The Last Ark

The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. Marcus was one of the few people she knew who had the luxury of a window in his living space. Then, again, Marcus's family were filthy rich. Everybody else aboard the Cassiopeia lived in squalor and darkness, in the lower decks with the rest of the rats. "It was only temporary," they'd said. "As soon as we reach the colony, everyone will be treated as equals. Things will be better."

Bullshit.

Cleo had been hearing the exact same thing since she was four, and that was before the moon had spontaneously decided to crash-land face first into the Earth. She could still remember that day in vivid detail: her father scrambling to get her and her little brother out of their beds, the sheer panic of everyone around her clamouring to get to the launch site... the tortured screams of those who couldn't afford tickets, begging to be let aboard...

Cleo suppressed a shiver, banishing the thoughts from her mind as she focused her gaze through the tiny, round porthole again. In the distance, beyond the furthest, faintest stars, she thought she could still see the fragments of what had once been Earth floating through space. It was a silly, naive thought. She barely remembered a thing about the little blue marble, and yet here she was overcome with nostalgia for a home she hardly had the chance to know. If she thought very hard, though, she could just imagine the feel of the wind in her hair and the cool damp of fresh grass between her little bare toes... and a woman's smiling face that grew blurrier with each passing year.

"You're frowning again," Marcus informed her, bringing Cleo back to the present as he flopped down onto his bunk beside her. "You're gonna give yourself wrinkles."

"Bite me," Cleo grinned, smacking him with his own pillow right in the puss, "Pretty sure you can't get wrinkles at sixteen!"

Marcus pried the pillow off his face in an overly dramatic fashion and threw it back at her, "are you trying to suffocate me?! I can have you detained to the brig for a month for that, y'know!"

Cleo rolled her eyes, "what difference does it make? I already live in a hole. It would just mean I get my toes chewed on by different rats for a few weeks. It'd be like a vacation."

Marcus rolled onto his stomach and looked at her sympathetically with his vibrant green eyes. "Cleo, it won't be like this forever. I promise. We'll be landing on Europa before you know it."

Cleo sighed heavily and pushed her short, pink-streaked dirty blonde locks out of her face, "We should have been there years ago, Marcus! If our leaders had intended for us to go there, our happy asses would already be sitting on that damn moon right now!"

Marcus folded his caramel colored lips over his teeth, then exhaled softly through his nose with a nod. "Okay," he muttered, "maybe... terraforming is taking longer than anticipated. Things happen: schedules get borked, union workers go on strike, machines malfunction... any number of scenarios could have caused a delay."

Cleo managed a little grin and shook her head in disbelief, "Spoken like a true politician's kid. Does that Kool-Aid come in multiple flavors, or just one?" Marcus threw up his hands in defeat and moved over to his cramped desk in the corner, but Cleo wasn't done. "People are starving," she reminded him, "no one even knows how much longer the oxygen replicators will hold out. Marcus, people in the lower decks - my family - can't survive like this... and no one in the upper decks seems to give a shit! I bet they're just biding their time until we all die off, then they can turn the colony into their own personal utopia!"

"Don't say that," Marcus snapped, leaping to his feet. He had to keep his shoulders stooped to prevent banging his head on the low ceiling, but his passion and sincerity never waivered, "My parents and I are doing everything we can to make sure everyone survives, especially those on the lower decks! When we reach the colony, there will be no such thing as class or poverty; everyone will be equals in society, like they should have been on Earth from the beginning! Just trust them, Cleo. Trust me... please."

Cleo folded up her legs to her chest and dropped her chin onto her knees with a huff. It was hard to argue with Marcus, mostly because he believed everything he was saying to be true, without a shadow of a doubt. Who could blame him though? Ever since scientists on Earth discovered the moon had begun to break orbit, word of the New Earth Colony on Europa spread like wildfire. It was supposed to be a fresh start; an Eden, where everything was supposed to be better. But then the moon's orbit shifted again, long before those same scientists promised it would. One tenth of the world's population then had less than six hours to board the Arks, seeking the salvation of a colony that was nowhere near ready to be settled. Many Arks hadn't even made it out of Earth's orbit, or failed to launch entirely because there had been such a rush to finish building them. Cleo had no idea how many Arks were still floatiing around in space. For all anyone knew, the Cassiopeia with its fifty thousand, rapidly dwindling passengers was the last echo of the once prosperous human race.

