Shiden~

It's dawn and everyone, including me, is helping pack our cloth and spools of yarn and thread into battered crates. 

"Come on, guys, we should get going," I say. I pile in another hank of yarn into the box and plunk it onto the pallet on the back of our trike. Everyone helps, bringing their crates to the pallet too. I climb up onto the pallet and stack the crates up to my five-foot-four eye level.

Putting out my hand, I lift a few kids onto the trike with me. "Okay, Hope, Nisha, Lito... who else is coming?" They all shake their heads. I understand -- even though the market is fun, it's going to be really hot out on the desert today, and almost everyone went last week already, because there was a festival. Too much marketgoing can get boring. "Okay," I tell them, "remember to stay inside; it's really hot. Check the vaporators, because we're really going to need that water. I'll try to bring back as much food and fiber as we can bargain for. See you tonight!"

Hope, Nisha, and Lito settle into the trike and help me pedal as we travel across the hot, dusty desert.  

-Thompson-

"Did you see their faces?"

"Priceless." 

"Like she could've taken me, with that piece of junk. What'dya think it was- a Mark I?"

"And that little beggar, sitting over there quivering, like; 'Please don't hurt me mister Enforcer man! I'm just a stupid helpless kid!'"

The group erupts in laughter. I feel my fingers curling into fists, and stop, forcing myself to relax, trying to continue with my original task of checking all of our equipment. Which, of course, should have been done by all of us before we even left base twelve, but I don't complain. It better for it to not be checked at all than to let those buffoons try to fumble around with the inner workings of machinery. 

"If you wouldn't have swooped in, Parker, you know what I would've done? I would've-"

"Enough, Roberts," My heart skips a beat when I realize that these words were actually spoken out loud, and worse, by me. Was I an idiot? Why on Earth would I think it was a good idea to challenge a vehicle full of armed, violent, unintelligent goons?

The group is silent for a moment.

"What was that, Tommy?" Asks Roberts, rising from is seat and elbowing his way through the group.

"Nothing," I mumble, shaking my head and running my finger along a particularly unsightly scratch on the grip of O'shannen's pistol.

"'Cause it sounds to me like you've started to forget your place in this division. Like you think your Captain, or somethin'. Is that what you think, Tommy?"

"It's our job to keep thing quiet, and calm. To weed out aggressive people who might spark a revolution. Not to attack civilians." 

Everyone waits, nervously, until Roberts laughs, and then they follow.

"Why, they were aggressive! That girl was attacking me! I tried to hold her back, but she pulled out a weapon, and though my heart ached to do so, I-"

I cut him off, completely abandoning any attempts to keep my head down, though I think that ship sailed a while ago. "What I saw was big idiot with a gun bullying a little girl, who as soon as real competition came, conveniently made his exit. Why you're bragging and guffawing about it, I don't know, but whatever makes you feel more manly, I suppose."

(If RPs had chapters, this would be the end of one)

(Next chapter)

Directer Martin Hile shuffled some papers, coughed, and looked at me.

"Would you like to tell me, Thompson, how the fight began?"

"No, sir."

He sighed and rubbed his temples. He had violent purple smudges under his eyes, and his voice was tired. "That was rhetorical, Thompson. Now, I've had a long day, and I'm not feeling particularly patient at the moment. I'm only going to tell you this one more time. Spill the beans."

"I can't-"

A stern look was enough to cut off my sentence, without verbal reprimand. Hile was good at that.

"I insulted Roberts' manliness, sir," I say, hoping he'll let me leave it at that. While Inkblot Technologies (or Ink, as it is commonly referred to) doesn't have a strict policy against harming civilians, harming fellow agents is frowned upon heavily, and harshly punished. If I tell on Roberts, he may not be able to retaliate, but his friends will, and while they in turn will be punished, that won't mean anything to me, I assure you, if their enmity is half as undesirable as I think it to be.

"Did you have a particular reason?"

