. ... .
Lexa observed silently from her perch, well hidden within the upper branches of the tree. Smoke and fire drifted from below, casting haze that Lexa fought to see through.
She had maintained this position for hours, ever since her Council Meeting had been interrupted by a white, incandescent light and a loud crash that had reverberated through the mountain side. Her and a few of her trusted guards had taken off at once, expecting the worst; a missile launch from the Maunon perhaps. Instead, they had found a small section of random forest burned and a single, small metal box in the middle of the destruction.
Her men's first instinct was to surround it, but Lexa held them back with a simple motion of her hand. She knew that size was not an indicator of danger when it came to the Mountain Men's technology, which this most certainly was. She had seen small flashes of light coming from the box earlier–her nomon had once told her the name of it, elektricitee. Few knew this word. It was something that was harnessed by the Maunon to bring destruction upon her people.
It was death.
Though it had been hours and her muscles ached from the strain of maintaining the same position, she did not move, nor did her men. It was something they had learned in the early lessons of becoming a warrior, the ability to be as still and quiet as a snake preparing to spring. It was exhausting, and not something she particularly enjoyed.
Just as she was wondering how much longer she would have to endure this torment, there was movement from below. First came a strange hiss of air, followed by a groan as a door to the box slid open. The next thing Lexa saw had her open mouthed in shock.
A woman climbed out of the box of fire.
She seemed weakened and disoriented as she pulled herself onto her feet. Though Lexa wasn't able to make out much about the woman's features, she did see that her face was covered in blood.
That wasn't what shocked her. No, it was the fact that this woman crawled out of her box of fire without the strange outfit that the Maunon were required to wear. Though the Trigedakru hadn't known of this weakness until Lexa had begun her reign as Commander, she had discovered that the reason the Maunon wore the odd clothes was because the very air was harmful to them, causing their skin to break out into a foul smelling blisters and eventually killing them.
This woman wasn't from the Mountain. Then, from where did she hail?
"Heda," came a whisper from her side. Indeed, she had felt Gustus hop down silently onto the branch next to her a few moments ago. "Teik ai frag em op," he requested. Let me kill her.
"No, Gostos," she denied. Lexa watched the woman with curious eyes as she looked around at her surroundings. "Osir na kamp raun ona tri." We will stay in the trees.
She could tell that Gustus did not like her hesitation and turned to face him more fully. "Daunde ste kwelen," she told him. She is weak. "Non em danksta," She is not dangerous.
Almost as though she had heard the conversation and was doing her best to prove Lexa's point, the strange woman fell to her knees, a piercing cry tearing from her throat and echoing throughout the forest. A streak of moonlight fell across her face at her lowered position, and Lexa was able to make out the paleness of her hair. It was an odd sight, as so few of Lexa's people had hair like hers.
The girl's cries continued throughout the night, and she made no move to stray from her strange box of fire. Eventually, the sun was about to rise and their camouflage would be easily spotted in the daylight. "Osir na kamp raun tri stegeda," she commanded quietly. We will return to our village.
They retreated, for now, but they would be back. Though the woman was alone, there was still the matter of where she came from.
. ... .
"Clarke, this is the only way to save you," her mother whispered as she pulled her daughter quietly out of her solitary confinement cell in the middle of the night, between guard rotations.
"Mom, I don't understand–" Clarke cried, pulling back on the arm her mother was using to forcibly remove her from her cell. "Why are you here? They'll float you!"
"Clarke, there's no time. Please, please just trust me and follow. I'll explain when we're safe," her mother pleaded. Knowing that Abby knew what she was getting herself into, Clarke obediently followed behind. Abby lead her out of the Skybox, where there were two guards awaiting them. Clarke stiffened in fear but her mother simply walked passed them, and once she did, they turned to follow her. Apparently, they were her men, not Jaha's.
They walked through many back passageways, avoiding the main ones at all cost. Even with living on the Ark all her life, Clarke was soon hopelessly lost. Eventually, they came to a stop outside an air locked door.
"Phillips, Jones, you should go now," Abby said, turning to face the guards that had followed them. "Thank you for everything," she told them. They nodded, glancing at Clarke briefly, before they turned on their heels and walked away.
"Are we in Mecha?" Clarke finally asked, looking around curiously. Having been born on Phoenix, the wealthiest station, she had never needed to leave her station before, other than the brief walk through Wells to reach the medical bay.
