Chapter One: Flight of The Hundred and One
A girl sat on the floor of a small, barely lit grey room. Everything was that same shade between white and black; the walls, the floor and ceiling, the bench built into the wall that served as a cot. She was alone in the room, with no one to visit her and no one to care whether or not she got floated when she turned eighteen.
She glanced to her side, her light blue eyes locking onto a series of scratched-in tally marks that took up almost the entirety of the wall to her right. Counting them, though by now she knew the marks by heart, she worked out her time left. Seven months, one week, three days – that was when she was accepted or ejected. Picking up the worn-down screw from beside her, she carved another mark. Two days.
Her name was Isobel Sterling, aged seventeen and an unlikely candidate for readmission into the general population. She knew she was going to get floated – it was just a matter of time. Her skin was pale from lack of sunlight, though many people on The Ark were the same, and she had a smattering of light freckles on her cheeks and across her nose. Her eyes, framed with thick, dark lashes, were a light blue colour.
Waves of dark auburn hair fell all around her, hiding her face and creating a cloak of hair that fell down her back, stopping around her waist. Like most people, her clothing was old and showed signs of wear and constant repair. She wore a grey tank top with holes around the collar, under a faded green jersey hoodie. On her legs she wore faded black combat trousers, covered with empty pockets, and she had thick, off-white socks under scuffed black, lace-up ankle boots on her feet.
"Prisoner 98," a man's voice sounded from outside her cell. She looked up, tucking the worn screw into her sock and pushing her long, curling red hair out of her face. There was a guard looking into her cell through the hatch on the door. She didn't recognise him. "Stand facing the back wall with your hands raised. Comply and we will not be required to use force."
Standing, the redhead did as she was instructed, her muscles tensed and ready for a fight. A bright light shone into her cell and she narrowed her eyes slightly until they grew accustomed to it. The guard entered with two others, one holding a case, which he opened to reveal several metal cuffs. On instinct, Isobel took a step back, eyeing them cautiously.
"Hold out your right arm," one guard instructed. They spoke calmly, and so she responded in kind, continuing to comply. Resisting would only prolong the inevitable, and Isobel was tired of fighting a lost cause.
The cuff was cold, all metal, and pinched her arm when it was secured. Isobel frowned at the feeling, but did not flinch, and did not make a sound. All three guards edged around her carefully, clearly put-off by her silence and her placid behaviour.
"If you remain compliant, the rest of this should go just as smoothly," another guard explained and she looked up from her cuff sharply, her eyes narrowing at him. He shifted slightly.
"What's going on?" she asked, cutting straight to the point. "Am I being floated?"
"I am not at liberty to discuss the situation," the guard told her. He took her arm and led her outside. As soon as her four grey walls expanded into a series of tiered cells and unfamiliar faces, the girl took in the sight before her.
The Sky Box.
She had seen it only once, when she had been led to her cell, and it had been dark then, and deceptively void of human life. Some cells were full, other empty, but the halls were deserted. This time, it was teeming with life – all around her were guards and other juvenile prisoner, some going along with what they were being told, but many were fighting and yelling and trying to run, and most were just confused. The guards shot those who did not comply – tranquilisers.
Keeping quiet, the girl lowered her head and allowed her curls to obscure her face. She was led through the Sky Box, down from the top tier, where her cell was located, towards the exit, where more guards were waiting. By this point, many of the criminals led out were unconscious or heavily restrained. A few, like Isobel, were simply walking of their own volition.
She lost track of how long she was led through the endless, identical corridors of The Ark, but eventually she and the other juveniles were led onto a ship and strapped into secured seating. She was waved through and pointed towards a ladder, which she climbed. There were a few rows of chairs, and many of them were already filled, with some people simply strapped to the harnesses on the walls. Plenty of room for all of them – all one hundred.
As a guard sat her down and secured her harness, the redhead looked around, trying desperately to find a familiar face. While Isobel didn't know many people, she knew some, and half-hoped that they might have been in the Sky Box, and thus in this ship. However, when she realised that the most familiar face amongst the masses were some she only vaguely recognised, she felt suddenly afraid.
