'The Pyro'

People were still surging out from the doors of the dropship behind him, but Alfie stayed firm. Some of the teens who jostled past him were jubilant, whooping and dancing in the moving lights that shimmered through the canopy of trees above. Others were still dazed, either from the tranquilizer or the crash, it didn't matter which. They moved slowly, deliberately, running a hand against each bark and knotted root they passed for support.

Alfie was locked inside his own private euphoria as he regarded the new world that surrounded him. This level of feeling was something he never experienced in his life, not even all the times he was bundled off to solitary, bloodied and triumphant. He breathed long and deep, forcing his eyes to focus on the dazzling greens of the forest. He had never seen such colour before…

Except he had, on one person in particular. A shining head of yellow brushed against his peripheral vision, and for half a second he thought it might be her. Then the crowd moved again, and he saw her face, for real and true.

"Drift," he meant to call, but instead, half-whispered.

It was as though she had heard him all the same. Suddenly she was saying his name. Then she was running to him, and her arms folded around his back to grip him into the first hug he'd had in years. It was a closeness he hadn't realised he missed until that moment. When she retreated, it was with a wild grin on her face. "You better watch out. I heard someone got themselves thrown into solitary for a week. I think they're trying to compete with you."

Seeing Marlow here on the ground was like seeing her in hyper-real, extra-sharpened technicolour. He was so used to her figure being distorted by the smudged reinforced glass of the visitation room. Without that barrier, she appeared like a dream – the kind of dream that could catch him unawares and pull him into a rib-crushing hug. He was too stunned by both her reappearance and the sudden physical contact to react as she grabbed him. Her jibe was what finally brought him back, a broad grin spreading across his face as he regarded her. Her warm, easy attitude was as welcome to him as the fresh air of their new, green planet.

"Well it sure as hell wasn't you, was it, Miss Marlow Squeaky-Clean Driftwood?"

She rolled her eyes at his remark, and cupped her face with her hands, all exaggerated innocence. "Hm, I don't know. Though how can you be so sure? Maybe I finally cracked, just like they all said I would, finally unlocking my witch powers. If there's a broom anywhere around here, I'll show you some flying tricks."

They laughed together, like they hadn't in years. Behind that glass, she had seemed a world away. She might as well have been a recording from old Earth television, a fleeting moment long since captured that he could view over and over but no longer affect. Nothing he could do from inside his small cell would change the repeating image of the girl behind the glass, the colour and life sapped from her with each passing day, as the footage eroded and feelings grew stagnant. He never wanted to see the smile he saw now erased from her face, but he had a difficult question they both knew he had to ask.

"Where have you been?" He tried not to think of the day she hadn't come, when he sat waiting in the visitation room, staring hard through that empty glass. The picture had gone, faded as it was. "Wait… what did you do?"

Marlow scratched the back of her neck, looking sheepish. "Yeah, I'm sorry I disappeared without a word. I didn't mean to leave you hanging like that. I knew about all this," she explained, gesturing to their new, lush environment. Then she pointed at the dropship behind them. "And that. I didn't tell you because I wasn't sure how much time there was. I had to work fast in case… you know, you left without me. As for what I did… I disturbed the peace a bit, gave the kids a few new words to add to their vocabulary before their bedtime. And then I gave the guard that right hook you showed me." She swung her fist, painting the picture for him.

He couldn't help but let a wolfish grin spread across his face. Seeing her now, so very much herself, so very Marlow-like was like watching all his best childhood memories play out before his eyes. After all, she had been a part of every one of them. He wanted to be mad at her for getting herself into trouble, but in truth, he was nothing but proud. She had figured out something even he had missed, finding out about the dropship plans like she had. And more than that, she had actually found a way to come here, against all odds, for no other reason than to be at his side again. What else should he have expected from the brilliant mind of his one-time rival?

"You keep on surprising me, Drift." He hooked a slender arm around her shoulders, more grapple than a hug. "Come on, let's go find you that broomstick."

"Alfie! Hey!"

He turned his head sharply, Marlow's following just behind. Someone was running their way, though it took him a moment of squinting against the strange Earth sunlight to recognise their face. "Will? What's wrong?"

The desperate expression of Willard Dawson approached, his feet kicking up soil as he ran. In one hand, he clutched a large roll of paper. The crowd he pushed through followed his trail with judgemental stares. Alfie knew those looks well; they were the kind that everyone gave the sons and daughters of the council, whether they were fellow prisoners or not. It was obvious that the Chancellor's son elicited the worst of their hatred. Oblivious, Will nodded a greeting and slammed the paper on to the metal ramp of the dropship. As he unrolled it, it proved to be a map.

Marlow peered over Alfie's shoulder as he tried to make sense of the complex lines and markers. "What is it?"

"We're here," Will said, between short breaths, his finger jabbing at a tall, illustrated mountain peak.

"Right," Alfie's thick eyebrows knitted as he tried to wrap his head around what Will was getting at. The other boy was agitated, that much was obvious. That could only mean that something was wrong. "And we're not supposed to be?" He offered, trying to prompt him along.

