"You'll be safe here," he whispered again, the same words as before, though they now felt like a promise carved into his own heart. "You have to be."
Outside, a ship waited. Its silver hull was streaked with condensation from the cool dawn air. Duty was calling, another lead, another world, another echo of darkness that needed to be faced. He turned once more to look at her. For a heartbeat, the light caught her cheek, and he could almost imagine she was glowing a reminder of why he did this, why he returned at all. The farmer waited near the door, cap in hand, eyes understanding. "She'll be up soon," he said quietly.
Aiden nodded. "Tell her I'll visit again."
"Ella doesn't forget, she'll hold you to that."
"I hope she does." Aiden nodded with a smile as he extended his hand towards the farmer. "Thank you again."
The door shut behind him with a gentle click, and the morning swallowed the sound.
Aiden reached the ramp as it hissed shut behind him, sealing out the scent of wet grass and the faint hum of the morning. Inside, the ship's interior was cool and still metal and muted light, so unlike the farmhouse warmth he'd just left behind.
Aiden paused at the foot of the corridor, his hand still resting on the wall as though he could feel the pulse of the planet through it. The engines thrummed softly beneath his boots, a sound that once meant motion, purpose now it only echoed the weight of parting.
Through the cockpit viewport, Ukatis stretched below him: a patchwork of green fields, mist-veiled valleys, and winding rivers that caught the sunrise like ribbons of glass. It was a gentle world too gentle for what the galaxy had become. The pilot gave a brief nod. "Coordinates locked, sir. We're clear to break atmosphere."
"Proceed." Aiden said quietly. His voice carried no command in it, only resignation.
The ship rose. Clouds parted around them, pale and luminous, the light scattering across the hull in soft, fleeting flares. For a moment, he saw the farmhouse again a speck of warmth against the great canvas of the world. Then it was gone, swallowed by distance and haze. He exhaled slowly, hands clasped behind his back, the weight of absence settling over him once more.
The stars began to bloom in the void ahead, one by one, cold and constant. His reflection in the transparisteel was faint eyes shadowed, jaw set a man pulled between worlds of light and hope.
"Ukatis fades quickly," the pilot murmured, almost apologetic.
"I know." Aiden replied, gaze never shifting.
The ship broke free of the atmosphere with a final shudder, and the world below turned to a sphere of green and white, spinning slowly against the black. Somewhere down there, a little girl would wake to sunlight and silence and perhaps, in time, understand that his leaving was not abandonment, but love made difficult by the path he walked.
Aiden closed his eyes, feeling the faint tremor of hyperspace build beneath his feet.
"I have hope for her." he whispered.
The stars stretched and then, they were gone.
