The final Jump Point shimmered in the dark like a fractured mirror, a swirling drain of light that looked more like an exit from a nightmare than a gateway to paradise.
The Ghost Shadow didn't just fly out; it was spat out. The circular ship tumbled into the quiet vacuum of the Sol system, its engines glowing a hot, angry orange as they struggled to bleed off the residual inertia from sixty-three consecutive jumps.
Jason gripped the flight sticks so hard his knuckles were turning white. His eyes were bloodshot, his breath coming in shallow hitches as he frantically recalibrated the navigation computer. "We're out," he wheezed, his voice sounding like it had been dragged over gravel. "We hit the mark. But we're still on the edge of the system. Reaching the actual Earth coordinates is going to take a day and a half of sub-light cruising. We need to be careful—no more anomalies, no more space whales, no more accidents."
Leander Hayes stood behind him, looking at the main viewport. In the impossibly far distance, a tiny, pale blue dot was suspended in the black. It was so small it could have been a speck of dust on the glass, but Leander's intuition didn't need a telescope. His heart hammered against his ribs with an excitement he hadn't felt since he first discovered he could move metal with a thought.
"Earth," he whispered.
He didn't want to wait a day and a half. He couldn't. Every second he spent in this ship felt like a year. He reached out, his hand brushing the interior bulkhead of the cockpit. A thin, sapphire mist began to bleed from his fingertips, spreading across the walls and ceiling like a living shadow.
"Leander? What are you doing?" Jason asked, his voice rising in alarm. "The engines are already red-lining, don't mess with the—"
"Relax, Jason. I'm just taking a shortcut."
Leander closed his eyes, his mind expanding through the Space Stone's power. He didn't just see the ship; he was the ship. He visualized the blue planet, the moon, and the forty thousand kilometers of empty space between them. He tightened his right hand, and the fabric of the universe folded.
POP.
The Ghost Shadow vanished from the edge of the system as if it had never existed.
The next second, the ship reappeared in a flash of blue light, forty thousand kilometers from the lunar surface. The Moon hung below them, a massive, cratered skull of bone-white rock. And beyond it... Earth. The real thing. The swirling white clouds, the deep sapphire oceans, the continents he had spent his childhood wandering.
Jason was thrown forward by the sudden shift in momentum, grabbing the wall to keep his face from slamming into the console. He gasped for air, his lungs burning. "That... that was worse than thirty jumps at once," he choked out, sliding down the wall until he hit the floor. "You can't just... do that to a man's equilibrium, kid."
Leander didn't hear him. He was standing, his fists clenched, his eyes twitching with a raw, electric joy. His Nirvana Wings had reflexively snapped open to buffer the spatial transition, their purple-gold feathers vibrating with blue energy. He realized now that using the Stone's power forced his wings out—a side effect of the energy needing a physical vent—but he didn't care.
"World," Leander said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm back."
He retracted the wings, feeling the heavy ache of his long journey finally begin to lift. He remembered the dark days—the hopeless, drifting months in the interstellar void where time had no meaning and he was sure he'd die alone. He remembered the regret of "losing" the Space Stone, not knowing it was actually becoming part of him.
"Jason," Leander said, turning toward the pilot. "I'm going down. What's your plan?"
Jason looked up, startled. "What? You mean I'm not invited to the party? I thought we were a team now."
Leander shook his head, a bit of his old pragmatism returning. "Earth isn't like Xandar. We haven't joined the interstellar community yet. If a guy like you—red skin, three eyes, alien ship—lands in Central Park, the first thing they'll do is call the army. They won't ask for your ID; they'll try to dissect you to see what makes you tick. It's for your own safety, man."
Jason looked at the blue planet, then at his own hands. "Yeah... I guess you're right. Backwards planets are always the most violent. Fine. I've got a hold full of Kree tech and Xandarian scrap to move anyway. I should head back to the hubs and turn this into cold, hard credits."
He started rummaging through the cargo lockers, pulling out a small, backpack-sized unit. "Hey, you sure you don't want the Kree battle suit? It's the latest model. Built-in shielding, HUD, the works. It's worth a small moon."
Leander looked at the high-tech gear, then out at the sun hitting the Earth's atmosphere. He felt the power humming in his bones—the metal control, the golden body, the Infinity Stone.
"Thanks, Jason. But I think I've got enough 'gear' already. Keep it. Sell it and get yourself a better ship. Something that doesn't groan every time you turn a corner."
Leander walked toward the airlock. He felt a strange sense of destiny with this red-skinned thief. Jason was the first person he'd met who didn't try to kill him or study him; they were just two survivors.
"I'm sending you back," Leander said. He pushed his hands down, and the blue mist enveloped the Ghost Shadow one last time.
A flash of light, and the ship was gone from Earth's orbit.
Near Xandar
The Ghost Shadow reappeared in the same sector where they had first met, near the debris field of the triangular Kree ship. Jason stumbled into the cockpit, looking around in a daze.
"We're... we're back near Xandar?"
Leander stood there, looking at the starry horizon. "I left a marker on your ship. I can find you whenever I want now. Sell your goods, Jason. Live a good life. And do me a favor—stay away from Ronan the Accuser. He's a dead man walking; he just doesn't know it yet. In a few years, I'll come find you and we can go watch him fall together."
Leander scanned the area with his golden eyes, but the wreckage of the Kree ship they had dismantled was gone. "Strange. How long were we in that jump-stream? The debris is totally cleared out."
"Time is a suggestion in a wormhole, kid," Jason said, a bit of his old swagger returning. "But yeah, what a waste. I could have sold that hull for a fortune."
"You'll be fine," Leander laughed. "I have to go. Earth is waiting. Rest up, Jason. You've been running for five years. Take a break."
Before Jason could say another word, Leander stepped through a ripple in space and vanished.
Jason stood alone in his quiet ship, clutching a Kree protective suit. He sat back in his chair, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders that he'd been carrying since his home world fell. For five years, his life had been a series of thefts and narrow escapes, all fueled by a desperate, slim hope of revenge. Now, he had a connection to someone who stopped space whales for fun.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a faded, wrinkled photograph. A family of four.
"Jen... kids..." he whispered. "I'm going to make it happen. I promise."
The Pacific Ocean
Leander didn't teleport directly onto land. He wanted to feel the transition.
He appeared high in the stratosphere, the air thin and freezing. He snapped his wings open, the purple-gold feathers catching the morning sun. He dove.
He was a golden streak across the sky, a meteor of flesh and iron. He plummeted toward the Pacific, the blue water rushing up to meet him. Just feet from the surface, he flared his wings, the sonic boom of his deceleration rattling the waves for miles.
He didn't crash. He slowed his momentum until he was hovering just inches above the water. Then, he let his wings retract and dropped.
His bare feet touched the sea.
He didn't sink. He used a minute amount of his power to solidify the surface tension of the water beneath him. The gentle, cool ripples of the Pacific splashed against his ankles. He could smell the salt, the life, the home of it all.
Leander spread his arms wide and tilted his head back, letting the sun warm his face.
"I AM BACK!!" he screamed into the empty horizon.
He tapped the water with his foot, and his body transformed into a blur of golden light. He didn't need a ship. He didn't need a jump gate. He flew toward the California coastline, a homecoming king returning to a kingdom that thought he was a ghost.