Archive of Our Own

It’s pouring rain the day Yoohyeon lands on CRT-5. 

“Bad omen,” the public transport ship driver tells her as he scans her ticket for the last time. It’s not exactly what Yoohyeon wants to hear, but her training taught her to be polite, no matter the situation. So she thanks him. Wishes him a safe journey to better places.  

As she steps off the ship, Yoohyeon immediately feels her Converse sinking into wet, gray dust. She’d heard about the dust that covers practically every inch of CRT-5: it made it one of the more notorious confined rehabilitation territories (colloquially, “prison planets”). Yoohyeon isn’t a prisoner, but she might as well be. If she had a choice, she would be anywhere else.

The landing area is a vast swath of nothing, save for a warehouse and a few rusty spacecrafts parked in a row. Yoohyeon squints, pulling the strings of her hoodie tighter. Behind her, the engine of the public transport ship rumbles. It kicks up a cloud of dust as it rises off the ground, casting a shadow over Yoohyeon’s soggy surroundings. It’s official: there’s no way for Yoohyeon to turn back now. And her favorite shoes are ruined. 

With a sigh, she tightens the strings of her backpack and begins the trek towards the warehouse. 

“Name?”

“Kim Yoohyeon,” Yoohyeon says. Then, after a beat, “RN.” 

The woman with the tablet lifts an eyebrow, likely taking in Yoohyeon’s muddy shoes and soaked sweatshirt. “Open your left eye, and keep it open.”

Yoohyeon obeys. The woman holds out the tablet so it’s an inch away from Yoohyeon’s pupil, and Yoohyeon resists the urge to squeeze it closed when a green light flashes. 

“It appears you’re on the list,” the woman says, tapping something on the screen. “We apologize for the extra security measures. It’s necessary with the high number of inmates that arrive every day.”

“Right.”

“I’ll look over this, and then call a vehicle to take you the medical quarters.” 

The woman disappears, and Yoohyeon wonders if the scan can pick up on her stomach sinking. 

The driver of the vehicle is a girl who looks about Yoohyeon’s age. She’s petite, but her all-black uniform - complete with heavy boots and armor strapped across her shoulders - gives her an air of toughness. 

“Are you a guard?” Yoohyeon asks.

“Yes,” the driver says, voice low and surprisingly soft. Yoohyeon expects her to elaborate, but no more words come. The driver just keeps her eyes on the terrain ahead as heavy raindrops splatter against the windshield. Yoohyeon tries playing with the dial of the radio, but it appears to be broken.

“I’m a nurse,” Yoohyeon says. The driver remains silent. 

It’s about ten minutes before they come across anything other than vast, flat nothingness. Yoohyeon hears it before she sees it: the whirring, clinking sounds of heavy machinery, a human voice barking orders. When the fence finally comes into view, Yoohyeon lets out an involuntary gasp. It’s taller than any fence she’s seen, lined with barbed wire and appearing to stretch endlessly into the distance. Beyond it, countless bodies in green neon jumpsuits move in an organized chaos, hauling and hammering away at equipment. The scene is pretty close to what Yoohyeon imagined, but she hadn’t expected it to be so big. 

“That’s the prison?”

“That’s only one of the yards,” the driver answers. Yoohyeon’s mouth must be hanging open, because the driver continues. “The prison is the whole planet, remember?”

“Yeah. Fun place,” Yoohyeon says sarcastically. To her surprise, the driver lets out a snort of amusement. 

“It’s not exactly a tourist destination,” the driver says. “So. Why are you here?”

“I told you, I’m a nurse.”

“Yeah, but no one gets sent here unless they do something wrong. What did you do?” 

The driver’s voice remains calm, and there’s nothing in her body language that suggests any agenda beyond just making conversation. Yoohyeon gets the impression that she could brush off the question and the driver wouldn’t push. 

But the sounds of the prison yard are a dull, unending roar, and the rain is even more relentless. The gray dust stretches as far as the horizon, and there’s not a single ship in the overcast sky. It doesn’t matter where Yoohyeon looks; the truth is clear from every direction. There’s no end in sight. No turning back or getting out. This is her life now. She might as well be upfront about it. 

(Or as upfront as she can be with someone whose job is to keep people in line, and make sure they stay there.)

“There was this patient at the hospital where I used to work. She came in every week for physical therapy. I don’t remember how we started talking, but we did, and we became close.” A sad ache settles in Yoohyeon’s stomach, the way it always does when she thinks about everything. “It turned out she was pretty involved with the Renegades. Somehow the feds found out. I was with her when they came in and arrested her. They tried to arrest me too, but they couldn’t find anything to charge me with. And that’s how I got re-stationed here, I guess.” 

“So you didn’t even do anything,” the driver states. There’s an edge to her words, but Yoohyeon can’t quite place it. “You were just friends with a Renegade, and that was enough to get you sent to a prison planet.” 

“Well, to be fair, I also violated hospital policy.”

“What, you can’t be friends with patients?” 

“You can. But sleeping with them is kind of a no-no.”

The driver lets out a startled laugh. Yoohyeon likes the sound. Yoohyeon also likes the driver’s face, especially the way her soft cheeks and large eyes contrast with the intimidating, bulky guard uniform.

Another fenced-off area comes into view, and this time, the driver parks the vehicle. Yoohyeon gathers her backpack while the driver speaks briefly to another guard, dressed in the same black uniform. The gate opens, and the driver lightly rests her hand on Yoohyeon’s back, urging her forward. 

Yoohyeon had pictured an actual hospital building, like the one where she used to work, but the “medical quarters” on CRT-5 is more of a tent city. Rows of white plastic tents extend all the way to the other side of the fence. In the distance, Yoohyeon hears someone cry out in pain. She’s familiar with the sound, but a shiver runs down her spine nonetheless. 

“Are you going to be okay?” the driver asks. The question takes Yoohyeon by surprise. She didn’t expect the driver to actually care. She didn’t expect anyone to care about her anymore, ever since she got sent away. 

“Yeah,” Yoohyeon answers. Up ahead, two women in scrubs and rainboots move silently from one tent to another. “I think so.”

“Good,” the driver says, and awkwardly clears her throat. “My name’s Yubin, by the way.”

Yubin. No surname, no title. It feels personal, and Yoohyeon wants to question the gesture, but she doesn’t. “I’m Yoohyeon. And, um, maybe I’ll see you around?”

“It’s a big planet,” Yubin replies, turning to walk towards the exit. Before Yoohyeon has time to feel properly hurt, however, Yubin glances back over her shoulder. “But we’ll see.”

“Okay, we’ll see,” Yoohyeon calls out. This time, Yubin doesn’t look back. Yoohyeon has no other choice but to adjust her backpack on her shoulders and move further into the medical quarters. 

This is your life now, Yoohyeon reminds herself. There’s nothing you can do. Get used to it.

As far as adjustments go, Yoohyeon has had worse. 

There’s a tent for everything in the medical quarters. One for work, one for meals, one for laundry, one for showers. On her first night, as she falls asleep on a bottom bunk in a room full of strangers, Yoohyeon thinks it feels a lot like summer camp.  

Then she steps outside the next morning, and sees an inmate being rushed in on a stretcher, blood gushing from where his left hand used to be. And she remembers CRT-5 is nothing like summer camp at all. 

In one of the medical tents, Yoohyeon shares a station with Kim Bora, who is loud, but friendly, and gives Yoohyeon the run-down her first official morning on-duty. 

“If it’s something you know how to handle, handle it. You don’t need to check with a doctor or do whatever protocol shit your old job made you do. Most of the patients we see are inmates, and we want them in and out as soon as possible.” 

“What do we normally...handle?” Yoohyeon asks, watching as Bora sets up her station. Yoohyeon recognizes most of the equipment she sees, but she still feels unsure. Her job at the hospital was all about following orders. She’s not sure if she’s capable of making the right decisions, especially with a life on the line. 

“Scrapes, gashes, sprains. You know, the injuries the inmates get when they’re working. Most of the time they’re fairly simple to treat. If you really find yourself panicking, though, you can always call a higher-up and they’ll take over.” 

Upon hearing that, Yoohyeon figures she’ll be constantly calling the higher-ups for help, at least until she adjusts. But then her first patient comes in: a female inmate in her mid sixties, complaining about a pulled leg muscle. As Yoohyeon inspects the injury, a guard watches from a few feet away. “Quickly,” he says, not moving to take the chair Yoohyeon offered him. 

Under the scrutiny of his gaze, Yoohyeon follows her instincts. “Um, it doesn’t look too bad. But you should elevate it, and not move it too much. I can give you painkillers and an ice pack.”

