Fredozy
patreon
Chapter 15: Descent
🕑 Added 2025-10-13 16:59:12 +0000 UTCThe alarms blared across the Ark. Red lights pulsed against the polished metal walls, and the soft hum of recycled air felt thinner and colder.
Dr. Abby Griffin was already sprinting through the upper deck corridors, ignoring the confused calls from medical staff as she clutched the data pad in her hand. The readings were clear as every single wristband had gone dark.
Her boots clanged against the floor plating as she rounded a corner and burst into the docking bay.
The heavy blast doors hissed open, releasing a rush of stale, recycled air. Inside, Raven Reyes was crouched over the old drop pod, grease streaked across her cheek and her hands buried in the open wiring panel.
Raven didn’t even look up as she said, “How’s it going?”
Abby didn’t answer. She paced in a tight circle, eyes flicking between the old pod and the blinking monitors overhead.
Raven frowned and tried again. “Abby… how’s it going?”
Abby stopped and exhaled shakily. “All the wristbands went offline. Every one of them. We have no idea what’s happening down there.”
Raven straightened, the wrench in her hand frozen mid-turn. “They can’t all be dead—”
A sharp beep cut her off. Her tablet lit up, and the stern face of a man filled the screen.
“Abby,” he said tightly, “did you take morphine from the medical clinic this morning?”
Raven’s eyes darted toward Abby.
“They took inventory already,” Abby muttered, her heartbeat quickening.
“No,” the man said grimly, “but Kane is on his way to arrest both of you.”
Raven’s brow furrowed. “You gave Nigel morphine?”
“She turned me in,” Abby replied flatly, realization and frustration crashing together in her voice. She turned sharply toward the younger woman. “How long before we can launch?”
Raven hesitated. “Twenty minutes.”
Abby’s lips tightened. “He’ll be here in five.”
That was all the answer she needed.
“Raven, get in the suit. You’re going to drop now,” Abby ordered.
Raven blinked, caught off guard. “What about you?”
“I’ll buy you some time. Now get going.”
Raven didn’t argue again. She scrambled toward the nearly century-old space suit, pulling it on with trembling hands. Abby moved toward the control panel, fingers flying over the ignition sequence.
As the older woman turned to leave, she looked back once. “You’re the best mechanic we’ve got, Raven. You get down there… and you make it count.”
Raven gave a shaky nod. “Yes, ma’am.”
Abby stepped out, sealing the heavy door behind her.
Raven stood there for a second, chest rising and falling. Then she cursed under her breath, spun around, and ran back to her workbench. Hanging from a flickering light was a small tin raven necklace, crude and handmade. She ripped it off the hook and clutched it tight before diving into the drop pod.
Pounding echoed on the other side of the door as Kane’s voice, muffled but unmistakable.
“Raven! Open this door now!”
Raven’s breath hitched. She whispered a prayer she didn’t even believe in, hit the launch sequence, and braced herself.
The docking clamps released with a thunderous crack. The air was sucked from the bay as the doors opened, and the pod was expelled into the abyss of Earth’s atmosphere.
———————-
The Earth.
Far below, the sky stretched endlessly in shifting tones of blue and gold.
But on the ground, inside a small, rusted fallout shelter, Clarke stood in the doorway.
She hadn’t expected much when she entered maybe quiet, maybe peace but what she found was Finn, destroying everything around him in a fit of anger.
“Finn…” she said softly.
He looked up at her, his eyes dull. “It’s over, Clarke. Nobody’s coming. Not anymore.”
She crossed her arms, shaking her head. “We can’t think like that. We’ll find a way. Just like Jason said, we’ll find a way to—”
“Jason.” Finn’s voice snapped with sudden venom. He rose sharply to his feet, eyes flashing. “Oh yeah? Sure he will. And how the hell is he going to do that, huh, Clarke? When we can’t even talk to the Ark?”
