Chapter 2 - Spring and Summer
Plasia yawned softly and stretched her arms over her head, blinking the sleep from her eyes. She pulled the blanket back across her body, and tucked her chin underneath it. She wasn't really cold; the ship had a pretty good air circulation and heating system, and since her corruption, she'd become noticeably hardier to the elements, but it was nice to feel all tucked in and cosy. Safe. It was something she hadn't felt in a very long time.
Slowly, she uncurled her legs from underneath her and stretched them out too. She was sitting in the pilot's chair of the Radon's cockpit, which luckily was plenty large - and comfy - enough for her to curl up in. She hadn't felt too comfortable exploring much of the ship, and for the most part, had stayed in the cockpit. She'd even moved the medical and food supplies on board into there. She couldn't really explain it, but the thought of exploring more of the ship made her anxious. Perhaps it was as simple as knowing the ship wasn't exactly hers. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, and the pain from her bruises and blistering burns was starting to fade, she actually found herself feeling somewhat guilty. It was a weird conflict she was feeling, but at least it was one she could rationalise against easily; Moltezz had literally been seconds away from ending her life...
If only the sinking feeling in her chest could be so easily bested.
Although she was still recovering, and still exhausted, Plasia was looking much better. Her eye was completely healed now. Her missing limb was regenerating at a strong pace, and she didn't have to hobble around so much on her makeshift walking cane anymore (a long piece of ladder railing she'd broken off the ship - as convenient as it could be, her strength still terrified her sometimes). Despite that though, despite how much better she has gotten in such a short amount of time, her hand drifted up towards her neck, which was still scorched an ashy grey. Moltezz's fingers remained imprinted into her skin. She could still feel the sting from the top of her head where her dreadlocks had been pulled out. Everytime Plasia ran her hands through her locks, she could feel them; the clumps that were shorter than the others, that she did her best to hide and push beneath her longer, thicker locks, even though there was no-one else around to see the damage.
Despite being the only one on board the ship, Plasia had been making a very conscious effort to stay decent. Considering all the trauma, both physically and mentally she'd been exposed to, she just hadn't been able to relax in her burned, broken and torn little gown that at this point showed more than it concealed, that Leech had given her back at
Barru X's medical bay. There hadn't been much in the way of clothes aboard the Radon, but in one of her few hesitant explorations around, she had managed to find a few outfits vacuum-sealed away in one of the storage cupboards. They didn't fit her at all - it was obvious from the gothic-fantasy-dominatrix style and the size that these were Moltezz's clothes, and it took Plasia hours of psyching herself up to even pull her stump through the trouser hole. They were too long for her, and tight around her hips, and her bust straight up tore through some of the tighter tops available. But, with a shaking breath and fresh, unshakable resolve, Plasia persevered, and tried again. After six months in nothing but mechanical bondage, and even longer than that before in solely the rags Moltezz deemed fit to don upon her -
Plasia was fucking fed up of being naked.
She wasn't exactly sure how long she'd been on this ship now. It could be difficult enough to regulate a schedule while space-travelling, and she'd spent most of the journey so far sleeping. But it must have been a week at least, judging from the amount of provisions she'd gone through. She knew that the ship wasn't travelling at its full speed - maybe not even half, looking at its speedometers, but she'd not wanted to touch anything - she was leaving, that was all that mattered. While Plasia was more than able to pilot a simple craft, the Radon was more complicated than the nomad civilian ships she was used to. Since she'd left Barru X, quite frankly she'd left it completely alone. And besides, she was happy to wait and take her time before reaching her final, mystery destination. Finally, she'd had some time to rest. Finally, she'd had some time to heal.
Finally, she'd had some time to think.
She thought about the last six months - she'd had no idea she'd been kept prisoner by the DA for that long. So much of it was a blur of the senses, blinding lights, a flash of pain, a warm rush of blood against the skin, and that sweet, sickening smell... She remembered that horrid, slippery white eel, his thin, evil smile and his ice-cold eyes. His scathing tongue and cruel, bitter remarks, and to what end? For his own twisted entertainment.
And then there was the young girl, the golden-yellow dragoness with kind eyes...
and wavy, silken hair...
and soft, malleable skin...
Plasia buried her face into the blanket and started to sob loudly. Her fingers gripped desperately at the soft woolen fabric. She stroked it tenderly as, slowly, she tried to control her breathing.
No, no, I don't want to think about that.
"I wish they'd come with me." Plasia whispered softly. Cherry, Plum, Bubblegum. As her current star disappeared from view, her eyes flickered to the next, a soft, fiery orange through her wet, blurry vision. "I wish she would leave me alone." Her eyes focused then on the murky violet blackness before her. As more tears welled up in her eyes, the streaking comets blurred into soft, sparkling lights. "I wish he was here with me." Her voice cracked.
