Parasite (Completed)║🏳️‍🌈 LGBT+

6: Wardens

I'm naked. A regulation IndoChina Mining blanket barely covers my dignity. The urge to gather up my clothes ransacks my mind, but terror has rooted me to the mattress.

The warden's pulser-finger jitters at the same rate as my heartbeat thumping at the back of my throat. Have they hurt Shiro?

The pulser's collimator ends at a familiar face. Kholed eyes, thick dark wrists, a frizzy mop haloing a neon yellow bindi. I recognise the warden who chased me out of the market alleyway a sol earlier. A little younger than me, they bubble with the fervour of a new recruit.

"State your ID number!"

Their pulser is so close. I mustn't move. I mustn't breathe. My jaws grind in an effort to report my ID number, but all that escapes from my mouth is a whimper. The warden must have pulsed Shiro, and I'm next.

They lean over me. The pulser moves to my forehead. I'm dead. I'm finally dead. Goodbye, Shiro.

A warden with a scarred lip marches over and bats the pulser away from my face, the momentum sending their tethered helmet swinging back and forth behind them. "Not yet, Jaya."

With my face no longer at risk of being peeled off my skull by pulser waves, I sink onto the mattress and clutch at blankets, a mess of shivering limbs and staccato breaths. My eyes follow the pacing warden frantically as they toss the pulser from hand to hand, heartbeats jolting in my chest each time it lands in a slippery palm.

I can't see Shiro anywhere. Judging by the absence of that characteristic odour of singed flesh from pulser shots, they haven't killed him. The revolting burning smell often permeates the air of Eris-1's market early on Firstsol mornings; the remnants of citizens' riots subdued by violent wardens. Luckily nothing but the faint smell of shade lingers in the air of the humid little 'porter cab. I send crazed prayers to Shiva-Shakti to keep Shiro safe.

The scarred warden barks, "ID number! Now!" They kick at my medical bag, upsetting the contents. Spools of bandage ribbon across the floor.

I rattle off my lens ID, my every nerve screaming in terror at what they might do to Shiro. The urge to prostrate myself against the mattress is so strong, but any sudden movements and a pulser wave will burn me to a crisp, sending me to the Goddess.

The scarred warden's eyes glaze over; they're poring through my ID data. Has this all been some elaborate ambush to capture me?

Seemingly bored by my ID details, the warden's eyes refocus. They stow the pulser into their belt with a groan, gesturing to Jaya to do the same. "Xe's just a doctor."

"Those idiots at Eris-1 hospital, sending a doctor out here to the sandflats. Do they want their employees to be gutted by smugglers?" Jaya crosses the room, their sandy boots dirtying up a blanket on the floor. They root through my medical bag. "Who did you treat here? Where did they go?"

My heart sings mantras. Shiro has escaped. I should be busy concocting the biggest lies of my life to protect Shiro and extricate myself from this 'porter before the wardens execute me, but my mind has suddenly shed all of its contents. All except for one desperate thought: Shiro must be in agony somewhere, walking on a torn ligament.

The scarred warden slides their pulser from its holster in a fluid motion and points it between my eyes. "Who was here?"

My jaws clack together. My chin trembles. I'm too afraid to lie. "I f-found a m-man here. His ankle was injured. I b-bandaged it. I th-think that IndoChina Mining immobilised this 'porter."

I've betrayed Shiro. Filth. Vampire. Parasite.

"And IndoChina is right behind us, about to retrieve it." The scarred warden peers into the cab's viewer.