"Are you okay?" The little girl asked softly.
She pressed a small wet cloth against the back of Tyler’s head while he leaned awkwardly against the side wall of her house. Her hands were careful, far steadier than her age suggested.
"Yeah... I just fell," Tyler replied, wincing slightly.
"Why?" Rose asked, tilting her head.
"Huh... I was trying to pluck a mango," he said without thinking.
Rose blinked at him.
"That’s not even a mango tree," she said plainly. "I don’t even know if mangoes still exist."
Tyler paused.
"Oh."
"And that tree doesn’t even have leaves," she added.
He cleared his throat. "Well... my head hurts. I’m new here. I might’ve been confused."
Rose studied him with narrowed eyes, clearly unconvinced.
"Oh... Are you a breeder?" she asked suddenly.
"A what?" Tyler stared at her.
Before she could explain, voices echoed from the main street— boots, shouting, tallic clanking. The heli-carrier must have landed.
Rose stiffened.
"Let’s move. We’ll talk sowhere safer."
Without waiting, she grabbed his sleeve and led him up the ladder to the rooftop. From there, she stepped onto the thin tree branch and crossed to the neighboring building—the sa hidden spot Tyler had used earlier.
He noticed imdiately.
"Both sisters use the sa hiding place," he muttered under his breath.
Rose crouched behind the chimney and gestured for him to sit.
"We’re safe here," she whispered. Then she looked at him again, her earlier question returning. "So... are you a breeder?"
"What’s a breeder?" Tyler asked carefully. "Like... livestock breeding?"
Rose flushed faintly and looked away. "No. It’s about population control. Sotis the Capital sends people to sectors where the numbers are dropping. They settle here. Start families."
Tyler understood imdiately.
"Oh... so a breeder is soone assigned to increase the population."
She nodded.
"No," he said calmly. "I’m not."
For so reason, Rose’s shoulders sank slightly at his answer. Disappointnt flickered across her face before she masked it. She was thinking of introducing her sister, because Breeders usually cos with money and food.
Tyler chose not to comnt.
She shifted topics quickly. "You said you’re new. Are you a traveling rchant from another sector?"
"Shouldn’t that have been your first question?" Tyler replied. "I lost my mories. I don’t know much about this place."
Rose frowned thoughtfully and looked at the empty streets.
"I hope the Capital people leave quickly," she murmured.
"They’re just here to collect tax, right?" Tyler asked.
Rose gave him a look that said he clearly didn’t understand.
"They say that," she replied quietly. "But Collection Day isn’t just about tax."
---
Sowhere in Sector 11, the tallic hum of the heli-carrier engines reverberated through the gray streets as the massive craft descended into the central square. Dust and black cinder swirled outward from the force of its landing, coating the already soot-stained buildings in another thin layer of ash.
Orders were shouted the mont the landing struts locked into place.
The rear doors of the heli-carrier opened with a hydraulic hiss.
Guards stepped out first.
They wore full red armor from neck to boot, helts concealing their faces entirely. The polished surfaces of their suits glead unnaturally against the dull, coal-dark surroundings. In their hands were sleek rifles—compact, efficient, and unmistakably lethal.
The gathered people instinctively stepped back.
No one needed to be told to fear them.
Tansy pushed through the crowd until she found her mother near the front. She slipped beside her silently, clutching her sleeve. The square was already packed with miners and families, all standing in uneasy stillness.
The guards moved in disciplined formation, lining both sides of a cleared path. Portable cooling units were brought down next—small machines placed strategically along the line, releasing waves of cold air. Even in this place of scarcity, the Collector would not tolerate discomfort.
Finally, a man erged.
He was bald, heavyset, and dressed in garnts stitched entirely from gold coins. The coins overlapped like scales, catching the sun and reflecting light in sharp flashes. Each step he took produced a faint tallic clink.
"The Collector has arrived!" one of the guards announced.
The crowd bowed slightly or lowered their eyes.
"What a filthy place," the Collector muttered, glancing around with visible disgust.
At the very front stood an elderly woman—thin, bent with age, but steady. She was the unofficial representative of Sector 11, the one who spoke when no one else dared.
She stepped forward and bowed deeply.
"My lord, we have already prepared the tax," she said, clapping her hands once.
From behind her, miners began stepping forward in groups, carrying heavy sacks filled with Carbonyx ore. The dark mineral glinted faintly even beneath layers of dust.
The Collector waved a lazy hand.
"Load it. I don’t wish to see it."
The guards gestured, and the miners hurried to obey, hauling the sacks into the rear compartnt of the heli-carrier. Among them, Tansy spotted her father, his shoulders hunched beneath the weight of his load.
The Collector watched the transfer with bored detachnt.
When the final sack was loaded, he turned slowly back toward the old woman.
"That’s not enough."
A ripple of tension spread through the crowd.
The old woman’s composure faltered. "M-my lord, this is everything we have. We fulfilled this month’s quota."
Before she could say more—
Slap.
The sound cracked sharply across the square.
The old woman fell to the ground.
No one moved.
"Do you fail to understand?" the Collector said coldly. "If I say it’s not enough, then it’s not enough."
He looked toward the guards. "Cut their 25% of ration allotnts."
A collective murmur of fear swept through the crowd.
"Please, my lord," the old woman begged, clutching at his leg. "We will starve."
The guards stepped forward to pull her away.
"Remove your hands," the Collector snapped, shaking his leg violently.
As he did, one of the gold coins from his garnt broke loose and fell to the ground.
Clang.
The sound rang unnaturally loud in the silence.
Every eye dropped to the coin.
Panic flickered across faces.
The Collector’s expression darkened with irritation.
"S-sorry, my lord," the old woman stamred from her knees. "I did not an—"
Gunfire interrupted her.
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