Chapter Text
The end of the world begins with a stick.
It's not a weapon, it's not a word, it's not a person, per se.
It's a stick.
Really, it could have been any stick, but in a forest of silence, any noise is ear-shattering.
It begins with a stick.
If there’s one underlying theme throughout the adventures of the Knowhere crew, it’s that they are constantly running. Running out of food, running out of money, running away, running towards, but always running. You get used to it, after a while, really, and it doesn’t become so bad. You learn to love the constant chill of the air, the careful caress of a crewmate. You learn to stop missing the grass; it will be there when you land.
They were always running.
On this particular occasion, they were running out of money (again). Mis had managed to scrape together a computer, and so Havok gathered some of the more experienced crew members and told them that he’d start looking for some odd jobs. “Ghet ‘n Khio ‘l be in charge, since er, Saph and Les ‘l probably come with,” he had said, and it was sort of this moment of pride for Lesia. He trusted her. Enough to come on some labour-intensive work, sure, but it was trust enough.
They find something, oddly enough. Some people out in a forest wanted help hauling logs or something for the winter. “Easy enough,” was the general consensus, and it would pay pretty decently. Enough to keep them in the air until the next opportunity arose.
When she wakes up the day they’re set to leave, Saph is there.
She wakes up exhausted, which is normal, but she wakes up with Saph, cradled in their arms, and that is not normal, not for her, at least. Ghet had moved back out a while ago, to give her some space once she got back from a particularly rough excursion.
The bunk bed was small, smaller still when taken up by more than one person. Even still, she twisted her body gently to face Saph, in a dim attempt to keep her asleep, to keep her comfortable, to keep her safe.
That's all she ever wanted to do, really.
She turned in the bed. Saph's eyes fluttered. Lesia shushed her, panicking. She scooped their face into her hands, feeling the warmth exude from her skin. She pressed her forehead to hers in some vain attempt of telepathic communication.
I care about you too, I care about you more than you'll ever know. I don't know why, I don't know how, but I do.
She couldn’t help but worry. It felt like every time they went out on some trip, something happened. It was a dangerous world, and they weren’t very well liked. It seemed to not matter to anyone they came across that they were mostly kids, they were just someone to be plundered or looted. Unless they knew the name of the ship that had been hastily painted across the side. Then, they were feared.
She turned onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. She didn’t particularly want to wake Saph, and she didn’t really want to wake up either, but she hadn’t even packed. She slipped from the bed, down the ladder, and onto the floor, changing into one of her old Programme uniforms. They were comfortable, more comfortable than regular clothes, particularly so if they got into a scrape. Protective, durable. She felt a cardigan slip around her shoulders, and she gasped, turning. Stopping, hands raised, seeing an awake Saph.
“G’morning,” she says with a sleepy smile. Saph took her hands in hers, lowering them. She gave them a squeeze before releasing them. She was warm. She always was.
While Saph left to finish preparing the ship. Lesia packed her few possessions into a backpack. A few changes of clothes, some papers, and a hat to tuck her hair into, just in case they had to go to a bigger colony. She clasped a necklace around her neck that Rishi had made for her, in a time before fire and betrayal.
She took a deep breath, and slung the backpack over her shoulder, and headed to the entrance of the ship.
The goodbyes were quiet, nearly silent. She saw Elle there, and Elle waved to her. She seemed unsure of herself, almost unsure of her place in the room. Lesia strode over to her, took her hands, and told her to be brave. Elle nodded. Lesia didn’t know if she believed her or not.
Ghet’s goodbye was quaint. She snaked her hands underneath his jacket, leaning into his chest, drawing in his dusty scent. There were no words between them; there was nothing left to say. Lesia sighed as she pulled away from her former roommate, gently touching his shoulder.
“Don’t be stupid,” he told her.
“I make no promises.”
Khio landed the ship, following a few final instructions from Havok. As the main door opened, Lesia squinted in the sunlight. Nothing but trees as the eye could see, and she hadn’t seen one in a while. Havok’s hand rested lightly on her back. She looked at him, and he nodded, urging her forward with a gentle push.
They started walking, waving back to the crew until they were out of sight. Saph was nervous; she was pacing more than she was walking, really. Lesia placed her hand on Saph’s shoulder, tracing the shoulder blade in a sign of affection. “It’s okay, they’ll be okay without you. We’ll be okay.”
They’ll be okay.
They kept walking, silence falling over the group, only speaking when Havok pulled out his compass to correct course. It was silent until Saph grabbed Lesia’s arm.
“D’ you hear that,” Saph asked. Lesia and Havok stopped.
“No, I haven’t heard anything since we landed, Saph,” Havok replied. Lesia’s mouth fell open.
“Havok, we’re in a forest, you’re supposed to hear something,” Lesia responded. Havok’s eyes widened. Saph continued again.
“No bugs, no birds…something’s wrong. No wind, either, and-” Lesia held her hand up.
“Saph, there has to be wind, the tree line is moving,” Lesia said, squinting off into the distance. The three of them looked between each other before turning around and running, running back in the direction of the ship. They stopped in another clearing, panting.
“Lesia, can’t you warp us there?” Havok asked.
“I thought you hated that?”
“I mean, I do, but desperate times, Les.” Lesia nodded, grabbing Havok and Lesia. Something was wrong, she could tell, but she chalked it up to nerves. She pictured the ship in her mind, centered on it and-
Nothing at all happened.
So she tried again.
And again.
And again and again and again until Saph grabbed her face and said, “Stop.”
“We have to get to that worksite, maybe something...something will turn up there,” Havok said. Saph nodded, and Lesia made a mildly committal noise of agreement, rubbing her hands together.
Saph prodded her forward, following Havok. They moved in silence, more in fear and a want to be undetected more than anything. Relying on your powers for most of your life isn’t the most idyllic thing at the moment.
They continued walking for what seemed like hours. It was fine, if you were able to ignore the choking silence of a forest without birdsong. All was fine.
Until a stick snapped.
It wasn’t any of the three of them, Lesia realized, and she pulled them all back to back, so that nobody could sneak up on them.
Until a slight thwack was heard, and Havok dropped to the ground. Saph went to inspect him before Lesia pulled her back. Lesia pulled out her staff, at least hoping a glorified stick would work in this forest. Luckily, it unfolded.
People melted from the shadows at this, and Saph gasped. Lesia just in time to catch her before she, too, fell.
As Lesia laid Saph out on the ground, one person stepped from the shadows in front of the rest. They had a hand raised.
“Who are you?” Lesia said accusatorily, pointing her staff at the figure, cloaked in black, a mask over half their face.
“You have bigger things to worry about, dear.”
And then it was dark.