For a long time after the feed died, no one said a word. The only sound was the low hum of the habitat’s air circulators and the faint crackle of static still leaking from the hologram’s last frame.Jack hadn’t moved. His eyes were locked on the now-dark projection sphere, but he wasn’t seeing it anymore. His mind had folded inward — a tunnel of frozen images: Kharzek’s red eyes, the roar on the Martian rim, the way Krane’s laughter had felt like it came from inside his own skull.Sarah touched his arm gently. “Jack…”He didn’t answer.She tried again, softer. “You’re shaking.”“I’m fine,” he murmured, though his voice didn’t sound like him. It sounded smaller, almost distant.Emily glanced at the others. “He’s in shock,” she whispered.Matilda stood a little behind them, her hands clasped together so tightly her knuckles were white. Ryan and Jackson sat on the floor near the observation window, staring at the faint curve of Earth glimmering across space.Nobody moved to turn off the

The night had finally quieted the colony.The winds outside had softened into a low, mournful whistle against the dome, and the lights inside the habitat dimmed to blue twilight. The rhythmic hum of oxygen circulators was the only sound breaking the stillness.Jack returned from the observation deck, exhaustion weighing heavy on his frame. Sarah was already lying down beside Jackson in their quarters, one arm protectively draped across their sleeping son. The child’s breathing was steady — peaceful in a way only children could be, untouched by the ghosts that haunted their father.Emily had long since retreated to the research wing, Matilda still hunched over her screens in silent analysis. Ryan had fallen asleep near the hangar’s lower level, gear still in his hands.Jack stood for a while in the doorway, watching his family — Sarah’s soft breathing, the faint curl of Jackson’s fingers. For the first time in weeks, he allowed himself to exhale.He placed his communicator on the bedsi

Jack’s thoughts lingered in the half-darkness of the control room. The quiet hum of Mars’s midnight systems pulsed like a heartbeat in the walls. Beyond the glass, twin moons hung low, watching him the way memories do — silent, patient, unblinking. His breathing slowed. His eyelids drooped. And then, from somewhere deep within the fog of memory, another face emerged. One he had tried not to remember. Vincent. The prodigal son of Old Joe. The boy who once called him brother. The boy who couldn’t bear the shadow of another man’s strength. The years rewound. The dust of Mars became the red clay of Draconia. He saw it clearly now — the small house near the Reidsville cliffs where Old Joe had taken them both in. The place where it had all begun. Jack had been a nobody then — a scarred orphan with too much anger in his eyes and too little future. Old Joe had found him half-dead after the riots at Northgate, nursed him back with herbal salves and quiet wisdom. Vincent

Jack stood a long moment after the others had gone, the low hum of the DragonJet filling the silence around him. The ship’s hull seemed to pulse faintly beneath his palm, as if it shared his heartbeat. Then he turned and walked away.Outside, the twin suns were sinking over the dunes. Mars glowed with a soft amber hue, the color of old memory. The transport pod waited for them at the gate — sleek, magnetic, and silent. Sarah, Emily, Matilda, Ryan, and Jackson were already aboard, their reflections caught against the glass.They rode back through the colony tunnels in near silence. Beyond the transparent walls, the Martian sands rolled like ocean waves under dying light. They passed sections of the colony where construction lights flickered — mining domes, oxygen harvesters, agricultural bays. The people inside them were descendants of the dream Jack had built five years ago: a self-sustaining world carved from exile.After twenty minutes, the pod glided into the central residential di

The night had stretched deep into Mars’ second hour, though the colony never really slept. The oxygen systems hummed softly in the background, a mechanical heartbeat that kept everything alive.Jack Parker turned the last page of The Wall Street and let out a slow exhale. The edges of the paper glowed faintly under the crystal lights. Across the room, Ryan closed his holo-book, the neon blue text fading into transparency.“Done?” Ryan asked, his tone quiet but awake.Jack smiled faintly. “For now.” He folded the old magazine, laid it gently on the table, and reached for his DragonTech smartphone. The sleek glass device pulsed to life — its display blooming into a soft cyan glow that reflected in his eyes.Ryan sat up, stretching. “Still checking market data?”Jack’s thumb slid across the screen. “Old habits,” he said again, but this time with a note of pride.The holographic interface expanded, displaying real-time data streaming from the Harmonfield-Draconia Stock Exchange — the new