Cleo's watch emitted a loud, sharp beep, reminding her of how long she'd been in Marcus's room. "Crap," she muttered, "I gotta go. Same time tomorrow? Please?"

Marcus softened with a smile and offered her a hand up from his bunk, "Duh, of course. Sorry I yelled. I hate it when we fight. Makes me break out in hives." When Cleo got to her feet, she realized Marcus had pressed something into her palm. She studied the small, golden coin-like object curiously, then her eys widened in shock.

"An extra ration token?!" She blanched, "Marcus, no! I can't take this. It's not fair to everyone else!"

When she tried to give it back, Marcus closed her fingers over it gently. "Yes, you can," he insisted, "your brother won't get any better unless he gets the Calories he needs. It's okay, I don't need it. Just keep it on the down low, okay?"

Cleo felt like she might cry, but kept it in as best she could. "Thank you," she murmured, "I swear I'll pay you back... somehow." Her watch let out another nagging, shrill beep, earning a muttered swear under Cleo's breath. She gave her friend a quick hug, took one more last, longing look out the window, then sped off to the galley - where she was supposed to be - before she was missed. She barely had time to tuck the ration token into her bra and strap on an apron before her supervisor pointed a ladle at her sourly.

"Yer ten minutes late, Missy," she spat, "again! That means yer down to only three more rations fer the rest of the week! Do it again, an' ya won't eat 'til next Tuesday!!"

Cleo tried not to roll her eyes as she tied her hair back into a short ponytail, "Yes, Mrs. Gump. I'm sorry, it won't happen again. What are we serving tonight anyway?"

Mrs. Gump grabbed a large, heavy pot off the stove and shoved it into Cleo's hands, "Potato stew: what else?!"

Cleo made a face, struggling under the weight of the steaming pot, "Again? Can we at least have some bread with it? I can't remember the last time I had bread!"

Mrs. Gump snorted a laugh and scratched under her saggy right breast, "That's because we ain't got any. We ran out of flour, yeast an' eggs three an' a half years ago. Taters is all we got left, an' the only thing the hydroponics labs can grow, so don't complain!"

The heavyset older woman waddled off, still cackling and chortling about their lack of bread, leaving Cleo to carry the pot up to the mess deck on her own. "I hate potatoes," Cleo mumbled, "...but, it's better than eating each other, I guess."

The mess deck was already packed to the brim with people waiting anxiously for their evening meal. The bigwigs and politicians - as usual - were served first, then everyone who had ration tokens were served after. Cleo knew she wasn't supposed to give out rations to those without tokens, but it was hard to tell them no. When Mrs. Gump wasn't looking, she would often give the sick or people with small children a half portion, just to tide them over until the next day, and hoped that she wouldn't get caught. Her father worked hard to get her a job in the galley, and it would break his heart if she lost it. Not to mention, their source of extra ration tokens would suddenly be gone if she did, and then her brother would be in far worse shape.

Just as she was thinking about them, her father and brother shuffled through the line in front of her. They were smiling, as usual, but it was clear that almost eleven years of space travel was beginning to take its toll. Her brother buried his face in his elbow to cover a cough before holding out his token, "Hey, Sis. What's for dinner? Whatever it is, it smells good."

She took the token with a sad smile and dropped it into the box beside her before handing him a bowl, "Your favorite: potato stew. Enjoy, Jason." She started to serve a bowl for her father, but he held up his hands with an embarrassed smile.

"None for me, thanks," he chuckled, patting his stomach, "I'm still stuffed from lunch. Besides, if I see another potato, I think I might ralph."

Cleo felt her heart break as she looked at her father. They both knew very well that he hadn't had a bite to eat since the night before, as he'd been giving whatever tokens he had to his children. She looked around quickly before pulling the token Marcus gave her from her bra, "You'll like these spuds, Dad. Mrs. Gump added extra salt to this batch. Give it a try."

