CHAPTER 1. PART 4 :
For a moment, Iona closed her eyes, the sound evoking an echo of the past. She saw herself in the golden fields of Virven13, the warmth of the sun caressing her skin.
The smell of fertile soil mixed with the sweet scent of Lyrithium flowers, filling the air. The memory was so powerful that she could almost feel the gentle wind caressing the stalks.
Those days were over, but the memories remained as clear as the day they were made. Iona allowed herself a moment to relive this reminiscence before the harsh reality of her life aboard the pirate ship abruptly called her to order.
"Iona, watch out!" a familiar voice shouted.
"If you keep dreaming instead of working, the command gorillas will end up throwing you into space!" A bustling figure, blackened with soot, appeared in the wide-open doorway of the greenhouse.
Iona rolled her eyes, ignoring the newcomer's joke. She leaned casually to pick up her badge and put it back in place, against her heart.
"Do I criticize your work?" Iona rolled her eyes, grumbling. "And that heating plant, has it finally repaired itself?"
"Ah, if only that were true! I just splashed myself with soot because I like it of course. As if we had the luxury of washing whenever we want here," the newcomer retorted, the irony biting in her voice.
A half-smile curled Iona's lips.
Magda, one of the three slaves aboard, transformed into a scarecrow of ashes, looked like she had waded through dirt and soot.
Iona tossed a clean cloth at her.
"Here, try to regain some dignity with this," she said, a sly smile betraying her amusement.
Magda caught the fabric in mid-air and examined it with a non-enthusiastic pout, reluctant to pass the vaguely clean cloth over her skin. She raised an eyebrow.
"Dignity? On this rust bucket? You're joking, I hope," she replied, wiping her face perfunctorily.
"But thanks anyway. I find that the dirt suits me quite well. And besides, with all this soot, I'm almost as attractive as that hideous Ghn'ork! Imagine that we could almost be mistaken for family !"
Iona smiled mischievously.
"You didn't need the soot to resemble him. Your mere morning face would have been enough to pass for his hidden sister."
Magda gasped in horror.
"Take that back right now!" she exclaimed, flipping her long red braid behind her with panache. She gave Iona a look meant to be thunderous, placing a hand on her hip in a gesture of theatrical indignation.
Iona raised her hands in a gesture of surrender, barely suppressing a laugh as Magda's feigned indignation deflated, leaving room for a smug and victorious smile that lit up her soot-streaked face.
Magda, whose wit was as sharp as her lively mind, had self-assigned to the machinery and various repair tasks on their rust bucket.
She took care of everything herself and willingly, mainly the maintenance of the machine room on the lower decks, having noticed Iona's deep aversion to any source of heat. And for this delicate attention, Iona was deeply grateful.
The ensuing silence was filled with a familiar comfort, broken only by the regular hum of the ship's life systems as the two young women busied themselves with tidying up the greenhouse tools.
It was in these moments of precarious peace, far from the chaos of the pirates and their tyranny, that Iona and Magda found a semblance of normalcy, a reminder of who they were before fate had snatched them from their lives.
Magda had been taken from her wealthy family of merchants at the age of 12 and had become a living bargaining chip for the pirates for the past five years. But in a family of eight, she had become a dispensable link to her "family," a sacrifice that would not be mourned. Since then, she had learned to stay useful to survive.
"Ah, and I repeat myself, but please try to stop challenging everything that moves. I heard Kah-ra grumbling all day in the hallways and telling anyone who would listen that she would end up strangling you with her own hands and throwing you to the livestock on deck 3. Not that I don't appreciate the pinched face of that dangeloïdy every time you rebel against her, but I'd prefer that the only other person with a sense of humor on this rust bucket doesn't end up in shreds out of excess zeal."
The young redhead slave tossed the soiled cloth back at Iona, who caught it with a practiced gesture.
Magda then settled down at a cluttered table, carefully avoiding the most unstable chair, and rested her elbows on the edge. Her head resting in her hands, she adopted the universal posture of someone absorbed in attentive listening.
"Alright, spill the beans, what did you do this time? Even Arkhan didn't flinch when he heard her complain about you all morning, and you know how he strictly forbids anyone from touching you. You are his precious cultivator after all."
Iona shook her head, tossed the cloth onto the table that separated them, and crossed her arms.
"... I didn't do anything special." Magda raised an eyebrow, urging her to come clean, which the Virvenian did with a sigh.
"Except refuse to cultivate narcotics from her planet during my free time. But apparently, questioning the authority of the second in command constitutes a crime punishable by slow and painful death, I guess." Iona declared, shrugging her shoulders, a glint of defiance dancing in her green eyes.
Magda chuckled and then gestured with her hand in the air, eager to hear more.
"So I gave her some Snuff leaves. But they turn your stomach for two days straight. Try drinking after that, and you relive the worst moments of your life." Then she added in a low voice and with a complicit air: "No reason they should enjoy water at their leisure while we dehydrate down here."
The machinist burst out laughing, her laughter characteristic and echoing off the metal walls of the greenhouse.
"Always a hothead, huh?" Magda whistled through her teeth in admiration. She placed a friendly hand on Iona's shoulder, inadvertently leaving a soot mark.
"One day she'll get you. Or you her. But since I'm a good friend, I'll help you hide the body." the redhead chuckled even louder. Annoyed, Iona quickly slapped the back of her hand.
"No, but seriously, thank goodness your green thumb saves you. Arkhan might be as cold as the vacuum of space, but he's not stupid. He knows he owes the beauty of these greenhouses and all the cash that goes with it to you. And as for me, I don't know what I'd do without your famous fresh tomato soup. I'm not joking, without that, I think I would have already given up and removed this thing by myself a long time ago."
She raised her right arm, highlighting the contrition bracelet that hung from her wrist, blinking with its three ominous red LEDs—one for each second it would take for their cortical implant to trigger an implosion if the bracelet was forcibly removed.
A butcher's weapon, nothing less.
Unlike Magda, who had no problem exposing her bracelet for all to see, Iona preferred to hide it under the long sleeves of her suit, offering herself the illusion of a semblance of freedom in this metal jail.