I forgot-- Hope is mute.

Hope~
I stand behind the stall, sweating as the heat burns down on me. I pick up a few Glimmer and start to organize them in different patterns.

"Stop it, Hope!" says Nisha. "Don't put our money in the open like that!"

I shrug in apology and put them back in a small skin pouch.

A man walks up to us. An enforcer.

"What are you girls doing out here alone?" he says.

I glance at Nisha, but she's frozen.

Oh yeah. This is her first time with an enforcer.

"Well?" he says, stricter.

"W-we, I mean, our, um, caretaker, is at that booth over there," Nisha stutters. "We're, um, h-helping her."
  Oh no, I think. If the Enforcers get wind of us--

"Hm. And your parents?" he says.

I am positively shaking. Nisha doesn't know what to do!
"We don't hae any, sir," she says, quietly. "We live alone."
NO! I shake my head to enforce this.

"Oh, so she's lying?" says the enforcer to me. Uh-oh.

I shake my head.

"So you have parents?"
I nod.

"Where are they?"

Sweat trickles down my back.

"Where are they?"
Nisha is paralyzed. She used up all her curage.

"Well? Where are they?"

I frantically try to point at my mouth, to indicate I can't speak.

"You didn't eat anything!" he says. "I would have seen you! And it's obvious you're the liar. All three of you are going to the orphanage."
He shackles us to the booth and goes over to confront Shiden.

Shiden~

The cyborg shakes her head. "I might come back later today. Thanks." She walks away.  

I wonder where Hope and Nisha went. I hope Nisha didn't take too long bargaining, but she's new at marketing. I hope Hope will take care of her --  Hope's got street smart, even if she can't talk.

My wondering is answered, unfortunately, when an Enforcer strides up to my booth. I bite my lip and put my license up on the booth's front before he can get here. It's forged -- well, not quite. It was my parents', and I'm old enough now to be running the booth. I don't have my right name on the license -- it's just my mom's name, Kathari. Maybe I can pass for her... but then I can't explain Hope or Nisha -- they're both underage, not thirteen yet, and no license to hide behind. 

I try to act civil. "Hello, sir. Can I help you?"

"Do you recognize this?" He holds up the money pouch I gave Hope. Oh, auth-dung, I think. 

"Yes, it's mine," I say, trying to keep my voice level.

"Why isn't it with you?"

"I need to buy, but I also need to sell. I gave it to my... helpers... so they can... help me." I know it sounds pathetic. He evidently thinks so too.  

"You can afford helpers?" He dumps the money with a clang on the top of my stand. The ten little motes roll out, looking pitiful against the dirty, worn wood of the stand. "Doesn't look like it," he sneers. 

I put my hand over my money, drawing it towards me slowly. "Yes, I can. In exchange for food."

He curls his lip. "Oh, really?" 

The Enforcer slams his hand over mine, making me let go of the motes. "This time," he hisses, "you and your helpers are safe. Next time..." he drops the coins slowly into his own pouch "...you won't be so lucky."

He turns on one black-booted heel and stomps off. As soon as he joins the gaggle of Enforcers at the gates, I pull down the booth's shades to say we're closed and run off through the marketplace. Where did he get Hope and Nisha? 

Sorry, I've never heard of 'Destiny'. I've no clue how much a mote is worth and whatnot.

Laurel~

Gnarled trees, like dying hands, stretched up their finger-branches toward a scorching sun. A very few animals grazed on the very few withered grasses. Octavia and I were quiet as was possible while gliding through the thorny brush. Then all of a sudden we saw an incredibly rare animal, the quixmala, munching on a yellow patch of grass. "Laurel, look!" Octavia whispered.

"I see it," was my also-whispered reply. I was in awe. The quixmala, if only we could capture it, might change our lives for the better very much! Female (which this one was) quixmalas gave milk, a trade item worth as much as a mote per gallon! Warily, I dismounted the hover board and crept up behind it, net in hand. I took my chance, tossing the net over it quickly. 

I barely caught it, for it noticed me two seconds before the net fell over it. Octavia rushed over, and with help from her I secured a rope around its glossy neck. I caught several lizards and then, satisfied with the day's catch, we headed home.

I have a new character;

Name; Nephina Piper

Age; 11

Gender; Female

Appearance; Short light blond hair that's always messy, grey eyes, a little short for her age, slender.

Personality; Sometimes very quiet, sometimes very bright and cheerful. Curious. Kind. Giving. Sweet.

Enforcer?; Nope.

Backstory; When she was very little, a group of Enforcers came to check their small house for anything suspicious. They found nothing, but insisted on taking the family's few valuable possessions for themselves. Her father protested and was killed in a scuffle. After this her mother was forced to work as a seamstress, a trade that Nephina loves and helps her mother with more often than not. They live with Nephina's small (8) brother and grandmother Sala in a small hut. They are very poor. 

