Homecoming

Rhodes held out his hand to Wells, and Wells took it. Rhodes gripped his fingers a bit too hard and shook his hand for a moment too long. Wells had always been a model guard and officer, respectful of his superiors and the rules. He had excelled at every stage of training, usually landing in the top spot in his class. He had taken pride in knowing and following protocol, even if it meant the other trainees ribbed him—or worse, whispered behind his back that the Chancellor’s son was sucking up to their teachers. But Wells didn’t care. He wanted to prove himself on his own merits, and he had. No one could deny that Wells was a first-class officer. But today, standing in the clearing, his hand held hostage by the Vice Chancellor, Wells suddenly felt nothing but disgust. It was as if he knew what was about to come out of Rhodes’s mouth before he even spoke.

“You have shown remarkable leadership, Officer Jaha.”

“Thank you, sir.” Wells braced himself.

“Particularly for one so young.” Rhodes emphasized the last word, twisting it into an insult. “On behalf of the Council, I would like to thank you for your service, young man.” Wells said nothing. “You have set up a satisfactory—if temporary—camp here on Earth.” The Vice Chancellor’s top lip curled in disdain. “But you have taken on far too much responsibility for someone your age, when you should be enjoying your youth.”

Wells pictured the arrow piercing Asher’s neck just inches from his own, saw Priya’s bloated body hanging from a tree, felt the gurgling and terrifying hunger pangs they’d all shared in those first few days. Some youth, he wanted to spit at Rhodes. But he kept his lips pressed together.

“We more experienced leaders will take over now,” Rhodes continued, “while you enjoy a well-deserved break.”

Wells’s nostrils flared, and he felt his cheeks get hot. He struggled to keep his expression soldier-neutral. Rhodes was taking control—but he clearly had no idea what he was getting into. Neither had Wells at first, but now he had several weeks of crucial knowledge that he could share. His voice steady, his tone diplomatic, Wells said, “With all due respect, sir, those of us who came down on the first ship have learned quite a bit in a very short period of time. Things are more complicated down here than they may seem, something we learned the hard way. We can save you a lot of time and trouble. Allowing us to share what we’ve learned will serve the greater good of everyone here.”

Rhodes’s smile grew tighter, and he let out a choked laugh. “With all due respect, Officer, I think we are well qualified to handle anything that may arise. The sooner we bring order back to this community, the sooner we can all feel safe.”

Wells knew the look in Rhodes’s eye. It was the special combination of disdain, mockery, and envy that he’d been seeing in people’s faces his entire life. Being the Chancellor’s son had never been simple. Rhodes looked at Wells and saw a spoiled, know-it-all child. Wells could single-handedly build a cabin for each of the new Colonists, and Rhodes would still see him as an entitled show-off. As the son of the one person who had stood between the Vice Chancellor and the top job, Wells was the symbol of Rhodes’s frustration.

Any goodwill Wells may have earned as the person who kept the hundred alive for the first few weeks was quickly dissipating, along with his influence. If this was his last chance to speak directly with Rhodes, then he was going to use it well.

“Yes, sir,” Wells said in his most respectful tone. Rhodes saluted him stiffly, clearly pleased with himself. He spun on his heel and began to walk away, the guards trailing him like obedient pets. “There is just one thing,” Wells called to Rhodes’s back. The Vice Chancellor stopped and turned back, looking annoyed. “The prisoner, Bellamy Blake.”

Rhodes’s eyes narrowed. “What about him?”

“He is vital to the survival of this camp.”

“Excuse me, Officer?” Rhodes shook his head in disbelief. “Are you referring to the young man who almost got your father killed?”

“Yes, I am, sir. Bellamy is by far the best hunter we have. He has kept us all alive. We need him.”

The smile fell from Rhodes’s face, and his expression grew cold. “That boy,” Rhodes said slowly, “is a murderer.”

“He’s not,” Wells said, trying hard to sound calmer than he felt. “He didn’t mean to hurt anyone. He was just trying to protect his sister.” He’d hoped Bellamy’s protectiveness would strike a chord with the Vice Chancellor, but the word sister only prompted a sneer. Wells could only imagine what would happen if, out of desperation, he admitted that Bellamy was his brother.

“He’s the reason your father isn’t here,” Rhodes spat. “The reason I’m in charge.” With that, he spun around and stormed away.

Wells watched him go, his heart sinking. There would be no leniency for Bellamy. No mercy.

CHAPTER 8: Clarke