It's the End of the World as We Know it (Silent Moments Series: Book 4)

Chapter 8

As I attempted to leave the room, Monty's voice stopped me in my tracks. "Jasper's fine, in case you cared," he said, his tone dripping with resentment. I felt a pang of guilt, knowing the situation had spiraled far beyond what I intended.

I knew his anger was justified, but I also knew the gravity of the situation. "I do care. Can we talk in private? Please?" I asked, hoping for a chance to explain. He hesitantly agreed, and we retreated to the privacy of the office.

Once inside, I tried to convey the difficult decisions I had faced. "It wasn't easy making that list. I only had so many slots for engineers. You're an apprentice. Jaha's more knowledgeable about the ship. He's more experienced. Raven and I-"

Monty, however, cut me off, his frustration evident. "That's what you think this is about? Kegan, I get why you didn't put me on the list. I may have even agreed with it. It's just, who are you? When did you become this person?" His words struck me, challenging the very essence of my identity and the path I had taken.

"I haven't become anyone," I responded, feeling defensive yet uncertain.

"The Kegan I know wouldn't be arresting his friends," Monty said, highlighting the stark difference between my past actions and my current ones.

He was right; the person I had become was a far cry from who I once was. But these were extraordinary times. "Kane agreed that this needed to be kept quiet," I tried to justify, seeking some understanding from Monty.

"Kane isn't here. That's just an excuse. You're the one saying, you live and Harper dies. You're the one shock-batoning Jasper, then arresting him. You're the one going too far and using the same old justification... it's all for my people!" Monty raised his voice, his anger reaching a boiling point.

"It is!" I shot back, feeling the tension rise. Every decision, every action I had taken, was for the greater good of our people.

Monty's next words were calm but firm. "I know you think people will freak out, but if you just tell everyone the truth, maybe they'll surprise you."

I knew there was truth in his words, but the risk felt overwhelming. "Monty, it's too risky."

"Jasper's right. You're not God." His statement was a stark reminder of the burden I carried.

Monty then made a decisive move towards the rover and picked up the intercom. "I have an announcement to make. Kegan Foster has been lying to you."

My heart sank as I realized the magnitude of what was about to happen. "No," I sighed, feeling a sense of inevitability.

Monty began to read the list aloud, his voice echoing throughout Arkadia. The reactions were immediate and visceral. Kade Lucas's disbelief, "Are you hearing this?"; Riley's outraged "I didn't survive the Ice Nation just to die because you think I'm not good enough!"; and the growing discontent among the crowd painted a picture of brewing chaos. I tried to rationalize the choices, explaining the need for young women who could have children for the survival of the human race, but it did little to quell the rising tide of anger and confusion.

Harper's defense, "I'm not sick," and the shock that followed when it was revealed her medical records had been accessed, only added fuel to the fire. The realization that personal details were used to make these life-and-death decisions struck a nerve.

Jaha, seizing the moment, stepped in with his proposition for a lottery. His suggestion to give everyone a fighting chance resonated with the crowd, offering a glimmer of hope in a seemingly hopeless situation.

I questioned Jaha's motives, worried about the risks of such a random approach. "You have to know that a random lottery is risky. We could end up with no doctors, no engineers," I expressed my concern, fearing for the practical implications of his plan.

Jaha's response was a reflection of his understanding of human nature. "The list was pragmatic, but the people need to feel like they have a say in their fate," he explained, highlighting the need for people to feel valued and heard.

His words left me conflicted. On the one hand, I understood the need for practicality and efficiency. On the other hand, Jaha's approach addressed the emotional and psychological needs of our people.

"I hope you're right," I sighed, feeling the weight of the decisions and their potential consequences.

Jaha's parting smile was a mix of confidence and understanding, leaving me to ponder the delicate balance between survival and humanity. As I approached Jasper's cell, a mix of regret and determination settled within me. Monty's piercing words had ignited a spark of introspection, and I knew I had to make amends. I stood at the cell door, taking a deep breath before speaking.

"I shouldn't have locked you up," I began, my voice laced with genuine remorse. "I thought it was the only choice I had, but I was wrong." I paused, allowing the gravity of my admission to sink in.

Jasper looked up, his eyes reflecting a complex blend of emotions. "It was the only choice you gave yourself," he replied calmly, yet his words were loaded with meaning. "If you think you have the best idea, you have to convince people. Not lie to them or lock them up."

His response resonated with me. It was a hard truth I needed to hear. "That doesn't matter now," I said, trying to convey the shift in my approach. "Monty read the list over the radio. Everyone knows everything," I confessed, hoping that this act of transparency might repair some of the damage caused.

Jasper's reaction was a mixture of amusement and bitterness. "What a shame. I thought you were giving Jaha a run for his money there, Jaha lite," he quipped, his humor masking deeper feelings.

His comment made me reflect on my actions and the unexpected parallels with Jaha. "You know he used to be everything I hated. Maybe he was holding us together," I mused aloud, pondering the irony of finding value in someone I once vehemently opposed.

Jasper nodded, his gaze thoughtful. "When Jaha's looking reasonable, it's time to reassess," he stated, his voice hinting at the absurdity of our current situation.

I reached for the lock and opened the cell door. "You can go," I said, extending a gesture of goodwill and hoping it would be a step toward mending our strained relationship.

Jasper paused at the threshold, a trace of a smile crossing his face. "You know, someday when all this is over, you're gonna realize that bit was funny," he said, his tone light but carrying an undercurrent of deeper understanding between us.

He walked out of the cell, leaving the door ajar – both literally and metaphorically – as a symbol of a new beginning and a chance for healing and reconciliation.