___________________

~Nephina~

The colors spread out before me vary from the tender green of an unfurling leaf to the violent red of warning lights, eggshell blue to royal purple. Violet, mauve, chartreuse, aqua, scarlet, peach, marine, dusty rose, lemon, jade, tangerine- what names they have, indeed! You forget sometimes, in this world of steel grey and black, that vibrant things exist. It sucks a bit of soul out of you, without you even noticing. It's one of the smaller trials of this new world of ours, it seems, when you say it out loud, what with all the problems we now face; but do not underestimate the power of heart. Take the heart (metaphorically speaking) out of a person, and all you have is a hollow shell.

Grandma used to tell me stories of a time  when grass grew, and ice -yes, ice!- used to fall from the sky. They were wonderful tales, and I loved them so, but when I got older, I began to wonder. Yes, I began to wonder, and wondering leads to asking. I asked why these things did not exist anymore, why flowers did not still grow, and she would shut up like a clam, and tell me no more.

But these colors are mine. All mine.

Okay, maybe not. They're not just colors, they're thread, and thread for a new work order, at that. In a few moments I'll take these wonderful colors and stitch them into an embroidered tapestry for some rich businessman with cash enough to buy such supplies. But I'll savor the brightness as long as I can. 

"Neph!" Comes a shrill male voice through the house, "Neph! Mom's taking us to market! To market!"

"Easy on the exclamation points," I say grumpily, sweeping up the threads and placing them reverantly into my sewing box, shutting the lid tight. "Market's good, but not that good." I ruffle Jay's short cropped blond hair and nudge him towards the door. "Did mom tell you the rules?"

"No spitting, no dancing, stay closes to Grandma, and no talking to Informers!" he says cheerily.

"Enforcers, kid,"

"Whatever."

I walk to our small kitchen where I see mother putting the last stitches into a Bashim doll. Bashim are small, bony, big-eared creatures, with soft pelts, popular among children, (hence the doll) but very rare in animal form.

On our rough oak table, there are three small piles of money. I count them, moving my fingers from one piece of cool metal to the next. The largest pile, the one my mother will be taking, holds four Motes and six Glimmer. The next, mine, holds two Motes and three glimmer. The smallest one, my brothers, is a pitiful amount of two Glimmer. I scoop up the middle pile and divide it, placing the Glimmer in my bag. I slip off my old, too-small shoes and place one Mote in each heel. A precaution against thieves and greedy Enforcers.

@Alias: that part about the colors was beautiful! Great work!
Hope~

Shiden quickly runs over to our stall.

"Guys, that was really close," she says. "You have to be careful with them."
"Sorry, Shiden," whispers Nisha. "I was scared. I didn't know what to do."
"Of course," Shiden says. "Don't worry, it was your first time. Next time, tell an Enforcer that your parents are shopping and you're watching the booth for them. If they get wind of our little group, well....."

   I sigh

"Shiden? Can we go home now?" asks Nisha.

Shiden sighs. "We just got here. Tell you what, you can stay with me. Hope, I'll send Lito over."
I groan. Lito's really annoying, even though Shiden doesn't notice. He always makes fun of me because I can't talk. Plus, because he's one of the biggest and oldest he likes to pick on the younger children.

"Just wave if you need me," she adds. They go back over to their booth.

A lady and a small child walk up to me.

"What are you selling?" the lady asks. I go under the booth and take out a few clay pots and some paper-- they were on sale, and we got them for only five motes.

"Mommy, mommy, I want some paper," whines the boy.

"What need do we have of paper?" she snaps. "I'll take two pots, please."
I take out two motes and one glimmer to show her how much it costs.

She pays and leaves.

A girl, slightly short, with messy light hair and grey eyes, walks up to me.

"Paper and pots?" she asks. I nod.

She turns away, but at that moment Lito runs up.

"Hello-we-have-some-new-wares," he pants. "Abit- a bit- of f-fabric and a few needles."
She turns. "How much?" 

"Fabric five motes for one sheet," he says, "And needles two glimmer each."
I roll my eyes and gesture at the fabric.

"What?" he mocks. "What is it you're trying to say, Hope? Why aren't you speaking? Cat got your tongue?"

I stick my tongue out at him.

"Well, if the cat doesn't have it, what does?" he continues, laughing. "What is it--mental unstabiblity? Or maybe it's just that you have problems all together! A dumb person like you has to have problems!"

What version of dumb is he using? I wonder. Probably both.

