Confrontation (The Seamus Chronicles Book 4) (12 page)

I crawled out of hiding before Sofie and Cassandra. I have a feeling that they watched me for a time before they emerged. Sofie did not speak to me and as soon as I met Cassandra’s eyes, the lecture began.

“So you just cowered in the bushes while two defenseless women ran for their lives?” she bites.

“We were under attack, too. One minute I was talking with Horst and Francisco, the next I was on my ass in a shrub. I can’t even tell you what happened to the others,” I spit back.

“Did you watch them?” Sofie asks me.

“I tried, but all I could see was the back of the big one.” I’m not surprised that Sofie observed them, but I am surprised that Cassandra has not taken a more academic view of the encounter.

“Is everyone okay?” Henry enters the clearing and surveys the scene.

“Mike is dead, probably, but the rest of us are fine,” I answer factually. Immediately I know that my tone is wrong.

Someone else that I kind of respected is dead. It makes me sad that Jake and Mike, two of the people from McMurdo that I thought were generally decent, are no longer with us. My assumption is that the others are sad, too; talking about Mike’s death does not feel important, though. Remembering his life and what he brought to our group feels like the better way to respect him.

Henry crosses the clearing and kneels beside the table where Mike rests. He reaches out a hand, searching for a pulse. After a minute or two, Henry places his hand on Mike’s chest and bows his head.

Without thinking about it, I also bow my head and close my eyes. Emotions wash over me. I breathe deeply and fight back tears. My mourning is for all of us, not for Mike and certainly not for anyone else to see.

A hand appears on my back and I turn to see my mother standing beside me. All of the survivors from Earth stand in silence and look at our second confirmed death. The logical conclusion is that David, Sonjia and Luke are also dead, but without seeing their corpses I refuse to accept it. At this point, it’s not just our resources but our gene pool that is shrinking.

My thoughts slide to the negative. What’s the point of all of this? The human race is doomed. The wrong people survived and any belief that we would succeed was foolish.

Perhaps those who died first during the sore loser outbreak were the lucky ones. They had no foreboding or fear or dread. They wouldn’t even have known that the coughing would lead to their death. The end of the human race would not have even been a concern for them.

Now I feel like Sofie had it right in wanting to live in that little house by the ocean. In the beginning, it kind of felt like we were doing a version of that here on Locus. That is, until the group decided that we needed more and had to go off and seek out the natives.

Maybe humankind’s biggest problem is curiosity. We had food, water and shelter, plus a vast library of books. Life was simple, but we couldn’t sit still.

What’s over that hill or behind that tree? How long would it take me to walk around the lake? Is the whole planet covered in forest, or are there different types of terrain? Curiosity.

“We need to counterattack. We should track them and strike them where they live.” Horst slams his fist into his open palm.

Bloodlust seems to be gone from the rest of the group, though. We look at each other and then back to the corpse lying on our table.

Sofie is next to break the silence. “I saw them talking,” she says.

Horst maintains his aggressive tone. “What does that mean? ‘Saw’ talking?”

“I think they communicate with facial expressions and hand motions. The middle set of hands, to be precise.” Sofie looks at me when she says ‘precise.’

“But you didn’t hear anything? So they weren’t really ‘talking,’” Dad tries to clarify.

“Right. It was like watching a conversation in sign language. Except their hands were only a little active, while their faces changed expression frequently,” she explains.

“How many different facial expressions did you count?” I ask.

She shoots me an annoyed look. “I didn’t count. I was too busy cowering in fear to record data,” she says.

“Could you replicate any of the expressions or hand movements?” Henry asks.

“I could try, but I’m not sure.” She hangs her head.

Henry goes deep into thought. Horst storms out of the clearing and my mother sets to picking up the pieces.

Dad looks like he is waiting for Henry. I have an opinion, but I’m going to follow my father’s lead. This is not a physics or scientific issue, so my expertise is limited.

In my opinion, we should relocate. We should gather the supplies we have and walk in the direction opposite the city that Horst and Francisco found. After two full Locus days on the move, we can stop and establish a new camp.

The containment field can be kept small and no one will ever have to leave. It’s security by obscurity. We won’t be hiding, but we will not be doing anything to draw attention to ourselves.

