From The Ashes | The 100 S5 [Bellarke]

|11| A Torturous Choice

The stars looked so small from Earth.

In space, it had been easy to believe that they were giant, fiery orbs burning endlessly in the dark; here they were nothing more than glittering specks dotting the black sky. Pretty lights from another world.

Icarus liked it that way. He liked the crunch of grass under his feet, and the way the ground dipped and rolled, nothing uniform and rigid about it. He liked the constant sounds of life instead of the steady hum of machinery. He liked the heady rush he got whenever he took a deep breath – in space, he'd always felt lightheaded and faint from the thin, recycled air.

After they'd taken the grounder woman, Clarke, to a holding cell a few blocks down from the captain's quarters, Icarus had been summoned to speak the captain about his actions during the scouting mission. He'd expected a worse punishment than he'd received; janitor shifts in lieu of guard duty. He was even still on the list for future groundwork, which he knew was because of his high Earth Skill scores.

"Hey," Cas said, falling in stride with him as he hefted a sealed bucket of the solidified waste that built up in their water filtration systems. "Here you are. So . . ." – she winced dramatically at the putrid scent of the bucket in his hands – "uh, what did you do?"

"Apparently, I put everyone at risk with my, and I quote" – here Icarus deepened his voice in a fair impression of the captain's – "reckless behavior. Like, what, was I supposed to let Trent shoot some kid because she might have been dangerous? She wasn't even armed, and you should have seen her face, Cas – she was scared. Of us."

They'd reached the shallow pit that already buzzed with happy insects who swirled up in a disgruntled flurry when Icarus dumped his bucket.

He felt like Earth had woken a rebellious streak in him. He'd always had his doubts and dislikes about their procedures in space, but they'd made sense up there. Trapped in the metal hull of their ship, strictness was necessary for survival.

But they weren't trapped anymore.

"If I was the captain–" he started, his voice a dark mutter.

"Don't," Cas snapped in a harsh, frightened whisper. She glanced around instinctively, looking for officers. "Please, Icarus . . . don't talk like that."

"What we're doing to those people is wrong, Cas."

"You were there," Cas retorted, though he heard the hesitation in her voice. "She shot Trent. She could have killed him."

"But she didn't," Icarus said, shaking his head. "She was just protecting herself."

~ ~ ~

They came for her a few hours later.

Clarke's hands were still cuffed behind her back, her arms cramping from the position, and the ache in her temple now a mind-numbing throb that made her thoughts feel fuzzy. But she was absolutely aware of the dread that had sprouted in her stomach and now slowly crawled up her throat, hot and acidic.

No matter what they did to her, she had to stay strong.

"I admire your bravery," the captain said, motioning for the two guards behind him to move forward and restrain Clarke. "But things will be easier for both of us if you cooperate. I don't want to hurt you."

"But you will," she said with a soft, bitter laugh. "I know. I've been in your place once."

If they killed her, then so be it. At least Madi was safe. She hoped the girl had made it to their village by now, and the others were long gone. At least those in the bunker had the rubble of Polis to guard them.