one of the colonists by name.
The grief he caused presses in—
and he looks away.
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