The morning rush of customers came so quickly, Tolly had very little time to readjust. It had been close to three years since she'd worked a full day in the cafe, yet here she was back like nothing had changed.

  Around five in the morning, every seat was full. A line of customers extended from the counter all the way out the door. Tolly was surprised. Proud, even. When she had worked the counter last, the crowds had never reached the size it did today. It seemed Blane hadn't been exaggerating in her last message she'd sent months before the accident.

  Blane had asked Tolly if she would help out in the morning rush and, not wanting to wallow in her head anymore, she got to work behind the counter filling beverage orders. With only a few dropped cups and a handful of forgotten orders, she slowly began to get back into the rhythm. With each press of the tamper, each knock of the spent grounds into the compost, each order filled and handed to a waiting face, she found a sort of solace in the repetition.

  The streets outside the bay window were exceptionally decorated today, to a level Tolly had never seen before. Folks lined the boulevard with banners, bunting and flowers with federation blues and greens. There were larks, automated aerial drones, darting across in every direction. Children ran a hectic maze of workers on their way to shift in the factories. Tolly was amazed at just how electric the feeling in the air was.

  Windswept streamers littered the city streets from end to end of the Libourne district. There were banners in marvellous blues and greens spanning the spaces between buildings. The Federation flag was planted at every street corner or alleyway in a revelrous display of union adorned with the herd sigil, a proud elephant conjoined with sixteen stars. Through the cafe bay window, Tolly watched as citizens wrapped in their finest dress passed by.

  Tolly knew the people passing by were on their way just north of here, to Kingsborough, Risen’s central district, where the real festivities were taking place.

  There hadn't been a Parade like this before, at least not since Tolly was too young to remember. An irregular holiday reserved solely for the meeting of two factions of the Federation, today's Parade promised to be something spectacular. Not that Tolly would see much of it.

  “Hey! Are you okay?” Lola, one of Blane's new hires, tried to get Tolly's attention.

  The pain was instant. Tolly yelped and dropped the coffee that she'd just allowed to overflow onto her fingers. The cup dropped onto the floor. Thankfully it was paper this time. The customer whose order Tolly had spoiled tried their best not to look dishevelled.

  “Everything alright in there?” Blane said, swinging her head in from the back room.

  “Peachy, sis!” Tolly said. Lola just rolled her eyes and turned to serve another customer.

  As if on queue, a pack of military types pushed past the line and in the door, just as Tolly was popping her head back above the counter.

  Each of them was immaculately dressed. Every member of the cohort was striking, man or woman. They wore the jackets of Federation fleet officers, something Tolly had only seen in pictures. Their jackets, a vibrant emerald in colour, donned feathery epaulettes, some more than others.

  One male officer, who Tolly supposed was the group leader from the count of his epaulettes, stood out from the rest. The officer was gorgeous and somehow familiar. His chiselled jaw, olive skin, and curtly trimmed onyx black hair was a strange sight to see on a relatively undiverse backwater like Bordeaux. He looked like a classical marble bust that one could see at a museum depicting a heroic figure.

  That’s when she put it together. The man that had strode in had been at Groen’s funeral. But why was he here?

  A tap came on her shoulder.

  Tolly turned to see Lola, displeased as ever.

  “A large laté, no froth,” said Lola, handing her an empty cup. Tolly suddenly realised she had been staring. The hero gave her a polite nod, a subtle smirk on his face.

  The pack of officers lined up at the checkout, displacing the customers that had been waiting. Not surprisingly, the other customers gladly gave their places in line. All but one of the officers lined up and started ordering while The Hero broke off and headed for the far end of the counter.

  “Large laté—” began Lola.

  “On it!” Tolly said begrudgingly.

  “Gods…” Lola muttered just loud enough for Tolly to hear.

  When The Hero reached the counter, he was greeted by a waiting Blane. Tolly raised an eyebrow. She seemed joyful to see him, leaning over the counter to give him a kiss. The smile Blane bore at that moment was contagious, and Tolly caught herself smiling.

  Searing pain rang again as more hot liquid flowed over her fingers.

  “Gods dammit!” Tolly wailed, spilling the cup onto the counter. Blane and The Hero looked over at her. A warm red filled her cheeks.

  “Miss Ignacio–!” Lola said from behind her. “Miss Ignacio, can you please dismiss the Captain!”

  Tolly flipped and glared at her, her embarrassment suddenly switching to dull rage.

  “Fine, fine. Sorry Trolley, it looks like you're not cut out for this anymore.” Blane said, politely brushing her aside and beginning to operate the coffee machine. “Just please, go keep Soren company. And be nice.”