"He attacked a civilian girl, sir. A young one."

"I see," said Hiles didn't seem very surprised or unhappy about the information. "And did he or any other officer attack you for this insult?" 

"No," I say promptly.

"Thompson, you have a black eye, a split wrist, and a generally bruised look about you. Answer me again. Did they attack you for this insult?"

"I fell."

"This is the fourth time you 'fell' this month. I'm considering a unit transfer for you, Thompson, and if you 'fall' again, I won't just be considering. Am I making myself clear?"

I gulp. "Yes, sir. Chrystal clear." 

Um... I'm kind of confused, the RP is moving pretty fast... can someone help explain?

Laurel~

I awoke, curled up on a couch in the main office. Pulling a fur shawl around my shoulders, I glanced around for Octavia. She wasn't there, as I'd half-expected. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, attempting to banish all bleariness. Another day. Another struggle to live in a world where to be assaulted by an Enforcer for fighting injustice is normal.

I stumbled down the stairs, passing all the manager's offices and going into the prototype testing lab. Octavia had fallen asleep among her tools, and a partly-assembled hover board floated beside her. "Octavia, wake up!" I said, gently shaking her shoulder. She opened one eye. "Glad to see you've finally finished it," I added, nodding in the board's direction.

"Oh," she yawned in reply, "it's for you, by the way. It was SUPPOSED to be a surprise." The latter was said with a scowl.

"Thank you, O," I laughed. "Sorry for ruining your surprise. Well, it's breakfast time. What would you like? Dried Auth, Auth soup, or roasted Auth?" Octavia groaned.

"Is there anything but Auth these days?"

"Well, I can go hunting. Haven't been out of this place for days." At this, Octavia began to beg me to let her come. In the end, I had to consent. "What will you ride on, though?" I asked suspiciously.

"Oh, that's easy," she said dismissively, and she proceeded to tap a screen on the side of the hover board, which was instantaneously activated. She tapped the screen again and another footpad shot out of the board. "I'll ride with you." 

"Can it bear your weight and mine combined, then?" I inquired again.

"Yeah, the footpad's extra strong, and weights in the board will automatically go to my side so we'll be properly balanced."

"Great, then," said I, and off we went. 

Okay, so this is what I'm getting is going on: 

Thompson is at Ink, getting talked to.

Shiden and Hope are at the marketplace.

Laurel and Octavia are out hunting.

EASHA just got taken by Syra out of the marketplace, off into no one-knows-where.

V just attacked a bunch of thugs and is in the marketplace.

Now, back to the story:

Shiden~

It's midafternoon now, and business is slowing down. Most smart people have left the market now -- it's really hot, and the Enforcers are patrolling. They never come out before dawn, but now...

I look at the money in the bottom of the crate that we've made. Four glimmer, ten motes. I hand the motes to Hope and Nisha. "Go buy some flour, wood, and metal for needles. Remember, bargain hard -- we don't have as much money this week as last. Flour's most important, and needles after that. Then try for some water supplies, or oil for the trike, and then if there are any good ones left, some meat, maybe auth if you can find it. But if there isn't any good, cheap meat left, don't buy it, we can bring some more money tomorrow. Okay?"

The girls nod and run off, ducking through the marketplace. I turn back to the stall and the customer now standing there. Tall, blonde hair, and... metal fingers rubbing the cloth. She's cyborg. 

"Hello, can I help you?" I ask.

"What material is this?"

"The rougher one is ranth. The white one is cotton."

"Where did you find ranth?"

"We grow it."

"Hm..." she lifts up a sheet of the stiff-woven ranth cloth and looks at it, thinking. "Does this burn easily?"

"I..." That's a weird question, I think. "Ranth fibers are very stiff, so they don't catch fire easily, but then they burn to ash, not just crumpling or melting."

"Hm..." I watch her as she turns the sheet over, tries folding it, spins it on her metal finger.