“Finn, calm down—”
“Listen to yourself! You talk about him like he’s perfect!” Finn shouted, pacing back and forth. “He’s not a miracle worker, Clarke!”
“Finn, stop it!” Clarke shouted, grabbing the front of his jacket.
He shoved her back, voice cracking. “We’re dead to them! Don’t you get that?”
“No! There’s still hope!” she shot back, tears stinging her eyes.
“Even you don’t believe that!” he yelled. “It’s over, Clarke! They’re going to die up there and we’re alone!”
“We’re not alone!” Clarke screamed. “You’re not alone!”
For a heartbeat, neither moved. Then, with a breathless, angry motion, Finn leaned forward and kissed her.
She didn’t fight it.
Part of her had always wondered what it would be like to feel his warmth, his lips, his comfort in a dying world. So she let it happen, matching him with equal desperation.
But as he laid her back against the cot, her mind betrayed her.
It wasn’t Finn she saw. It was Jason. Calm, strong, broken, and yet somehow whole in a way none of them were. For one impossible second, she imagined his touch, his voice whispering her name—
Lightning seemed to rush through her veins.
She pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the boy in front of her, on distraction, on survival, on something to feel.
——————
Meanwhile, somewhere deeper in the woods, Jason stood watching a boar.
The spear in his hand gleamed, and his breath fogged lightly in the cool morning air as it was still a bit dark out.
He’d been roaming aimlessly for hours trying, and failing, not to think about Charlotte.
He drew back his arm, staring down at the animal a few feet infront of him. “We’ll all have to live with what we’ve done,” he muttered to himself. “Consequences.”
Then he hurled the spear. The weapon struck with a clean, wet crunch right through the boar’s eye.
Jason dropped down beside it and sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that day.
“I’ve been sighing too much lately,” he murmured, smirking faintly. Then, a twig snapped behind him.
Without a thought, ripped out the spear and he flung the spear toward the sound.
A soft thunk.
He walked closer and blinked.
A rabbit. With two tails.
Jason chuckled. “Well, I’m sorry, Mr. Buggs… but I guess it’s wabbit season.” He tilted his head in perfect Bugs Bunny imitation, smiling faintly at his own joke.
Hours later, back at camp, the air smelled of roasted meat and firewood. The cooks worked around the boar, the fat extracted and the meat crisping perfectly over the flames.
They had enough food for a week. Maybe two.
Jason took his plate, his mind wandering. He wondered where Clarke was.
He caught sight of Octavia stepping out from Monty and Jasper’s tent, her expression tight. Monty had just declared them dead to the Ark.
Jason sighed again. He picked up an extra plate, a portion of fried meat and headed toward a particular tent.
——————
When Charlotte awoke, it was quiet.
For a moment, she thought she was alone. Then pain flared down her back like fire, sharp and hot. She gasped, biting back a cry.
“Don’t move,” a voice said gently.
Her eyes widened. She turned her head slightly and saw Jason, sitting nearby with a small tin plate of steaming food in his hands.
“Careful,” he said quietly. “You’ll rip Clarke’s stitches if you move too much.”
Charlotte froze, staring at him in fear.
Jason sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Relax, kid. I’m not here to hurt you.”
She hesitated, her voice raw. “W-water?”
He nodded, setting the meat aside and fetching a cup. As he returned, she lifted her head slightly, wincing.
“Careful now,” he murmured, helping her drink.
When she’d finished, he offered the food. She stared at it warily, suspicion flickering in her eyes.
Jason rolled his eyes. “It’s not poisoned. If I wanted you dead, I’d have let you enjoy your free fall yesterday.”
That earned him the faintest, hesitant smile.
He fed her slowly, patiently, until the food was gone. Then she whispered, voice trembling, “Why are you helping me? I killed Wells.”
Jason looked at her for a long moment, then said quietly, “Yes, you did. And you paid the price. I’ve pardoned you, but getting everyone else to do the same… that’ll take time.”
“Why didn’t you kill me?” she asked again.