“You’re nice. I like you,” the woman says. The crinkles around her eyes make her look more like a librarian than a hardened prisoner, and Yoohyeon wonders what the hell she did to get locked up on this planet, of all places. 

“Thank you,” Yoohyeon says. 

Behind her, the guard taps his foot. “I don’t like him,” the woman whispers. Yoohyeon just smiles sympathetically, handing her an ice pack and waving good-bye as the guard ushers her out of the tent. Yoohyeon helps three other patients that day, but the face of the first woman never leaves her mind. 

“Look at you,” Bora says, after finishing up with a patient of her own. “You’re a natural.” 

“I don’t know about that,” Yoohyeon says. She starts to organize her work station. It feels so much more hers now that she’s actually used it. “I guess I just know more than I thought I did.” 

“Just shut up and let me call you a superstar, would ya? There’s only so much positivity in this hellhole. You gotta learn to take what you can get.” 

At night, Yoohyeon washes up in the shower tent. She’s not surprised to find her body covered in dust — now that the rain has stopped, the stuff seems to get everywhere. She knows as soon as she steps outside, it’ll cling to her skin again. But it’s still satisfying to stand under the water, lukewarm as it is, and watch everything melt away, disappearing down the drain. When she wipes the fog off the bathroom mirror and looks at her reflection, she recognizes herself. Or at least, she recognizes the self she’s become. 

As far as adjustments go, she’s had worse.

A week later, the woman with the pulled muscle returns, along with the same guard who accompanied her the first time. 

“It got worse,” the woman says. “I can barely bend my knee now.”

“I see that. Did you do everything I told you to do?”

“Well I wanted to rest it, but the guards said it looked fine and told me I had to work.”

Yoohyeon takes a deep breath, putting on her best polite smile as she turns to face the guard. “Is that true, Officer?”

“I don’t know,” the guard answers. “I don’t watch her every second of every day.”

He’s so... nonchalant, and Yoohyeon kind of wants to scream. Because the woman is a prisoner, yes, but she’s still a person, and no person deserves to be in pain. Especially when the pain is easily preventable. 

The idea comes to Yoohyeon so quickly that she doesn’t have time to second-guess herself. She grabs a stack of papers off of her file cabinet — they’re nothing special, just routine forms she was supposed to hand in earlier. But the guard doesn’t know that. 

“Officer,” Yoohyeon says, putting on the sweetest voice she can manage, “would you mind taking these to my supervisor by the entrance so I can finish up here? It’s very important.”

The guard looks reluctant, but when he takes a glance around the busy medical tent, teeming with guards and nurses, his shoulders relax slightly. “Fine,” he says, taking the papers from Yoohyeon. “But when I get back, we’re leaving.”

As soon as he turns away, Yoohyeon rushes to her medicine cabinet, pulling out a jar of painkillers and a rubber glove. She empties about half of the pills into the glove before tying a knot to close the opening. “Put it in your bra,” Yoohyeon whispers, dropping the glove into the woman’s lap as she leans over, pretending to inspect her shoulder. The woman quickly obeys. “Only take one every four hours. Don’t give them to anyone else, and don’t tell anyone, or we’ll both be in trouble. Hide them in a good place, and save them for the days they make you work.”

The woman nods, and Yoohyeon pulls away just as she hears the guard returning. Her hands are shaking, so she hides them behind her back. The shaking recedes once the woman and the guard have left the tent, but Yoohyeon still doesn’t move. She feels paralyzed, in complete shock because of what she just did. If anyone found out —

“Hey.”

The sudden voice catches Yoohyeon by surprise, so much so that she leaps a full foot off the ground. She turns around, half-expecting to see the same guard back again, this time ready to arrest her. But to her relief, it’s not him. It’s a guard, sure enough, but not him. 

“Yubin?” Yoohyeon asks, hoping she remembered the name correctly. The woman in front of her nods with a small smile. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s not completely unheard of for guards to come to the medical quarters, you know.”

Yoohyeon lets out a laugh, even though what Yubin said wasn’t really a joke. “Yeah, but normally they have an inmate they’re guarding. That’s kind of what makes them...you know...guards.” Her voice trails off. Her heart is still racing.

“Well, the inmate I was guarding is in the process of having his appendix removed, and will be unconscious for the next forty-five minutes or so. So I decided to walk around. Thought maybe I’d see you.”

Yoohyeon feels her cheeks heat up. “You wanted to see me?”

Yubin doesn’t answer, just takes a long look around the tent. There are still guards and nurses milling around, but it’s a lot less crowded than it was an hour ago. Afternoons tend to be less busy, at least in Yoohyeon’s tent. Sensing no one nearby, Yubin steps further into Yoohyeon’s station. 

“Yoohyeon,” Yubin starts, voice coming out in a low whisper. “Did you smuggle extra pills to your patient?”

Immediately, Yoohyeon feels her hands start to shake again. This time, though, the feeling quickly spreads to the rest of her body. Her breathing grows quicker as panic begins to build in her throat. She feels her knees start to give out, but her mind is racing at a speed too reckless to care. It’s over, she thinks, I’m going to get thrown in jail and I’ll never get answers and I really am going to die here, or somewhere even worse. 

“Woah, woah, woah. Hey,” Yubin says, grabbing Yoohyeon by the arm and guiding her towards her stool. “Breathe. I’m not...I’m not gonna get you in trouble.”

Yoohyeon tries her best to take deep breaths, counting seconds in her head as she exhales. “They were painkillers,” she says, after a few minutes. Her chest still feels heavy, but Yubin is crouching down by her side, looking genuinely worried and not making any moves to get her arrested. “She’s an old woman in her sixties, and they were making her work even with an injury. How could they — nevermind,” Yoohyeon mumbles, eyes landing on the crest on the front of Yubin’s uniform. Yubin might not be acting like a guard right now, but she’s still one of them. 

“Yoohyeon,” Yubin says slowly. “What you did was incredibly stupid.” 

Yeah, Yoohyeon probably deserves that. “I know.”

“Do you? Because there’s so many ways what you did could go wrong. The inmate could try and sell the pills. She could tell her guard you gave them to you to try and get on his good side, or reduce her time, or just because she’s a psychopath. You don’t know anything about her.”

“I know.”

“She could leave them out where anyone could find them. She could take all of them at once and kill herself. She could-”

“Are you sure you’re not gonna get me in trouble? Because it sounds like you want to get me in trouble,” Yoohyeon interrupts in as loud a whisper she can manage. 

Yubin closes her eyes for a brief moment, and then stands up, taking a few steps back and effectively increasing the space between them. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Yoohyeon asks. “You didn’t do anything. You’re right. I did an objectively stupid thing. If I get caught, I’m not bringing you down with me.”

“I wasn’t worried about that,” Yubin says. 

“Oh. Good.” Yoohyeon takes a glance at the clock on the wall. Bora should be back from her lunch break any second now. “You know, I may be a terrible nurse, but you’re kind of being a terrible guard.”

“I never said you were a terrible nurse.”

Yoohyeon ignores Yubin’s deflection because...she has to know. “Why won’t you report me?”

“Because you thought you were doing a good thing,” Yubin says simply. “This place would be better if more people were like you.” Yoohyeon is struck, pinned in place by Yubin’s words and her dark gaze. Then, Yubin opens her mouth again and snaps Yoohyeon out of it. “Well, maybe not if more people were as impulsive as you.”

“That was so beautiful,” Yoohyeon says, voice fragile with faux-sincerity. “And then you had to ruin it.”

“Next time, maybe don’t be so impulsive,” Yubin replies dryly, but she’s smiling. Yoohyeon is smiling too. The moment feels special — light and fragile, like a glass balloon. 

And then Bora bursts in, and the balloon breaks. 

“Yoohyeon. Officer Lee,” Bora says. Yoohyeon notices Yubin’s shoulders stiffen. “I come bearing tragic news. The rumor that there was gonna be dessert with lunch today was just that: a rumor.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Yubin says, speaking to Bora but not taking her eyes off Yoohyeon. “I have an inmate about to get out of surgery, so I have to go. But it was nice talking to you, Yoohyeon.”

“Nice talking to you,” Yoohyeon echoes. Yubin leaves. Yoohyeon watches to see if she’ll glance back over her shoulder, but she doesn’t. 

“So, Officer Lee, huh?” Bora asks, pulling Yoohyeon’s attention away from Yubin’s retreating form.

“You know her?” 

Bora snorts. “I know of her.”

“What does that mean?” Yoohyeon asks. 

An unusual hesitance settles over Bora’s typical carefree expression. “Look. If I tell you this, it’s just because I want you to know what you’re getting into. I’m not trying to spread gossip or anything.”