The guards cleared out, all prisoners now secure. A glance showed her that everyone was wearing the same metal cuff. The doors were sealed and with a jolt their ship detached from The Ark. A sick feeling of worry began to bloom in the girl's stomach – was this a mass floating? Had they simply decided to rid themselves of all their young delinquents by sending them out on a ship to run out of air, so they no longer had to waste rations on those they knew would be floated anyway?
Her thoughts distracted her, so she didn't noticed those that were drugged waking up. People began talking to each other, guessing at what was happening, and the most popular theory was a mass floating. Having already thought this, the fact that more people were thinking it made Isobel worry, and that worry turned to panic when the ship jolted.
"Hey," someone called out, only just loud enough to be heard. Isobel's head snapped up and she looked over to the voice, her eyes wide. It was a boy with sharp features and a friendly smile, his hair and eyes dark, his skin tanned, and goggles perched on his head. He looked familiar, but she couldn't quite place him.
"M-Me?" she frowned at her own wavering voice, but the boy's smile just turned more friendly at the sound. He nodded.
"Don't worry," he tried to comfort her. "They'd never just float us. I mean, look and me and you – it'd be a devastating loss to The Ark's gene pool if they just floated good looking people like us," he grinned. Isobel smiled slightly, relaxing a little more.
"Dude, shut up," snorted the boy next to him, an Asian teen with tidily combed black hair and warm brown eyes. He looked over to her and offered her a smile, which she shakily returned.
"He's just jealous," the other boy sniggered. "Though, if you keep smiling at him like that, I'll get pretty jealous, too."
"Quit flirting!" someone jeered at the goggles-wearing boy, who turned bright red at the statement. Clearly, he lost his nerve when he heard the yell, as he looked away from her and didn't try speaking to her again. He and his friend spoke amongst themselves and Isobel was left alone once more, her brain running over various scenarios.
She was drawn out of her own head, however, when ship jolted again, causing her to tense up, and the screens in the ship lit up, showing the face of Chancellor Jaha. Her eyebrows drew together in a frown as she looked at the face of the man who had killed so many, who so many hated, but she was forced to listen to what he was saying.
"Prisoners of The Ark, hear me now," he said clearly, though his face and voice seemed rather smug. "You've been given a second chance, and as your Chancellor, it is my hope that you see this as not just a chance for you, but a chance for all of us, indeed for mankind itself."
"We going to Earth," gasped the girl strapped in beside her. Isobel glanced at her and was momentarily struck by how beautiful the girl's features were, and how similar they looked to someone else she knew. She was clutching the arms of her seat with a white-knuckled grip, clearly scared, and Isobel moved without thinking, placing her left hand over the girl's right.
Isobel said nothing, even as the brunette's head snapped up at the contact, and only squeezed the tanned hand as it shook. The girl released her grip on the seat and turned her hand palm-up, gripping Isobel's in return. There was comfort in the gesture for both of them, and the brunette and the redhead relaxed marginally.
"We have no idea what is waiting for you down there. If the odds of survival were better, we would've sent others," he continued. "Frankly, we're sending you because your crimes have made you expendable."
"Your dad is a dick, Wells," yelled the boy sat on her other side. The redhead's eyebrow quirked and she looked around, quickly spotting the Chancellor's son strapped in beside Doctor Griffin's daughter. Others were laughing, but Wells simply rolled his eyes.
"Those crimes will be forgiven, your records wiped clean," he went on to say, getting the complete attention of everyone on board. The lights began flickering and the ship started to jolt. "The drop site had been chosen carefully. Before the last war, Mount Weather was a military base built within a mountain. It was to be stocked with enough non-perishables to sustain three hundred people for up to two years."
"Spacewalk bandit strikes again," someone commented and the redhead looked up, spotting on dark-haired teen floating around the ship. He floated around, settling in front of Wells and mini-Griffin, saying something she couldn't hear.
By this point, the redhead tuned out what Jaha was saying, focusing instead on bracing herself against the turbulence, having to release the brunette's hand in order to grip her seat. Her mind was running a thousand miles per second. What would happen when they landed? Did they really expect one hundred teenage criminals to get along long enough for their little experiment to run its course? A worse thought hit her. Is this just pretence? The Earth was supposed to be uninhabitable for another hundred years.
