“Welcome,” they said, their voice resonant in a way that felt felt rather than heard. “You’re right on time.”
A woman near the front let out a short laugh. “Time for what?”
“For the Interstice,” the being replied easily. “The pause between departures.”
She and Trisha had built it with their own four hands, two questionable YouTube tutorials, and one bottle of wine.
Across the Coalition of Aligned Worlds, she could imagine this same carol rising in a hundred places at once: sung in English, Centauran Creole, SolCommon, Vulhari, SynthCant. Sung in domed colonies, hydroponic farm chapels, mining outpost rec halls, starship sanctuaries. Sung by people who had never stepped on Earth, yet carried its stories like inherited starlight.
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