escape, either.
But that was a risk she’d have to take.
FEW PLACES IN THE islands were as dismal as the Halahou city prison. The golden sunlight that bathed the rest of New Pacifica didn’t penetrate its interior courtyards, and the gray basalt walls were devoid of color or decoration. The moans and wails of the Reduced ricocheted down corridors and bounced off the ceilings of the cells. The sound was relentless. Those who visited the prison often wondered if even Reduction was worse than the punishment of waiting for sentencing in your cell and listening to the unintelligible chorus that you, too, would make once your brain was scuttled by the drug. Was this the sound that their ancestors had made for generations? Was this the noise that permeated the islands before the cure? Such a notable aspect of Reduction would surely have made it into the histories, right?
But it was silly to question whether or not the Reduction drug was different from actual Reduction. Dangerous, too. Those who questioned the revolution would soon get caught in its crosshairs.
Today, the prison was more chaotic than usual, with all the excitement surrounding the triumph over the evil Lady Ford and her army of royalists. The Fords had waged a month-long battle of resistance against the revolution, barricading their estate against the military police and enlisting the help of loyal regs against their best interest. As the siege had drawn out over days and weeks, the fiasco had become a thorn in Citizen Aldred’s side. The regs loyal to the Fords had spoken out against the revolution, disseminating royalist propaganda and undermining the populace’s support of the new republic. It was not to be borne. The Fords would have to pay, and so would anyone who’d dared side with them.
But, at last, the barricades had fallen and the Ford estate belonged to the people of Galatea, thanks in no small part to the tireless efforts of Citizen Aldred’s own daughter, Captain Vania Aldred. The Fords and their supporters had been transferred to Halahou prison to receive a public Reduction, which would be broadcast at sunset all over the island. Along with the Fords had come a host of new guards, mostly transfers from the siege. They wouldn’t need nearly so many forces at the estate once it was a work camp, even with the new guidelines that General Gawnt had put in place to root out the Wild Poppy.
All this was perfectly understood by the bearded figure who was slowly driving a service skimmer filled with barrels of salt up to the gate of the Halahou city prison.
“What took you so long?” the head gate guard asked as the salter handed over an oblet with the inventory and order list. “You were supposed to make this delivery several hours ago.”
“Lava flow cut off the road,” the salter grunted. “Don’t have heat shields on the lifters.”
The guard whistled through his teeth. “What is going on down in the southern lowlands? It’s a good thing Citizen Aldred’s in charge now. We regs will get the public works we deserve.”
“Long live the revolution,” the salter said, lifting a gloved fist.
Once inside the prison, the salter made a big show of unloading the prison’s barrels, then trying and failing to restart his skimmer.
“Looks like it needs a fresh battery,” the salter said, in case anyone was listening.
He wandered down one corridor and then another, the dead battery in his arms, as if searching for a geocharging station.
After the third turn, he found what he was looking for. A young girl in a military uniform sat in the shadow of a wall, far away from security imagers.
“Private Delmar,” he said, his smile hidden behind his beard. “You’re looking well.”
Remy Helo stood and smoothed down her chin-length hair. “Not too loud. I’ve been recognized once already and said I was looking for my uncle. But most people just see the uniform and ignore my face. There are so many new guards today from the Ford estate, no one knows anyone.”
“That’s what we’re counting on.”
Remy peered through the shadows at the salter. “Are you . . .
“What does it matter?” said Persis. “You know what I’m here for.”
Remy regarded the beard and the other changes. “This is a much better disguise than the last one you used.”
“I’m glad you approve. Now let’s get going.”
Persis quickly dispatched the two guards monitoring the cells holding the Fords.
“Is that the drug you used on me?” Remy whispered as she watched the knockout drugs spinning from Persis’s palmport and smacking the guards in the face.
Persis didn’t answer. She inserted the nanotech key into the panel and it quickly scrambled the locking mechanism. With the cell unlocked, she pressed a lever on the skimmer battery. It began to droop and sag, looking less every moment like a piece of machinery and more like a sack of some sort. Inside were the items Remy would need to complete the mission.
Persis handed the sack to Remy and gestured to the cell. “The rest is up to you,” she said. “Welcome to the League.”
Remy nodded and took a deep breath. “Wait—” she said. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“What?”
“I need a wild poppy. They’ll never believe I’m here to help them without one.”
Persis laughed despite herself. When a wild poppy could be found on the side of every road in Galatea, it was hardly a certificate of authenticity. Nevertheless, she pointed at the edge of the battery-turned-bag. “Everything you need is there.”
There, on the side, glowed the outline of a wild poppy in shimmery nanotech gold.
Remy beamed and headed for the cells.
Back at the skimmer, Persis managed to reassemble, then start her engine again with little trouble. She hovered out to the gate once more, relieved to find a bit of a backup. Everything was going according to plan. The guard transfer at the gate seemed to be somewhat chaotic, with a tangle of new guards coming in and going out —not all of whom seemed to understand the protocol. When everything was sorted, she let out a deep breath and moved up to take her place.
“I apologize for the delay,” said the head guard as Persis handed over her inventory oblet once more. “Some of these new transfers aren’t especially well trained.”
“I see that,” she replied. “Almost wondered if Citizen Aldred has taken to Reducing his own.”
The guard shrugged. “Heard those rumors, too, huh? These lot are probably untouchable. The Ford estate transfers are all under the command of Captain Vania Aldred, you know.”
Persis swallowed. “The daughter?”
“Explains why they’re such a mess, huh?” the guard said with a snort. “She’s not old enough for her own command, if you ask me. Course, I never said such a thing.”
“Right.” Persis and her genetemps-enhanced vocal cords gave a deep, throaty, salter chuckle as the guard pressed the lever to open the gate. Persis started to move out, but there was a figure blocking her path, a medic by the look of the uniform.
“Citizen Fisher,” the medic called and waved at the guard.
“Citizen Paint,” the guard replied. “Back again? Another problem with the latest batch of pinks?”
Persis decided it was time for her skimmer to break down again. She ground the gears to a halt and the engine died, thumping the machine to the ground.
“What’s this about?” cried the guard. “Get a move on. You’re blocking the gate.”
“So sorry, Citizen!” Persis jumped out of the cab and went around to mess with the fans. “It’s been giving me problems all day.”
The guard gave her an exasperated sneer and turned back to his medic friend. “So what’s wrong now? We had a bit of a fright last week when the last batch turned out to be a dud. Prisoners waking up all over the island.”
Persis bit her lip to conceal a delighted smile. Could this be possible?
“Well, it’s either the pills or the prisoners are building up a resistance to its effects.”
She’d have to inform Noemi of this as soon as she got home.
The medic turned to Persis and snorted. “Need a push, man?” He looked back at the guard. “Apparently not everyone needs a pink to be an idiot, right, Fisher? Anyway, the lab guys are flummoxed, and it’s not like they’ve
