Good Luck With Shooting The Moon

I’m playing with the non-functioning pressure regulator when Abby barges in. The regulator is less than functional, but I can fix it in five days. Still, something on Abby Griffin’s face says that we absolutely do not have five days. More like five hours.

“How soon can we get this thing to launch?” She blurts, her face pale.

“And good morning to you too.”

“I’m serious Raven.”

And she looks serious. Something inside of my stomach falls and I blush.

“Yup. Sorry. Serious.”

I pause for a moment before abandoning the pressure regulator and turning my full attention to Dr. Griffin.

“I’m trying to get some parts to re-fabricate this pressure regulator. But we’ve still got a couple more days, right?”

Please, dear God say that we have a couple more days.

Abby just shakes her head, looking like she’s about to erupt from all of the pressure building inside of her body.

“Could we just launch without it?” She asks, tapping her foot impatiently.

I want to laugh. I know that laughing would be completely inappropriate for the situation, but I need to laugh. And so I do.

Abby immediately glares daggers at me.

A sheepish “sorry” makes it’s way out of my lips.

“I mean, sure we could hypothetically launch, but we’d be dead before we even made it to the ground,” I explain. “And like a bad dead. Like, an exploded brain and chunks of Abby Griffin scattered all over the cockpit. We need that part.”

I pause, a question swimming inside of my brain.

“Why?” I ask, scanning Abby’s face for any hints that lie beneath her somber expression. “Did something change?”

“Clarke’s wristband went out,” Abby murmurs.

I want to breathe a sigh of relief. Clarke’s wristband is the least of my problems right now. Kane could have found out. Jackson, that big weenie, could have cracked under pressure and spilled the beans to Jaha. The guard could be marching down the corridors towards our location at this very minute, ready to send me spiraling out into open space. Yeah. Clarke’s stupid little wrist band is just about at the bottom of my list of worries.

But, by the look on Abby’s face, it’s close to the top of hers. The wristband, and the little rectangle in Earth Monitoring is all she has left of her family.

I mean, it’s not like Abby has it easy. Her husband is floated and her daughter is sent to solitary on a conspiracy charge? That’s pretty rough. And, on top of that, she’s on the council and dealing with Kane, and attempting to cope with the fact that we might die if she can’t come up with some crazy solution to save everyone on the Ark. No pressure.

So, I muster a look of concern and say, “But that does’t really mean anything, does it? People have been taking off their wristbands left and right. This isn’t any different.”

Abby scowls. “Clarke isn’t like that. She wouldn’t do that to me.”

I allow myself to smile just slightly. “Hey, I’m sure that all of those kids down there are doing things that they wouldn’t normally do.” I pause. “Clarke is fine. I promise.”

Abby’s face finally softens and I take that as an opportunity to add: “And I can get a pressure regulator.”

I, unfortunately, can get a pressure regulator.

It would be much easier to make one out of some spare parts, but according to Dr. Griffin, we don’t have time for that anymore. So, I’ll have to do something else.

And that something else is Nygel. Fucking Nygel. Who I swore I would never turn to again.

Not after mom. Not after what she did to her, and did to me.

But desperate times…

“How?” Abby asks, a gleam of hope visible in her eyes.

I finally let out my sigh.

“The less you know the better.”

————————————-

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

That’s what I’m thinking as I make my way towards the canteen. I can’t believe I’m fucking doing this.

The canteen is closed for the afternoon. No one will be in or out until it opens up again for dinner in three hours. So, Nygel will be waiting for her customers. I know she will be. She always is.

When I round the corner, my suspicions are confirmed.

She’s lounging on a stool in the corner, dressed in slightly faded navy blue scrubs.

She cocks an eyebrow when she notices me striding towards her.

I want to tell her to go float herself, but I bite my tongue. Now isn’t the time for honesty. Now is the time for nice Raven, who bites her tongue and becomes the proud owner of a pressure regulator.

I’m about fifteen feet away when one of Nygel’s lackeys stops me.

“It’s not meal time yet,” he grunts.

Yeah, no shit Sherlock.

“I’m not hungry,” Is what I say instead. “Just let Nygel know that it’s her littlebird.”

I spit out the words like they’re acid. I hope they sting.

The man doesn’t need to tell Nygel anything. She’s already registered my presence. And she knows that I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t desperate. I swore I would never be here again when I watched my mother’s dead body get floated out of an airlock, Finn by my side.

