The Ferry.

The kitchen light in the ferry terminal café flickered twice before settling into a dull yellow glow.

Adrian Cross noticed it while stirring sugar into a paper cup of coffee. The flicker lasted less than a second, but it drew his eye because everything else in the terminal seemed normal. Business travelers checked phones. Families clustered around luggage. A television mounted above the counter played a muted news broadcast.

The captions beneath the anchor moved too quickly to read.

A woman behind Adrian muttered into her phone.

"No, I know what they said. I'm telling you that's not what happened."

Her voice carried an edge that made him glance back. The call ended before he could hear more.

Outside the terminal windows, emergency vehicles raced along the waterfront road. Blue lights flashed against the steel hull of the ferry waiting at the dock.

The sirens faded into the distance. Nobody seemed particularly concerned.

The departure board still showed ON TIME.

Adrian checked his watch. Fifteen minutes until boarding. He drank his coffee and watched another ambulance speed past.

A maintenance engineer learned quickly which problems deserved attention.

Most didn't.

People panicked over small things every day. The world kept turning.

A loudspeaker announced boarding. Passengers began gathering their bags.

The ferry was called the Starlight Channel, a broad white vessel designed to carry hundreds of people and dozens of vehicles across the water separating two nations.

Adrian joined the line. The smell of diesel drifted through the cool morning air.

Seagulls wheeled overhead. Dock workers shouted instructions.

Everything looked ordinary.

Yet as he crossed the gangway, he noticed two police officers speaking with a ferry supervisor.

Their expressions were tense. One officer pointed toward the city. The supervisor looked pale. Then the officers left.

The ferry horn sounded. Boarding continued.

By the time Adrian found a seat near the observation lounge, the terminal had already begun shrinking behind them.

The city spread across the shoreline beneath low clouds. Traffic crawled along the harbor roads. Emergency lights flashed in several locations now. More than before.

A young man dropped into the seat across from him. He immediately began scrolling through videos on his phone.

"What a mess."

Adrian looked up. The man angled the screen toward him.

A shaky recording showed people running through a crowded street.

Someone screamed. The camera jerked. Then the video ended.

"Riot?" Adrian asked.

The young man shrugged.

"Maybe. There are clips everywhere."

He opened another video. This one lasted only a few seconds. A crowd surged around an overturned police car. People appeared to be fighting. One person tackled another and continued striking them long after they stopped moving.

The footage cut away.

"Looks bad."

The man nodded.

"Really bad."