Of course, Diego had been on her mind the most, both waking and sleeping. Dreams graced her sleep, nightmares tormented them. Those precious few days she'd shared with him, his arms wrapped around her body so protectively, his chest warm against her face, the way they'd moved together, he'd moved in her and her in him... It had been so fleeting. She raised her hand, and gently grasped at the stars as they whizzed past her.
How long had she carried the weight of his death on her? The relief she'd felt when Leech had told her the truth, it had felt as though the weight of the world had been lifted off of her. There was still the matter of finding him, and Seeth, and the others, but at least she knew now.
But... Do I?
All of this thinking came to a head of the most complicated feeling of them all. Leech. She'd looked after her. Treated her, tried her best to keep Moltezz away from her. She'd tried to calm her raging fears around Diego. She tried to shake the doubt from her mind; she wasn't exactly sure what Leech would get from lying to her in that moment, as cruel and sadistic a creature she could be. Besides, it's not like she'd confirmed Diego was actually alive, just that she hadn't been the one who killed him. No, with a few shaky but calming breaths, this was another one that Plasia could rationalise; she didn't think that Leech had lied about that.
So, what did she think of Leech? So much of her time with her had been contained within the dungeon, as much her prison as it was the Marks', and her limited recelections mostly flashes of her other half's memory, interrupted only by flashes of pain and fire. She'd spent a lot of that time as her other half, running around Leech's lab like her own personal little minion. At least I was useful, she thought to herself with an angry little flick-of-the-tongue, as she wiped the tears from her eyes. Probably just missed having her loyal little assistant around the place. I wasn't going to be much good to her like this, was I? She kicked out her injured leg. The too-long trouser flopped around like a fish caught on a line.
Do you even know what you look like now? When did you last look at yourself? At what she turned you into? She made you into a monster! Of course she'd tried to hide you away!
Warm tears still rolling down her cheeks, she rolled her head upwards, and rested it heavily against the headrest, staring up and out of the windshield at the night sky, distant stars whizzing past her like falling stars. It almost felt magical. She shivered, and curled up tighter beneath the blanket. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she thought, there was one nagging thought she couldn't get out of her head;
Then why did they rescue me..?
A soft beeping then from the console interrupted Plasia's thoughts. Although the noise was gentle, it made Plasia jump; the console hadn't done anything at all since she'd... commandeered the Radon. Slowly, she uncurled herself from the seat and walked unsteadily towards the console. She kept the blanket draped across her shoulders, and the bottom of it trailed along the cold metal floor behind her.
As she looked over at the console, at its many colourful blinking buttons and dials and trying desperately to figure out what to do, Plasia suddenly felt her stomach lurch; the ship was slowing down, almost in anticipation of their impending arrival. The stars outside finally took form, distant glittering balls, no longer white-orange streaks lining her vision. Anxiety immediately took hold, and Plasia wrapped the blanket tightly around her body.
Her short respite was over. It was time to fight again.
The ship shunted again, and then the engine silenced all-together. They'd stopped. Shaking, Plasia limped forward, until her face was only millimetres from the glass.
She didn't quite understand what she was seeing at first.
Splayed out in front of her was the mid-dissection wreckage of a space station. Chunks of its destroyed carcass floated through space as several distant drones used bright orange lasers to pluck through the scraps and bring them back to the main barges. Her eyes landed on a particular piece towards the front that bore a massive hole through its hull section, the metal still glowing with heat.
She shuddered uncomfortably, leaning on the seat by her side for support as a wave of dizziness hit her. This place felt familiar. Far too familiar.
As her heart began to thump painfully in her chest, she turned her attention to the main controls of the Radon, something she now regretted having neglected to review in detail. Her fingers hammered at the buttons, looking for anything that might explain where she was. In the corner of her eye, the drones attending to the wreckage had noticed her.
The Radon's controls were obscure as ever, but something of use finally appeared as she frantically searched through the different displays. She had ordered the ship to return to its last destination.
Which would have been...
DA space.
Bright warning lights suddenly flashed in front of her from the Radon's displays.
No no no no! This-This can't be! No! I'm not attacking you! I'M NOT - I NEED HELP! PLEASE!
Menacing interceptors warped in front of her, blinking into existence with a stinging flash of radiation white, shining their headlights at the cockpit and brandishing their hull-mounted heavy vulcan arrays. Larger vessels appeared behind those, covered in larger, turret-mounted weapons that all turned to face the Radon, their barrels emitted a threatening, cold glow.
Plasia fell backwards as she briefly forgot about her lack of foot, shaking from head to toe. The moment lingered forever as she stared at the weapons pointed at her, more and more ships warping in until they had her completely surrounded.
A new light blinked on the Radon's console; an incoming transmission.