  Tolly nodded, slightly relieved not to have to make another cup of coffee. Soren, The Hero, waved meekly from the end of the counter. She waved back.

  “Did I hear the other lady say Captain just now?” said Soren, his thinly masked Slavic accent showing through.

  “Yeah… yes, you did. Captain for three weeks now. Although recently shipless.” She smiled sardonically.

  “Congratulations, I’m a captain myself. Captain Soren Djucovik of the Winterspell,” he said, nonchalantly.

  “I’ve heard of it. I hope your ship has better luck than my Perun,” she said.

  “So you know your ships,” he said, “tell me, ever considered getting a command on one of your own? You are a captain, after all.”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Tolly looked back, bemused. She didn't know how to answer that. The truth is, she's never actually considered it.

  “Not sure my record is worth repeating,” she said.

  He nodded. It was apparent he didn't want to get into that. Or maybe he already knew. Instead, he said, “your sister's happy to have you home.”

  He did know. Suddenly Tolly felt self-conscious. Would everyone she met for the rest of her existence just know the events of the worst day of her life?

  “It's okay,” he said after a moment. “I promise it gets easier.”

  He was looking into her eyes. And he knew. And he was trying to console her? It gets easier?

  “I don't know how–” Tolly started, “but if you–”

  “Don't worry. I won't go around telling anyone if that's what you're worried about.” Soren said.

  “Well, I wasn't,” she snorted; an obvious lie.

  “What did you mean, it gets easier?”

  “Well,” he started, then paused to take a sip from the mug Blane had slid over to him. “To be honest, I've lost a few ships in my years with the Flock. Shit, more than a few.”

  “What I mean to say is it gets easier to live with. Give it time. It won't seem so fresh soon enough.”

  “Tolly,” Blane asked, “mind if I speak to you over here for a second?”

  Tolly shrugged. She gave Soren a slight nod farewell.

  “Treat her right, Captain,” she said to Soren.

  “Wouldn't wish it the other way, earth be my witness. Captain,” he said, returning the nod.

  “Tolly. Are you really feeling alright?” Blane asked. There was worry in her eyes.

  “Yes. Yes, I'm fine,” she lied, “just a slight unused to being back serving customers.”

  “If you're sure...” Blane said. Tolly could tell Blane wanted to ask her something, and she knew what that something was.

  “You have my permission,” Tolly said, smiling sardonically. “Soren seems like a decent enough boy. Stop worrying about me and go have fun for yourself for once.”

  “Soren and I are just going to dinner and to take in some of the Parade. I should be back by midnight.”

  “Don't come home early on my account. I'll be fine. I am a big-time captain.”

  “I've called Connor,” Blane said, taking her apron and pushing her towards the door. “He's on his way over. You need to get out; enjoy the Parade.”

  The roads into Kingsborough were largely blocked by citizens trying to squeeze their way closer to the day's festivities.

  An irregular planetwide, Parade was a holiday marking the arrival of a Federation Flock in-system. The event usually lasted up to an ES – or Earth Standard – week, or the length of a local week in some cases.

  Along the city streets, vast pop-up trade markets had been set up, bringing a wide variety of trade goods sold by traders from all over the Federation and from the Terran Sovereignty, a neighbouring human nation of worlds much larger than the Federation, and from the Vass, an alien species dedicated solely to marketeering, near exclusively with the human race.

  There were fliers plastered about advertising various sporting events and artistic demonstrations. Tolly received several solicitations for tickets for the upcoming sepak match on her private bulletins, The Cattleheart Alders facing off against The Risen City Eniks.

  There were several less popular events such as the Odeeni fire dancers, a troupe of travelling acrobats from outside the Federation, Vasser harp singing, and a beer garden featuring a selection of rare Akavori wines. The attractions, exciting as they may be, all culminating in the main event, the Parade itself.

  The Parade began at midday. Connor and Tolly had found a decent enough spot at the corner of Broad Street and Darby. As the first of the floats started to roll by, Tolly began to lose herself in the revelry of the crowd.

  The first of the floats came into sight from around a bend in Broad Street. It was a tawdry facsimile of the Matriarch's throne room, complete with Matriarch Lathe herself and her aides waving to the masses.

  Behind the Matriarch followed the local Defence Force. General Antoine Gerard walked ahead of a brigade of troopers in full combat gear, vehemently waving the Federation flag. Flanking the troopers on either side, citizenry support-staff bore flags of each of the sixteen nation-states represented under Federation rule. Each was smiling with unmistakable pride.