“I know, Bora,” Yoohyeon says. “What is it?”

“People say she was involved with the Renegades,” Bora says, lowering her voice to a decibel Yoohyeon didn’t think was physically possible for her to reach. “And that she still is. And she’s trying to repair this busted spacecraft or something so she can leave and go back to working for them.”

It’s a heavy accusation, but it doesn’t shock Yoohyeon in the way Bora was likely anticipating. From the start, it was obvious to Yoohyeon that Yubin was different from the other guards. She’s small where they’re hulking, soft-spoken where they’re bellowing. She’s lit from within, in a way no one else seems able to touch. Amidst the dust and noise and misery, Yubin carries herself like she has something to live for. 

“I don’t get involved with Renegades,” Bora says. “I like staying alive. And if you do too, you’ll do the same as me.”

Yoohyeon nods, but it feels dishonest. She’s been here before. Nothing stopped her from diving deeper back then, and she has a hunch that nothing will stop her now. The only question is how far she’ll make it before things go all the way off the rails again.

When Yoohyeon used to tell the story of how she met Siyeon, back when it was a safe story to tell, she always skipped over the part where they were bubbling under the surface for months. Mostly because it’s embarrassing how neither of them knew how to make a move, but also because she wasn’t sure if a nurse dating a patient was against the rules. 

“Isn’t there, like, an official rulebook where you can look it up?” Siyeon asked, resting her head on Yoohyeon’s shoulder. They were lying in bed, the way they always did when one of them had something they needed to discuss.

“Nurses sleeping with regular patients is against hospital code,” Yoohyeon recited. 

“But we weren’t sleeping together yet when I was technically your patient, and I go to a different place for physical therapy now.”

“Yeah, we weren’t sleeping together physically,” Yoohyeon mused. “But maybe, like, emotionally?”

“Baby, that makes no sense.”

“Well, you know how there’s physical cheating and then there’s emotional cheating? Why can’t there be physically sleeping together and then emotionally sleeping together?”

“Because that’s called flirting, and it’s always legal,” Siyeon purred. 

Yoohyeon rolled her eyes. It was obvious Siyeon was done listening. “I just don’t want to break the rules.”

“Breaking rules is fun,” Siyeon said, climbing on top of Yoohyeon to kiss her neck. “Sometimes it’s the only thing worth living for.”

It was a nice sentiment at the time. Yoohyeon likes to look back on their relationship through those kinds of memories, from back before everything went to hell. 

“Breaking rules is the only thing worth living for,” Siyeon had said, and it was obvious she stood by those words. Why else would she join the Renegades, committing the most arrestable act of treason in the galaxy? Why else would she stick with them, putting herself in dangerous situation after dangerous situation, becoming paranoid and angry, if not for something worthwhile?  

Sometimes Yoohyeon would let it get to her head. Convince herself that she should be the only thing Siyeon thinks is worth living for. But then Siyeon would get home late and rant about work camps and censorship and intergalactic imperialism until she fell asleep, and Yoohyeon’s whole body would seize up with tenderness. 

“It’s bigger than us, Hyeonnie.”

“I know it is.”

When the federal agents interrogated Yoohyeon, after Siyeon had already been arrested, they didn’t listen to her. She told them, over and over, that she had never slept with one of her patients. They didn’t care; they had their story and they were sticking to it. The truth was whatever it would take to get her to CRT-5. 

“And if you’re smart, you’ll take this offer, and not force us to reconsider.”

Yoohyeon doesn’t know if she and Siyeon would have made it in the long run. They were too alike in many ways, and far too different in others. But Yoohyeon never once blamed Siyeon for their relationship ending in calamity. She always, always knew the right place to put the blame. 

And now she’s on a planet covered in dust. She treats the wounds of prisoners with more death than life behind their eyes, and watches as nothing ever heals, and the wounds only deepen week by week. She may not be a prisoner, but her existence is fenced-in. She washes off the dust, only for it to resettle even thicker on her skin the next day. 

“I like staying alive,” Bora said. But to Yoohyeon, living on CRT-5 barely counts as living. She knows what it feels to be alive. That isn’t it. 

Yubin might be a Renegade. But Yoohyeon might be something of a Renegade too. 

The next time Yubin shows up in the medical tent, Yoohyeon doesn’t hesitate. 

“I’m taking my break,” Yoohyeon tells Bora. Bora just hums in response, not looking up from the oxygen masks she’s cleaning. It’s been slow all day. Yubin’s timing couldn’t be more perfect. 

“Hey,” Yoohyeon says, making a beeline for Yubin. “I need to talk to you.”

The corners of Yubin’s mouth quirk upwards. “And I wanted to show you something. Maybe you could talk, and I could show?” 

“Sounds like a plan.”

They take the same vehicle they did on Yoohyeon’s first day. Yoohyeon feels a thrill in her chest when they exit the gates to the medical quarters and the horizon expands around them. 

“So,” Yoohyeon says, once they’re a few miles away from anything familiar. It’s easier to hear herself, she notices, when it’s not pouring down rain. “I heard you’re a Renegade. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna get you in trouble.”

“Thanks,” Yubin says.

“It’s true, then?”

Yubin nods. She doesn’t seem particularly surprised that Yoohyeon knows, but she doesn’t seem eager to share information, either. Or maybe that’s just the way she is. 

“And you’re fixing a spacecraft, right? To get out of here?”

“I’m trying,” Yubin says. “It hasn’t exactly been easy.”

“Is that what you wanted to show me? Your half-finished spacecraft?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” Yubin states, but her tone doesn’t imply that it’s a bad thing. “And no, that’s not where I’m taking you. Don’t ask me again. I want it to be a surprise.” 

They drive for what feels like another hour. Then, Yubin pulls over next to what looks like a small pile of rubble. It’s unremarkable, except for the fact that Yoohyeon hasn’t seen anything like it anywhere else on the barren planet. 

“Surprise,” Yubin says, turning the engine off and hopping out of the driver’s side. Yoohyeon follows, staying a few feet behind Yubin as she approaches the small mountain of rocks and junk. “It’s not dangerous. You can stand next to me.”

So Yoohyeon does, and watches as Yubin begins moving pieces of the rubble, placing them off to the side. Yubin lifts a particularly large stone out of the way, and Yoohyeon sees that beneath the debris is some kind of manhole cover.

“Do you need help?” Yoohyeon asks. 

“No, I think I got it,” Yubin says. She tosses the final rock aside, revealing the manhole cover in its entirety. The metal surface is completely rusted over, but Yoohyeon is transfixed nonetheless. Yubin delivers a solid stomp to the left side of the disc, causing it to come ajar. She then grabs the head of a broken shovel from the rubble pile, and lifts it off completely.

What she reveals is a perfectly round hole in the earth, about two-feet wide in diameter. Yoohyeon peers down, but all she sees is darkness. “A mine shaft?” she asks, voice full of wonder. The dust that covers the surface of CRT-5 is so ubiquitous that she never thought to question what lay beneath it. 

“Maybe at some point in time,” Yubin says. She walks to the other side of the hole, so she’s facing Yoohyeon. “Are you okay with going in?”

“Is it safe?” Yoohyeon asks. No matter how hard she squints, she can’t make anything out in the pit of darkness. 

“It’s safe. But, um, you have to jump. It’s about a six-foot drop, so it can be scary. I can go first, if you want.” 

The look in Yubin’s eyes is soft and genuine, and Yoohyeon feels a sudden burst of affection in her chest. She reaches for one of Yubin’s hands and squeezes it. Yubin’s thumb drifts back over Yoohyeon’s fingers. I’ll jump first,” Yoohyeon says. “I trust you.”

“Okay,” Yubin says. Her voice is quiet with a touch of roughness, and Yoohyeon feels her knees go slightly weak. “Remember, it’ll be dark. Just move out of the way so I don’t crush you, and wait for me.”

Yoohyeon nods. And then she jumps. 

The fall is terrifying, but it only lasts a few seconds before Yoohyeon’s feet hit something soft, and she lightly drops to her knees. Remembering Yubin’s words, she crawls off to the side, and a moment later, she hears Yubin land in the same spot she did. “One...second,” comes Yubin’s voice, followed by some fumbling. And then a switch flicks, and several fluorescent light bulbs sputter to life. 

Now that she can see, Yoohyeon takes in her surroundings. They appear to be sitting in some sort of man-made bunker, with metal walls and a ceiling crowded with rusty pipes. The floor is covered with a thick layer of the same dust that makes up most of the planet aboveground. Against the back wall are a row of outdated kitchen appliances. The rest of the space is empty, save for a single table in the middle of the floor, a few books resting on its surface. 