Her eyes snapped open.
They really were just sending them to die.
With another sudden jolt, the ship's power seemed to shut off, with sparks flying everywhere. The Spacewalker, and the two idiots who decided to copy him, all landed hard with the sudden re-introduction of gravity, though the latter two seemed to have a worse landing. Spacewalker merely landed on top of Wells and Mini-Griffin.
After a few moments of free-falling, the ship seemed to slow itself – retrorockets, a part of her mind added helpfully – before it finally crashed to a stop, all systems shutting down with a whir of electronic failure. At first, everyone just sat there, strapped in, trying to come to terms with what just happened. If Jaha had been telling the truth, they had landed on Earth. Leaving the ship could mean freedom, or, more likely, painful death.
"Listen," said the Asian guy strapped to the wall. "No machine hum."
"Whoa," his friend replied, taking in the relative silence. "That's a first."
The quiet was almost deafening, the lack of the familiar sound of machinery was disconcerting, but everyone seemed to get over it quickly. In fact, most seemed happy, and took it as proof that they really had landed on Earth. Their harnesses released and almost no one hesitated before pushing themselves out of their seats.
Isobel stayed, silent and unmoving, and watched Mini-Griffin rush to the boys who had attempted to fly to the ground. Judging by her reaction, and that of the Spacewalker, they were both dead. Beside her, the brunette was slowly reaching to release her harness, clearly stunned by the sudden landing, but slowly recovering.
"The outer door is on the lower level," someone yelled as they moved to the ladder. "Let's go!"
"No," Mini-Griffin said commandingly, though her tone was tinged with fear, "We can't just open the doors."
"Hey, just back it up, guys," someone else called and the redhead sighed, realising it was time to get up. She glanced at the brunette as she unlatched herself and took the younger girl's mildly shaking hand again, offering her a brief smile.
"Take your time," she comforted. "It's all we've got down here."
Waiting for the girl to give some kind of response, and receiving a nod as the brunette took a deep breath and steadied her hands, Isobel then moved to the ladder, climbing down it just as Mini-Griffin confronted the guard that remained on the ship.
"The air could be toxic," she told him.
"If the air is toxic, we're all dead, anyway," he retorted. That was when Isobel recognised him, and her eyes widened slightly as she felt her heart beat a little faster.
"Bellamy?" called the brown-haired girl from the ladder, obviously having taken a moment and composed herself. She walked through the crowds towards him, ignoring the people around her.
"It's the girl they hid under the floorboards," someone said and Isobel tilted her head. She'd heard of this girl, the second-born child – illegal and unheard of in The Ark. The mother had been floated, and the underage child locked up in the Sky Box, simply for being born, ready to be floated as soon as she reached eighteen. What she didn't know was that Bellamy Blake was her brother.
"My God," the guard, Bellamy, smiled. "Look how big you are," he said before she hugged him, the older man holding her back just as tightly.
"What the hell are you wearing?" the brunette questioned angrily. "A guard's uniform?"
"I borrowed it to get on the dropship," he replied, cluing in everyone else that he wasn't actually a guard. "Someone has got to keep an eye on you."
"Where's your wristband?" Mini-Griffin questioned him, but his little sister was the one to speak.
"Do you mind?" she snapped. "I haven't seen my brother in a year."
"No one has a brother," one clueless boy butted in.
"That's Octavia Blake," a girl corrected him. "The girl they found hidden in the floor."
Octavia lunged at her, but her brother held her back. "Octavia, Octavia, no," he soothed her. "Let's give them something else to remember you by."
"Yeah?" she scoffed, backing down slightly. "Like what?"
"Like being the first person on the ground in one hundred years," he smiled at her, and she grinned back. The redhead, however, had a cynical mind. If they lived long enough, history wouldn't recognise this mission, and even if it did, it wouldn't recalled Octavia Blake. Historians would pick someone else, someone more influential or less controversial, to name as 'first on the ground'.
