Pelin itched at her shaven head, her sudden movement stirring the bored Shiva patrol officer into action beside her.
The patroller waved her pulser in the air with a waggle of her thick eyebrows, a reminder for Pelin not to try anything. Across the lab, a high-collared lab assistant busied herself snipping Pelin's shorn lengths of hair with fine scissors and tipping the pieces into a huge round-bottomed flask lined with boiling chips.
Midori lay curled on a stretcher in the far corner of the lab, another Shiva patrol officer's pulser pointed at her face. A third patroller sat alongside Midori's stretcher, tossing a pulser from hand to hand.
Pelin didn't understand why frail and sickly Midori had two patrollers guarding her. Why did the Alliance fear her potential escape more than they did Pelin's? Pelin had chloros in her blood, yet it still seemed to be all about Midori.
Pelin cursed it all. Attempting to send Midori away on the freighter had pushed her deeper into peril, and had focussed the Alliance's efforts. Despite having rendered her non-viable, the Alliance were still bent on chasing Midori to the ends of the Universe.
A shrill buzz cut the air of the room as a lab assistant approached Midori with a set of hair-clippers. Midori began to struggle, the two patrollers gripping her arms. Pelin winced as the lab assistant put the blades to Midori's forehead and shaved a clean stripe straight through her centre-parting. Beautiful black tresses fluttered to the ground as she manoeuvred Midori's head back and forth to gain access, until every last perfect strand had fallen to the lab floor.
Silent tears flowing, Pelin's hand itched for her knife in her boot.
The thick-eyebrowed patroller approached closer. "You'll be pleased to hear that General-four got her eye back. And as for this," she held aloft a lump of brown wood, "I think we'll sell this in the Markets. Looks like Earth-wood."
In the chaos of their retrieval by the Alliance warship, the hairbrush's green buds had been snapped off, leaving black rotten knots. Most of the brush-pins had been lost. The patroller picked at the last withered bud on the ash handle. It came away from the wood like peeled skin. She inspected it with distaste and flicked it onto the floor.
"I'm sorry, Yildiz," Pelin whispered under her breath. She asked herself what Midori would do. Then, she let out a poorly-suppressed snort. "Sell it. See what you get."
A wave of irritation passed over the patroller's face. She eyed the broken hairbrush with suspicion before tossing it across the lab floor. Its skidding journey was halted by Midori's stretcher, the final brush-pins popping off and skittering away into crevices in the floor's steel sheeting.
The patroller slumped back onto her chair and, like her colleagues sitting opposite her, she too began the idle game of tossing her pulser from palm to palm.
Midori lay weeping and clutching at her shaven head while the lab assistant swept the black locks into a bag.
The chief patroller motioned to her colleagues. "Take her to the cells."
"No!" Pelin rose up from the floor. "She's sick! She needs me!"
The three patrollers locked their pulsers onto Pelin in unison, their fingers twitching as she very slowly resumed her prone position on the floor.
"Commander's orders. Outlaws are kept in the cells."
Outlaws. The escapees from Earth who couldn't afford to colonise on Alliance-terraformed planetoids. Even in outer space, the Bottom Billion were kept at the bottom.
"She's not an Outlaw! She's an Alliance navigator!"
"She lied to you, Madame General-thirteen," the patroller spat. "I bet you loved that she was a Verdant National. Did it give you a thrill to touch her? Is that how she got you to commit treason for her?"
Pelin lunged at the woman, her teeth bared. The two patrollers rushed from their positions by Midori and barrelled into Pelin, wrestling her to the ground.
The thick-browed patroller guffawed into her pulser-hand. "The Outlaws are all dying anyway. Loitering on the edges of the galactic arm, as if there's any hope of finding a good planet without the Alliance's terraforming programme. Stupid to think that they can live without the Alliance. They'll be rounded up, or will suffocate like the Karinja." The patroller waved a pulser at Midori. "Now take her before either of them try anything. They're both good at escaping."
"No! She's sick!" The sight of Midori being hauled up by patrollers had Pelin sucking in ragged breaths. This was surely to be the last time they'd ever see each other. She clutched at her hair, her fingers raking across her scalp when she realised that she had no hair left. "Midori!"
Midori mouthed a silent "Go" as she struggled against the patroller, who clasped a meaty hand around her wrists like they were nothing but twine.
Pelin could do nothing but watch as the two patrollers dragged Midori towards the lab doors. "Midori! I love you!"
It was fleeting, but Pelin caught it. A little smile curled Midori's lips a touch. She still had hope. A plan. But Pelin had no idea how she'd execute even the simplest of plans when separated from Midori by three floors of labs, and with pulsers trained on her from all sides.
Pelin was led to a makeshift affair of a cell, nothing but a laboratory storage room with a stretcher in one corner and a bucket in the other. No convenient service corridors, no hackable iris detectors, no ceiling vents.
No escape.
§
It was over. For Pelin, for Midori, and for whatever Outlaws remained alive. She hated the word, just as she hated the phrase Bottom Billion. A cruel epithet given by the wealthiest on Earth to the poorest, only to be replaced by another once Earth had been abandoned.