“How did you find this place?” Yoohyeon asks, taking everything in. 

“I didn’t find it,” comes Yubin’s voice. “I was told about it, by an acquaintance who knew I was moving here. Several people have come in and out over the years, I think. The lightbulbs couldn’t have been changed more than ten years ago.” 

Yoohyeon turns to face Yubin, and immediately freezes. “You took your armor off.”

“What? Oh, yeah,” Yubin says, rubbing at her shoulders. “It doesn’t really fit through the manhole.” 

Yoohyeon doesn’t reply, busy taking in Yubin’s appearance. She looks smaller like this, in just a simple black tee shirt without the armor strapped on top. Less intimidating, and more like any other girl their age. The dim underground lighting makes her skin look warm and golden, and Yoohyeon can’t bring herself to look away. 

“You okay?” Yubin asks, with a slight smirk on her face. 

Yoohyeon feels herself starting to blush, so she changes the subject. “What else do you know about the history of this place?” 

“For a long time, nothing,” Yubin says. She walks towards the table, and picks up one of the books. “And then I found this behind the stove.”

Looking closer, Yoohyeon sees that it’s not a novel, but a notebook. “Oh, cool.”

“Yeah, it’s the diary kept by the wife of the guy who built this place. Their land was apparently being threatened by the government, and they were convinced they would be killed. So they came down here with their family to hide.” Yubin flips through the pages, landing on one towards the back. “Here, read this.”

“Week three of the fires, and we’re completely out of food,” Yoohyeon reads out loud. Immediately, her stomach sinks. “All hope of growing more is probably lost now. I’m afraid this could be the end…” she stops reading. 

“Fires,” Yubin repeats. “You know what that means?”

“The planet was inhabitable,” Yoohyeon murmurs. She feels slightly sick. “There were people living here, and the feds burned everything.”

“So they could have a whole planet for their work camps,” Yubin says. Her voice is calm, as always, but a definite rage crackles beneath each word. “They killed everyone, or drove them out. Ruined whole ecosystems, and lied about it. And this isn’t the only CRT. They could have done this to all of the others, or they could have done worse.”  

Yoohyeon bends down, picking up a handful of the substance that coated the floor. “Everyone thinks this is dust,” she states, letting it fall through her fingers. “But it’s not, is it? It’s ash.”

For the next couple minutes, neither of them say anything. The bunker seems a lot gloomier now, more haunted. Yoohyeon wonders if the family from the diary died down here, and if so, when the bodies were moved. Maybe they tried to escape, and got caught in the flames above. 

“I knew it would be dangerous when I joined,” Yubin says quietly. “But I didn’t feel like I had another choice.”

“About being a Renegade?” 

“Yeah. I mean, the group wasn’t perfect, and I know they still have problems. But they’re the only ones who try, in some way, to stand up to, well,” Yubin gestures vaguely, as if referring to the whole planet and everything that lay beyond. “This.” 

Yoohyeon nods in agreement, but Yubin doesn’t look her in the eyes. Yoohyeon is struck, suddenly, by Yubin’s vulnerability. It’s not the kind of thing Yubin seems to make a big deal about, but it’s definitely there: in the absence of her armor, in her showing Yoohyeon her secret place, in her talking about political beliefs that could get her killed. It makes Yoohyeon want to reveal something in return. 

“My ex-girlfriend thought the same thing,” Yoohyeon says. “I, um, kind of didn’t tell you the whole story of how I got sent here. The patient’s name was Siyeon, and she wasn’t just someone I slept with. We were in love with each other.”

Yubin doesn’t say anything, but nods softly, encouraging Yoohyeon to continue. So Yoohyeon does. 

“She was a Renegade, like I said, and was part of this raid thing that went just horribly wrong. They arrested her that night. I waited for her to come home, and she never did. I still don’t know where she is, or what happened to her.”

Slowly, Yubin moves close enough to offer a hug, and Yoohyeon accepts, allowing herself to collapse a little into Yubin’s arms. Nothing about the situation feels easy to talk about, but it’s nice to have someone who listens. 

“And then the feds decided to send me here. They accused me of breaking the rules by sleeping with a patient. It wasn’t true, and they didn’t have any proof, but nobody cared. They just told me what was going to happen, and then it happened,” Yoohyeon sighs, leaning her forehead on Yubin’s shoulder. “And now I’m here.”

“I’m so sorry, Yoohyeon,” Yubin says. She pulls back slightly, so they’re face-to-face but still holding each other. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” Yoohyeon says, honestly. “This planet is kind of messing with my head.”

Yubin tucks a stray strand of Yoohyeon’s hair behind her ear. “Yeah. It does that.”

“It’s a good thing you’re getting out of here, right?”

Using the same caution with which she initiated the hug, Yubin pulls away. “We’ll see,” she says. And then, in a more confident voice, “We should leave, before anyone figures out we’ve been away for this long.”

Yoohyeon can’t argue with that. She uses her knee to give Yubin a boost back through the manhole, and then pulls herself up with the help of Yubin’s hand.  

“Thanks for showing that to me,” Yoohyeon says, helping move the rubble back over the manhole cover. There’s something strange in the air between them: tension, or maybe just the wind. Either way, Yoohyeon decides to lighten the mood. “You ever take any pretty girls here on a date?” 

“One,” Yubin says, stepping back to make sure the rubble pile is to her liking. When she’s apparently satisfied, she turns and starts walking back towards the vehicle. Yoohyeon jogs to catch up. 

“One?”

“One.” 

As they drive back to the medical quarters, the sun is setting. The sky shimmers orange and pink, casting long shadows over the endless sea of what Yoohyeon now knows to be ash. In the driver’s seat, Yubin becomes a silhouette. Yoohyeon admires the curves and edges of her shape, all the small details she finds attractive: the way her hands grip the steering wheel, the hard outline of her armor and the softness that lies beneath. The sun dips even lower, setting a thin row of clouds ablaze. For the first time since she arrived, Yoohyeon thinks CRT-5 looks beautiful . 

Beautiful moments are fleeting in a place like this, Yoohyeon reminds herself. You have to seize them while you can.

“Stop the vehicle,” Yoohyeon says suddenly. 

Immediately, Yubin slams her foot on the brake. The momentum lurches their bodies forward, but Yubin doesn’t take her eyes off Yoohyeon. “What happened? Is everything okay?”  

Yoohyeon unbuckles her seatbelt. She feels bad for scaring Yubin, but she’ll save the apology for some other time. The sunset is almost over. She has to move quickly.

“I need you to know that I’m doing this because I want to,” Yoohyeon says. “Not because I’m sad or trying to fill a void or anything.” 

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Oh,” Yubin says. It comes out in a short, flustered exhale. “Okay.”

Yoohyeon leans in, and gently presses her lips against Yubin’s. Yubin reacts quickly, twisting her fingers into Yoohyeon’s hair and kissing back, mouth open. Yoohyeon lets her eyes flutter shut, leans into the feeling of being swept away. She fits easily with Yubin, and it’s been a long time since anything felt this right. 

When they pull away, the sun has already disappeared from the horizon. Dusk lingers, and there’s a slight chill in the air. Yubin still looks beautiful. 

“Hi,” Yoohyeon giggles. 

“You were the one,” Yubin says. “The one that I meant. It wasn’t really a date, but I didn’t know what else to say.”

“I figured,” Yoohyeon says. It sounds smug, and she knows it. But Yubin leans in to kiss her again, and kiss her and kiss her and kiss her. So it couldn’t have been too much of a deal-breaker. 

After that night, everything moves in a fast and breathless rush. Two whole weeks pass, and Yoohyeon barely notices until Bora asks her a question at work. 

“Why have you been so happy lately?” 

“Have I been happy?” Yoohyeon asks, stripping her hands of her rubber gloves. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“You just treated the most disgusting infection I’ve ever seen, and you were humming the whole time. You were humming, ” Bora leans slightly forward in her seat. “Did you get laid?”

“I sleep in the same room with you and eight other nurses. How would I have gotten laid?” Yoohyeon asks, but winces when her voice comes out all high, the way it always does when she’s lying. She clears her throat, hoping Bora won’t notice.

“You’re freaking me out. Go back to being miserable.”

Yoohyeon laughs, because she knows it’s a joke. But later, when she’s laying awake at night, it occurs to her that she has felt happier lately. Happier than she thought would be possible on CRT-5. And more than that, she’s been feeling like herself. Her old self, who couldn’t go two hours without smiling, who would sing along to the radio and crack jokes at work and dye her hair when she got bored. 