Isobel watched as Bellamy turned. He pulled the lever and the door opened, the artificially circulated oxygen quickly being sucked out of their pressurised ship, replaced by real air. Everyone felt a slight head rush, and they shielded their eyes from the sun. It was bright outside, and warm, and it smelled like nothing they had ever known. Hesitantly, Octavia stepped out of the ship and dropped her feet onto the ground. A few second passed before she grinned.
"We're back, bitches!"
Prompted by her yell, the teens all cheered and poured out of the ship, embracing the Earth. It was all greens and yellows and blues, and the redhead stood at the threshold of the dropship. Bellamy was out there, keeping an eye on his sister, and Isobel glanced quickly in his direction, hoping he wouldn't recognise her. She took a step outside, but almost instantly she recoiled and moved back, passing Mini-Griffin, Wells and Spacewalker on their way out, though the three barely paid her any attention.
The ship was safety, and it was familiar. There was nothing about Earth that seemed safe. It was endless air and new sights and freedom, but it seemed too good to be true. If there was one thing she knew, it was never to trust anything that seemed too perfect.
Teens ran around, laughing and shouting and chasing each other. Most were looking around, picking things up and running their hands over the trees and leaves. Some began playing with the fires set by their rough landing, though they were small and contained. All-in-all, everyone seemed happy and excited, but the redhead's anxiety grew. She was waiting for something to come along and snatch it all away.
As she twisted her fingers together, the weight on her wrist caught her attention and she held up her right arm, observing the wristband. It was grey, metal, and bulky, and the tightness of it had caused the entire area to throb painfully, but Isobel rotated her hand nonetheless, testing the mobility of her appendage with the new accessory. She had full movement and, as she tested the weight of the bracelet with a small grin, a potential built-in weapon should the need arise.
"Hey, you're not going out there?" someone asked and the redhead looked up from the wristband, spotting Wells stood by the door. Frowning slightly, she shook her head.
"I'm fine here," she told him, looking away. "What're you doing back in here, anyway?"
"Wanted to check the dropship," he replied. "See what damage the rough landing might have caused," he paused a moment, looking her over. "You wanna give me a hand?"
"I don't know anything about mechanics," she informed him truthfully, though she stood up nonetheless.
"I could always use the company," Wells shrugged, a small smile forming over his lips. "Not many people here are willing to spend five minutes with me."
'Well, it is your dad who locked all of us up, floated some peoples' parents, and shoved us all on a ship to die of radiation,' she thought bluntly. Saying nothing, the redhead followed him up the first ladder, then the second, and stood by the third as he climbed up and out onto the roof of the ship.
"Lots of panels missing," he called down to her. He soon reappeared, climbing down the ladder and making his way over to a control panel. Pressing a button, Wells frowned. "Dropship to Ark, do you read me?"
"This is where we should hear static, right?" the redhead asked sarcastically. "I told you, I suck at this, and even I know we have no communications. It's all fried. We're on our own."
"You seem pretty calm about it," Wells noticed, turning to face her. She shrugged.
"No point in panicking about something we can't control," she sighed. "If we die, we die. I expected to get floated when the guards came to my cell – at least I got to see Earth first."
"You eighteen?" he asked, looking her over.
"Not yet," she responded. "Still, people have been floated for stupid reasons, just to create more space on The Ark. Stands to reason they'd float us early if they already knew we'd fail our review."
"What did you do?" he questioned, taking a slight step back, eyeing her slightly more closely than before. The redhead noticed and grinned.
"Worried?" she teased, flashing him a calming smile. Ignoring the fact that she didn't answer him, Wells dropped the question. There were plenty of murders out there, and she hadn't shown him any animosity.
"I recognise you, y'know," he said, frowning as he tried to place her. "I think I saw you around, but I never got your name."
"Makes sense," she hummed. "The Ark's big, but it's not infinite. We're all bound to cross paths, even if we travel in different circles."
"I'm Wells," he introduced, realising that she wasn't telling him her name. "Wells Jaha."
"I'm aware," she smiled. "I knew whose son you were, and some guy in the dropship called you by name before we landed."
"Yes, that," he sighed, recalling the comment about his dad. "I…I can't say I disagree with what he said, but he's still my dad."
"Can't pick family," she agreed. "I'm Isobel."