Before she could drop the token in the box, Mrs. Gump grabbed her wrist. "Where the hell didja get that?!" She barked, "That is an Elite Token: good for a week's worth of rations! Who didja steal this from?! Tell me right now!!"

Cleo winced and tried to pull her hand free from Mrs. Gump's crushing grip. "I didn't steal it," she insisted, "It was a gift, from a friend! Let go, that hurts!"

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Mrs. Gump gave Cleo's wrist a sharp twist. Cleo cried out in shock and pain, dropping the token immediately. It bounced off the counter and rolled into the crowd, where thousands of hungry, desperate eyes watched its trajectory toward the middle of the room. For about three seconds, no one dared to move or breathe... and then, all hell broke loose. A gaunt woman with a baby that was barely moving in her arms suddenly dove on the token, but a couple on either side of her shoved her back and went for it themselves. Before long, there were fists and elbows flying in all directions; a once proud species, devolved into savage animals in an instant by the brink of starvation and the chance to survive a little longer. Those who had already gotten their food tried to bolt it down as fast as possible before their bowls were knocked from their hands or stolen by someone else in the fracas, which was definitely happening.

Cleo stood frozen, watching the chaos until her father grabbed her by the arm and pulled her down behind the counter with Jason. He held his children's heads close to his bony chest, murmuring softly into their ears to comfort them and keep them calm. Mrs. Gump was a bit more proactive. She dashed back into the galley, then returned a handful of seconds later with a laser rifle. She discharged three shots at the ceiling in rapid succession, which made everything suddenly grow eerily quiet. "Suppertime's over," she barked, "everybody get the hell out now, before I call up security!! Go on, get!!"

Cleo trembled with fear and shock in her father's arms, listening to the sounds of grumbling, weeping and shame-filled voices, and the shuffling of thousands of pairs of feet leaving the mess deck. After a while, Mrs. Gump offered a hand up to the trio, which her father took gratefully. The mess deck was completely empty now, and it finally seemed to fit its name. There were overturned tables and broken bowls all over the place. Streaks and small puddles of crimson dotted the grey-green and dirty yellow checkerboard floor, mingling with the lumpy, off-white remains of spilled potato stew. Cleo's heart sank when she saw the pot she was serving from was on the floor as well, and totally empty. Mrs. Gump ran a hand through her buzz-cut white hair and shook her head, then tossed Cleo a mop. "Clean this shit up," she mumbled, "then gimme back that apron."

Cleo's father followed Mrs. Gump back into the galley, where Cleo could still hear them talking while she rubbed the mop sullenly over the floor. "Agnes, please," he was saying, "my daughter isn't a thief, and what happened here isn't her fault. She just didn't know any better. We're only human, aren't we? People make mistakes."

"No, Sam," was Mrs. Gump's firm answer, "I gave her more chances than she deserves. That pot held almost a thousand rations... and now, it's gone. Whether or not it was her fault don't matter. None of us can afford to be that careless and wasteful. You know that."

Cleo moved away from the galley, as she couldn't bear to hear any more. Jason watched her as she worked for a while, then grabbed one of the tables and tried to right it on his own. Cleo ran over when she heard him struggling, and pulled his hands off the heavy steel table, "Jason, what are you doing?! You're gonna hurt yourself!"

Jason's dark eyes burned with determination even though he was sweating and out of breath already from the minimal effort. "I want to help," he said, "this is all my fault, Cleo. If Dad hadn't given me his last token-"

"It's not your fault," Cleo insisted, then stared at the floor with a sigh, "I didn't know that token was worth a whole week of rations! Otherwise I never would've accepted-..." She caught herself before saying anything about Marcus, as she didn't want to get him in trouble, then sighed heavily again and gave her little brother a hug. "Go back to our room," she said, "you should be resting anyway. Dad and I will be along in a bit. Everything will be okay. You'll see."

Jason returned the hug and coughed into her ribcage, "Cleo... will we ever get to the colony? The things people are saying... it scares me."

Cleo held her brother tighter for a moment, pressing a kiss into the dark blond curls on top of his head, "People say that stuff because they're scared, too. None of it is true; we're going to make it to the colony soon. Marcus said so, and I trust him. So, I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"

Jason nodded, rubbing his face against her ribs as he did so. After a few more minutes of silence, he looked up at her face again with a curious, longing expression, "Can you tell me again... about Earth? About what it was like, I mean. Please?"