Yoohyeon doesn’t know if she’ll ever reach those levels of naive contentment again. It’s unrealistic, now that she’s seen the worst corner of the galaxy. She’ll never be able to tune out the bad news the way she used to, because she lives in it, and just might die in it. Her surroundings permeate everything, covering her mind and body in ash. 

But when she’s with Yubin, there are moments when she forgets. They never last long, and they don’t change anything, but they happen. 

It’s enough to make Yoohyeon feel like she has a reason to wake up in the mornings.

Yubin doesn’t like talking about herself. That much is obvious. 

But as time goes on, Yoohyeon finds herself collecting scraps of information, keeping track of facts and anecdotes, building an index in her head. Coloring in the carefully-drawn lines that make up Lee Yubin.  

She likes books and machines and music. She hates scary movies. Used to hate blood until she got used to it. She joined the Renegades when she was fourteen and got caught by the feds two years later. For six months, she lived in a juvenile detention center while they ran tests, trying to decide what to do with her. Every morning, she woke up not knowing if she’d live to see the sun go down. 

She stopped bringing up her political beliefs, and only spoke when spoken to. She learned to listen, and she learned to lie. 

She didn’t want to become a prison guard. But it was the only option they gave her, so she took it. She barely survived her first year of training, but by the time she graduated, she’d improved so much that she was near the top of her class. She probably would have been assigned a more desirable post if not for the R-shaped stain on her past. Not that she regrets anything. She’d take heaps of ash over never having fought in the first place.

She still recites the names of her old friends in her head as she’s falling asleep at night, so she doesn’t forget. She doesn’t feel guilty as often as she used to, but she still feels lost a lot of the time. 

“What do you mean by lost?” Yoohyeon asks, when Yubin tells her that last part. It’s after dark, and they’re lying in the back compartment of Yubin’s vehicle, miles away from where either of them are supposed to be. Yoohyeon’s back is pressed up against a box of spare cables, but she doesn’t mind, because Yubin is in her arms. 

“I’ve been away for so long, and sometimes it feels like I don’t know who I am anymore,” Yubin says quietly. “It’s like I’m not the same person who got myself sent here in the first place.”

Yoohyeon props herself up on her elbow, tucking a strand of hair behind Yubin’s ear. “Obviously I didn’t know you back then. But I do know that only a special kind of person becomes a prison guard because they got arrested. And when I look at you, that’s what I see. A special kind of person.”

“Thanks,” Yubin mutters. 

“Also, no one feels the same way at twenty-two as they did at sixteen. If we did, we’d probably all be dead.”

Through the darkness, Yoohyeon feels Yubin’s fingers lace through her own. “I’m glad I met you, Yoohyeon.”

“I’m glad I met you,” Yoohyeon says, and figures it’s too late in the night to not be honest. “Sometimes I feel like I’ve known you my whole life.” 

“It’s too bad we met here, then. Out of all of the places.”

Yoohyeon kisses Yubin’s cheek, and then her jawline. “You make it better.”

“Good,” Yubin says. “You deserve the best.”

Yoohyeon doesn’t know if she agrees, or if the best is even possible where they are. It’s still a nice thing to hear, though. The clock on the dashboard says they only have a few minutes before they should start heading back, but Yoohyeon just closes her eyes and presses her face into Yubin’s neck. Imagines they’re two people who can love on their own terms. 

“I know it doesn’t look like much,” Yubin says. Yoohyeon smacks her arm. 

Obviously, Yoohyeon was aware that Yubin had been fixing up a spacecraft. But judging by the way Yubin spoke about it, it might as well have been a couple pieces of scrap metal held together with craft glue. But that’s not what Yoohyeon sees, standing in the middle of an abandoned junkyard. Yoohyeon sees a real hybrid jet. An older model, sure, and in desperate need of paint, but still. 

“I can’t believe you lied to me!”

“I didn’t lie,” Yubin protests. “It still doesn’t have a real floor. And the engine’s missing a compressor, and the chances of me finding one are basically nothing.”

“Don’t be so negative,” Yoohyeon says, walking to take a closer look at the jet. 

Inside, it’s beautiful. Everything is clean and organized, and the buttons on the control panels shine like each one had been polished individually. “How long have you been working on this?”

“Since I found it. So about a year and a half.” 

Yoohyeon stares at Yubin in amazement. “How have you not been caught?”

“They don’t use this junkyard anymore, so no one really comes this way. And I guess I’ve just been lucky when it comes to taking parts from warehouses. Most of it’s the stuff they don’t keep track of.” 

Sitting on one of the passenger seats is an old pair of pilot goggles. Yoohyeon picks it up, running her fingers over the plastic. “Can you fly it?”

“I hope so. It’s been a while,” Yubin says. “And I don’t think driving you around in the vehicle counts as practice.” 

Normally, Yoohyeon would laugh at the joke. But her mind is too busy racing. “You could really do it.”

“Do what?” Yubin asks. And then, a beat later, “Oh.” 

“A floor and a compressor, right? That’s only two things. Two quick fixes, and you’re free.” Yoohyeon is in awe of her own realization. For all she and Bora talk about what they’ll do when they’re finally stationed elsewhere, they both know it’s a fantasy. CRT-5 has a reputation as a point of no return, for inmates and non-inmates alike. By fixing up the hybrid jet, Yubin has an opportunity unlike anything anyone else stuck on the miserable planet has ever seen. “Do you know where you’d go?” 

“As far as I can get, I guess,” Yubin says. “Kind of hard to escape the feds, but I’d try to get a head start.”

“What about rejoining the Renegades?”

“I doubt anyone remembers me. And even if they did, why would they want someone who worked for three years keeping their members imprisoned?” Yubin reaches out, absentmindedly turning one of the dials on the wall. “Honestly, repairing this thing just gave me something to do. I wanted to make sure I still knew ships and stuff. I never made a plan for leaving. I didn’t think I’d get that far.”

“But you are that far,” Yoohyeon says. Yubin keeps moving the dial back and forth, and Yoohyeon thinks about how Yubin was only sixteen when she got arrested, and how Yubin sometimes feels so far away from her old life that she thinks she’s a different person. She remembers that Yubin used to be afraid of blood. She remembers the girl who took her armor off. “You have to go. You have to.” 

Yubin looks at Yoohyeon, an unreadable expression on her face. “I still don’t have a compressor.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Yoohyeon says, feeling her chest deflate a little. 

“But if, somehow, I found one,” Yubin continues, (slow, like she’s choosing her words carefully), “and I fixed the floor. Would you come with me?” She returns her attention to the dial, and Yoohyeon notices her cheeks are slightly pink. “Hypothetically speaking, of course.”

Yoohyeon is suddenly overcome with a wave of fondness. She can barely believe what she’s hearing: that Yubin built such an amazing opportunity, and wants to bring Yoohyeon, of all people, along. The answer seems simple. She’s already a prisoner in almost every sense of the word. Being a fugitive would be a step-up. “Of course I’d come with you,” Yoohyeon says, and grins. “Hypothetically speaking.” 

“You look nice today,” Yubin says.

Yoohyeon rolls her eyes. “I’m wearing scrubs.”

“They’re purple. You look pretty in purple.”

(Yoohyeon thinks she might be in love with Yubin. She’d say it, if she weren’t so afraid of history repeating itself.)

Nothing grows on CRT-5 anymore. The land is barren, the animals are long-gone. The air they breathe is synthetic, a product of machines and filters. There aren’t any life cycles, just death that consumes.

It should have been a sign, maybe, that anything good would be temporary. Or at least that’s what Yoohyeon tells herself when she’s searching for an explanation. 

From the moment Yubin shows up outside the dining tent, Yoohyeon gets the feeling something’s wrong. Ever since their first kiss, their meeting place has been near the back entrance, where they’re less likely to be seen. 

“I need to talk to you,” Yubin says, using her firm guard voice. A few people look as they pass by, but no one lingers. “It’s important.” 

“Um, okay.”

Yoohyeon follows Yubin to the ward, or the cluster of tents where long-term patients are housed. She feels nervous, but she doesn’t know why. And then Yubin speaks. 

“Your ex-girlfriend’s name is Siyeon, right?”

“Yes.”

“Lee Siyeon?”

“Yes. How did you...is she here?” Yoohyeon asks, glancing around like Siyeon might pop out from one of the tents and yell surprise .

“Yes, she’s here,” Yubin says. Yoohyeon feels her jaw drop open. It’s been so long , and she lost count of all the what-ifs and the nights she stayed awake, torturing herself with the questions Siyeon left behind. She wants to leap with joy, but something in Yubin’s face makes her hesitate. The nervous feeling returns, but five times worse. 

“Yubin. What’s wrong?”

