The Swedish Hello

It was a Tuesday in 2290, and at the edge of the Sol system, the Qarlon fleet emerged from hyperspace with a soft squelch.

Earth's forces had been scrambled hours earlier and were waiting to intercept the armada. Some notice is better than no notice; the humans were outgunned, but not going down without a fight. A conventional enemy would have been easier to handle strategically - but how do you fight someone whose goal is to destroy themselves along with you?

Three years previously, the Qarlon government had been overthrown by a religious cult dedicated to bringing about the end of the universe. Propagated by charismatic preachers and celebrities, the ideology had tapped into a certain malaise at the heart of Qarlon culture, and over the past two decades, as the economy faltered, the group had managed to grow steadily by attracting new members at all levels of society - from ordinary people to politicians, scientists and even the military. Years of institutional infiltration and gnawing away at democratic and social norms had transformed Qarlonia, a former Earth ally, into something unrecognizable.

"Shields up!" barked Supreme Archon Myrtezaj. "And get me a mojito."

___

Sitting in her usual seat on the bridge of the Terran Defense Force flagship Sapiencia, Subcommander Mazandarani was not having a good day. That morning, her suspicions had been confirmed: her second husband was indeed cheating on her with a 29-year-old genetically enhanced dancer with three breasts. It had been years since such drastic DNA alterations for cosmetic purposes had been outlawed, but those who had already paid to undergo the procedures had been allowed to keep the results; trying to convert them back into regular humans would have been risky and controversial. And thus the few individuals who had upgraded their bodies in various alarming and scintillating ways - about 90,000 out of a global population of 4 billion - had become prized commodities socially and sexually, often minor celebrities in their home countries. Rumor had it there was a man in Idaho with nine penises. When Mazandarani woke in her quarters aboard the Sapiencia, she immediately saw a flashing notification of a new video message from the private detective she had hired: it was verified footage of her husband embracing the woman at a wine bar.

"In the extremely unlikely event that we get through today without the Qarlon fleet setting off their subquantum annihilation device to tear apart the fabric of spacetime and destroy the universe, I'll cut his fucking balls off," she thought to herself.

___

The Qarlons' superior technology meant the Terran fleet was swiftly neutralized having barely fired a shot; a quick series of pulses from the Qarlon flagship and all of the Earth vessels, including the Sapiencia, were floating dead in space, without weapons, shields, engines, navigation or communications. It was only thanks to the Qarlons' non-violent philosophy that not a single ship was destroyed or life taken: as committed as they were to ending the universe for religious reasons - no more universe meant no more suffering - they were determined not to harm a single being along the way. With nothing more to stop it, the Qarlon armada proceeded to the sacred predetermined location for the activation of the device: the rim of Uranus.

"Captain Albacore, I think I can bring backup power online if we manually bypass the main computer and reroute energy from the weapons array," said Mazandarani aboard the bridge of the Sapiencia, now in complete darkness. "Do it," Albacore replied, switching on an emergency torch. "Get to engineering." "Aye, sir," she responded, then headed straight for the emergency ladder.

__

"Prepare the Space Destroyer!" the Supreme Archon bellowed to his subordinates. "Target coordinates!"

"Coordinates locked, your holiness," replied Prelate Eldon. "Device activated and ready for launch."

__

"We can't," said Chief Engineer Mackenzie, once Mazandarani had arrived on his deck. "Everything is fried. Backup power banks are drained, we're locked out of the weapons array, and the generator is dead. I can't even manually launch a torpedo. The only thing still working are the drones, because they’re independent of the ship. They're small enough that the Qarlons probably wouldn't detect them, but there's no way I can fit a drone with a big enough payload to destroy their device."

"Sir, I have an idea," announced a nervous voice from behind Mackenzie. It was Ensign Stjernberg, an inexperienced young engineer. "In fact, you could say I've been waiting for this moment my whole life."

__

"This is Supreme Archon Myrtezaj hailing all vessels. We stand at the precipice of eternity. Soon, no-one will ever suffer again - not on Qarlon, nor Earth, nor on any other world. Absolution awaits. Scripture has led us here every step of the way; your devotion, your dedication to prophecy has made this possible. Now, finally, our work of decades is almost complete. Moments stand between us and the end of all space."

__

"I want you to attach an IKEA sideboard to the drone."

Nobody said anything.

"There's one in my quarters, but you have to hurry," continued Ensign Stjernberg. "Then program the drone to fly straight into the Qarlon doomsday device."

"An IKEA sideboard?" asked Chief Engineer Mackenzie.

"Yep," replied Stjernberg. "It's made of medium-density fiberboard and has a sliding glass fascia."

"You're crazy," said Subcommander Mazandarani. "What the hell are you talking about? Is this some kind of joke?"

"There are things I know that you don't," replied the ensign. "At least I hope I do. What better options do we have? We can either take a leap of faith, or... there won't be a universe in a few minutes' time anyway. What do we have to lose?"

Nobody said anything for exactly 3.8 seconds.

"Get the fucking sideboard," sighed Mackenzie.

__

At the command of the Supreme Archon, the Space Destroyer undocked from the underside of the Qarlon flagship and began piloting itself to the predetermined coordinates, powering up as it did so.

__

Working as fast as they could and lit only by torches, Mackenzie and Mazandarani secured the sideboard to the drone with duct tape, while Ensign Stjernberg programmed the drone to lock onto the Qarlon device's power signature. They launched it from the drone hangar and watched from the window as the humble item of Scandinavian furniture hurtled across the cosmos, gradually closing in on the Space Destroyer, which was glowing white. Finally, the two collided.

__

Three weeks later, no-one really understood what had happened. The universe was still there. There had been no detonation, no fatal rupture in the fabric of spacetime. Upon the failure of their holy device, the Qarlon fleet of true believers had returned to Qarlonia, their faith shattered. As soon as it became apparent that the Qarlons' plans hadn’t come to fruition, a task force from Earth was dispatched to rescue the Sapiencia and the other Terran defense vessels. Relieved to be alive, Mazandarani didn't cut her husband's balls off - or even kick him in the balls - but she did divorce him. Captain Albacore returned to Earth as a hero, credited with saving the universe, even though he hadn't really done anything. He was all too happy to take the credit, but this wasn't out of arrogance: Ensign Stjernberg had sworn Mackenzie, Mazandarani and the Captain to secrecy about how the day had really been saved. They were the only four people in existence who knew the truth.

"I don't understand," Albacore said to Ensign Stjernberg, as they stood outside fleet HQ after the Sapiencia’s crew had been bestowed yet another honor. "How? Why? Of all the possible things... how did you know? What made you come up with such a crazy plan?"

"I never had any doubt," replied the ensign. "It's a space-saving unit."