  Several dozen more floats passed by on their way to complete a full circuit of the central streets of Kingsborough, including floats for the Farmers’ Lodge, Risen’s own police force – the RBP, the Academy, and the Order of Medics. At the end of the march and capping the procession, Matriarch Miran-Yi Nagoya’s float and tribute to the Cattleheart flock bore an ancient bonsai of red oak.

  As the last of the floats turned out of sight, Tolly turned to Connor.

  “I needed that, you know?” she said.

  “Figured you might,” he said. “Me too.”

  “Well, want to take in a match of sepak? I haven’t seen one in ages. Least not in person,” Tolly asked.

  “Might as well, the way they've been bombarding our private channels. Act now before the best seats are gone,” he said, mimicking the broadcasts.

  “Please,” he continued. “Like I wouldn't already have tickets.”

  “You're plain? Gods! What row are we!” An ecstatic Tolly beamed.

  “Shit, there's no hope in rotten old earth I'd miss a match against the Alders. Well, now hold on, I didn't say I'd gotten you a ticket. Did I?”

  She punched him in the gut.

  “Hoh!” He squealed, handing her a ticket.

  “Thanks very much!” Tolly grinned.

  “Anything for my Captain.” He said, still out of breath. The last comment made her cringe a bit, the back of her brain urging her to relive the accident. Panic started to roil in her stomach.

  No, she thought, not today. Tolly pushed it to the back of her mind and locked it away.

  “And now I've gone an’ made myself sad,” Connor said in realisation.

  “Come on, Chief Henrick,” she said. “This diversion isn't over yet.”

  The two-headed off toward the stadium.

  Ternor Stadium—so named for the discoverer of Bordeaux's Folly, Captain Relibus Ternor—was closer still to the downtown core. On the central-most district known as Citadella, the stadium was one of only two buildings, the other being The Spire itself. As Tolly and Connor filed into the open-air stadium, she could see the kilometre high Spire plastered in white ivory, glimmering as a skyward spear. The thing was blinding.

  The two took their seats as the match began. A holographic overscreen switched on, blanketing away the shine of the Spire above. Tolly suspected that was for the players’ sake more than the spectators’.

  The match started as Arran Werui, stealer for the Eniks’ served the rattan over the net. One set up by the Alders’ setter, and the ball was greeted with a vengeance by their striker, Greggor Jhaks. The ball sailed unhindered into the floor.

  “–And a fine roll-spike by Jhaks!” one announcer bellowed on the loudspeaker.

  The holo overscreen above had changed to read a score one-nil for the away team.

  “A-a-a-and a fine match this is already turning into.” Another announcer said, this one with a thick accent like Soren's. “I expected that powerful roll kick to make an appearance but never in my wildest fantasies would I have guessed this soon into the first set.”

  “Right you are, Bob,” the loudmouth announcer said, “let's just see if the Eniks can recover.”

  Tolly turned to Connor. He was so happy, so engrossed with the match. He was standing and continued to stand for the rest of the match.

  This had been the best day so far since the accident, and Tolly could feel herself letting go. Relax, she told herself, enjoy this.

  She stood, turned to face Connor and kissed him.

  This caught Connor off guard, evident by his wide eyes and limp lips. After an awkward few seconds, and to Tolly's relief, he returned the kiss.

  After the initial discomfort, the kiss wasn't half bad. A bit wet, Tolly would admit, but the passion was there. She'd had feelings for Connor ever since The Academy, ever since their first conversation on a campus bench. The time had never seemed right, or she had never felt like she deserved such a kind-hearted person like Connor, but gods be damned. Here she was, in this very moment, in this stadium, surrounded by countless people. It felt like it would last forever.

  There was hope back in Tolly's world. And just when everything seemed perfect, when nothing could possibly spoil the moment, alarms sounded.

  There was an indescribable strangeness to the air. The people in the crowd stopped cheering almost at once, as each of them sensed something ahead of them. Tolly felt it on her skin, the weakest force urging her out of her seat. Tolly looked out across the stadium seats to the other side of the pitch.

  Wind paced by her with such ferocity as it rushed to fill the void that it nearly forced her over the railing ahead of her. Connor grabbed her, a haunted look on his face.

  Then with a flash, the crowd she had been staring out at fell from existence. Tolly stood from her seat, unsure of what she was looking at. Half the stadium before her, along the rows of seating, food stands, and every person was gone; now only a massive semi-circular pit separated the remaining players and what was left of the grassy pitch from the city streets.