Among The Wildflowers [The 100]

chapter 2 :: one small step for man

Earth.

It seems almost exceptionally cruel for my one last untouchable dream to be the thing that should kill me. I almost would rather I'd just been floated. Almost.

The ship gives one last creaking shudder before I feel my head thrown back against the hard plastic my body is strapped against and we begin what I assume must be our descent to the ground. There are a few people who whimper into the silence while others pray under hurried breaths. Machines in the walls whir to life.

My stomach sinks and I grip my restraints with sweaty palms. Suddenly I wish I could remember any of the prayers my mother had taught me, though I doubt they would do me much good besides serving as a distraction. 

It isn't much longer before the ship shakes again, violently this time, causing shrieks of panic from those around me as well as the upper levels. I bite my lip to keep from doing the same, sparing a glance at the man beside me. 

Becoming distracted with others has always been a specialty of mine, but his expressions offer me nothing. Not wanting to be caught staring, I try to study the others in the darkened room. A few I know, but there are many that I don't, despite the small number of us in lockup. On a normal day, I would never recognize most compared to how they look now. Of course, I don't doubt that someone else might say the same about me.

In a bright flash, the space is filled with white light and I cringe away, my eyes not yet adjusted. I blink away the hazy dots blocking my vision and a crackling noise from beside me calls me to attention. I crane my neck to see a monitor above the space to my right come to life. On it is Chancellor Jaha.

"Prisoners of the Ark, hear me now." The panicked whispers die down as everyone moves to watch the screen. "You have 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 have no idea what is waiting for you down there; if the odds of survival were better, we would have sent others. Frankly, we're sending you because your crimes have made you expendable."

Disgruntled whispers break across the lower level and sparse laughter can be heard from the one above us.

"If, however, you do survive, those crimes will be forgiven- your records wiped clean." Unable to resist, I roll my eyes. What a joke. There's a long second where the feed is interrupted by static before the Chancellor's image returns. "Your drop site has 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. No one ever made it there. Because we could spare you no food or water-" Static interrupts the audio again, warping the on-screen image.

"Fuck you, we don't need your help," Someone shouts, and other voices rise in agreement. The level descends into loud chaos and a shoe goes sailing through the ship, hitting one of the monitors and causing the glass to splinter where the shoe hit it.

A rush of heat runs through my body and my hands twitch into fists, my nails digging into the palm of my hands. I cup my hands around my mouth and as loud as I can bellow, "Shut up!"

The ship comes to a hush and suddenly all eyes are on me. My stomach churns uncomfortably and regret has already reared its ugly head. Regardless, I shake the nerves away and bring my hands down from around my mouth.

"As much as the Chancellor might be a major dick, if we don't at least hear him out, we'll be dead of starvation within a week." The other people on the level seem to share a look with their neighbors but when no one interrupts me, I continue, "Unless you're all intent on proving him right by getting yourselves killed, we should at least be prepared with whatever he might know."