Pelin wracked her brains to fathom what Midori could have meant by that enigmatic smile as she'd been led to the cells. Was she giving Pelin instructions of some kind? The last time Pelin had locked eyes with Midori, something hadn't been right about the lab. Something had been missing from the picture.
Then, she remembered. The hairbrush had disappeared from its resting place under Midori's stretcher. Midori had a plan. Their last plan. Their last chance. If only Pelin knew what the plan was.
Perhaps Midori had simply taken the desecrated hairbrush as a memento. Perhaps her smile had been to soothe Pelin's anger, to discourage her from adding more to the growing list of crimes she'd committed. Trial for treason, a court-martial, or even banishment were all a more humane fate than the one that awaited her: being drained and harvested until she was nothing but a dry husk in a General's uniform. And nothing hurt more than the fate of never seeing Midori again.
The melodious beeps of a keypad, and a woman in Alliance uniform entered, assessing the room with quick darts of her eyes. The pretty Agent with the scar, from General-four's team. Pelin still couldn't remember her ID number.
Pelin threw herself at the woman's feet. "She's not an Outlaw! Please! You have to help her! She's sick-"
"Put these on, quickly." The Agent offered Pelin a bundle of clothes, dull and brown, perhaps what the sellers wore in the Markets of Shiva-twelve. "We don't have much time, Madame."
Suspicion replaced panic. Pelin eyed the bundle. "Are...are you helping me, Agent three...zero..?"
"Agent 302. Quickly!" She shook the folded wad of brown in front of Pelin's face. "I'll explain all once we get out of the labs. Please trust me. I want to help you. You and her. Now, keep your head covered all times. They'll be looking out for two shaven-headed women."
They made their way through the brightly-lit corridors that criss-crossed the Shiva-twelve National Complex, 302 calling Pelin Priyanka every other sentence and prattling about colony land purchase protocols. For such a softly-spoken woman, she was an expert at playing the exuberant speaker, gesturing with desperate eyes for Pelin to do the same despite the fact that only a few lab assistants and the occasional patroller hurried past them.
"Why is it so quiet here?" whispered Pelin, pulling at her too-short sleeves and adjusting her jacket's hood low over her face.
"They're getting ready for Agent 301's treason trial," 302 whispered back, before adopting her boisterous persona again, adding, "And we'll be colonising the Owl Nebula next. There's a discount if you take part in the colonisation trials."
"But she's not an Outlaw!" Pelin hissed, before hastily twisting her lips up into a painted-on smile as two officers approached them in the corridor. Her turn to play the loud tourist. "Why save my hard-earned Rupees for a hectare in the Owl Cluster when there may be a better-terraformed system for sale soon?"
The two officers paid them no notice and passed out of earshot down the corridor. Pelin continued to whisper-plead Midori's case to 302 as they approached the security checkpoint at the lab's entrance.
"Her parents were Verdant-fifteen colonists. Maybe even her grandparents. She can't be an Outlaw."
"Please, Madame. I'll explain soon."
Agent 302 hugged the checkpoint guard and asked after her mother's health, before offering her a seat in the public gallery at the Outlaw treason trial the next day. It was all Pelin could do not to lunge at 302 with her knife.
"Madame Priyanka here," 302 smiled graciously at Pelin, "was at the Owl Nebula colony presentation. The other clients should be out within the hour."
"Lucky you, Madame. The two biggest planets in the Owl's main system are apparently very Earth-like," said the guard. "Now, I'm sorry to ask, but please could you turn out your pockets for a security check?"
Agent 302 stiffened behind the guard, her wide eyes locked onto Pelin's hood. Pelin deftly grabbed at her empty jacket pockets and turned out the fabric with a smile, hoping that the guard wouldn't follow protocol to the letter and ask her to remove her hood.
The guard checked Pelin's pockets, and, after a pause that lasted an eternity, turned back to 302.
"You coming to the treason trial tomorrow? Would be nice to see some action around here."
302 raised her eyebrows in agreement before gliding through the National Complex's doors with a smile, Pelin stumbling after her.
The fragrant smell of street-food and the starlit wonder of the Shiva-twelve Markets reminded Pelin of night-time walks in Arasta Bazaar with Yildiz. Hastily-built steel sheeting separated the sprawling clusters of shops, and tall winding walls of flowery shrubs separated the Markets' different quarters into myriad castle-like enclosures, each selling food, clothes, plants, spacecraft parts, and more.
302 led Pelin to the dingy stall of a samosa vendor. Instead of buying food, she sidled past the stall's wooden backing and peeled back a faded curtain. It covered a hole in the wall of shrubbery that separated one Market quarter from another. 302 crept into the leafy tunnel, beckoning Pelin to enter before checking that the curtain was replaced behind the stall.
A few twists and turns through the winding wall of green, and they emerged in a house of sorts, consisting of a single room with a bed, a shower and a rudimentary kitchen.
Pelin had been dressed up, given instructions, and led through the Markets with no knowledge of who was helping her. She needed answers. She flicked open the panel in her boot and snatched up her knife before rounding on 302, pinning her to a grimy wall with the blade at her throat.
