The sky over Riverview was quiet that night, the stars scattered like flecks of ice against the dark. Jace Norven leaned against the hood of his battered sky-blue hovertruck, watching them. He didn’t know why he always ended up here, staring at the same constellations, searching for something he couldn’t name.

Life hadn’t been hard, not really. Even with just their mom raising him and his sister Sophie alone, they’d always had enough. Enough food, enough warmth, enough laughter to fill the house. Their mom worked hard but still made time for them, and she had a way of turning even boring evenings into little adventures.

The only empty place in their lives was the shape of their father.

Neither Jace nor Sophie had ever met him. Mom said he was “special” and “brave,” but beyond a few faded photographs, he was a mystery. Jace had learned not to push for more.

Sophie’s voice broke his thoughts. “You’re staring at the sky again,” she teased from the porch. She was barefoot, wearing one of his old T-shirts as pajamas. “Looking for your long-lost alien family?”

He smirked. “Yeah. Any day now, a giant space limo’s gonna pull up and whisk me off to my true home.”

Sophie grinned. “Right. And I’m secretly the ruler of Pancakeland.”

“Pancakeland?” Jace raised an eyebrow.

“It’s a work in progress,” she said with mock seriousness.

They laughed. That was how it always was between them — playful, teasing, unshakably close.

Later, after Sophie had gone inside, Jace stayed out in the garage. He dug through dusty boxes just to keep his hands busy. Most were full of old junk — broken tools, outdated hover parts. But one box, shoved far into the corner under a faded tarp, caught his eye.

It was heavy and sealed with a strange metallic clasp, one that didn’t look like anything built on Earth. He wrestled with it until it clicked open, releasing a faint, silvery glow.

Inside were photographs. One showed his mom, younger, standing beside a tall man with black hair and piercing eyes — his father. But the man’s skin seemed to shimmer faintly in the light, as if it wasn’t entirely solid.

There was also a folded sheet covered in an alien language Jace had never seen, and a star-shaped badge that vibrated faintly in his palm.

Sophie appeared in the doorway, yawning. “What’d you find?”

“I think…” Jace hesitated, “Dad wasn’t from here.”

She squinted. “Like… not from Earth ‘here’? Or not from America ‘here’?”

He gave her a look. “Not from here here.”

As they searched the box, Jace found a long, sleek key etched with strange runes. Sophie’s eyes drifted toward the far wall of the garage. “That looks like it might fit the weird lock behind the shelves.”

They pushed aside an old shelving unit, revealing a recessed panel in the wall. The key slid in perfectly. With a soft hiss, the panel opened, revealing a narrow tunnel glowing faint blue.

They stepped inside. The tunnel curved gently downward before opening into a vast underground chamber — and there it was.

A ship.

Not a pod. Not a fighter. A massive vessel, easily the size of a small house, its silver hull gleaming faintly in the dim light.

A boarding ramp unfolded automatically at their approach. Inside, soft lights blinked to life along the walls. The air smelled faintly metallic and cold, as though it had been sealed away for decades.

The central lounge was spacious, with sleek furniture that molded to their shapes. Hallways branched off into private bedrooms, each with its own bathroom. One room held a kitchen with strange, crystalline cooking panels. Another was stocked with alien tools, maps, and data pads.

“This isn’t just a ship,” Sophie whispered. “It’s… a home.”

Jace brushed his fingers over a glowing control panel. Symbols rearranged themselves under his touch. Somewhere deep within the ship, a soft hum began — like a heartbeat waking from a long sleep.

They stood in awe.

Sophie finally broke the silence. “So… Dad was an alien.”

Jace stared at the reflection of himself in the polished metal walls. “Yeah… and I think this was his ride.”