Shad’s comm-link flashed green. He spoke into it.
“Abdelmani.”
“Lieutenant, this is Capt. Braylock.”
Finally, word from their warship.
“Good to hear from you, sir. How’s the fight?”
“Mild progress. I wanted to alert your ground team to a developing issue outside the system. We just received a deepstream from Central Command. The outer planets and Central have experienced what they’re calling a concussive event. They say it’s some type of electromagnetic wave and moving at ... if you can believe it ... fifty times the speed of light.”
Of all the possible war updates, something like this never crossed Shad’s imagination.
“I’m confused, Captain. A wave?”
“They say it originated about two thousand light-years outside the Collectorate. No idea why. There were reports of minor damage at Central. Based on its speed and trajectory, we should be feeling it in a matter of minutes. Beyond that, I have no rational explanation. I just wanted you to be aware in case there’s a panic.”
“Will do, sir. Abdelmani out.”
He turned to Sgt. Babb.
“Caught all that?”
Alexi shook his head.
“A wave? Like ... at the shore? Wouldn’t a concussion moving that fast wipe out everything in its path?”
“One would think.”
“Braylock didn’t seem overly concerned. What in ten hells?”
Shad took stock of the eerily quiet scene.
“I’ve always wondered, Alexi. What in ten hells. We say it all the time, but what does it mean?”
The Sergeant scratched behind his ear.
“Not sure, sir. Could have something to do with pre-history. They say religions were out of control back then. Maybe?”
Shad couldn’t figure it. The human race stood on the brink of destruction, and a galactic event – likely unprecedented – was about to hit Earth. And his top concern? A rhetorical nonsense phrase.
It all felt so ... done.
Pointless. Obtuse.
Shad finished his café and was about to toss the cup into a dispenser when it happened.
The Wave blasted through in less than a blink, and yet every part of him trembled. The surrounding towers shook as if rattled by an earthquake but held steady, a few windows shattering.
Alarms went off, people glanced here and there in a brief panic, and the morning returned to quiet unease.
Yet nothing felt the same.
When Shad’s disorientation cleared, so did his vision. It took him back to when he was fourteen and walked out into the world after corrective eye therapy. The boy didn’t realize how blind he’d been.
The world appeared more precise. The colors exacting, even in the limited light before sunrise. The stars in the pale western sky twinkled with an intense fire.
He saw into Sgt. Babb’s deep azure eyes and beyond. For the most delightful moment, he could read the Sergeant’s mind. Alexi also felt an overwhelming shift.
“That was different,” Alexi said. “You OK, Lieutenant?”
Shad shook it off.
“Yes. Fine, thank you. I assume.”
They pushed on into the light of day, finished the job, and eventually returned to their ship.
By sunset, the war was effectively over. It came in the most stunning fashion. Perhaps the miracle Shad hoped for. Perhaps something beyond rational explanation.
The Swarm did not concoct a ruse.
Half their warships drifted in space, easy targets after every member of those crews died of a plague.
The same plague. Fifty percent of their ships. Every star system. At the same time.
Within a standard day, the fissures between universes closed. Special drives designed to open those gateways ceased to function. The natural tears called Interdimensional Folds zippered shut.
Miracle? Divine intervention? A UNF secret weapon?
