The echo notes had been loose in the colonies for weeks now. At first, they were small things. A trader on Epsilon Reach feeling his wife's frustration from three habitats away during an argument.
A docking crew on New Terra sharing a sudden burst of relief when one of them fixed a jammed cargo clamp. Nothing dramatic. Just leaks. But leaks spread.
Sabrina stood on the main promenade of Thalassa Trade Hub, the largest freeport in the outer ring. Music thumped from floating stages.
Merchants shouted prices for everything from vacuum-distilled liquor to black-market neural implants. The air smelled of fried protein and ozone from the shield generators. Then the bloom hit the dance floor.
It started with the drums. A heavy bass line rolled through the crowd and suddenly everyone felt it at once—a shared pulse that wasn't just sound. Sabrina's mark on her lower back warmed.
