2055, November 12th

Collapse + 6 years

The wait for processing wasn't as bad as waiting for questioning. Naema was anxious to leave as soon as possible, but at least she would leave. On top of that, the wait was in a more pleasant room with cushioned seats and no bars. When they finally called her in, a woman took her picture and fingerprints. She asked Naema several rote questions such as her name and address, things she'd already told her interrogator. Apparently, "under a tarp next to the Quik Mart on Okogbar Road" was not a valid address. So Naema was officially deemed homeless.

Eventually they led her to a shuttle bay. Down the launch tubes, she got an aperture view of evening sky and part of Port Harcourt far below. So she was in the citadel after all.

They herded her onto a shuttle packed with other civilians. Like before, the shuttle had no windows, and she'd have to stand with no room to even stick out her elbows. Soldiers guarded the hatch while it slowly closed. To the Lakiran's, they were cattle, but Naema didn't care.

In twenty minutes, she'd be back on the ground. She didn't care if it was past curfew. She was getting home tonight. Mama was probably frantic with worry, maybe more so for Josephine. Naema hadn't spared a thought toward her, but now she wondered if Josephine and Tan had gotten away.

Probably. They had powers to do so, while Naema just irritated exemplars. Hopefully Josephine would come by her home, but maybe not. Maybe Naema would have to go to her. Then they'd figure out something to do about this interview scheduled for Monday, something Naema obviously couldn't attend. She'd just break the exemplar's power again. It seemed this whole incident had forced Naema's hand into going with Josephine. Naema would think more about that tomorrow. Right now, she just wanted to go home.

And then the shuttle doors yawned open.

They were still in the bay.

The guards were standing right where they were before, only there were others now too. They had weapons drawn.

One of them spoke. "Naema Madaki?"

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With that one call, it was over. She didn't answer the call, but it didn't matter.

"Naema Madaki. Step out of the shuttle."

One more minute. That's all she'd needed. One more minute and the shuttle would have left. She'd be gone. At the refugee camp, she could have ran home. The Lakirans would never see her again. Or maybe they would have had a security force waiting for her down there. Or maybe they could have turned the shuttle around. Maybe she had never been close to escaping at all.

"Naema Madaki. We know you're in this shuttle. If you do not step forward, we will unload this shuttle to find you. Do not make this any harder than it has to be."

Her body felt numb. She placed one foot before the other as she shouldered through the crowd. As calm as she moved, her heart hammered in her ears.

On the entry ramp, soldiers cuffed her marched her out of the bay. Behind her, the shuttle door closed again. Everyone else got to go home.

They led her past the detainment ward. The cells were emptier now; most detainees were processed. The next ward was different. The cells were smaller, and these ones had facilities. The prisoners here didn't pace or yell for answers. They huddled in corners or sat on cots if they were lucky enough to have them. These people weren't detainees. They were prisoners.

"Naema?"

She looked toward the voice. Mama and Oni were sitting at the back of a cell. They were dirty and ruffled. Their arrests hadn't been gentle.

"Mama?"

Mama fought to the front of the cage and pressed against the bars. "Naema?"

"Mama, what are you doing here?"

"I don't know. They are not talking to us. What happened, girl? Have they hurt you?" She reached through the bars for Naema. The guards escorting her veered around it.

"Where you go take her?" Mama yelled.

The last glimpse Naema had of them was of her mother yelling and Oni's silent expression of fear. Naema didn't know why the Lakirans had targeted them, but now they would suffer. They'd disappear like all the other malcontents dragged away in the night, and it would all be her fault.

This entire time she'd felt a lump in her throat threatening to break free, but this thought was too much. As the soldiers escorted her by her arms, she cried. She couldn't even wipe her eyes with her arms restrained behind her back, but she was beyond caring. She'd lost.

They put her back in an interrogation room. Within a minute, someone entered the other partition—a military officer in blue, higher in rank and age than the man who'd questioned her before, and not at all as amicable. At the table, he dug through a pack and produced several food boxes and wrappers. Two stood out: a wrapper for sausage, and a box which used to contain red candies—the gifts she'd given her neighbor in return for silence.

The officer leaned close to the repulse divider and looked her in the eye.

"You want to tell us where the fuck you got these?"