"No," Marlow said, a deep frown on her face. She reached around him to point at another, larger peak a hand-span away. "That's Mount Weather. According to the Chancellor's transmission on the dropship, that's where we're supposed to be."

Willard's curious glance at her only lasted half a heartbeat, before he nodded his agreement. "That's right. I mean, we have rations, basic equipment, but everything we need for long term survival…"

"Is twenty miles away," Alfie finished, gravely.

Will nodded once again, sharing an anxious look with a dark-haired young girl who had arrived alongside him. She had been so quiet that Alfie had entirely missed her. A small memory in the back of his mind reminded him that she was Sascha, Will's half-sister.

Alfie could see the problem, but to him the solution seemed obvious. "So we form a party, go to the mountain, retrieve the supplies. Simple."

"What about everyone else?" Will asked, his voice a panicked octave higher than usual. Alfie liked the guy well enough, but he did have a tendency to over-react.

"They stay here," he shrugged. "We can't travel at the speed of a hundred all the way to the mountain. It's a known fact that a herd can only go as fast as its slowest member, and most of ours are wounded."

"Alfie's right," Marlow said, casting her blue eyes around the milling crowd of juveniles. "Speed is of the essence. We can go."

Alfie followed Marlow's gaze, out to the thick wall of people that surrounded them. From the agitation that seemed to be building in their midsts, it was obvious that something was happening. A few fingers were pointed skyward, followed by the clamour of someone beating sheet metal, and the attraction quickly revealed itself.

"Listen up!" A head of red hair stood like a beacon against the metallic background of the dropship. The voice belonged to Jareth Dukes, or – as he was more commonly known – The Pyro. He wore the nickname like a badge of honour, after being arrested for arson attempts in a highly populous sector of the Ark. "This is how it's gonna be. I get that we're all excited to be here, but shit's gotta get done. I need volunteers for tent-building and handing out rations."

The crowd murmured its uneasy response. Alfie and Marlow exchanged a look.

"If someone don't volunteer, I'm gonna have to choose teams myself, and you'll be doing the same job but with broken fingers. So who's up?"

A few people stepped forward, with nervous looks on their faces. But Will wasn't so easily cowed.

"You can't threaten people like that!"

The Pyro's hot green eyes bore down on him. "Oh look everyone! It's the Chancellor of Earth! Come to see how the little people live?"

There was laughter, and Will reddened, retreating back two paces. Alfie stepped out in front of him, meeting The Pyro's glare directly. "Jareth, if you're naming yourself our leader, there's something you should know."

"And here's the Vice-Chancellor!" The Pyro smirked, gesturing for everyone to heed Alfie's words. "What's up, Seabrooke? You and your little council got some business for the masses?"

Anyone who dared laugh that time was quickly silenced by a short sharp glare from Alfie. "Our landing was miscalculated. The rations and supplies we have are only enough to last us until we reach the Mount Weather base. And Mount Weather…" Alfie turned to point at the peak on the horizon. "…is over there."

"What's your point?" The Pyro shouted down, obviously bored with the conversation already.

Alfie sighed with exasperation, but Marlow said, in a loud yet even voice, "We need those supplies if we want to survive. The rations from the dropship will only last so long."

"Have you looked around, blondie?" their self-imposed leader asked. "We're surrounded by forest. We're not running out of anything. Mother Nature's got it all right here. No, we gotta stay tight, set up camp, get things-"

"There's weapons," Marlow blurted, and Alfie glared at her. "You're not hoping to find guns growing on trees are you? Or harvest grenades from a field?"

The Pyro heard that. Alfie saw his greedy mind snatch the idea, and it gobble it whole. "Drift's right," Alfie nodded. "Who knows what's waiting out there for us? We need to defend ourselves."

"Right. So you think we should leave camp, against all this danger that may or may not be out there, unarmed. Sounds like suicide. Who's stupid enough to agree to that?"

"We are," Alfie replied, unyielding. "Marlow and I, we'll take some rations and we'll be back by sunset tomorrow, weapons and food included."

"We're going too," Will suddenly announced, in a voice not quite loud enough to travel. But his step forward, with Sascha's hand in his, was clear enough.

The Pyro laughed, long and loud. "The Chancellor of Earth's gonna do my dirty work? Well, this I gotta see. Get what you need and get outta here. Tent team, meet me in the storage hold, pronto!"

Once Jareth had descended and the crowd had dispersed, Alfie turned to Will with a scowl. "You know this is dangerous, don't you? We don't have any idea what we might run into down there. Both you and her… you could die. You understand that, right?"

Will nodded, his expression grave. "I'd rather face whatever's out there than stay here with the likes of The Pyro. We're the Chancellor's relatives, they'll kill us without you two here to fight our corner."

Sascha almost sounded confident as she said, "We'll be okay."

Alfie didn't much appreciate the idea of being slowed down by tag-alongs. He would have preferred to go alone, or with Marlow at a push, but he couldn't deny that Will was right – some of their previous cellmates were violent and thirsty for blood, and he wouldn't have the lives of the two of them hanging over his head.

"Fine. It's your decision," he conceded, turning away from his newly-assembled team. "Grab only what you need. We're leaving right now."