Nygel knows that she’s responsible for my mother’s death. She’s probably responsible for the deaths of at least 50 people on the Ark. And yet, here she is, lounging in the canteen and grinning at me as I approach.

“Well, well, well,” she sings as I cross my arms. “Long time, no see, little bird.”

I’m desperate to skip the small talk, so I cut to the chase. Small talk with Nygel would be too much.

“I need a pressure regulator,” I manage.

Nygel raises her brows. “What for?” She says, her voice raising to an unnaturally high pitch. Now she’s just trying to piss me off.

I won’t give her the satisfaction.

“Regulating pressure.” The less she knows the better. The less she knows the less she can feed to Kane in return for her continuous freedom. She should have been floated years ago, yet somehow she’s still kicking.

“You have your mother’s sense of humor.”

I want to slap her for even mentioning her, but I don’t. Stay focused.

“I’m not here to chat,” I mutter. “What do you want for it.”

Nygel just smiles. “I don’t move machine parts anymore, sweetie. It’s too dangerous. How about some moonshine?”

I shake my head. “Save the act, Nygel. Just tell my what it’ll take.”

A sinister grin slides onto Nygel’s lips.

“I owe a favor to the chief of electrical.”

Sex.

“You’re joking.”

“I never joke,” Nygel mutters. “You need to make this worth my while.”

“By screwing someone?”

“I guess you don’t really need to regulate pressure, now do you?”

There has to be another way. Please tell me that there’s another way.

All I can manage to say is: “Go float yourself, Nygel.”

And Nygel just smiles a little wider.

“You know, your mother would have taken that deal. And she did, now that I think of it. Many times.”

And I know she did. With unscrupulous assholes like Shumway and his lackeys. Nygel doesn’t need to remind me of that.

“Don’t talk about my mother like that,” I spit.

Nygel waves me away, like I’m some pest.

“Bye, bye, little bird,” she chirps.

“Go FLOAT yourself!”

———————————

I corner Abby in the hallway outside of medical. Sure, I have to cut a couple of sick children to make it to her, but I’m basically saving their lives anyway, right?

Abby pretends to check my eyesight (20/20 by the way), before pulling me aside.

Still, I can’t shake the image of all of those kids lined up, waiting to be seen by Abby.

“All those kids out there?”

Abby nods, knowingly. “Oxygen deprivation,” she confirms.

Her words just make it even harder to share my bad news. But I have to.

“I messed up,” I mutter. “I can’t get the part. Nygel wanted me to–“

Abby’s eyebrows shoot up. “You went to Nygel?” She interrupts. “Kane has been trying to get her for years. Did anyone see you?”

My brain isn’t functioning properly as I try to respond to her question.

“No… I don’t know… maybe? Just, look. We can’t launch today.”

Abby doesn’t look as troubled as I expected her to at that statement. Instead, she looks determined.

“Are you sure Nygel can get it?”

I’m not sure, but Nygel is the only person on the Ark who has any shot at getting that part. I wouldn’t have gone to her if I hadn’t had to.

“Yeah.”

A wave of resolution passes over Abby’s face.

“Okay, I’ll take care of it,” she murmurs.

“What are you going to do?”

But Abby just repeats my words from earlier, reflecting them back at me. “The less you know the better.”

——————-

Abby has been pacing back and forth for the last twenty minutes and I’m about to strangle her.

But, she got me the pressure regulator, so I only half want to strangle her. The other part wants to bow down in front of her and shower her with praises. Whatever she had to do to get the part, I don’t want to know.

I fiddle with a screw at the bottom of the regulator, attempting to fasten it to the rest of the pod. I’m shifting to get a better look when Abby’s tablet starts ringing. There’s a call coming through.

She practically sprints over, snatching the device from its place on the floor.

“Are you expecting someone?” I ask.

But Abby’s face falls. “No.”

Somehow that’s even worse.

Jackson’s voice bursts through the tablet’s speakers. Why is there always something going on with him? And why does he always have to interrupt the awesome Raven-Abby vibe that I’ve been working so hard to cultivate.

Abby, did you take morphine from the clinic?

My ears perk up.

“Morphine?”

But Abby isn’t paying attention to me.

“They inventoried already?”

Kane is on his way to arrest you right now. You gave Nygel Morphine?