"A name at last," Wells chuckled and she smiled back, putting her hands in her pockets.
"You earned it," she teased.
"We should go tell someone about the systems," he suggested and she shrugged again.
"Go ahead," she nodded. "I'm just gonna stay here, where it's safe."
"You sure?" he asked, hesitant to leave her. "It's…It really is amazing out there, Isobel."
"I saw it," she agreed. "I'd rather stay, Wells."
"Suit yourself," Wells accepted, climbing back down the ladder. Rather than follow him, Isobel sat down in one of the chairs and sighed, noticing that he didn't close the hatch behind him and she could hear everything that was going on down there.
She heard Wells outside, taking to who she assumed was Mini-Griffin. The blonde sounded defensive and aggressive, and Wells merely took it. Rolling her eyes, Isobel stood from her chair and moved down the ladder, approaching the threshold of the dropship, but remaining out of sight as she observed what was going on.
"Where'd you learn to do that?" asked Wells, nodding to the map Mini-Griffin was drawing on. An awkward silence passed before he sighed. "Your father."
"Ah, cool, a map," another guy, Isobel recognised him instantly as the one who had tried to calm her down on the dropship, said as he came up behind Mini-Griffin. "They got a bar in this town? I'll buy you a beer," he flirted – badly.
"You mind?" Wells sneered, turning and grabbing the smaller teen and forcing him back. Isobel tensed, not wanting to see him hurt, but others stepped in before she could.
"Hey, hey, hey!" someone else yelled. "Hands off of him. He's with us," the boy defended, his group of big-stick wielding teens behind him. Much like the poor-flirt, Isobel found she only vaguely recognised him and his followers.
"Relax," Wells said, backing down. "We're just trying to figure out where we are."
"We're on the ground," Bellamy, standing with his sister, answered. Unable to help herself, Isobel stepped forwards slightly, coming more into view. "That not good enough for you?"
"We need to find Mount Weather," insisted Wells, approaching Bellamy. The others followed him, crowding behind him, some worried and some more menacingly. Isobel remained on the ship. "You heard my father's message. That has to be our first priority."
"Screw your father," Octavia scoffed. Wells looked stunned and she almost smirked. "What, you think you're in charge here? You and your little princess?"
"Do you think we care who's in charge?" Mini-Griffin interrupted. "We need to get to Mount Weather. Not because the Chancellor said so, but because the longer we wait, the hungrier we'll get and the harder this'll be." By this time, she was addressing everyone. "How long do you think we'll last without those supplies? We're looking at a twenty mile trek, okay? So if we want to get there before dark, we need to leave now."
"I got a better idea," Bellamy said, thoroughly unconvinced, "you two go find it for us. Let the privileged do the hard work for a change."
There was a shout of agreement from the teen criminals and, though Isobel thought it was a slightly amusing idea, she knew Mini-Griffin and Wells would likely die before returning back. They were as Bellamy had said – privileged – and so she doubted they could face whatever was out there. No one knew what the radiation had done to the place, after all.
"You're not listening," Wells said, sounding frustrated. "We all need to go."
The boy from before charged forwards, shoving Wells, who turned to face him quickly. "Look, everybody. The Chancellor of Earth," he mocked. Tensing, Isobel stepped down the gangway of the ship, her fingers clenching into fists.
"You think that's funny?" he challenged, and the other teen barrelled into him, knocking him down.
"Wells!" cried Mini-Griffin. Isobel's entire body tensed and she hesitated for a moment, jolting slightly towards the fight. Her eyes scanned the area – everyone else was on the ground and they were fine – before she looked towards Wells again.
"No, but that was," the other teen replied smugly as Wells stood, shifting his weight slightly and limping. Isobel's eyes narrowed at the movement – he'd hurt his leg in the fall. When she noticed no one moving in to help – in fact, the crowd seemed to be egging them on – she took a deep breath.
Not giving herself any time to reconsider, Isobel jumped down from the gangway and pushed her way through the crowd, shoving the teen in the back when she reached him. Shocked, he whirled around, though he seemed to falter slightly when he saw the short redhead who had pushed him. She scowled at him, her fists clenched.
"Back off."