The wind on the Newark tarmac carried the smell of salt and fuel, a mixture of the ocean and the machine. Floodlights cut through the dawn’s half-light, turning the mist into ghosts.

Arthur Hale adjusted the collar of his uniform, fingers brushing the insignia that had followed him through war, peace, and now—whatever this was. A soldier of Earth, about to step into another civilization’s invitation.

Behind the barrier stood Eliza, wrapped in her wool coat, her hair catching the light like a quiet fire. Beside her, Ben gripped the straps of his backpack, standing too straight for his age, trying to be the kind of brave he thought fathers admired.

“Dad?” Ben’s voice was small, uncertain. “Will they let you call us from space?”

Arthur knelt, the cold biting through his knees. “If the Luminous have anything like phones, you’ll be the first person I call.”

Ben nodded solemnly, eyes flicking to the vessel—its sleek, luminous frame hovering just beyond the runway, breathing like a living thing. “Are they nice? The aliens?”

Arthur smiled faintly. “Better than nice. They look like people who’ve had enough sleep.”

Ben laughed once, and it cracked through the frost between them.

But Eliza didn’t laugh. Her silence was heavier than the winter air.
“You said yes,” she murmured finally. “Before we even talked.”

He met her eyes, saw the fear she’d hidden behind composure. “The President called me himself. It’s an honor, Eliza. You know what this means—for us, for Earth. We’ve searched the stars for years, and now they’ve come searching for us.”

She shook her head, voice trembling though her body stayed firm. “Why you, Arthur? This isn’t another deployment or foreign base. This is another galaxy. Another people. God knows when—if—you’ll ever come back.”

“Eliza, I live to serve my country. This mission is essential. And…” he hesitated, softening, “we’ll be taken care of for life. You and Ben won’t ever have to struggle again. He can grow up to be whatever he wants. Didn’t he say he wanted to be a superhero?”

Her eyes glistened. “Superheroes don’t leave their families behind.”

Ben looked between them, his young mind sensing the gravity of something too large to name. “Are you two fighting?”

Eliza drew a breath and forced a smile. “No, sweetheart. Just saying goodbye.”

Ben’s voice wavered. “Dad, get me a superhero costume from their planet, okay? And come home soon.”

Arthur pulled him close, the small heartbeat against his chest grounding him more than any command ever had. “Roger that, Ben O. Take care of your mom. Be brave. Live your dreams. Your dad will be back sooner than you think.”

Ben sniffed. “Superheroes aren’t real, Dad.”

Arthur smiled, swallowing the ache that rose behind his ribs. “Maybe not. But they try anyway.”

Eliza stepped closer. Her hand found his face, thumb brushing the old scar just under his throat. “If they ask you to become more than human,” she whispered, “say no.”

He held her gaze. “I won’t let anyone take what belongs to us.”

“What belongs to us?” she asked softly.

“Our ordinary,” he said. “Our messy, blessed ordinary.”

For a moment, neither moved. Then the call came through the intercom—official, final, cold. It was time.

Arthur hugged them both—long enough to brand the shape of them into memory. As he turned toward the ramp, Ben’s small hand reached out one last time, their fingers barely touching before distance claimed them.

He looked back once—his wife standing strong, their boy clutching her coat, both framed by the growing light of dawn.

The Luminous vessel waited—silent, breathing, alive. He stepped inside. The door sealed behind him like an eyelid closing.

Now, as the ship ascends and Earth folds into a blue coin beneath him, Arthur feels both the weight and lightness of his choice. The hum of the vessel echoes like a heartbeat.

“I’m not leaving because I’m brave,” he thinks. “I’m leaving because I still believe courage should mean something.”

And somewhere below, under a waking sky, Eliza and Ben look up—two silhouettes against the glow—watching the man they love vanish into the stars.