“Shit. I thought we’d be on the ground before they found out.” Abby resumes pacing. “And that rat turned me in?”

The feeling’s mutual.

Abby finally makes eye contact with me, a panicked look on her face.

“How much longer?”

The honest answer? Maybe three hours.

The answer Abby wants to hear?

“Twenty minutes.”

Abby just shakes her head.  “They’re gonna be here in five. No matter what happens, you launch that pod. Do you understand?”

I scoff. “I’m not going to just leave you here.”

“No, Raven.” There’s a desperation in her voice that I can’t ignore. “Only one of us needs to make it down there. You find the kids. You radio. If you don’t, 300 people die up here.”

“No pressure,” I murmur to myself.

But then the gravity of the situation takes hold (no pun intended). I realize what this means for Dr. Abby Griffin.

“They’ll float you,” is all I manage.

Abby Griffin nods slowly, as if she’s digesting the words that she never thought would come true.

“Then they’ll float me.”

Abby hesitates for a moment before reaching out and pulling me close. Her embrace is tight. Warm. Motherly. It’s 18 years of lost hugs wrapped into one. I squeeze her even tighter. I don’t want to let go. I won’t let go until I have to.

“You’re so strong,” she murmurs as she slowly pulls away. She wipes the palms of her hands on her well worn pants.

I can’t help but blush. “Abby, you’re-“

With one glance, she shushes me.

“I’m so proud of you, Raven.”

My heart soars. No one has ever said those words to me except for Finn. Not even Sinclair.

I want to tell Abby that I’m proud of her too, but the words don’t come. I’m not sure if it would matter if I did say it. What use are those words to a 45 year old when they’re coming from some punk mechanic.

“May we meet again,” Abby murmurs.

And then, she disappears through the doors.

“May we meet again,” I reply.

My requiem is over. Now, I need to get back to work.

I continue fastening the regulator until I hear the part click. I might not be super well versed in Russian engineering, but everything should be functioning. I can skip the preflight check. At this point, I either die, or I die. I’ll choose the option that has me dying out in space. It’s a whole lot cooler that way.

I twist the handle of the pressure regulator, trying to let out some of the steam trapped in the pod’s engine.

With a hiss, the corroded metal crumbles in my hand, sending white steam shooting out in every direction.

A wail of desperation escapes from my lungs as I bang my fist against the cold metal.

I’m screwed. I’m totally screwed. Nygel gave us a busted part, and Abby is going to die for it. And I will too.

I can’t launch without a pressure regulator, right?

That just leads to a painful death. But a painful death in space is way cooler than a painful death on the arc in the hands of Marcus Kane.

I just have to accept my fate.

I reach for the outer hatch, ready to close the pod and send myself out towards a fire-y and violent end when I catch something out of the corner of my eye.

Sure it’s dirty as hell, and probably not quite in functioning order, but it’s better than nothing.

I launch myself out of the pod’s leather seat and reach for the suit, unzipping the back. I can hear harsh voices in the hall. Abby just needs to hold them off for a moment longer.

I slide my legs in, struggling to refasten the zipper with my gloved hands. The suit isn’t my size, but it will work. It has to work.

I fasten the helmet over my head and scramble back into the pod. The voices in the hall are getting closer. I can almost make out Kane’s harsh consonants. I’m sure Abby’s scared. I know that I would be.

Abby says I’m strong, but she doesn’t realize that I have to be. There is no other way for me to live. Abby is strong because she chooses to be. Isn’t that so much more virtuous?

I don’t bother to check anything as I re-seal the ship. Instead, I focus my attention on the big red button in front of me and fasten the straps around my chest.

Sure, I can’t read Russian, but I press the button anyway, praying that it does what I think it does.

And finally, the floor drops out from under me and I’m falling. I’m leaving the world behind.

I watch the looming shape of the ark shrink above me as my tin can plummets. I think about the tiny snaking hallways and the people inside of them. I’m sure Abby has been caught. I’m sure she’s in cuffs being led to the skybox as we speak.

And I’m sure that Marcus Kane has been alerted that a ship has been launched. I hope he’s pissing his pants.

I look at the Ark, slowly disappearing into the darkness outside of my capsule. Disappearing into the blanket of stars. My stars.

It strikes me now how insignificant we all are in the grand scheme of things.

And how big this all feels in this moment.