The Ark
The room vibrated faintly, showing how much strain it's being through due to the recent detachment of the Exodus ship and the shaking seemed to be increasing by the minute showing that the Ark was no longer stable.
Jaha stood before the blueprints he brought in as an idea pulsed into his head and then he looked at the screen infront of him, the blue glow of orbital paths and failing systems reflecting in his eyes. The Exodus ship had already departed, humanity's last lifeboat cutting away from the dying station.
What remained was a choice no one wanted to say out loud.
"The only way we survive," Jaha said calmly, "is by taking the Ark down with us."
The words settled like lead.
Kane stared at him, disbelief etched into every line of his face. "Are we really going to do this?"
He turned to Abby, searching for anything, hope, refusal, an alternative. "Bring the Ark… to the ground?"
Abby didn't answer right away. She couldn't.
Jaha met Kane's gaze and allowed himself a thin, resolute smile. "It's a plan, Kane. And we are officially out of options."
He gestured toward the projections. "We use the thrusters. Controlled descent. As controlled as a station this size can manage."
Kane exhaled sharply. "The Ark wasn't built to land."
"No," Jaha agreed. "But it was built to keep us alive."
He straightened. "We're taking the Ark back to Earth."
⸻
The Ground — Camp
Below, the camp buzzed with urgency.
Bellamy crouched beside Raven near the perimeter, watching as she tore apart and reassembled a land mine she created with practiced efficiency.
"We need these ready faster," Bellamy said. "If the grounders hit us before sunset—"
"They wouldn't hit us now… at least I'm hoping we have more time," Raven cut in. "Which is why we're improvising."
Right on cue, Jasper hurried in with Monty, both of them carrying cloudy glass jars sloshing with liquid.
Raven looked up and grinned. "Just on time."
Bellamy eyed the jars warily. "What is that?"
"Moonshine," Raven replied. "Since we're running out of gunpowder, the next best thing is finding something that can go boom. And this is the only flammable substance we've got left."
Jasper's eyes widened. "Whoa, wait, this stuff took weeks to—"
Clarke entered the clearing mid-protest. "It's better than nothing, Jasper," she said firmly. "We can make more later."
Jasper groaned. "Assuming there is a later."
Monty rubbed his hands together. "Okay, so what now?" Raven paced, thinking out loud. "If I can rig something to detonate the moonshine properly, it could work but I need materials I can't get from scrap."
Monty paused, then looked toward the drop ship. "…What about the engine?"
Raven froze, then stared at him. "Oh my God. Monty, you're a genius."
Before Bellamy could respond, Clarke spoke up. "What if we don't make it explode?"
Everyone turned to her.
"We soak the traps with moonshine," Clarke continued. "When the grounders reach the perimeter we light it up. Fire spreads fast. It'll cause damage, panic, and create a temporary barrier."
Bellamy considered it. "Explain the damage part."
"Burning ground, smoke, chaos," Clarke said. "It buys us time. Maybe not much but still enough re-group and hit them hard again."
Monty nodded. "That could actually work." Bellamy turned to Jasper. "How much moonshine do we have?"
Jasper winced. "Uh… not enough for all the traps. But more than half."
Clarke nodded once. "Then that's enough."
Bellamy stood. "Alright. Let's do it." Raven hesitated. "And the grounder in camp?"
"Lincoln," Bellamy said immediately.
Clarke added, "He's on our side. Remember?"
Raven crossed her arms. "I just don't believe he'd stand by and watch us burn his people alive."
Monty shrugged quietly. "Love makes people do a lot of things."
Jasper shifted awkwardly. "Can we maybe not psychoanalyze this right now?"
Clarke met Raven's eyes. "He's risked his life for us. The least we can do is try to accept that."
Bellamy nodded once. "As long as he's on our side." He said before they all moved back to camp.
They moved out together, merging with the chaos of the camp with shouts, pounding feet, metal scraping against metal.