Some would call it running away.

I don’t care. The goal is to survive, not to be cool.

It would also keep us busy. Village 2.0 would be better and take time to build. Knowing that we have food and can grow more would allow us to be more deliberate with our construction.

Instead of clearing a space to get plants in the ground as quickly as we can, there could be a bigger-picture approach. We could lay out canals and an irrigation system. There could be multiple areas for crop rotation and different cycles. Cold storage could be built in the center of it all so that transporting food will be easier.

The whole thing could be positioned as bettering our situation. It’s just that we would have a few less bodies to do it with. Someday, if our population grows enough, we could come up with a new plan, but my guess is that would be long after I’m gone.

Henry interrupts my thoughts. “I think we send Sofie and Seamus.”

His comment reminds me that I’m being selfish again. My relocation plan was all about making things more comfortable for me. It didn’t include any thoughts for the others, including Sofie. I believe it would make things better for them, but only because it would make things better for me.

“Send us where?” Sofie asks.

“To the city. We can’t just run and hide; that’s not a long-term strategy. Buying ourselves days or even months does humankind no good. We need generations to rebuild our species,” he says, giving some insight to his thoughts.

“Why us?” I want to know.

“Sofie thinks she has an idea of how they communicate. Having that hint of a clue is important. You’re a problem-solver. Between the two of you, I think it’s our best shot of knowing what to say and how to say it.” Henry looks uncomfortable.

“Okay by me,” Sofie declares.

“I have some concerns,” I say. I’m not ready to head out so blindly.

“Of course you do!” Cassandra groans and throws her head back like I’ve created the biggest obstacle in her life.

I ignore Cassandra since she is not really any part of the plan. “Whoever stays behind needs to make sure that Horst and Francisco don’t leave. I don’t want to be off with the natives and find out that they decided to storm the castle,” I explain.

“I’m not sure we can place anyone under house arrest, but I see your point,” Henry says, and nods.

“I also think that Liam should be involved. He can make friends with anyone. Plus if we wind up finding Luke and Sonjia, we may need help getting them back here,” I say, laying out my second concern.

Dad and Henry exchange looks. Unsurprisingly, dad looks confused. Henry looks a little grim.

“I thought of that. My only concern is…” Henry trails off.

My brother can make friends with anyone. He can also piss off people soon after meeting them. Liam is different now than he was, but maybe Henry sees that and isn’t sure how to say it.

“We need a plan B. If you and Sofie don’t make it back, I want to have another chance of connecting with these things. Liam is next in line, so to speak,” Henry says. I think he does not have one hundred percent confidence in his own plan.

It makes sense, but it also adds some gravity to the situation. Even when death isn’t the failure scenario, I don’t like to take chances. Is there anything we can do to make success more likely?

“Maybe Liam and I should go,” Sofie offers.

There are several beats of silence while Henry chooses his words. I can see that dad wants to jump in and say something, but he bites his tongue.

Henry maintains a level and even tone as he says, “We’re not planning spring musical or something. I don’t know if you two are on or off as a couple, and I don’t care. Your relationship has nothing to do with who I think should engage the natives.”

We’re led to believe that a leader will include personalities and relationships in picking teams. This feels like a moment where Henry should pull me aside and let me know if working with Sofie is going to be a problem, he’ll change the plan.

Our reality is that we’re told to suck it up. It doesn’t matter if I’m fighting with my girlfriend; important things need to be done. What was true on Earth is also true here—the world won’t stop spinning because two people need a minute to figure something out.

“Any ideas of what we might use as a peace offering?” Sofie asks.

I feel bad that I keep forgetting how smart she is. Giving the creatures a benign little token could set the tone for the whole encounter. They left us berries; perhaps we could leave them some of our vegetables.

“I think a variety of vegetables would be a good offering,” Dad says before I can rationalize. “It could show the creatures that we have our own food and are not interested in eating them. Also, if they have advanced analysis capabilities, it could prove that we live simply and won’t deplete their planet of resources.” He’s getting philosophical.

“They also left us a plate of berries, so it makes sense that a food offering would resonate,” Cassandra says. She still gets exasperated with my family, with the exception of Liam, which completely blows my mind.

“Art,” I blurt.