"Yes," Abby replied as she pressed a button off to the side of the entrance, causing the door to hiss with decompression as it opened. Abby gently pushed Clarke inside, following behind. Once inside, she turned back to the door before closing and latching it behind her.
"Mom, what's going on?" Clarke asked again, looking around the room. It was filled with all sorts of odd bits of scrap metal, tools and spare parts. In the center there was a tall object, covered by a white stained sheet. "Why are we here?"
"I'm sending you to Earth," he mother finally told her, her voice breaking on the last word.
"What?!" Clarke exclaimed, eyes widening. "Mom! Earth isn't survivable for another five generations!"
"Possibly," Abby agreed, wringing her hands, obviously nervous. "But we don't know for sure. That's based off of an estimate made well over a hundred years ago, Clarke. It might very well be survivable."
"But why? My Retrial is coming up soon! I promise that I'll say whatever they want me to, whatever it takes. I'll make sure that they know I'm not a threat to the Council," she pleaded, although the words felt wrong in her mouth.
"It's too late for that, Clarke," Abby told her, turning away. There was a catch in her voice, a certain tightness in her shoulders.
"Mom...?" Clarke questioned, the rest of her words hanging silently in the air between them. What are you talking about?
Abby turned back to face her again, tears shining in her eyes. "You won't make it to your Review, Clarke. The Council has passed the order to begin reducing population. Two days from now, everyone in lockup and Sector 17 will be killed," Abby told her, her shoulders shaking.
"What?!" Clarke screeched, her eyes going wide. "Mom, that's..." she paused as she quickly did the math in her head, "That's over six hundred people!"
"I know."
The tired resignation in her mother's voice struck something within Clarke, and a tidal wave of anger was unleashed. "How could you let this happen?" she demanded through her teeth.
Her mother flinched, "I had no choice, Clarke," Abby told her, almost pleading. "Engineering found a solution to the system failure, but they need at least a year and a half to fix it. Once the Council learned that there was a fix to our problem, the vote went through without much resistance. I did everything I could."
It was Clarke's turn to face away from her mother. "So, I would have been dead," she stated numbly, unable to really comprehend her words. Less than forty-eight hours had separated her from death.
"Yes," Abby confirmed, "Which is why this had to be tonight. Tonight was the only night. I couldn't let you die in that cell."
"So, what? You send me to die a slow, painful death of radiation exposure instead?" Clarke asked bitingly, anger and shock making her body start to shake.
"There's something else," her mother whispered, almost reluctantly. She looked down as she continued, "Kane is very suspicious of what he saw you do to the Jacobson boy," her mother stated, looking plainly at Clarke. There was no judgement in her eyes, only fear and love. It made Clarke's chest ache.
Her poor mother.
Clarke jerked her thoughts out of that direction and nodded. Andrew Jacobson was a sixteen year old from Wells that was in a couple of her classes. "Well, he just never got over the boy's...remarkable situation," her mother concluded tactfully, wincing at the end.
Clarke stood in silence for a moment before she looked at her mother again, "What does that have to do with anything? They locked me up for threatening to expose the system failure, not anything to do with Andrew. I saved his life, for fuck's sake!"
"I know, Clarke, I know," her mother reassured, grabbing for Clarke's hands and gripping them tightly in her own. "I saw it with my own eyes. You don't have to convince me.
"The issue here is that after Kane saw what you did for Andrew, what happened to John Murphy seemed all the more suspicious," Abby continued, talking fast. "He hasn't said anything to anyone else on the Counsel so far, likely because he's worried about sounding like a maniac, but he has dropped some not-so-subtle hints the few times we've been together privately."
Sickening images fluttered across Clarke's vision briefly before she pushed them away. She needed to focus on this very moment, right now, not moments of the past. Not of Murphy.
"I–I don't know what..." she trailed off.
"It's okay," her mother whispered, tears in her eyes, "I know, Clarke. I know. You don't have to say anything. I'm just trying to explain that even if you were, for whatever reason, spared from lockup, you wouldn't be safe here," Abby told her with haunted eyes. She looked at her watch. "We don't have much time. You must go soon."
"Alright," Clarke agreed, physically shaking herself to push the thoughts away. If Kane knew her secret, this really was her only option. "How am I getting to Earth?" she asked.
