Homecoming

“We won’t all go,” Wells said to the group. “I just need a few volunteers to take emergency supplies and lead everyone back to camp.” He looked around the clearing they’d worked so hard to turn into a home and felt a surge of pride.

Octavia took a few steps toward Wells so she was standing in the center of the circle. She was only fourteen, but unlike the other younger members of the group, she wasn’t shy about speaking up. “I say we let them find their own way,” she said, raising her chin defiantly. “Or better yet, they can just stay where they are. They pretty much sentenced us to die when they sent us down here. Why should we risk our lives going to rescue them?” A murmur of assent rippled around the crowd. Octavia shot a quick glance at her brother, maybe seeking his support, but when Wells looked at Bellamy, his face was strangely inscrutable.

“Are you kidding?” Felix asked, looking at Octavia with dismay. His voice was still weak from his illness, but his anxiety was clear. “If there’s even the slightest chance that my parents are out there, then I have to try to find them. Tonight.” He stepped closer to Eric, who put an arm around Felix’s shoulders and squeezed him tight.

“And I’m going with him,” Eric said.

Wells scanned the group for Clarke and Bellamy. They met his eye, then Clarke took Bellamy’s hand and hurried along the outer edge of the circle to where Wells was standing.

“I should go too,” Clarke said quietly. “There are probably injured people who need my help.”

Wells glanced over at Bellamy, waiting for him to object to the risk. But he’d gone tense and quiet, staring into the darkness beyond Wells. Perhaps he knew it was futile to argue with Clarke when she had her mind set on something.

“Okay,” Wells said. “Let’s get ready. Most of you should stay here and prepare the camp for new arrivals.”

Clarke ran to the infirmary cabin for the medical supplies, while Wells assigned other people to carry drinking water and blankets. “Eric, can you find some food—anything we’ve got.”

As his team scurried off to prepare, Wells turned back to Sasha, who was still standing next to him, her lips pressed together in concentration. “We should bring something to use as a stretcher,” she said, casting an appraising glance around the clearing. “There might be people who can’t walk back.” She started toward the supply tent without waiting for Wells to reply.

He broke into a jog after her. “Smart thinking,” he said, matching her quick strides. “But I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come with us.”

She stopped abruptly. “What are you talking about? None of you know the terrain as well as I do. If anyone can get you there and back safely, it’s me.”

Wells sighed. She was right, of course, but the thought of Sasha facing hundreds of Colonists—and, most likely, many armed guards—who had no idea Earthborns even existed sent a jolt of fear through him. He remembered the shock and disorientation he’d felt when he first laid eyes on her—it was as if his entire understanding of the universe had been flipped on its head. He certainly hadn’t trusted her at first, and it had taken the rest of his group even longer to believe that she was telling the truth about belonging to a peaceful community of people living on Earth.

Wells shifted his weight from side to side as he stared into Sasha’s almond-shaped eyes, which were already burning with defiance. She was beautiful, and she was anything but fragile. She had proven how well she could take care of herself, and she didn’t need him to protect her. But all the strength and intelligence in the world wouldn’t be able to stop the bullet of a panicked guard.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” he said, grabbing her hand. “They all think the planet is empty. Now’s probably not the right time for them to learn about Earthborns. Not when they’re disoriented and scared. The guards could do something stupid.”

“But I’ll be helping them,” Sasha said, her voice a mix of patience and confusion. “It’ll be pretty clear that I’m not the enemy.”

Wells fell silent, thinking about all the patrols he’d gone on during officer training. The people he’d seen arrested for crimes as minor as breaking curfew by five minutes or accidentally entering a restricted area. He knew that strict order was absolutely necessary on the ship, but it’d be hard for the guards to abandon their mantra of shoot first, ask questions later.

“The thing you have to understand about my people—”

She cut him off by placing her hands on his shoulders, rising onto her toes, and silencing him with a kiss. “Your people are my people now.”

“I hope they get that quote right in the history books,” he said with a smile.

“I thought you wanted to write that book.” She put on what he assumed was the Earthborn version of a snooty voice. “A firsthand account of man’s return to Earth. Sounds like a great read, except for the fact that, you know, some people never left.”