"Stop that!"  says the girl. "Just because someone has handicaps doesn't mean they're mentally disordered!"
"Yeah, well, Hope totally is," says Leto. "I mean, she thinks that fabric like this should be less than five motes!"
But it really should. It's clumsily made; I can tell it was sewn by Piro and Umara, the twins. They're still working on perfecting their style.

"Well, I'm not doing buisness with someone as terrible as you!" the girl says, and she walks away.

(Sorry if this is a bit disjointed, I'm in a hurry)

-Thompson-

The Cyborg jumps to the ground with a resounding thunk. O'shannen nudges me forward. I hand him the voice amplifier.

I take slow, slow steps towards the woman. When I'm about three feet away from her, I begin to speak.

All of the sudden, bright, vivid images begin to flash before my eyes. Footsteps, screams, the reflection of flames on metal. 

"You . . . " I whisper, "You . . ." My voice becomes ever louder. "YOU!

My fellow officers are silent, and they look very uncomfortable.

"Uh, Thomps-" says Parker.

"Arrest the Cyborg!" I shout. And then, in a quieter voice, "Arrest the murderer." 

-Thompson-

Could she really not remember? Could she really, truly, not? Could somebody simply change another's life so drastically, so negatively, and forget it was they who did it? Maybe so. But I'm certainly not going to trust an outlaw Cyborg's word to find out.

I touch my earpiece, activating it.

"This is Thompson, base twelve. My unit was attacked and our transportation wrecked, as far as I know I'm the only surviver. I'm requesting a hovercraft pickup." 

"Right out. Try not to die before we get there, 'kay?" Comes the grating, sarcastic voice of Peters, our Tech guy. 

I growl in response. Peters laughs and severs the connection.

I've been trying not to think about the Cyborg's denial, offer, and subsequent threat, about the fact that I let her get away. Now, if I meet with her, it'll be on her terms, in her territory. She could've set a trap. No. She probably set a trap. 

And her bait? My birth certificate. The knowledge of who my parents were. It was a fair try, to be sure, the majority of people in my generation are orphans, and Enforcers are almost always.

I know I shouldn't go. I've done a good job so far, forgetting my past, building a career. But I can't just go back to base twelve. Keep doing what I'm doing, and never know if I could've resolved what happened.  

So I make a quick, stupid decision. I detach my earpiece, and throw it to the ground. Then I search the area for transportation. Most of the land vehicles were destroyed in the attack, but one hovercraft is miraculously unharmed. I mount, and start to familiarize myself with the controls.

Every Enforcer if forced to have a rudimentary knowledge of how to operate any form of vehicle, but while I've always been pretty good with tech, I haven't ridden one of these in a long time, since Pryor disappeared.

I press a large blue button tentatively.  

Shiden~

Hope and Lito have their stall up and are selling, paper we made from pulping the ranth stalks and pots out of the clay. Any way we can bring in a few motes these days, we take. I look at the two at the stall -- a lady and a girl have come -- as they deal with the customers. Hope looks like she's doing okay, for now. I turn my attention back to my own stall.

A family have just stopped by. A blonde girl about Hope's age, a little boy who looks like he's maybe Nisha's age, about eight, a woman who looks tired, and an old lady. The woman adjusts a pair of wire glasses on her nose as she looks at the ranth fabric, fingering it. The girl fingers the design on a couple of woven mats -- not too fancy, but we did dye the ranth some bright colors that look quite nice, if I do say so myself.

I smile at the girl. "The colors are mostly mineral dyes, some clay and some salt," I say.

"It's interesting," she comments. "What about the green?"

Nisha pipes up from her seat next to me. "We take the leaves of the ranth -- we only use the stalks to make the thread -- and crush them, and mix the juice with sand, and rub the sand on the fabric," she says excitedly. "I'm Nisha, by the way."

The blonde girl blinks her grey eyes. "I'm Nephina. Nice to meet you."

The woman -- must be Nephina's mother -- passes me a bundle of cloth she's picked out: a couple of undyed squares of cloth, like the size of two wide-spread hands, and a bleached white shirt, probably for the little boy, who's clinging to his grandmother's hand. "One glimmer, five motes," I say, folding the cloths and tying them into a bundle with some string. I hesitate, then add in a small packet of the green dye -- for Nephina. Her mother passes me the six coins, which I carefully drop into the pouch. Nephina and her family turn to leave.

Suddenly, a hovercraft's engine can be heard, roaring in the marketplace. Nephina freezes and spins around, and so does her mother. Only Enforcers use hovercraft now -- no one else has the energy capacity to fuel the vehicles. 

The hovercraft veers around the corner and right up to our stall. An Enforcer -- though he doesn't have the earpiece -- strides up to me.