“She’s um, in a really bad state. A coma, to be exact. I don’t know what happened, but wherever she was didn’t have the medical facilities to support her, so they sent her here.” As Yubin speaks, Yoohyeon’s heart sinks to the bottom of her stomach. “She just arrived this morning. I checked her file when I heard she was a Renegade.”

“I need to see her,” Yoohyeon says, voice cracking. “Yubin, please. I need to see her.”

It’s quiet inside the ward, and the sound of Yoohyeon’s heavy breathing seems to echo through the air. Yoohyeon pulls back one, two, five, seven curtains before she finally finds the right room. The moment her eyes land on Siyeon’s body, comatose on the medical cot, Yoohyeon lets out a sharp, painful sob. She feels Yubin pull her in, close to her chest, and that only makes Yoohyeon cry harder.

Siyeon lies completely still, eyes closed, skin ghostly pale. There are more wires and tubes coming out of her body than Yoohyeon can handle counting, and the beeping of the monitors behind her are the only indication that there’s a heart beating beneath the hospital gown. Both of her legs are enclosed in casts, and her right arm rests in a sling. But what horrifies Yoohyeon the most is what appears to be a head injury. The majority of Siyeon’s crown and forehead are covered in bandages, but large purple bruises are visible as far down as her cheekbones. 

“No,” Yoohyeon sobs into Yubin’s shirt. “It’s not fair.” 

“I know,” Yubin says, running her fingers through Yoohyeon’s hair. “But at least you know where she is now. At least she’s not dead.”

Yoohyeon pulls away, untangling herself from Yubin’s embrace. “Don’t say that ,” she snaps, wiping her cheeks with her sleeves. “I don’t want to think about that.”

“Okay,” Yubin says, clearly a little taken-aback by Yoohyeon’s reaction. “I’m sorry.”

“Can I be alone?” Yoohyeon asks. She feels confused and scared and off-balance, and Yubin doesn’t need to see that side of her. The one that rears its head once all those feelings come together to push her off the edge.

Yubin nods, and leaves, because Yubin is a better person than Yoohyeon can stand to be around right now. Yoohyeon looks back at Siyeon. She has a sudden urge to give her a hug. But Siyeon looks terrifyingly fragile, and Yoohyeon thinks an embrace might break her further. So she just brushes her index finger against the skin of Siyeon’s inner wrist. 

“Singie, what did you do?”

Yoohyeon’s face scrunches up, but she feels too exhausted to sob all of a sudden. She wanted to see Siyeon again, but not like this. Not when she sees so many patients, but none of them seem to ever get better, because they’re stuck in a place where nothing can grow.

The familiar sad ache in her stomach is heavier than it’s ever been. She stays until she can’t bear it anymore, and then she leaves. 

“Have you heard anything about the new patient in the ward?” Yoohyeon asks Bora the next day, in her best casual voice. 

“Yeah, Sleeping Beauty,” Bora says, and the lightness in her tone sends a stab of irritation throughout Yoohyeon, but she tries her best to shake it off. It’s not like Bora knows any better.  “Heard she got hurt bad. Who knows if she’ll make it or not.”

Yoohyeon ignores the second part of Bora’s words. She can’t handle that suggestion right now, or maybe ever. “Do you know how she got hurt?”

“No clue, but probably the same way all of them do. I mean, if the work was safe, they’d have someone other than prisoners do it.” 

“So she was at a CRT?”

“I have no idea. Why are you so obsessed with this chick? Don’t you already have a secret girlfriend or whatever?” Yoohyeon must look surprised because Bora rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. You sneak out almost every day. Did you really think no one would notice?”

“Never mind,” Yoohyeon says. 

She didn’t think her day could get any worse, but then she sees a familiar inmate approaching her station: the older woman who had pulled muscle, accompanied by the same guard. Immediately, Yoohyeon feels her heart rate speed up. With everything that’s happened since, she’d almost forgotten about the painkillers. Was the woman here to threaten her for more? Would she be arrested? 

“Hello again,” Yoohyeon says. She tries not to let the fear show on her face. “How’s that muscle?”

“A lot better,” the woman says with a smile. It takes Yoohyeon by surprise: if she remembers correctly, the woman didn’t smile during either of her previous visits. 

“Do you need me to look at it again?”

“No, I’m actually here for a sore throat this time.” The woman leans in, close enough so the guard can’t hear. “Thank you for what you did,” she whispers. “It’s been so long since I met someone who actually cared. You saved me.”

Yoohyeon pulls back in surprise. There’s a genuine look of gratitude on the inmate’s face, and it touches Yoohyeon somewhere between her ribs. “I just wanted to help.” 

“I know,” the woman says. “I wish everyone here was like you.” 

It’s similar to what Yubin said, back when she caught Yoohyeon giving the woman the pills in the first place. This place would be better if more people were like you. 

Something stirs inside Yoohyeon, sudden and unreadable. She squeezes the woman’s hand, only letting go when the guard clears his throat.

Yoohyeon meets Yubin at their usual place that afternoon. Yubin’s hands are in her pockets, like she’s scared to reach out. Yoohyeon wants to reassure her, but she doesn’t know what to say. They don’t talk until they’re inside the vehicle, seat belts buckled. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“I’m okay,” Yoohyeon says. Her encounter with the patient is still at the forefront of her mind, as is the picture of Siyeon lying unconscious in the ward. “Not great, given everything.”

“I’m sorry for upsetting you last night,” Yubin says. “I wasn’t thinking.”

Yoohyeon leans over, rests her head against Yubin’s shoulder. “I forgive you.” 

It takes about fifty minutes for Yoohyeon to realize they’re actually heading somewhere. Normally they drive until they’re far enough away from everything that they can park and make out and hold each other for a few hours. But they’re far past a measurable distance now. Yoohyeon looks out the window. Something about the surroundings feels familiar, but she can’t quite put her finger on it. And then she sees something metal, glinting in the distance. 

“We’re going to the junkyard?” 

Yubin nods. “I have a surprise for you.” 

When they arrive, Yubin makes a beeline for the hybrid jet. Yoohyeon follows. They climb through the entrance, and Yubin squeezes Yoohyeon’s shoulders before going to sit in the cockpit. There’s something frantic in her energy today, like she’s excited but also nervous. 

“Sit down,” Yubin says. “I don’t think there should be any problems, but just in case.”

Once Yoohyeon is seated, Yubin starts pushing buttons and adjusting dials on the dashboard. After a few seconds, Yoohyeon hears it: a slow, steady rumbling sound. The floor of the jet begins to vibrate beneath Yoohyeon’s feet. Oh, she thinks. Surprise. 

“Did you feel it?” Yubin asks, after pressing another series of buttons and making the noise and vibrations stop. She steps out of the cockpit and comes to stand in front of Yoohyeon. “It was the engine. I got the engine to work.”

“That’s great, Yubin.”

Yubin shakes her head. “You don’t get it. It works because I found a compressor. Well, sort of. I took it.”

“Took it?” Yoohyeon raises her eyebrows. “From where?” 

“One of the patroller’s ships. It was parked in the landing area, so I stole some tools from the warehouse and managed to extract it.”

Yoohyeon’s jaw drops. The patroller’s ships are the closest thing CRT-5 has to birds, constantly circling above as if hunting for prey. “Won’t they notice it’s gone?” 

“Definitely,” Yubin says, with a tight, barely-there smile. 

It suddenly occurs to Yoohyeon just how big of a deal this is, how much Yubin has compromised for this one part. For this one chance. “Oh my god.”

“They’ll probably launch an investigation as soon as they figure out it’s missing, which could be any day this week,” Yubin continues. Her tone is casual, like this is just another routine she’s reciting. “Then they’ll track down who had access to the area at the time the part was taken, and interrogate everyone.” Yubin scratches the back of her head. “So we should probably plan to leave as soon as we can.”

“Wait,” Yoohyeon says. Everything feels too fast, all of a sudden. “Slow down.”

“Is something wrong?” 

“I don’t know,” Yoohyeon says. “I don’t...I’m not sure about this.”

Yubin sticks her hands in her pockets again. “What do you mean you’re not sure?”

“I just mean I’m not sure,” Yoohyeon says, staring down at her lap. She feels guilty looking anywhere else. “I know you did this for me, and I know what I said the other day, but now…” Her voice trails off. She doesn’t know what else to say. She knows this is coming out of nowhere. The day weighs heavy, too heavy on her brain. 

“Is it because of Siyeon?” Yubin asks. “I know you don’t want to leave her, but she might never wake up.” Yoohyeon flinches, but Yubin continues. “I’m sorry, but it’s true. You shouldn’t sacrifice your own happiness for something that might not happen.”

