Prologue

In the dimly-lighted command center, the council stood around a large, rounded table, each facing a dark-haired man that stood in between Abby Griffin and Marcus Kane. The atmosphere was tense, but there was a hint of something else, something that was extremely rare in the Ark: hope. After 1000 years stuck in the floating metal prison in space, this might finally be their chance to truly live - not just survive.

"Well?" Jaha, the chancellor, said. "Give us the update."

Trying to keep his cool, Jacapo Sinclair, lead engineer of the Ark, nodded. This happened at least once a year since he was promoted; however, this meeting was different. After revealing the information he learned last night, the lives of every Arker would change. In a good way, he hoped. In many bad ways too, though, the man knew. There was no truly good way this situation could turn out.

"The atmospheric dust cloud has receded by 98.62 percent," Sinclair started, "so enough sunlight can get through to the ground to cultivate cro- "

"You told us this seven years ago," Kane interrupted, slamming his hands onto the metallic table. "Enough of that shit! What of the radiation levels? Is it safe for us to go home?"

Abby sighed, and rubbed Kane's back soothingly, trying to calm him down. They were all stressed, yes, but yelling at their people's only hope would do no good. And so she whispered an apology for her friend's outburst, hoping to get him to continue his report.

Sinclair, however, was pissed. "The chancellor asked me to give an update," he said lowly. "So that is what I intend to do."

Before Kane could respond, Jaha spoke up: "enough of this." The dark-skinned man looked at Sinclair. "Please, my friend - your report?"

Sinclair pursed his lips, but nodded. "As I was saying…" he narrowed his eyes, briefly glancing at Kane. "While the dust cloud is practically gone, there is still the matter of the change in weather patterns." He pulled up a hologram of the meteorological conditions on Earth. "It's cold," he said, motioning toward every continent. "Really, really cold. It's pretty much always winter, rarely getting above 32 degrees Fahrenheit."

Jaha cringed at that thought. "Why are you telling us this?"

Before Sinclair was promoted, the Ark's engineers would only check the radars for information on Earth's surface once every hundred years to preserve power; however, since it's recently gotten closer to the estimated time their ancestors predicted they would be able to go to the ground, monthly checks of the radars were put in place.

"Because the radiation levels have dropped dramatically: it's finally safe for us to go down to the ground."

The cheering erupted.

"But only in the land of the Americas."

Silence.

"Why?" Abby asked. "The plan has always been for us to land in Berlin. You know…go back to where we left."

"I know, Abby…The air is safe," Sinclair said, "but not the soil. We'd never be able to grow crops anywhere else – even with the use of green houses."

Abby frowned. "Then why are the Americas any different?"

"Because most of the bombs landed where the younger populations were: Asia and Africa," he said. "Thus, most of the radiation in the ground is stuck there. Europe is right next to the two, so the soil won't be safe to use for at least another 500 years. The Americas are our only shot at farming."

Jaha nodded at this new information, silently glad that Sinclair never told him and his fellow council members about this before. It would have made him dread going down to the ground for years. But it was necessary to leave the Ark at this point. Even with their one-child and strict rationing policies, the Ark had a severe shortage of food, oxygen and medicine. In 6 months, if they stayed in space, the 2,400-people living on the Ark would die.

Jaha turned to Kane. "Will the seeds we have stored be enough to sustain the population?" The dark-haired man oversaw rationing.

Kane, thankfully, nodded. "If people want nothing but cucumbers, potatoes, and pumpkins," he joked. That was rare. He's defiantly happy to hear that they can leave this metal prison. "We have things like carrots and Brussel sprouts in smaller quantities, but, uh, not enough…"

Abby smiled, tilting her head slightly. "We have fruits too, right? Some of us do have a sweet tooth."

Kane chuckled. "Of course," he said. "We've got figs, plums, pears, cherries, apples – you name it!" He winked. "Made sure to save the figs especially for you." He rubbed his head awkwardly. "It will just be a while before the trees grow."

Abby laughed.

Jaha coughed. "Anyhow," he started, raising his voice. "We'll need to start evacuating the people as soon as possible."

Kaplan stepped forward. "I can lead the evacuation process, Chancellor."

Fuji raised her chin. "And I'll insure everything we need gets aboard the dropships."

Jaha smiled. "Good. Both of you shall start immediately." He turned to Abby. "Make sure the medical center is cleared of all patients within the next week. We'll leave as soon as it's done."

Abby dropped her head briefly. "It will be done."

"Good." He looked back at Sinclair. "Where do you recommend we land?"

The man frowned, not expecting such a question. "The former land of Virginia?" he suggested. "There's a military base in Mount Weather. The supplies wouldn't be any good at this point, but we could use it to hold out in when the weather gets too bad. It's run on renewable energy, so we would certainly be able to get electricity in there." When people gave him a questioning look, looking at what was all around them, Sinclair sighed. "Plus, the land is relatively flat in the northern area and the soil is full of nutrients."

"Are there animals that have survived which we could hunt?" Fuji asked. She was always good at shooting with her rifle.

He swallowed nervously. "I don't know."

The woman looked stunned, her grey eyes crumbling together in confusion. "What do you mean you don't know?"

"The cameras broke 378 years ago," Sinclair said as if it were obvious. "What it's like on the ground, I don't know…I doubt we would even know if they were still functional. It's always winter, remember? The clouds never go away…"

The council looked concerned once more.

Cole, having previously been quiet, spoke up: "It doesn't matter. Our job is to ensure the survival of the human race. Going back to Earth is the only way to do so."

The rest of the story will be a lot better!
I just wanted to give people a proper idea of how it is on Earth in my story...
And give you an indication of the role the sky people will play.