As they walked in, Finn drifted closer to Clarke. "You okay?" he asked softly.
Clarke glanced toward the tree line, toward the darkness beyond the camp and toward where Jason was still fighting alone.
"No," she said. "But we don't get to stop."
Raven moved through her workshop like a storm given human form. Her tools clattered as she shoved them aside, her mind already several steps ahead of her hands. She stopped abruptly, eyes flicking toward the canvas wall of the tent, then turned back to Jasper and Monty. She then moved outside and walked towards the two.
"Come with me," she whispered. "I need to check something in the drop ship's engine room."
Jasper blinked. "Now?"
"Yes. Now." And left in a hurry to the engine room.
Monty exchanged a look with Jasper, then hurried after her.
⸻
Murphy watched them go.
He stood near the edge of the camp, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in thought as people rushed past him hauling scrap, digging trenches, laying traps again. Everyone was busy and Distracted.
'Perfect.'
He turned, already angling toward the drop ship, when Bellamy's voice cut through the noise.
"Murphy!"
Murphy stopped at the sudden sound of his name, jaw tightening for just a fraction of a second before he relaxed and turned around. "Yeah?"
"Outside the perimeter now," Bellamy said. "We've got work to do."
Murphy clenched his fist at his side, then forced it open. He pasted on a lazy grin. "Yeah. I'll be right there."
Bellamy nodded, but as Murphy turned away, Bellamy glanced over his shoulder and caught the eye of one of the guards.
"Keep an eye on him," Bellamy said quietly.
Murphy didn't hear that part.
A short while later, Murphy returned with the others, hauling heavy kegs of moonshine. Together, they headed out beyond the camp, toward the traps waiting to be armed.
⸻
Jason sat motionless on one of the branches of a massive tree, his disguise flawless.
From above, he watched Anya and Tristan stand near the firelight, warriors spread around them in loose formation. The flames flickered, casting long shadows across hardened faces.
Tristan's voice cut through the clearing.
"Have you come to meet your death, boy?"
Jason smiled as he played with te mask in his hand.
"That's not an event scheduled anytime soon," he replied calmly.
Then he dropped.
The branch snapped as he descended, landing in a crouch before them with a heavy thud. The ground seemed to shudder at the impact. He straightened slowly, rolling his shoulders as if he'd merely stepped down from a ledge.
His gaze slid to Anya.
"By the way," Jason said lightly, "thanks for the warm welcome earlier. Your people were very… accommodating and very much dead."
Anya's jaw tightened.
Tristan stepped forward, eyes sharp. "Bold of you to come here alone, knowing you stand before an army."
Jason tilted his head. "Alone?"
Tristan sneered. "Do you truly believe we'll let you leave this place alive?"
He leaned in slightly. "I might make it quick, out of respect if you come down and grovel at my feet first."
For a moment, Jason was silent.
Then he laughed. It started soft, almost amused but it didn't stay that way. The sound grew louder, darker, twisting into something unhinged. Warriors shifted uneasily sensing something wrong.
"Me?" Jason said, wiping at his eye as if from laughter. "On my knees?"
He straightened up with the laughter dying instantly.
"I don't kneel," he said flatly. "To anyone."
Anya stepped forward. "You are vastly outnumbered."
Jason inhaled.
Jason's presence expanded somehow as a crushing, predatory aura that made the clearing feel too small.
"I don't need an army to deal with you," Jason said, his voice calm, almost bored. "And what exactly made you think I was outnumbered?"
He took a single step forward. Several grounders stepped back.
"And if I wanted to leave," he continued, "none of you could stop me… it is simply illogical for you to think you can"
His eyes locked onto Tristan.
"Anyone who tries," Jason finished quietly, "will end up dead."
Tristan's expression hardened, though a flicker of something, uncertainty? Passed through his eyes.
"Your camp is marked for death," Tristan said. "Why come here at all?"
Jason smiled again but this time, there was no humor in it.