“It’s not just because of Siyeon,” Yoohyeon says. She squeezes her eyes shut. This place would be better if more people were like you. “There’s so many people here hurting. It wouldn’t be fair for me to leave. I’m a nurse. I’m supposed to help people.”

“You can’t be serious,” Yubin says, with a bark of short, humorless laughter. “This place is doomed and you know it. Everything that was good got burnt away. No matter how nice you are, that’s not going to change.” 

“You don’t have to understand,” Yoohyeon says softly. 

When Yubin caught Yoohyeon slipping away the painkillers, she had called her impulsive. But Yoohyeon isn’t impulsive, not really. She just cares about helping people. It’s what she knows best and most deeply. At the end of the day, she’s not the type of person to make selfish decisions. It would be a shame to start now, when everything is as bad as it’s ever been. 

And what would be the point of it all, if she gave in that easily?

“Do you,” Yubin starts, and takes a deep, shaky breath. “Do you want me to stay with you?”

“We both know that can’t happen,” Yoohyeon says. From the moment they met, Yoohyeon knew Yubin was different. Yubin carries herself like she belonged elsewhere, like the desolation hasn’t put out the fire in her soul just yet. She recites the names of her old friends to herself at night so she won’t forget. Yoohyeon is okay with settling. But Yubin deserves better. Better than CRT-5, better than the last six years of her life, better than Yoohyeon holding her back. “They’ll find out you stole the part and arrest you. Besides, you don’t belong here.”

“You don’t belong here either,” Yubin says, but there’s a stroke of resignation in her voice, like she knows the argument is over. “And I wanted to leave with you. I didn’t want to do this alone.” 

“I wouldn’t be much help to you anyway.”  

Yubin shakes her head. “Yes, you would. I won’t tell you what to do, though.”

“Thanks.”

“But just out of curiosity,” Yubin says, voice cracking slightly. “If I told you I loved you, that wouldn’t make a difference. Would it.” 

It’s a statement, not a question. A lump lodges itself in Yoohyeon’s throat for what feels like the thousandth time in the past twenty-four hours. I love you too, Yoohyeon thinks. But I can’t. “I’m sorry.”

“Okay. Then let me drive you home.” 

It’s dark out by the time they get to the medical quarters. There’s a chill in the air. Yoohyeon wants to reach for Yubin’s hand, but she doesn’t feel like that’s something she can do anymore. It’s pathetic, Yoohyeon thinks, how fast everything came to a screeching halt. How she’s so good at fixing things, but just as good at destroying them. 

At least she doesn’t have to worry about implicating Yubin in that anymore. Yoohyeon can do what she knows how to do, and leave the risk-taking to the rest of the galaxy.

“Will you come say goodbye before you leave?” Yoohyeon asks, stepping out of the vehicle. She can’t bring herself to care about her pride. Besides, she has a feeling Yubin’s is just as wounded. 

“Good night, Yoohyeon,” Yubin says. She drives away.

Yoohyeon manages to stay composed as she walks back to her bed, but as soon as her head hits her pillow, something breaks open inside of her. She starts crying, fast and heavy. When she wakes up in the morning, her cheeks are still wet. She thinks of Yubin’s face the moment she realized Yoohyeon wasn’t coming with her. The tears return. They might as well have never left. 

“Hey Yoohyeon, remember when I told you to go back to being miserable?”

Yoohyeon sniffles. It’s completely unprofessional for the workplace, but she can’t bring herself to care. “Yeah.”

“I take it back. This is worse than when you were weird and cheerful.” Bora awkwardly rests a hand on Yoohyeon’s shoulder. “Um, hey. Whatever happened, I’m sorry.”

“Bora, do you think I’m a good person?”

There’s a thoughtful look on Bora’s face as she ponders the question. “Yes, I do, actually,” she says. “And I wouldn’t say that about most of the people here. Myself included.”

It’s sweet and striking in its honesty, and apparently not what Yoohyeon needed to hear at all, because she feels like she’s going to cry all over again . “I think you’re a good person, B-Bora,” Yoohyeon says, voice breaking.

“Shit,” Bora says flatly. She grabs a handful of tissues from the box on the sink, and hands the crumpled wad to Yoohyeon.“Um, hey! I know something that’ll cheer you up!”

“W-What is it?”

“The girl in the coma woke up.”

Yoohyeon drops the tissues. They scatter all across the floor. 

“ What did you just say?”

“You know, Sleeping Beauty. They tried some new treatment on her or something, and it actually worked. You seemed pretty worried the other day so I thought you’d want to know.” Bora’s eyes brighten up. “Hey, I was right! You look better already.”

“I have to go,” Yoohyeon says. “Cover for me?”

“Um, sure,” Bora answers. “What do you-”

Yoohyeon doesn’t hear the rest of Bora’s question. She’s already halfway to the ward.

The guard out front doesn’t question Yoohyeon’s presence, probably thanks to her scrubs, and she easily slips through the entrance. By some stroke of luck, no one else is inside. 

There are words in Yoohyeon’s mouth, things she wants to say to Siyeon. They vanish the minute she pulls the curtain back, and sees a pair of familiar eyes looking back at her. 

“Holy shit,” Siyeon says. Her voice sounds small and tired, but she’s awake . “Is this a dream?” 

“No,” Yoohyeon says, moving to kneel by Siyeon’s bedside. “I work here.” 

“Damn, what are the odds,” Siyeon says. She lifts her head up, but then winces in pain, and sets it back down on the pillow. “Sorry. I’d hug you but it’s a bitch to move right now.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Yoohyeon says. She runs her hand through Siyeon’s dark hair, brushing her fingers across her scalp. “I can’t believe you’re really awake. I saw you the other day, and it looked…”

“Bad?” Siyeon suggests. “Yeah, I’m not surprised. Don’t try to fly a hoverjet if you don’t know what you’re doing.” She glances at her left arm resentfully. “I have one limb that’s not broken, and I’m too tired to move it. Fuck.”

“You tried to fly a hoverjet? That’s how this happened?” 

“Saw my chance to escape and I took it,” Siyeon says. “I remember getting maybe fifty feet in the air, and then all the systems freaked out. One of the doctors here said if I’d flown any higher, the crash would have killed me.”

Yoohyeon shudders at the thought. “Where were you?”

“CRT-18a. It was hell. Although I’ve heard even worse about this place.”

Yoohyeon looks down at the ashy footprints that cover the floor. “Yeah. It’s not...it’s not amazing.” 

“Fuck,” Siyeon says. Her voice sounds fragile, and Yoohyeon can’t tell if it’s because of the injuries or if it’s something else. “Yoohyeon, I’m so sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

“You’re here ,” Siyeon says. “You shouldn’t be here. And I know you wouldn’t have done anything to get yourself in trouble, so it must have been because of me. It was, wasn’t it?”

The last thing Yoohyeon wants is for Siyeon to feel bad about herself. “It’s okay. It’s not like I’m a prisoner. I have the same job here that I had at home. I have even more responsibility, actually.” 

“Oh come on, Yoohyeon. Everyone’s a prisoner in these places. Even the guards.”

That makes Yoohyeon think about Yubin, and she forces herself to push the guilty feelings away. “It’s not too bad.”

“Yes, it is,” Siyeon says, with more energy than Yoohyeon thought would be possible given her state. “It’s hell. And as soon as I get these casts off, I’m figuring out another way to escape. I don’t care if I have to crash a jet all over again.” 

“But it’s really not too bad,” Yoohyeon says again, forcefully this time because she needs Siyeon to hear it. She needs it to feel true. “I mean, I get what you’re saying. I was planning to escape with my, um, friend that I met here. But then I remembered that it isn’t...too bad.” 

“Please tell me you’re joking,” Siyeon says flatly. “Yoohyeon, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m helping people,” Yoohyeon insists. “The whole reason I became a nurse was because I wanted to help people. And I’m helping people who really need it, so that’s even better.”

“Not if you’re ruining your own life.”

“I’m not ruining anything!” Yoohyeon exclaims, a little hysterical. “I’m doing what I’m meant to do. Sure, it isn’t the ideal place, but that only means it needs me more. And I wasn’t there to keep you from getting hurt, but now I can make sure you get better.”

“ No,” Siyeon says forcefully. “I am not letting you put yourself over me again.”

“What do you mean?”

There’s a moment of silence before Siyeon speaks. “That’s what you did for the majority of our relationship, and we both know it, and I feel really shitty about it.”