Her mother gave her a watery smile before she walked to the tall structure in the middle of the room, pulling the sheet off. Clarke's mouth dropped open as she took in the sight of what must have been the last escape pod left on the Ark. It looked rather beat up and busted. Clarke eyed it dubiously.
"I know it looks pretty rough, but I had it all checked out by the best zero-g mechanic the Ark has," Abby told her. "She assured me that everything is in working order. She is certain it will sustain during reentry."
"How about landing?" Clarke asked, grinning with dark humor.
"Everything is in working order," Abby assured, frowning at Clarke's joke. "But it has to be now. We're running out of time."
"How do I work it?" Clarke asked.
"Raven's programmed the autopilot to engage as soon as you enter the atmosphere. You shouldn't have to do anything," Abby told her as she walked to the escape pod, releasing the airlock and opening the hatch. She walked next to where the pod was, grabbing a large pack that Clarke hadn't noticed before. "Here's some essentials you'll need. Water purification tablets, protein powder, some medicine, clothes, a couple of knives and tools. It was all I was able to get."
"Thank you," Clarke said solemnly, taking the pack and tossing it into the pod. She turned back to Abby, fidgeting nervously. The sudden realization that this was the last time she would ever see her mother hit her with the force of a battering ram and she felt an uncomfortable tightness in her chest.
Abby seemed to pick up on Clarke's sudden shift in mood, and smiled sadly at her daughter. She crossed the short distance between them, enveloping Clarke in her arms. She kissed the top of her head. "I love you, Clarke."
"I love you."
"You'll land in the Northeastern part of the United States. Most likely it'll be night when you land, so stay near the pod until you can see where you're going. Find water first, above anything else," her mother advised.
"Okay," Clarke agreed. She looked over at the pod again, her doubt only growing. That thing barely looked like it would stay put together under her weight, let alone the inferno that was the atmosphere. But really, what did she have to lose?
Her mother let her go. "It's time," she announced.
"Okay," Clarke agreed, her arms falling to her sides. She strode over to the pod, shifting the bag around so she could properly strap herself into the harness. Her mother stood just outside the pod, hand resting on top of the hatch, waiting to pull it shut.
"This is the button you'll press to launch," she explained, pointing. Clarke nodded.
"May we meet again, Clarke," her mother spoke, a strange serenity in her voice. She had done everything in her power to save her daughter, and whatever happened next was out of her hands.
"May we meet again," Clarke whispered, tears clouding her vision for the first time since the beginning of this awful goodbye.
Without another word, her mother closed the hatch, and a small hiss signalled that the airlock was in place. Clarke waited for her mother to unlatch the door they had come through and step back out into the hallway, where she would be safe.
Clarke looked around at the metallic surface and sharp angles that had made up her entire life. What would it be like on Earth? Nothing like this, she hoped.
Now or never, Clarke thought anxiously before she pressed the launch button. There was a great groan of gears that reached her ears, and she wondered how this was going to work. She highly doubted this was going to be a pleasant experience. Just as the thought crossed her mind, her stomach was in her throat as she began to free fall through space.
There was endless spinning, the universe flying past her at an alarming rate. She held on to the straps of her harness with white knuckles and closed her eyes. Her mother had told her that all she had to do was press the launch button. That was it. That's all she knew how to do. If something went wrong, she was well and truly fucked.
Then came a moment of weightlessness, her hair spiraling towards the ceiling of the pod and her feet lifting ever so slightly even with the harness in place. It was still and calm and Clarke reveled in it.
Suddenly Clarke's peace was shattered by a powerful shaking that spread throughout the pod. It was a bone rattling, teeth chattering type of shake and it grew hotter and hotter inside the small box. Through the small window slightly above her, she could see flames dancing across the outmost layer of metal.
Cooking her from the outside in.
She looked through that window, what must have been minutes starting to feel like hours, and noticed a small chip in the very leftmost corner of the plating. She watched with morbid curiosity as a thin line began to slowly spread out across the pane, as if etching itself into the glass. Just as she felt like her body couldn't stand the heat any longer, a crunching sound came from above and Clarke closed her eyes. She didn't know if she imagined the flames dancing across her eyelids or if they were really there, and couldn't find the strength to open her eyes and check.
She fell into darkness.
. ... .
