For one heavenly minute I’m alone in the dimly lit cell, back pressed to the faux cement wall, eyes calibrating to the gloom. I rub crumbled mortar between my palms, then press them to my parched lips. Not seeking moisture, that would be ridiculous. But to taste the lack of grime. No human has ventured inside this abandoned piece of space junk for years. It’s been locked up tight. Safe from crowds, yelling and oxygen thieves. I guess they’re running out of space to store all the petty criminals.

 

I splay myself face-down, pressing my cheek into the cold metal floor, still and undisturbed. I should have turned to crime sooner, just to get some peace.

 

Of course I’ve cursed myself, because the automatic door hisses and a soldier bustles in, standing guard. I peep from my position on the floor. He’s a caricature of a human, more metal than man with his protective chest plate with the built-in oxygen tanks. Reinforced tubing snakes up to the mask bio-welded to his face. Hexagonal steel rimmed eye-pieces lend him an insect vibe, with their purple anti-UV coating and 180-degree swivel feature. I tried on a suit like that once, at an army recruitment drive. It was fun for a laugh but no amount of free oxygen could entice me to kill another person.

 

Another insect-soldier manoeuvres a well-muscled lady in knee-high boots into the room. Then the soldiers march out, switching on a pencil-thin light to silhouette my new cell-mate.

 

But she can wait.

 

The wall opposite is covered in a floor-to-ceiling carpet of moss. Plump emerald leaves jostle against sprays of mildest green, the verdant streaks so moist water droplets form, coalesce and trickle to the floor.

 

Holy crap.

 

No wonder I can breathe without coughing.

 

Knee-high boots plop beside me.

 

I inhale so hard I almost pass out; the oxygen levels are insane. They weren’t even this high when I was a kid.

 

I roll away from her and stand to caress the wall. My finger pricks a spiky flower and I laugh, not even caring that my new cellmate probably thinks I’m insane. It’s real. The fucking plant is real. I smear the blood on my lips and lick, savoring the sharp tang of life.

 

“What did they get you for?” Her voice is so deep it’d crumble rock.

 

I shrug. No reason for secrets. “Nicked a plant.”

 

She looks from me to the wall of moss. “One plant? You stole one plant.” She cackles. Maybe we can be insane together.

 

“Tell me the story.” She sweeps a whole trail of moss off the wall and smears it up and down her arms, like it’s a high-end body lotion. She packs it especially thick on her wrists. They’re probably chafed like mine, where the guards held too tight.

 

I don’t feel like talking, but it’s not like I need to save oxygen. Not with our own wall of moss, pumping the precious gas out.

 

“It’s hardly exciting. I scaled the nursery walls. Stole a plant. Got caught.” I follow her lead and scoop a tangy handful for myself.

 

“Your storytelling is shit. How’d you scale the walls? How’d you steal the plant? How’d you get caught?” She regards me closely. “Or maybe the better question is ‘why’?”

 

I ignore the last bit. “Liquid chalk. I was dumb, I thought I found a stash in an old store. Yeah, right. It was a plant.”

 

We make eyes and cackle together at the joke.

 

She nods, suddenly sage. “I heard they added bioluminescence to the chalk, and they’ve got these massive UV spotlight scanners now. So, what plant did you steal?”

 

“A Forked Fern. It had the most leaves. And Fern’s my name. Seemed like an omen.”

 

“Well met, Fern. I’m Vera.” We press our moss-smeared palms together. “And now will you tell me why you’d risk everything to steal a plant?”

 

My chest constricts. It’s nothing to do with the oxygen levels. “My daughter has asthma. The doctors said she’d breathe better with a plant in her room.”

 

The whole cell shudders and I fall onto Vera. “What–?”

 

She holds me tight. “They’re getting ready for takeoff.”

 

“How far can these old space-hulks fly?”

 

“Oh no, love, didn’t they tell you? This ain’t no hulk. This is the First Fleet. We’re going to Mars. Transported for life. New colony needs slaves.” She gestures to the mossy wall. “And even slaves gotta breathe.”