He wasn't really her father—just the old engineer who'd found her hiding in a cargo bay ten years ago, headed for the moons of Jupiter. He'd taught her to weld, to navigate asteroid fields, to calculate slingshot trajectories in her head.

Kylie strapped on her helmet, the visor fogging with each excited breath. "Rocket Daddy," she whispered, tapping the fuel gauge.

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The engines roared. The sky turned to fire. And somewhere above the clouds, a new star was born.

Kylie grinned. "Watch me, Rocket Daddy."

Now, with his gnarled hand on her shoulder, he said, "Launch sequence initiated, kid. Make me proud."