Cleo nodded as she fluffed his curls with her fingertips, "Yeah, I will tonight... after I finish up here. I promise." She looked up when she heard the galley doors open with their signature "woosh", and saw her father walking toward them. His thin, scraggly-bearded face was downcast, and his watery blue eyes filled with sadness.

He shook his head in answer to the silent question she asked with her eyes, then put his arm around his son's shoulders. "C'mon, Buddy," he said, forcing a smile, "We need to get you back to bed now. Sissy will be done in a while." Jason nodded, but held on to his sister for a few moments longer before following their father out. His steps were slow and stumbling, and before he reached the door their father was supporting him while he walked. The sight nearly brought tears to Cleo's eyes, but she refused to allow herself to cry... especially when Marcus jogged through the doors of the mess deck a handful of minutes later.

"Cleo," he puffed, "everyone's talking about what happened! Are you okay?! I'm so, so sorry! Had I known-"

Cleo threw her mop down and tore off her apron, hitting him with it in the stomach, "Bullshit!! You knew how much that token was worth, Marcus! Why did you do this to me?! I lost my job, and now my brother's going to-...! This is all your fault!!"

Marcus doubled over with a grunt when the wad of fabric hit him, then folded the apron quietly. He stood there, not saying a word as she shouted her abuse, then held the neatly folded garment out to her apologetically. "Do you have another mop?" he asked, his tone soft and determined.

Cleo blinked and wiped ner nose with a sharp sniff as she took the apron back hesitantly, caught completely off guard by the question, "Y-Yeah... why?"

Marcus picked up the mop where she left it, "Good: go get it. I'll start on this end, if you finish up on the other side. Sound fair?"

Cleo thought for a moment, then sniffed again with a nod. Both of them worked quietly and independently on either side of the mess deck until the floor was spotless again. It took almost two hours to get everything clean and back in order, but Cleo was incredibly grateful to have had the help.

As they walked along the dim, narrow corridors back to the hyrdaulic lifts, Cleo finally broke the lengthy silence. "Thanks," she murmured, nudging his arm, "I'm... sorry I yelled at you."

Marcus nudged her shoulder back with a sheepish grin, "No, I deserved it. I shouldn't have put you in that situation to begin with. All I wanted was to help, but all I did was create more trouble for you." His smile fell when they stepped into a vacant lift and started traveling further down into the bowels of the Ark, "I dunno how you can stand it down here. It feels so cold, and there's hardly any light to see by."

Cleo shrugged, sliding closer to him unconsciously for warmth, "I'm used to it, I guess. It's not all that bad once you do... if you can stand the smell." Both of them chuckled a little at her crack, then Marcus suddenly put his arm around her shoulders. Cleo's laughter caught with a soft gasp, and a little tingle ran down her spine. She had known Marcus most of her life, but ever since his growth spurt last year she wasn't quite acclimated yet to the new strength his arm possessed. It was comforting, in a way it had never really been before, and surprisingly warm.

"My parents will be working late tonight," he said, the dim orange lights of the lift reflecting gold in his peridot eyes as he stared down at her nervously, "so... if you want, I have extra room to spare tonight. What do you think?"

Cleo wanted more than anything to say yes, but decided not to answer until they got to her family's room. Their entire quarters were the same size as Marcus's room, barely big enough to fit the bunk all of them slept on and a solitary metal chair, and almost pitch dark within. The ceiling was so low, Marcus couldn't stand up straight in it at all. He stood bent over at the waist with his hands on his knees the entire time, trying not to hit his head on the dim, flickering flourescent dome light embedded in the ceiling. Her father and brother were still awake, and welcomed Marcus warmly into their quarters. When Sam heard Marcus's offer, however, he graciously declined. "You can take these two knuckleheads with you, though," he grinned, tousling Jason's hair, "it'll be nice to have a little quality time to myself for one night."

