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Prologue
DR. MORGAN BACHER
As pandemonium erupts around me, I sprint toward the Advanced Optical Spatial Mirror, lovingly dubbed the ‘telescope’. What’s got everyone so on edge?
We’re a calm bunch by nature. Scientists aren’t prone to dramatics.
Except Shwartz.
I eye the balding man in the smiley-face necktie as he crumbles into a ball and moans about the apocalypse.
Shwartz doesn’t count.
My fingers curve around the telescope.
Cold metal.
Solid grip.
The skin around my eyes presses the rim.
I blink once.
Twice.
What the hell?
That can’t…
No, that’s not right.
I watch the images unveiling before me. Not one, not two, but three lunar eclipses between three solar systems.
I pull away.
Shake my head.
Impossible.
McCarthy steps up to me. He has dark brown skin. His hair is long and down to his back in dreads. Tiny wrinkles frame his eyes and mouth. Quiet but brilliant. He’s closest to what I would call a friend here.
“Morgan, what do you think?” he asks me.
“There must be a problem with the telescope—”
“We increased its power by three hundred percent. You and I both know there’s nothing wrong with this baby.”
“There must be another reason.” I toss a look over my shoulder, starting to understand the chaos.
McCarthy sighs. “We’ve bucked against a phenomena we can’t understand.”
“What? Aliens?” I snort.
McCarthy moves closer to me. “What if it is?”
“Not you too.”
“Do you have any other ideas?”
“None.” I rub my chin. My fingers rasp against harsh stubble. I had to rush here from the airport. Didn’t have time to shave or change or take a shower. I smell like sweat and the airline’s salted peanuts, but it’s not like anyone is looking.
“Should we tell the public?”
“They’ll start cutting open goats.”
“Or running to church to pray.” Worry covers McCarthy’s face. “We could all use some guidance.”
“We need answers, not superstition.”
He blows out a breath.
I stride away from the telescope. “How’s this affecting gravity?”
“No change.”
“Planes? Air crafts?”
“We’re observing.”
I face him. “You don’t think we should stop flying?”
“Not without concrete proof that this will affect us negatively.”
“There’s a bloody three-moon, three planet eclipse and you don’t think we should stop air crafts from shooting into our atmosphere? We don’t know what could happen.”
“You think people want to hear that? We’re supposed to provide the answers, not cause mass panic.”
I rub the bridge of my nose. “Any local complaints?”
“There’ve been minor tremors.”
“Tremors?”
McCarthy’s eyes fall to the ground. “It could be unlinked.”
I tamp down my annoyance. McCarthy is being unusually hesitant, but it’s a strange day. “Where?”
“South America. It’s slowly spreading our way.”
“You think it has something to do with the alignment?”
A corner of his mouth tips up. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
“What kind of crazy name did Shwartz choose?”