"I wanted to see the man who plans to be responsible for my people's deaths," he said. "The one I heard her warriors speak about on my way here."
He looked Tristan up and down.
"I'll be honest," Jason said. "I'm unimpressed."
The fire crackled and the forest seemed to hold its breath.
Tristan laughed.
It wasn't loud at first, just a short, barking sound pulled from deep in his chest but it grew, fed by the tension thick in the air. Several grounders joined in, their laughter sharp and mocking, trying to drown out the unease creeping into their bones.
"You amuse me, boy," Tristan said, spreading his arms slightly. "You stand here alone, breathing defiance, as if you are not already dead."
Jason didn't answer right away.
He just stood there.
The pressure in the clearing intensified.
Jason smiled.
"Funny," he said, voice smooth, confident. "From where I'm standing, you're the ones trying very hard to convince yourselves of that."
A few grounders hissed in anger.
Tristan's eyes narrowed. "You speak boldly for someone surrounded."
Jason tilted his head. "You keep saying that like it means something."
His presence pressed harder. Some of the warriors felt their breathing grow shallow, instinct screaming at them to run.
Tristan studied him carefully, then spoke again. "You have strength. Presence. You could be more than this."
Anya stiffened. "Tristan—"
"Join us," Tristan continued, cutting her off. "Stand with the grounders. With power. Order. Purpose."
Anya turned sharply. "He killed our men."
Tristan didn't even look at her when he replied.
"Your men, Anya," he said calmly. "And it happened under your watch. Their deaths are yours to answer for."
Anya's jaw tightened, but she said nothing.
Jason let out a slow breath, amused. "Wow," he said. "That's cold and efficient if I do say so myself. I can see why you're in charge."
Tristan's lips curled into a knowing smirk. "So consider it. On one side—" he gestured vaguely, "—the children from the sky. Inexperienced, divided, still learning how not to kill one another and are on the brink of annihilation."
Jason nodded along thoughtfully. "True. Painfully true, i see you are well informed."
"And on the other," Tristan continued, "us. Strong. United. Disciplined."
Jason chuckled. "Strong, sure."
He looked around the clearing, eyes dragging over the warriors, the weapons, the scars.
"Let's be fair," Jason said. "You've got a solid chain of command, you know how to fight and You know how to survive."
Tristan's smirk deepened.
Jason's tone then shifted. It was still calm, still casual but it felt sharper now.
"You're also a barbaric pack of animals," he added lightly, "with no purpose beyond fighting whoever's breathing too close to your land."
For a heartbeat there was only silence at the insult the boy just uttered.
Then Anya almost laughed. She caught herself, lips twitching as she shot Tristan a sideways look. The reaction didn't go unnoticed. Tristan's smirk faltered just a little.
Jason shrugged. "Look, I'll admit it. We barged into your territory. Burned a village. Killed your people."
"That deserves retribution," Jason said. "No argument there."
He met Tristan's gaze evenly.
"But we didn't know, we never knew and that wasn't our intention."
His eyes hardened.
"And yet you want to wipe us out anyway. Every last one."
He scoffed softly. "Even if they deserved punishment, you think they'd just lie down and take it?"
Jason straightened. "So… back to your offer, Tristan."
The sound of a bowstring snapping cut the air and Jason's hand shot out—
Snap.
He caught the arrow inches from his face. Six more followed immediately, streaking toward him from the right.
Jason jumped from where he stood.
The arrows punched into the tree trunk behind him, splintering bark where his body had been a second before. He landed lightly several feet away, boots barely disturbing the dirt, then casually twirled the captured arrow between his fingers.
He looked back at Tristan.
"I refuse," Jason said simply.
Tristan's expression went cold.
"So be it."
He lifted his hand and nodded once.
"Kill him."
The grounders surged forward, weapons raised with their fury overriding fear.
Jason smirked at their stupidity, have they already forgotten what happened at the bridge?
"Bring it."
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