In Concert

[Tracey Rivers]

---

Drink in hand, Tracey spent a few minutes surveying the crowd and making small talk with the other guests. This helped her pick up the local vibe and settle on a list of songs she was going to play. The people around her seemed excited to see some live music. She wished her former band was here. They played dozens of gigs together, most of them for a single-digit audience in seedy bars of New London's underbelly. Yet there were at least a hundred seats in this room. This was a larger scene than she was used to, and facing it without her friends' support felt awkward somehow.

Tracey drained her glass and put it down. It was time to get changed and do some last-minute tuning. She withdrew from the crowd that was to become her audience and disappeared into the dressing room to get ready for the show.

The next hour flew by, with more and more guests filtering in. Events like this were common on Fontana, but few of them ever had the personal endorsement of the Alliance Commander. People ordered refreshments at the bar and took their seats, slowly filling the venue to capacity. Many of them moved in groups, using the concert as a reason to hang out with their friends and catch up on the latest happenings.

The air was pierced by a feedback noise from the stage mic as the audio techs wrapped up the setup. Then they, too, disappeared backstage. One of them brought out Tracey's guitar and put it on a stand. It was a worn old thing, the red paint on its body scratched and chipped away in places.

The lights dimmed. For a moment, the room was plunged into darkness, with only starlight creeping in through the side window. The voices of the crowd quelled down to murmurs. Then the stage lights came on slowly, right as Tracey made her entrance. She stood a few inches taller now, elevated by the thick soles of her platform boots. Her stage outfit clung to her shape, a black leather vest adorned with studs and matching pants contrasting against milky skin and the scarlet lipstick accentuating her smile. A similarly studded belt and a pair of leather wristbands around her forearms completed the ensemble.

She waved at the audience as she confidently strode forward. Picking up her guitar, she slung the strap over her shoulder and approached the microphone. All traces of bashfulness apparently evaporated, leaving behind self-assured poise.

"Hello, Fontana!" she exclaimed, looking around. "Thank you all for being here tonight."

She was the centre of everyone's attention now, and everything depended on the next few moments.

"Let's make some noise, shall we?"

---