You believe the overlay. The cartoon Earth is so round. You tell KILO to hold that attitude. KILO, unhelpfully obedient in safe-mode leftovers, tries.

The real window shows the real planet sliding the other way. You are steering toward a sticker.

“That’s not Earth-center,” Jax says. “That’s a guess wearing a costume.”

The sun sensors—still off, because you picked pretty—cannot argue. The IMU could, if anyone asked it. You do not ask it. You wrap a socked foot under the seat and line up the nose with the cartoon, the way a toy shuttle does on a bedroom rug.

Mira’s hand is on the thruster enable and not squeezing. “If you fire to chase that picture, you add more tumble to a wrong map. If you admit the camera is hailstruck, we still have the Sun.”

A real sliver of blue knife-cuts across the glass, nowhere near the cartoon.