The ride back up to the top decks was even more awkward and quiet. Marcus volunteered to carry Jason on his back the entire way, and the bright-eyed eleven-year-old was absolutely quivering with excitement. "I've never been to a sleepover before," he said, then paused to turn his face away and cover a cough, "especially not on the upper decks. This is so cool, Marcus!"

"Are you sure this is okay?" Cleo asked, holding onto Marcus's arm nervously when the lift doors opened, "Like, we won't get in trouble or anything? I've been in enough trouble today already, so-"

"Relax," Marcus grinned, adjusting Jason's weight on his back, "It's cool. My parents love you guys, and I'm sure they won't mind a bit."

When they reached Marcus's family quarters, Jason's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. "It's so big," he gasped, "and bright, too! How do you get those pictures on the wall to move like that?"

Marcus looked to where Jason was pointing, and smiled pityingly, "Those aren't pictures, Bud; they're windows. That's why there's so much light. What you're looking at is space."

Jason was totally speechless with awe at the sight. Cleo honestly felt bad by how enamored he was. He hadn't been to the upper decks since he was a little kid, and must have forgotten what windows were. She kicked herself for being so selfish, and not offering to bring him up here before. Jason, however, didn't seem to care. The smile on his face never left, nor did his gaze leave from the windows. Marcus carried the boy into his personal quarters and tucked him into the bunk, but Jason immediately sat back up to look out the window again. His hands and nose pressed to the thick glass, taking in every star, moon and planet his eyes could see. "I never knew the universe was so huge," he murmured reverently, "Cleo, why don't we have windows like these down in the lower decks? This is awesome!"

Cleo was too angry and upset to speak. She left the room, shaking with silent rage, before she said or did anything she might regret. She always thought the society she lived in aboard the Cassiopeia was harsh and unbalanced, but she put up with it. Now, however, seeing first hand how deprived her own brother was in glaring clarity made her physically sick. She didn't care about what happened to herself; whatever came at her, she could deal with it one way or the other. Her brother on the other hand was an entirely different story. He didn't deserve to live in cold, damp and darkness for his entire childhood. She didn't remember much of Earth, but at least she was old enough to remember (albeit vaguely) how the sunlight felt on her face. Jason was only a few months old when the Apocalypse happened; he knew nothing about what things were like before, or about their mother.

She clenched her hands into fists, refusing to even think about it. For the longest time, she blamed Jason for what happened to their mother. "If he wasn't born, she'd still be here!"... that's what she remembered saying the day Jason came home from the hospital for the first time. Now, she knew she was wrong. Now, she had no guarantees at all what would or wouldn't have happened if Jason hadn't come along. It didn't matter anyway; she loved Jason like a sister and a mother would, which only made her anger about how they'd both been treated flare hotter.

She jumped when she felt a hand on her arm. "Cleo," Marcus asked, "Are you okay? I've never seen you like this."

Cleo said nothing. She just turned and stepped forward, curling her arms around his waist, then broke down sobbing. Marcus, after a minute or two, returned the hug. She didn't have to say anything for him to understand, and she knew it. He had seen the look of absolute awe on Jason's face too. For once in his life, Marcus seemed at a loss for words, and it felt like he finally actually understood how bad things were outside his ivory tower in the upper decks.

As they stood there, holding each other, the light outside the windows seemed to get brighter. Cleo had to squint when she pulled her face from Marcus's chest, then blinked until her eyes adjusted. Looming outside the wide, round windows was a massive luminous sphere. It was dazzling blue, with patches of green and brown speckled all over, and thin wisps of white encircling the entire orb. Cleo had never seen anything so bright, so wonderful, in her entire life. As if on instinct, she raced to the window in Marcus's room to get a closer look. Jason was standing on the bunk, staring at the orb with abject wonder. He tore his gaze away long enough to just glance at his sister when she squeezed onto the bunk beside him, then resumed ogling the sight. "Cleo," he whispered, "What is that?"

Cleo was speechless, but luckily Marcus came to her aid. He pushed his tall, lean frame in between the brother and sister, putting an arm around each of them. "That's Europa," he announced with a broad smile. He then turned, pressed a gentle, lingering kiss on Cleo's tear-streaked cheek, and whispered in her ear, "Welcome home."