Everyone looks at me a little cockeyed. Cassandra is preparing to skewer me for being unspecific.

“They had art on the walls in their cabin. They looked inside our cabin and I bet they were looking for artwork. Maybe if we can show them that we are capable of creating art, they won’t see us as barbarians that need to be controlled or feared,” I explain, offering more details on my thinking.

If the natives communicate visually instead of audibly, a drawing could go a long way in bridging our communications gap. I just don’t know what we would draw. Would a picture of a human and a creature holding hands be too simplistic?

“I’ll talk with Grace,” Sofie says. She turns and leaves the clearing without another word.

My sister is a talented artist, but I’m worried that we’ll get a picture of a cat or a manga vampire. It will be amazing art, but not really what you want to use for showing a new culture your depth.

“Why don’t you collect some things and rest? When Sofie has the art she wants, you two should head out,” Dad says, giving me permission to leave the clearing.

I’d rather not go back to my hut. I have no idea if Sofie will come by to rest with me or if she even needs to collect any things from what used to be our home. Hopefully she moved back in while I was gone. Making the trek to the city with our relationship status as awkward as it is feels like it would be better than going all that way with a status of “over.”

Sofie never came back to our hut. When I eventually woke up, I placed a few things in my backpack and headed to the central cabin. The others had the mess cleared up and the table was even rebuilt. Mike’s body was no longer there; I assume it was buried in the garden.

I sat alone at the table, picking at some raspberries and taking the occasional bite of a carrot. Sofie and I will be walking for days, alone together. Will the whole time be spent in silence?

If I am going to be the one who breaks the silence, what should I say? Why didn’t I go to Grace to get a drawing? She definitely would have helped me figure out what to say.

Going through my pack for the fourth or fifth time does not uncover anything new. Nor does it provide any answers.

Sofie is the most important thing in my life and I’m going to wing it when it comes to our relationship. I used to have a plan for everything; I even used to plan my bio-breaks so the bathroom wouldn’t waste time in my pursuit of the dark energy reactor.

It seems that dark energy and power generation have a finite set of fixed variables. People and relationships are constantly evolving. Making a plan doesn’t really work; maybe I just need a goal to wander toward?

“Are you ready?” Sofie asks as she enters the clearing with her pack on her back.

“I’ve gone through my pack like five times. Haven’t noticed anything missing, so I guess that makes me as ready as I am going to get.” I smile as humbly as I can.

“Once the others get here to eat, I think we should head off.” She takes her pack off and places it on the ground.

We are going to be on our feet for days. It makes me sad that she won’t sit with me at the table.

After what feels like forever, other people start arriving at the cabin.

When Grace arrives, she makes a beeline to Sofie and hands her a notebook and pencil. They share a few words and Sofie nods slightly. Then they hug and smile at each other.

Dad finally arrives with a big basket of produce. There is a broad grin across his face and I sense a bounce in his step.

“Look what I found under a leaf,” he says, and holds up an oversized cantaloupe.

“That’s huge!” Cassandra exclaims.

“I thought the cantaloupes were past?” Jane questions.

For some reason, cantaloupe has become a favorite among us. It may have something to do with the fact that it was one of the first crops to produce any significant yield.

In the early days, we experimented with a variety of different crops. The cantaloupe came in fast and hearty. But we only planted a few, so there was not an overabundance of them. We ran out long before we tired of eating the soft sweet fruit.

We thought we had the last of the fresh cantaloupe weeks ago. This is a pleasant surprise, but I hope it is not a last supper.

“Like the cantaloupe crop, we have been doing well on this planet. The only thing that has been missing lately is a lucky break. I think this is a sign that our fortunes are changing for the better. Let’s enjoy this cantaloupe and go forward with a belief in our good fortune,” Henry says. He has never made a speech before and this one is a little odd.

While we go through the food and assemble our own breakfasts, I watch Sofie engage with my mom and dad. They talk and smile comfortably. There is no evidence of the tension and frustration that exists between us.

Sofie has not tired of my family; she has tired of me. That little thought stings. She knew I was quirky and difficult before we officially became a couple. Did she think I would change that much?

My feelings for Sofie helped drive me to save our entire species. Occasionally I have wondered if I would have pursued solutions as hard if she had not been around. I love my family, but what I feel for Sofie is something different, almost extra.