"Where are we, 302?"
302's pulse fluttered at her neck, the press of the tiny knife almost nicking her skin. "This is a safe place for Outlaws. Only we know of it."
"You're an Outlaw? But you're in the thirtieth cohort!"
"You don't have to be from Earth to be an Outlaw. All we want is to colonise freely and not harm the Karinja."
Pelin stalked backwards across the room, her knife still held high. "How did you open the door of my cell? There were no iris scanners and only Shiva-twelve patrollers know the keypad codes."
302 raised her hands to her face, her fingers ghosting over her scar. Beads of sweat had formed at her lip. "I have full access to Shiva Labs. I...I was born here on Shiva-twelve. And...my mother is the Commander."
302 was the daughter of the Commander? Then why had she been on the Miranda, risking death at the hands of the Karinja when she could have been safe and staring into a lightscreen in a cosy office on Shiva-twelve?
"If your mother is the Commander, why didn't she call you back here when you were injured?"
302 ran trembling fingertips over her scar again, then screwed her eyes tight as if shutting out a terrifying vision. Perhaps she relived the Karinja ambush of the Miranda multiple times a day.
"My name is Salma-"
"No! Don't tell me! You're the Commander's daughter, harbouring a criminal. Don't make this more complicated by telling me your name!"
Agent 302, Salma, laughed. "Everyone knows me precisely because I am the Commander's daughter."
"Why are you helping me?"
"Your woman, Agent 301, is one of us. She began to communicate with the Outlaws after her parents died. She seemed to lose interest in Verdant-fifteen and kept applying for transfers to the larger colonies, perhaps because those tend to have Outlaw factions."
That Midori was an Outlaw didn't surprise Pelin. Of course Midori would have wanted the Karinja to be saved. And of course she'd wanted to leave the Verdants, Pelin thought. She had nobody to touch.
"To secure a place as an Outlaw, she offered to join the Alliance Academy, which was no mean feat. Training, examinations, fieldwork. She was the top trainee. The best in our cohort. All the time she was secretly transmitting intelligence about Karinja colonies, terraforming missions, and other Alliance strategies. If 301 was in the command line for a project, that project file went to the Outlaws."
"How do you know all this?"
"My mother assigned me to the Miranda to collect intelligence on 301. Until...she had an accident during navigation training. I don't know what happened to her, but suddenly the transmissions to the Outlaws stopped. And she was assigned to you as a navigator. I saw her in the General's medical bay sometimes. She always looked half-dead. I assume that they must have done something to her as punishment for giving up Alliance secrets. I never understood why they didn't put her on trial immediately, make an example of her. Despite having collected the intelligence on her, I'm not in the command line for knowing why she's useful to the Alliance."
"I know why they want her. But I can't tell you."
The real question was why 302 would risk all to help Midori? Could it be a sisterly act to a member of her own cohort-family, just like Ash had risked his career to help Pelin?
"You haven't told me why you're helping me. Your mother is the Commander. You're risking everything."
"I...I got hurt." Salma traced a finger over her scar. "When I got hit by the Karinja I asked my mother if I could be taken off colonisation trials. She said no. I wasn't...working efficiently. I begged to come back to Shiva-twelve. My mother...said no. So, I defected. I want to help the last of the Karinja escape beyond the spiral arm before they're exterminated."
"But...the Karinja hurt you."
Salma shrugged. "We hurt them first. When I saw you in stolen Medical clothes, I didn't recognise you. But then you said that your ID was 255. It didn't make sense. Agent 255 had been dead for five years. Then I realised who you were: Agent 251, the terraformer. And I knew straight away that you loved 301 so much that you wanted to help her to escape. Or perhaps, to see her one last time. What madness to dress as a Medic just to be with your woman for a few moments before you're thrown into the brig." She ran a finger over her scar. Pelin could see her pain. The pain of watching Pelin care for Midori when her own mother refused to care for her. "Maybe it's not madness..."
"Then help us to escape tonight, before tomorrow's trial."
"My mission on the Miranda was to help the Outlaws. They can't terraform. Who knows how long it will take to find a watery, naturally-oxygenated planetoid? They can't afford many superluminal craft to search properly, so they'll eventually die before they find a home. You're the Alliance's best terraformer. Help the Outlaws to terraform in territories away from the Karinja homelands, and I'll help you to save your woman."
Pelin knew exactly what the Outlaws needed. Midori's hair from Shiva Labs. Pelin's hair too. Pelin would steal every shorn lock of hair if it would help the Outlaws to escape the Alliance.
"I can get a huge supply of Amine X for the Outlaws. It terraforms planets within weeks. The question is, how do we get my woman out of her cell?"
"I have a plan, but you must trust me."
After a day of torment and danger, and the possibility of never seeing Midori again, Pelin couldn't hold back her tears. "I don't know who to trust. I've tried to keep her safe so many times. I can't lose her again and again."
"Then this is your last chance. And with the Outlaws helping, this time it's bound to work."
Pelin brushed away tears. "I hope."
-------------------
Author's Notes:
This week's prompts (final week):
11. The last one.
14. Last chance.
15. This time it's bound to work...you hope.