Survival's a Bitch

Chapter 8: Negotiating peace was more fun when you were spiting Murphy

In the Grounder's defense, they had brought you to their leader. Anya stood before you in a very condescending fashion. You rose to your full height to greet her, back straight, radiating as much dignity as was possible with a rats nest of hair, completely wrecked clothing, and eye bags that remained the size of Texas.

You realized, in order to get you and Murphy out of this, you were going to have to make an attempt at peace negotiations. It was the only good reason that would get you both out of her relatively unscathed, or at least you unscathed. The damage had already been done to Murphy, but in your opinion karma was a bitch that way. So maybe Murphy didn't deserve torture, but in this moment, facing the terrifying Grounder princess, you knew would kill you if you looked at her wrong, you needed to believe he did. You needed to believe in karma, because if you didn't, you could be next, and you could not be thinking that right now.

You needed to be strong. Or fake it till you made it. The second would have to do. 

"My people would like a truce. I am our ambassador."

She looked you up and down, then gave you a look like 'you're the best they could do?' Why, yes, you were. When you took a second to really think about, it you thought that out of 102 delinquents, you really might be their best shot at peacekeeper.

 It might have been Clarke, except the fact that she beat the shit out of you. And she had given it a go in the original timeline, and it hadn't gone to well. It might have been Finn, except for the fact that he massacred (or would massacere) a whole village upon losing his shit, so there was that. You were pumping yourself up. Internal pep-talk style. You were pretty confident you were the best person for the role.

You held her gaze for a minute, as though she was testing you. It also didn't hurt that if they lost you before you were an official peacekeeper, it wouldn't be much harm to that camp... Anya was scary.

She motioned to a few Grounders you probably should have noticed behind her. They each grabbed an arm and forcefully lifted you a few inches from the ground, not so much dragging you, as carrying you away. You lowered your head to your fingers, in an attempt at a two-fingered salute to Murphy and your fellow Grounder prisoner, before you disappeared out the door.

You were carried to another room with a table and a few chairs. The Grounders had released you but you weren't under the impression that you had many choices, so you sat. Anya took the seat across from you. Setting your usual sarcastic manner aside, you sat up straight, expression serious. Misspeaking in this situation was sure to get you killed, and not in the 'haha, my mom's gonna kill me way.' In the super-dead, skull-hanging-at-the-entrance-to-Grounder-territory way. You didn't have any room for error.

"Who are you?" Well this sounded like a good start. You answer with your full name, first and last. It sounded more professional.

"I am Anya kom Trikru."

"We have been able to establish contact with the rest of the people on the Ark," you started. "They will be arriving shortly. I wanted to see if we could come to some mutually beneficial terms before that were to happen and start a full-out war."

"How many?"

"Of our people? About 2200, and we currently have the means to bring 700 of them to Earth. With the sheer technological power, it wouldn't be much of a war, but I'm not here to threaten you or your people." You were bluffing. You had enough knowledge of the future to know that guns were not gonna help you against the sheet numbers,  geographic advantage, and warrior techniques the Grounders had. Still, you pushed on.

"I know that we are in your territory, and I am sorry for that. Unfortunately, there isn't much we can do to move a 10-ton drop-ship, but we can negotiation the terms of a truce. Borders, hunting ground, consequences for violation of the truce. We are not looking for war."

You felt like that was a good start, but it was really up to Anya now, and she asked the question you knew she would.

"And your  people that are coming down, they will respect the terms we agree upon?"

"I don't know, but it is irrelevant. At least, for our purposes. They are no longer our people. They sent us down here to die, and they can fend for themselves as we have. If need be, we will ally with them, but if we can come to agreeable terms, I can guarantee they will be upheld by my people. Those who are on the ground today. And should you come into conflict with the Ark once they arrive, we will not interfere."

Anya stared at you hard. Finally, she stood. "And you are your people's leader? You have the ability to guarantee this?"

You thought for a moment. "No, I am not their leader. But, I am their ambassador. I am their negotiator. Any dealings will go through me and I will advise them appropriately. Whatever we discuss today, will be referred back to them, and I will return with their decision."

Anya's eyes narrowed. "I want to speak with your leader."

Instead of answering her, you posed a question, one you also knew the answer to: "Are you the leader of all Grounders?"

Anya paused, looking down at you.

"We all have our roles to play. Though mine is not at the top, it is not insignificant."

Anya moved to one end of the table and unrolled a map. "These are our borders," she pointed to several lines drawn on the map.

"Your drop-ship lies here," she indicated again. "Your people may occupy the area 10 miles within any direction, and the hunting grounds to the North. We will maintain those to the South of your camp. Bring your leaders this proposition and return in 3 days time with their answers. Then we will discuss terms further and the situation of your other people."

You glanced at the map once more. The allotted space seemed like more than enough for less than 100 kids. The Ark, quite honestly, wasn't your problem or your priority. They were just going to try to take over things they didn't understand when they arrived anyway, and having separated yourselves from them in the eyes of the Grounders would only work to your advantage. Worst case scenario, things didn't work out and you formed a strategic alliance.

You nodded. The terms were reasonable and this was a start. "Do you have another map I could bring them?"

Anya walked over to a table lining the far wall and grabbed another roll of paper before returning. She unraveled it and carefully marked the indicated border and hunting grounds she had suggested.

"Perfect," you said as she handed it to you. "I'm sure they will want to scout out the area. I will be back in three days time before sundown with their answers."

Anya and her guards guided you back to the cell that held Murphy, but this time it felt more amiable. Or maybe civil? You wouldn't say the atmosphere was friendly, exactly, but you weren't being carried, so there was that to consider. The Grounders untied Murphy, and you looked past him again to the other prisoner who had been occupying the cell with you both. He looked so familiar, and when he looked up you made eye-contact, but you couldn't bring yourself to look away. You knew that face from somewhere. But you couldn't place it. Maybe it was just some weird déjà vu. That happened to people, right? Not everything was aways connected you told yourself, as you finally left the prison cell behind you.

Anya guided you and Murphy to the edge of the village. You started to leave, but turned back to face her. "This will work." You told her. 

"It had better, for your sake." She said it with such sincerity, you felt a shiver run down your spine. What had you just gotten yourself into? You looked at her one last time before leaving, Murphy trailing alongside you, muttering about how he only owed you one future fuck-up. One.

"Come on, John," you bantered back. He hated it so much when you called him by his given name, you just couldn't help yourself.

This really had to work, you thought as you looked at the aftermath of Grounder torture walking along-side you. Murphy didn't want to admit it, but he really needed your help walking. He stumbled a few feet ahead before, leaning into your arm, stabilizing himself, and trying again to appear self-sufficient. You glanced down to where his fingernails had once been. 

You couldn't stop another shiver from wracking your body.