“Don’t,” Yoohyeon says. She knows it’s true, but Siyeon makes it sound worse than it was. They were both a part of it, and it’s not like Yoohyeon has regrets or anything. Besides, Siyeon is hurt bad enough already, and it pains Yoohyeon to see her angry at herself. “You were a Renegade, and your work was important. I understood that.”

Siyeon lets out a small sigh. “Do you want to hear something I’ve been thinking about in the last few months?”

“Sure.”

“Joining the Renegades kind of objectively ruined my life. Before, I hated the feds and everything, but I didn’t really know all the shit they did. Once I learned, it was all I could think about. I was so angry all the time, so I volunteered for the most dangerous assignments, because I needed to feel like I was doing something. I got hurt a lot.” 

Yoohyeon nods. She was the one putting ice on Siyeon’s bruises, after all. “I remember.” 

“And then I got arrested, which means either I’ll be a prisoner for the rest of my life, or I’ll be on-the-run. There’s no way I can go back. But you know what?”

“What?”

“I was happy. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was. I was doing something that made me feel like I had a purpose. Like I was alive for a reason.”

There are times when Yubin reminds Yoohyeon of Siyeon, and vice-versa. This is one of them. “It’s good you don’t have regrets, I guess.” 

“Yoohyeon,” Siyeon says. “You can’t tell me this place makes you feel alive.”

Yoohyeon doesn’t respond right away. There’s a swirl of answers in her head, but she doesn’t know if she can say them out loud. No, she thinks. It doesn’t make me feel alive. But that’s okay. I can still exist. I can make the best out of what I’ve been given. 

No, it doesn’t make me feel alive. But there are things here that do. The bunker. The junkyard. Yubin.

Yubin. 

Yubin, who makes Yoohyeon feel like the carelessly happy person she used to be. Yubin, who tells her she looks pretty in scrubs, who is smart and loving and vulnerable, who outshone the sunset. Yubin, who stole a compressor from a patroller’s ship because Yoohyeon had convinced her to, because she wanted to escape together. Because they could picture a life in a place that wasn’t this one, and that was enough. 

But Yoohyeon doesn’t know anymore. Because the galaxy is huge and endless and they’d be setting themselves up to be hunted, and there’s only one thing she knows how to do and maybe she could make a difference here, and god, what kind of person would she be if she left Siyeon’s side in this condition?

“I can’t leave you,” Yoohyeon says. She stares at the bruises on Siyeon’s temple. They’re darker up close. “I can’t.” 

“Yes, you can. And you should.”

Yoohyeon closes her eyes, because having them open is overwhelming all of a sudden. “It’s so dangerous.”

“Danger can be fun,” Siyeon says. “Breaking rules is the only thing worth living for, remember? Break the rules. Live for something.”

Those words seem to puncture something in Yoohyeon, and all the blurriness in her head becomes clear. The right decision is there, and she can see it now. It isn’t easy, but maybe nothing worthwhile ever is. 

“I’ll come back for you,” Yoohyeon says, lightly rubbing the skin on Siyeon’s good arm. 

“Don’t be noble,” Siyeon replies. “This is about you. Besides, I’ll be out of here by the time you turn the spacecraft around.” 

Yoohyeon doesn’t want to leave Siyeon’s side, but she has a mission now, and she can’t risk getting in trouble at work before she makes it happen. So she stands up, allowing her eyes to take in as much of Siyeon’s appearance as possible. It might be a while. “I thought I’d never see you again,” Yoohyeon confesses. “I was so scared.”

“It’s good to be wrong sometimes, isn’t it?” Siyeon says, grinning as much as she can seem to manage. The look is strikingly familiar, and it makes Yoohyeon feel twice as certain that Siyeon will be fine. “And even though I’m not glad you’re here, I’m glad I saw you.” 

“So I guess I’ll see you again soon,” Yoohyeon says, walking back towards the curtain. 

“You will,” Siyeon replies. “And Yoohyeon?”

“Yes?”

“You can do this.” 

And as strange as it is, Yoohyeon believes her. 

Yoohyeon waits by the back entrance for two hours. She’s almost convinced that Yubin won’t show up, or that she left already, without saying goodbye. Yoohyeon wouldn’t blame her if that was the case. 

But then she sees a familiar pair of headlights flash in the distance. 

Yubin steps out of the vehicle with apprehension, not looking Yoohyeon in the eyes. It tells Yoohyeon what she already knew: that she basically has one shot at this. Go big or go home.  

“I love you too,” Yoohyeon says, once Yubin is in earshot.

Yubin buries her face in her hands and lets out a noise of frustration. “God, you can’t just say that.”

“You did.”

“That was different. I wanted you to stay. You know I’m leaving, and you don’t want to come, and we’ll probably never see each other again, and you can’t say that, Yoohyeon.”

Yoohyeon shifts her weight from one foot to the other. There’s no elegant way to go about this, so she just puts it out there. “I changed my mind.”

“I’m sorry. What?”

“Siyeon woke up.”

“Oh,” Yubin says. “Um, that’s great news.”

“She told me to stop being stupid and live for something,” Yoohyeon says. She can tell Yubin is really listening now, and there’s no stopping her mouth once her heart leaks into it. “I don’t know if that something exists in this place, but if it does, it’s you. You’re the only thing that makes me feel alive.”

Yubin blinks. Opens her mouth, then closes it again. Takes a step forward, then takes a step back. Impatient with the silence, Yoohyeon lays it out on the table. “I want to get away from this place with you. I understand if you don’t want me anymore, but I had to try.” 

Yubin’s lips curl into a smile, and Yoohyeon is hit with a flood of relief. “You’re supposed to be the smart one,” Yubin says. “How could you think I don’t want you? All I do is want you. I want you in all the ways a person can want another person.” 

Face suddenly hot, Yoohyeon steps closer, gently running her hands over Yubin’s armor. “I still won’t be much help to you.”

“Don’t talk like that. Helping is what you’re good at, remember?” Yubin runs her thumb over Yoohyeon’s jawline.“That won’t change, no matter where we end up.”

It hadn’t occurred to Yoohyeon that she could put herself first and still do what she knows she’s meant to do. Everything seems simple, all of a sudden. There’s a clear set of directions, and she doesn’t know why it took her so long to see them. 

Maybe she just needed Yubin by her side. 

They still have plans to make, details to double-check, worries to soothe, and last-minute fires to put out. But all those things can wait. They don’t have much time, but they have what’s in front of them. The surroundings may be miserable, Yoohyeon thinks, but they’re worth remembering. 

It’s pouring rain the day Yubin and Yoohyeon leave CRT-5. 

Yubin doesn’t seem phased. “I’m not confident in very much, but I do know this thing is weatherproof,” Yubin says as she adjusts a series of dials on one of the instrument panels. From her seat on the recently-finished floor, Yoohyeon can feel the vibrations of the engine humming. Just like them, the hybrid jet is itching to take off. 

“Well, you may not be confident, but I am,” Yoohyeon says. It’s the truth, even though she doesn’t really know why. There’s a million ways things could go wrong. The spark plugs could overheat, the navigation could fail. There’s an infinite number of meteorites and space junk they could crash into, and even more people who will want to hunt them down. It’s Yoohyeon, Yubin, and the hybrid jet against the vast majority of the galaxy. Those aren’t exactly great odds, but not a single bone in Yoohyeon’s body is stressed about them. It took her long enough to figure out this is what she wants, and now she feels content in whatever’s meant to happen. 

“We should take off before someone hears the engine,” Yubin says. The pilot goggles are perched on her head, making her hair stick out in all directions. She strides towards Yoohyeon and, before Yoohyeon has time to react, kisses her fully and deeply on the mouth. “We’re really doing this, huh?”

“We really are.”

Yubin flashes one more nervous grin in Yoohyeon’s direction before pulling her goggles over her eyes and slipping into the cockpit. Yoohyeon buckles herself into what she’s designated the co-pilot seat, and double-checks her oxygen mask. Yubin presses a few buttons on the dashboard, and starts counting down.

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6…”

Through the window, Yoohyeon sees raindrops falling down fast and hard as bullets, piercing the planet’s surface. She’s never been religious, but she knows about the flood that’s followed by a rebirth. Maybe the storm will cleanse them, and they’ll emerge ready to start brand-new.

“5, 4, 3, 2, 1…”

Because there’s no turning back from this. 

“Liftoff.”

But Yoohyeon feels alive , and happy, and freer than she’s ever felt before, and she isn’t sure she believes in soulmates, but if she did she thinks Yubin would be hers. She doesn’t know where they’ll end up, but she knows she’s living for something, and sharing it with Yubin, and that’s enough. Even if they fail, they’ll be together. Even if they fail, someone can say they tried. 

They rise from the ashes and soar into the open sky.