Day 023: Death And Tactics
Summary: Kai reflects on death, fear, cowardice and tactics.
Date: 16/06/16
Related: None

Way Early Day 24 — Dropship Sniper's Nest

Death never seemed real.

Staring out into the darkened woods, the thought settled roughly into Kai's brain. Through all of it… Mags blood on the ground, the firey horror of the exploding dropship, even in the half-remembered nightmare of the blood fever, it had never quite sunk in to her just how close it truly was.

It was frightening just how painfully real and bloody and close it was to breathing down all of their necks. It was one thing.. in that visceral rage.. to want Jenks dead.. to sort the death of Mags into logical necessity.. to accept on some distant level that when the army attacked, these people.. her people, were going to die.

When had they became her people? They were criminals. All of them. Thieves and murderers and violent sociopaths who'd earnt their time in the Box. But then there was people like Tink. Like Elias. Like Juditha. Shi. Did they belong down here? No. Not really. And what about those who did? Those who she could objectively say they got what they deserved.. did they really deserve to be murdered wholesale for someone else's damned accident?

It was uncomfortable, to accept that it didn't really matter in the end. They were down here, all of them, and in a few days every single one of them might be dead. Not clean and silent, one open airlock and ffftt gone as if they'd never been.. but screaming and bloody and slow. And worse, she had to accept.. none of them deserved it.

It was one thing to come up with scenarios on the Ark. To revisit the actions of long-dead rulers and try to judge a battle with the benefit of hindsight.. and quite another to be sitting on the top of a fucking dropship wondering what particular part of the defenses were going to fall first. Who was going to be there? Who would die because she or Cole or someone else had failed to anticipate what these Grounder's would bring? She had to admit to herself that for all her dislike of Cassandra that the girl was on point.. their enemy was wily as fuck, trained for this shit all their lives, and that no amount of preparation in the end was going to be enough.

Had Alexander wondered about that shit? Had Napoleon? It was enough to bring a smirk to her lips as she stretched up and paced around the re-purposed nose of the dropship for no better reason than to help keep herself alert. She'd lost track of how many hours she'd spent trying to talk to people, to convince them. And for what?

She couldn't live with it. That was the reality that was settling in to her gut. The hail mary as Cameron called it was everything she could pin her struggling hope on. But it didn't change that death was going to come for people she knew and liked. It was a cowardice, in the end, that drove her, the thought of marching into the jaws of death at the hands of Indra more palatable than wondering who was going to survive the week. If they'd survive the month. How long they could make such an untenable, indefensible position hold if negotiations failed. The nagging condemnation of her father lingered at the back of her mind, critiquing every single one of her preparations and sneering at her doubts and she found she had to move again just simply to escape it.

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