Clarke opened her eyes blearily, the effort almost painful. Her face felt wet and sore, but as she looked over the rest of her form, she seemed to not have sustained too many injuries. There were loud series of beeps coming from inside of the 'scape pod and every couple of minutes there was a flash of electricity coming from a couple of live wires that must have loosened during landing.
With a sudden wave of claustrophobia, Clarke reached down and unlatched the door. It propelled forward, and she coughed as she was greeted with a mouthful of smoke and rocket fuel fumes. She struggled out of the pod, trying to pull herself to her feet. At once she was hit by the force of Earth's gravity and though she found herself outside of the pod, she fell face forward into the dirt.
Pulling herself up, she struggled to her feet, grabbing a nearby tree for support. Though her knees felt unsteady, she eventually stepped away from the tree, spinning as she looked around. Everything felt alien and overwhelming, from the smell of the trees to the pleasant breeze that filtered through her hair. Almost without thought, she turned her eyes to the sky.
Clarke found herself falling to her knees again as she saw the Ark, glittering thousands and thousands of miles up in space. A loud cry passed through her and her vision blurred as she realized she was alone. Truly alone on an uninhabited planet. Her butt fell into the dirt and she wrapped her arms around her knees, rocking slightly as sobs wracked through her frame.
She wondered if perhaps it would have been kinder for her mother to have let her die up there. Sure, radiation had not killed her immediately, but it was a possibility in the coming days. Who knew the kind of dangers this new planet had? If not radiation, then perhaps a savage beast or poisonous food would be the end of her.
Clarke, remembering her mother's advice, did not stray from the pod for the remainder of the night. Instead, she stayed close, waiting for the sun to rise as she cried herself dry.
. ... .
Lexa sat upon her throne of antlers, war paint in place and flipping her knife carelessly in her hand. Before her was a small gathering of advisors from Trigedakru, the only clan aware of the mysterious woman's arrival. They were awaiting a scout, one who had spent the day before observing the woman to find out her purpose here. It was as if she had simply fallen out of the sky, which caused quite a stir. There were old legends of people being sent down from the heavens, but that was supposed to be all they were: legends. There hadn't been a Skyfaller in living memory, until two days ago.
It definitely caused some controversy.
The girl's arrival had thoroughly divided her clan. Some wanted her dead, others wanted her to be watched and avoided, while the most sympathetic wanted to bring the poor girl in. The tense debate had come to a head the previous day, which involved two opposing members having a duel in the middle of the street. It led her to call this meeting today, so they could finally come to a decision.
She hadn't been out into the forest since that first night, as it would seem odd for the Heda to show such interest when she could easily delegate the task. And so that is what she did, despite the fact that she found herself interested in the girl who fell from the sky. She remembered her nomon telling her stories about how when the Great War had begun, some people had fled to the heavens, where there they might still be. Lexa had always been interested in these tales and had tried to imagine what life would be like in the sky, spending her days staring at the clouds and daydreaming. Of course, that ended when she had begun her training to be Commander. Still, some curiosity remained.
Though her people were calm and quiet in her presence, she could feel the tension in the room. They awaited the scout impatiently, casting scathing looks at the ones they knew opposed them. It irritated her, mostly because she knew her path as a Commander should be clear. This strange girl was the root of tension in her long-sought peace, and should be removed. It was her own curiosity and personal feelings that caused her to hesitate.
"The Scout is late, Heda," Indra said from her side, her voice not quite a whisper but yet not loud enough to be heard by anyone not within three feet. "The leaders become impatient."
"Shof op, Indra," Lexa ordered lazily, her hand never wavering as she flipped her knife. It was a calming action, allowing her maintain her outward appearance of tranquility. "Oso hodan op." We will wait.
Minutes passed and stretched until almost an hour more had passed, and only then did a guard enter the tent and announce that the Scout had arrived. Lexa waved him through with a mere flick of her wrist, eyes landing on the Scout.
He was a man known as Lincoln, one of the Trigedakru's warriors, who was becoming a very valuable asset to Lexa. Though he was a warrior, he was also gifted with the brush and was able to create multiple maps of the area that they had lacked previously. He also created several bound sets of pages that listed different nuts, berries and plants that they used in the goufa's education. The young ones seemed to learn easier after having already been exposed to the image on paper.
"You are late, Linkon," Lexa announced, glancing at him with carefully designed disinterest.
