There was still time to kill before the official Darkeve festivities began.

Apollonia had tried slipping into that part of the Equator Ring earlier, but had been politely sent back out.

“The work is not yet complete,” the drone had informed her.

Angel had, of course, already wandered in.

“My dog went in, I have to get her!” Apollonia had said to the drone, trying to dart in to get a look.

But the dog had, upon hearing her name, run back excitedly.

“Well,” Apollonia said to the little happy fluffball. “I guess that won’t work.”

The idea of getting some lunch before the event had just occurred to her when she saw a walking tree.

Doing a double-take, she wondered for a moment if this was some new alien lifeform she had never even heard of when the tree turned – and she saw Urle’s face poking out of it.

He waved a branch-like arm at her, turning back to the man next to him. Apollonia realized that it was Brooks, having been so surprised by Urle that she’d scarcely noticed him or Dr. Y next to him.

She hurried over, Angel getting even more wiggly as she recognized the people, straining against the leash to reach them.

“Don’t choke yourself!” Apollonia chided the dog. But she pressed on anyway, making a ‘gack’ sound.

“Zach, I didn’t even recognize you at first,” she told Urle as she came up.

He laughed, waving his branches. They were not just clever attachments to his arms; his arms themselves were twisted and branching like actual tree limbs, with each branch apparently able to move jointlessly.

“I designed it myself,” he said proudly. “If I put the face shield on you can’t even tell I’m a person!”

“It is quite impressive,” Dr. Y said.

Apollonia looked over to the doctor, trying to figure his costume out.

“Vampire?” she guessed.

“That is correct in essence, but missing in the particulars,” Y replied happily. “However, I am content to let people guess at my costumes.”

“You’re not telling?”

“That would be far too boring,” Y replied.

“He’s Bella Lugosi,” Brooks said absently, speaking for the first time, quite distracted by whatever he was viewing on his tablet.

“Who is that?” Apollonia asked.

“Ah, Captain, how droll,” Y said with an exaggerated sigh. “Though I suppose it is a bit much to expect most people to remember an actor from 900 years ago.”

“And yet I guessed it,” Brooks said, a smile tugging his lips.

Apollonia looked over the Captain’s costume now. It was not quite what she had been expecting of an arctic explorer.

“Are you Roald Amundsen?” she asked.

“No,” Brooks replied, glancing up. “I decided to branch out this year. I’m not anyone in particular; merely an old naval Captain of the 19th century Western powers.”

“To be quite accurate,” Y chipped in. “His outfit mixes elements from several different navies, and even some from earlier centuries. It is-“

“. . . it is impressionistic,” Brooks interrupted dryly.

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“It’s quite good. I mean, everyone would recognize it immediately, and best not to attach your name to a specific figure,” Urle said. “Especially not from old imperial powers. Too much baggage.”

Y turned to look at him. “You know, on the topic of accuracy, Executive Commander, I must say I am somewhat uncertain what specific species of tree you were aiming for. Like the Captain, you have combined elements of different genera . . .”

“Oh here we go,” Urle muttered. “I’m going with the Captain on this – it’s impressionistic.”

“I see,” Y replied stiffly. “Well my first impression is that you did not consider which tree you wanted to be very much.”

“Not everyone is trying to exactly recreate specific things,” Urle replied.

Apollonia was grinning ear to ear. “Well . . . costumes aside, are you all going to come to my showing of Shark Hole 7 later?”

“How scary is it?” Urle asked. “I was thinking of bringing my girls.”

Apollonia hadn’t considered that possibility.

Really, it was not the scares that concerned her, but the gratuitous nudity . . .

But she could get the computer to edit that out.

“It’ll be fine!” she said, grinning.

“Okay, we’ll be there!” Urle said.

Y offered a stiff bow, swinging his cape in front of himself. “I will of course be present. And may I compliment you on your most wonderful sunflower.”

Apollonia laughed now. “My costume is terrible! Everyone else’s are perfect.”

