“Markus, I know it’s difficult to understand, but the Empire is falling to the Endplague. It’s far too dangerous to cont—”
“Then why the fuck are we building a stargate, anyway? What are we even doing here?” He was sobbing as his body went numb.
The glow slowly disappeared, as did Markus’s now-sleeping form.
“I transported him to his bed,” Aunty Floresta said. “In the morning, he’ll think this night was a dream.”
The boy was still a boy, but he was quickly maturing. Even his normal adolescent outbursts would be difficult to control. But if this developed into the Endplague …
As if Lanny didn’t have enough to worry about.
Why are we building a stargate? Floresta herself wondered that from time to time. Officially, they were building it for the gamma ray burst, but since they were safe and far from the Empire, was it really necessary anymore?
However, Lanny was the captain, and the captain did not have to explain all of her decisions. And the girl might make her mistakes, but Floresta was certain of this: everything Lan Tran did was for the family.
Since Markus was asleep, Lan put on her apron and went upstairs to take over his shift. She relieved Shirley and Edwin, who were helping the few customers that were there.
She looked out the window, into the sky. She remembered times like this on the starship, when everything was seemingly peaceful.
Yet, for the captain of a starship, or a donut shop, there was always research to do, courses to chart, crew reports to read. Even the smallest discrepancies needed to be located, then remedied before they became serious problems.
Lan Tran remembered how the store was with the Thamavuongs. On warm summer nights, people from the neighborhood would queue into the parking lot for yeast donuts, cake donuts, bear claws, their special Mexican chocolate crullers, and good old-fashioned sour creams.
The Thamavuongs had told her she might sell out early on Saturday, and when that happened, she should make second and third batches, because a heavy crowd on Saturday always meant Sunday would be busy, too. The Thamavuongs had told her that the reason people kept coming back to the Big Donut was that the taste was welcoming and familiar.
Lan had thought that one could not get more familiar than exact copies from a replicator. The sprinkled donuts were identical down to the last sprinkle.
But the full racks of cold éclairs and maple bars didn’t lie.
And then there was Markus. What was she going to do about him? When he woke up in the morning, he’d think this was a dream. A nightmare.
But, as Lan knew all too well, nightmares always return.
* * *
“Shizuka, Shizuka, Shizuka,” Tremon chuckled. “You’re still the Queen of Hell.”
The two of them were at a French patisserie in Arcadia. Tremon sipped his coffee and tasted the mille-feuille. He put his fork down and applauded.
“This is wonderful. My compliments to the ma?tre patissier.”
“I’ll tell him. And yes, he studied in Paris at Len?tre.” The server smiled and scurried away.
“And to you, Shizuka, as well. I doubt that I could have done better with her.” He inhaled another bite of pastry. “So fresh, so sweet. Damning souls can be such thankless work. They plead, they curse—even though they swore they would do anything for fame.”
Tremon pointed with his fork.
“But trust the Queen of Hell to find a grateful transgender runaway from an abusive home. Ha! Talk about paying your debts on the cheap.”
Before Shizuka could reply, a spotless Asian man came out and greeted Tremon in fluent French. Tremon’s eyes widened, and they had a long animated conversation, which ended with Tremon getting up from his chair and patting the chef on the back.
The pastry chef smiled and strode proudly away.
“With his skills, this man could be working in Europe,” the demon declared. “But I suppose it’s like music. You can find gems in the most improbable places. You are quite the priceless gem yourself, remember?”
“Ah, Tremon, that was a long time ago.”
He snorted. “Silly girl. Your music is timeless. The world will love to hear you play again.”
For a moment, the Queen of Hell did not know what to say.
“So, shall we give her the bow and sign the deal? I believe we have more than enough to work with.”
“I still have six months, Tremon,” Shizuka said suddenly.
“Is there an issue?”
“Of course not. This is my soul we’re discussing. But we have time. And besides, wouldn’t you like a more polished product?”