In Concert

[Tracey Rivers]

FONTANA FREEPORT, CALIFORNIA SYSTEM, REPUBLIC OF LIBERTY

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As soon as the aging Falcon touched down on the pad and the rhythmic hum of the main engine faded into nothing, Tracey breathed a long sigh and paused for a moment to take stock. Flying did not come to her naturally, and though she was much better than when she first started, every landing after a long trip brought her relief to be on solid ground again.

So, this was Fontana. It didn't look like much from the outside, but Tracey knew such appearances were deceptive. There must have been an entire complex hidden away in this large asteroid. The bluish metal wall panels had the look of sturdy, military construction work, supported by rock and ice underneath. Through the glass, she saw a dozen different ships sitting under bright overhead lamps, some unremarkable like hers, some sporting flashy custom paint jobs. She was in one of the public docking bays, and the place was bustling with people rushing about, carrying cargo and shouting at each other. Of all places she knew, it reminded her of Halifax, but cleaner and not constantly decaying.

Tracey shook her head, took off her helmet and unbuckled herself from the pilot seat. She wasn't here to gawk, but to play music, have some fun and maybe make new friends. She smoothed her hair and clambered out of the cockpit, retrieving her travel bag and instrument case before lowering the Falcon's ramp and making her way down onto the landing pad. The air here was fresher than Tracey was used to, and she took a moment to inspect her ship. While the Falcon was unremarkable, someone spotting the small BMM serial number etched into its side could mean trouble. Or not. One never knew with shady freeports.

It didn't look like anyone had come out to greet her, and her invitation was light on details on where to go, so she wasn't in a hurry. A word with the dockmaster gave her directions to the nearby habitation section where she could secure a place to stay, and chatting with the landlord woman while checking in got her a summary of local venues that might have spots for her to perform. All that was left now was to find a stage, a changing room, and an audience.

She drew some curious looks as she wandered through the halls, her boots plinking softly against the metal floor. The sight of a small woman in a black and grey flight suit carrying a guitar case in one hand and a large bag over her shoulder was just unusual enough to be notable. People parted in front of her, and Tracey smiled and nodded at them gratefully, aware that if anybody on the station was expecting her, they might make themselves known soon. And if not, she'll find her way anyway.

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