“It is perfectly impressionistic,” Y told her.

Grinning, she turned to look at Brooks, who still seemed distracted. “Will you be coming, Ian?”

The sound of his first name caught his attention. “Ah, Shark Hole 7? I haven’t seen the first six, will I be able to follow the story?”

Apollonia wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. “I think you can catch the gist,” she told him.

“In that case-” His words cut off, his eyes focusing into the distance. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath. Then, in a normal voice; “Commander Cann, how can I help you?”

Apollonia had not even heard the woman approaching, which seemed a miracle when she saw her costume.

Next to Urle’s tree, Zeela’s outfit was the most impressive she’d seen.

She was a witch, but her costume was incredibly elegant; there were silk sashes and puffy shoulders, elbow-length gloves and a high collar. It was all tailored so perfectly that Apollonia almost missed the corset entirely, which gave her an hourglass-like figure that even a digital actress would be jealous of.

Dominating it all was her broad-brim hat, which was absurdly huge; it reached high into the air, with lit candles set in it.

Around her, pixies seemed to dance in the air, which Apollonia could only guess were cleverly-disguised drones.

“Dayum,” she said.

“Captain,” Cann said. “You’ve made a critical error and I’ve finally found you.”

Urle gave her a confused look. “You couldn’t find the Captain?”

Zeela gave Brooks a glare, which he pretended not to notice. “He turned off his tracking.”

“What?” Apollonia asked.

Urle laughed. “Did you really turn off your tracking? You can’t search for anyone that way, how’d you find me?”

“Old naval captains just had to find their way with a compass,” Brooks muttered. “But for you I just asked people if they’d seen a walking tree.”

“We need to discuss your speech and the leading of the parade,” Cann said, her voice almost sing-song. “You promised me last year you’d definitely do it this time!”

Brooks looked acutely uncomfortable; Apollonia could practically see his mind working, trying to find an excuse.

And he came up blank. “All right,” he said, mostly managing to hide the dejection in his voice.

“Excellent. Well, you must be at the fore, and you will need to be carrying the baton. I trust you can twirl it without dropping?”

“Is the twirling necessary?” Brooks asked quickly.

“Of course it is, it’s part of the procession ritual! You know, scaring off demons or something. I don’t know, but you should have seen old Lambert with it! He could flip it in the air and catch it.”

“I’m not doing that,” Brooks said.

“That’s okay, but you do need to smile at least!” Cann insisted.

She was like a shark, Apollonia thought. She had tasted blood in the water and was going in for the kill.

Brooks continued to listen as she described his role; it was merely ceremonial, but there was a lot of ceremony, it seemed.

His face seemed to be growing more bleak as he listened, but then a beep came from his tablet. It was an insistent sound and his expression changed immediately.

“Zeela,” he said, cutting her off. “I have to take this.”

He did not wait for a response; instead, he turned and walked away swiftly.

Zeela seemed surprised and unsure for a moment, then looked to Urle.

“Was this arranged?” she asked him, semi-seriously.

Urle laughed. “I have no idea, but I’m sure he’ll be there for the parade.”

“Well, unless something serious happens, right?” Apollonia asked. “Like with the ship.”

Zeela gave her an annoyed look, as if she had just jinxed the whole thing. “Yes, if something serious happened he would of course have to resume his normal duties. But that’s not going to happen.”

“It’ll be fine,” Urle said, still amused. “But I have things I need to do as well. I’ll see you all later.”

Apollonia hesitated a moment before asking Zeela, but decided to anyway. “Do you wanna come watch Shark Hole 7 later with us?”

“Oh no, my dear,” Cann replied, seeming perfectly pleasant again. “By that time I’ll be quite unconscious. These events are exhausting to arrange. But thank you all the same.”

Turning, she swished away, and Apollonia turned to look at Y.

“I was gonna get some lunch,” she said.

“I have very little to do,” Y replied happily. “I would be happy to join you for social reasons!”