He exhaled. “Because it would solve nothing. It wouldn’t bring Wells back. And because…” He paused. “Because I believe in redemption. You’ll work with the rest of us once you’re healed. Clarke will see to it.”
Jason leaned back against the post, his eyes softening.
He paused, glancing away for a moment. “I know what it’s like, you know. The loneliness. Being an orphan.”
Her eyes lifted, uncertain.
“It’s not just losing your parents,” Jason continued. “It’s losing the world that made sense with them in it. You start thinking you’re some kind of mistake. Like the universe forgot to erase you when they were gone.” He gave a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “But the truth is, Charlotte… that pain, it doesn’t make you weak. It makes you stronger than most. You just don’t see it yet.”
He leaned back. “Pain teaches you things comfort never will. It reminds you that you’re still alive. Still fighting. So keep fighting. Not because the world’s fair… but because it’s not. And maybe one day, that strength will save someone else instead of killing them just to feel good.”
“Get some rest,” Jason said softly, standing. “You’ll be safe here. Clarke will take care of you.”
Within moments, Charlotte was asleep.
Jason stepped outside only to find Bellamy waiting.
“You here to fight again?” Jason asked dryly.
Bellamy folded his arms. “I’m not forgiving you for what you did to her.” He looked toward the tent. “…But I also can’t deny she’s not dead because of you.”
Jason tilted his head. “She didn’t deserve to die for a mistake. But I had to punish her.”
He looked down at his hands still scarred, still trembling faintly. “Forgive me or not… I can’t even forgive myself for hurting a child.”
Bellamy frowned, watching him walk away. “Shit,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face.
——————
Back in space, Abby Griffin sat on her bunk, knees drawn to her chest. Her chest heaved with rough coughs as she tried to breathe through the thinning air.
The cell door opened with a hiss.
“Prisoner, stand at the back of the cell,” a guard ordered.
Abby rose shakily as Chancellor Jaha appeared in the doorway.
“Have we heard from Raven?” she asked.
“You can leave us, Sergeant,” Jaha said, and the guard nodded, exiting.
Jaha handed her a data pad. Abby scanned it, her expression darkening. “Environmental numbers?”
“Oxygen’s down sixteen percent. CO₂ and methane levels are climbing,” Jaha said grimly.
“That’s impossible. Our projections said three months before critical.”
“Your husband’s projections were wrong,” Jaha replied. “The Council’s granted you work release. Medical is collapsing with dizziness, fatigue, pulmonary toxicity.”
He opened a small case, revealing a breathing mask.
“No,” Abby said, stepping back. “If we start choosing who gets oxygen, we start choosing who lives and dies.”
Jaha’s voice dropped. “The Council has already approved Kane’s population reduction plan. The vote was unanimous. We start in twelve hours.”
Abby froze. “How many?”
“Three hundred and twenty people will be removed from the grid.”
Abby shook her head, eyes filling with tears. “No. Murdered, Thelonious. They’ll be murdered. We have to wait for Raven’s report.”
“Every hour we wait, more die,” Jaha snapped. “You risked her life Abby, let her believe loving that boy meant trusting her life in a hundred-year-old coffin. And now that trust will kill her. Another child dead just like all the others.”
He shoved the oxygen mask into her hands. “Take it. People are dying. You can still help.”
Abby stared down at the mask, trembling.
“Raven will make it,” she whispered. “She has to.”
“Godspeed,” Jaha said softly.
—————-
Inside the drop pod, Raven Reyes’s heart hammered in her chest. Her palms were slick inside the gloves as she read out her checklist.
“RCS valve open… thrust pressure good… heat shield stable…”
Her breath quickened as she looked at the lever labeled ‘Kiss Your Ass Goodbye.’
“Don’t let me blow up,” she muttered, gripping it.
With a deep breath, she pulled.
The thrusters ignited with a violent roar, and the pod plunged downward in a blaze of white and gol tearing through the black of space toward the blue curve of Earth below.