Now she spends more time with the people from McMurdo than she does with me. Is it possible that her absence is a reason behind my inability to solve the current issue threatening our survival? That feels a lot like shifting the blame.

I wonder if Einstein was ever torn about how he used his brain. Could he have accomplished more if he was never distracted by the personalities around him? Did worrying about a girl derail him from creating faster-than-light travel in the 1930s?

Goodbyes are said absentmindedly as my brain fantasizes about a conversation with Einstein. Having never read much about him, most of his responses are fanciful. This is yet another lesson why it would have been valuable to study beyond the purely scientific field. Knowing how other geniuses lived could help me to be more efficient… or at least more human.

Sofie and I walk for hours in silence.

“Are you with them now?” I finally ask.

She does not engage my conversation starter. “Ugh.”

“You always said that I need to say what’s really on my mind. This is what I’ve been thinking about,” I say, letting my emotion seep into my voice.

“There is no ‘them.’ There is only ‘us.’” She is exasperated with me and I have only been talking for a minute.

“‘Us’ like you and me?” I’m confused.

“No!” She laughs a little. “‘Us’ like humans. The team from McMurdo was guilty of that thinking early on. They thought this was all a ruse to test their viability for the Mars program. Once it became clear that this was not a ruse, they started pulling together with the rest of us. Now you’re the only one who still has an ‘us’ and ‘them’ mentality.”

“Maybe I only started thinking that way when you left to spend more time with them than with me.” Jealousy doesn’t feel good, and it sounds even worse.

Her head drops and she does not respond. I’ve shown my true colors and without knowing it I have revealed the root of my frustration. What else am I supposed to say?

After more silence, the alarm on my watch beeps. With my evolving understanding of fitness and exertion, I have learned that regular water intake is crucial to sustained activity. I can walk longer if I take regular breaks to drink.

“We need to take a fifteen-minute water break,” I say, and make sure it is not a question.

Sofie stops and slumps off her pack. It hits the ground with a soft thud. She does not look at me while she takes a long drink of water. I recognize this as a good thing. If looking at me will make it hard for her to stay mad, I still have a chance to fix things.

The challenge I face is how. Making it obvious that I am working on winning her back will fail. Anything I do or say will have to be genuine. But this, calculating how to be genuine, is my problem.

“If I’m the only one who has watched them communicate, why is it that you are so convinced that we can get through to them?” she finally asks, her eyes boring into my chest.

My answer is complicated and not based on facts. I have been physically close to the creatures on multiple occasions. What I discovered wasn’t so much learned as it was felt. How do I tell her that I trust my gut?

“It’s a little complicated,” I say.

“I would expect nothing less from Seamus Robinson.” She says it without a smile or lighthearted tone. Her voice and demeanor are flat.

“You know how when you get frustrated your eyes pinch together a little and there’s that one wrinkle on the bridge of your nose?” I start, without thinking about what I am saying.

Sofie’s eyes do not leave my chest.

“Or when you’re thinking about
before
, how your eyes go up a little and to the right? And then your lips curl up just at the edges so you’re not really smiling but you kind of are?” I match her thousand-mile stare with my own.

“And my favorite, when you’re completely happy, how you lift your eyebrows and get that medium smile with your lips separated a little bit? You don’t say anything or laugh, but your eyes are alive and they take in everything.” I notice her feet shift a little but I don’t look up.

“That’s how I know. I have felt fear, confusion and fascination from them. And just like with you, I have never sensed hatred or anger.” I finish my explanation and look up to find Sofie staring at me, a tear running down her cheek.

When our eyes meet, a million emotions run through me. I had no idea I knew those things or that they formed my basis for connecting with an alien race. My mind flashes through every expression I have ever seen from Sofie. They all tell me something about what she is thinking or feeling, letting me see her differently than ever before.

“Sometimes when you sleep, you blink your eyes funny,” Sofie says. She smiles at me.

“I have a dream where I am trapped behind a glass wall and you are on the other side. The only way I can communicate is through blinking out Morse code,” I explain.

“Do you know what this expression means?” Her eyelids lower a little and a soft smile creeps across her closed lips.

“Same thing I say in Morse code. ‘I love you.’”