"Sanchof, Heda," he said quietly, lowering himself onto one knee before her, several paces back from her throne.
Lexa raised an eyebrow at his apology, "No matter, tell me of what you have seen," she ordered calmly.
He pulled his oddly bound sheets of paper from his bag, holding it out to her. Lexa glanced at Indra wordlessly and Indra approached Lincoln, retrieving the small item before delivering it to her. She grabbed it, lowering it into her lap as she began to turn through the pages. The first image was of what she assumed was the girl, though her hair was dark due to the ink he had used. Lexa ran a finger over the page, impressed at Lincoln's attention to detail.
Lexa turned the page again and it portrayed what looked to be the girl's makeshift campsite. It appeared to be next to a small stream, and was rudimentary at best as far as setup. A couple of sticks were imbedded in the ground, and some sort of tarp covered them in a feeble attempt to protect from the elements. Lexa sneered at the obvious lack of skill depicted in the image. The girl had no set of defenses other than what appeared to be a rather flimsy piece of material. She was lucky her base had not been discovered by the kulags that inhabited her area. Surely she would not have survived such an assault.
She flipped to the next page and her eyes widened in shock and anger at what she saw. She raised her eyes to look at Lincoln, who met her eyes only for only a moment before lowering them submissively. "What. Is. This?" she demanded slowly, her words coming out through clenched teeth.
"It is what I saw, Heda," was the man's simple reply.
"Spicha," she hissed, watching as the man fidgeted nervously. Liar.
"Sanchof, Heda," he said quickly, a slight look of alarm crossing his face before he quickly slipped back into the mask of a warrior. "It is the truth. She is Dhillarearën. I have seen it with my own eyes."
His proclamation was greeted by a moment of silence. Then, all of the gathered started talking, an angry outrage that exploded all at once. For a moment, she sat numb. The image she had seen and Lincoln's words had left her truly shaken. But she had never known the man to be a liar, despite her earlier accusation.
"Em pleni!" Lexa growled, rising to her feet. Enough. The room fell silent, her men looking at her with grudging obedience. She took Lincoln's book, ripping the offending page out from its binding and folding it carefully before securing it in a notch in her armor.
"If Linkon states this is what he saw, we must watch this girl to learn more," she announced. A few men started to voice their displeasure loudly.
The loudest of all was a man named Quint. He had always been a thorn in her side, even as a young warrior in training. Usually though, he was more of an annoyance than anything else. He was the leader of a small village located to the west, about a three hour ride on horseback from Indra's. He was known to enjoy pushing the boundaries of what he could say or do to offend her as Heda without technically doing something that would warrant the her reign of displeasure.
"Trigedakru," he called. "Here me now, if our Heda is afraid to deal with the branweda, I will! That wretched woman shouldn't be breathing our air," he growled distastefully.
Fury filled Lexa's body but she made sure to only display a mask of apathy-tinged distaste as her eyes remained glued on Quint.
Lexa said nothing, made no movement. She didn't even blink.
Smoke began to appear at the slanderous man's feet and the other men gathered quickly stepped back, alarmed. Fire began to spark and grew quickly, licking at the bottom of Quint's fur pants. The offender looked at her in panic, reaching down to frantically pat at the flames crawling up his pant legs.
It was no matter. The flames continued unhindered, climbing slowly up his form, the burnt smell of treated fur filling the tent. It wasn't until the flames danced at the tip of Quint's beard that the stubborn man finally broke, falling to his knees and prostrating himself before her.
"Sanchof, Heda," he howled, a heavy sheen of sweat viable on his face. "Beja, beja pul we." Please stop.
Abruptly, the flames were gone, nothing left to indicate they were ever there other than the smoke in the air and the scorched imprint on his clothes. The flames had not harmed his flesh, Lexa made sure of that, but the heat had certainly quieted his loud mouth.
"I said enough," she growled, her Commander mask slipping back on with practiced grace. "Indra, Gostos, Onya," she called, "you will come with me. The rest of you will await our return. No action will be taken until I am back," she commanded, her eyes looking over the gathered men, "If anyone disobeys my command, they will meet a natrona death," she warned without flinching. "Now go."
They went.
"Was that necessary, Heda? Such displays of power are unlike you," Anya asked, and though her tone was nonchalant there was a knowing in her eyes.
"If what Linkon says is true, then yes. It was necessary."
. ... .