Confrontation (The Seamus Chronicles Book 4) (6 page)

Needless to say, no one in the village was surprised when the cave party came back empty-handed. On top of not finding the reactor, they were sweaty and hungry, which made them grouchy.

While they were gone, the rest of us worked on some rudimentary defenses. Mostly sharpened sticks and clubs that were too feeble to be of real value.

I’m still not sure why we see the natives as aggressive. My lie and sending Luke and Sonjia off to recon have only added to the tension in the village. Tension leads to aggression easily; at least, on the human side.

There is a running debate about relocating to the cave. The ladies think that the strength of its walls makes it safer than our cabins. While this is true, Dad pointed out that there is only one way in or out. He called it a “murder hole.”

If a superior force attacks us, our best chance at survival will be to scatter. Effective scattering will happen in open space like what we have around the village. Not being able to live outside the containment field is our biggest problem.

We need more containment fields, which means more reactors. The only two reactors we haven’t picked clean are on the nose and tail of the space plane. Liam did okay retrieving the reactor from the cargo hold of the space plane, but it was no walk in the park. Even with our development of the pipes that allowed him to breathe underwater, it’s still risky to dive down to the submerged craft, let alone to work on the outside to disconnect reactors.

It is surprising how easy it was to slip into arguments. Action has been a key to our survival since the killer cold hit. Now we are debating and discussing instead of doing.

Food still needs to be planted, cared for and harvested. Our water reserves are not endless, and we need to pump and filter water. Chickens need to be fed and watered and communal areas need to be cleaned.

This is where Mike’s weakness as a leader is brought forward. Mom would organize a project and divide tasks. Better still, she let us define and divide tasks so we could each focus on our strengths. Mostly she would make sure we were doing something while we argued and speculated.

It’s hard to plot and argue when you are exhausted from working. But mom is not in charge.

“Group meeting at the central cabin. Five minutes, not optional,” Mike barks from the central path.

We are technically in a work period, but I got so annoyed arguing with David that I went back to my cabin. Sofie and Grace are at Grace’s cabin with all the kids;  they have largely stayed above the fray.

Occasionally when Grace hears us arguing she injects something about concern for the children. I think she would be happy to be a nanny and spend all her time with infants and toddlers. Adults can be hard to deal with.

I’m one of the last to arrive at the central cabin. Grace and Sofie are there but not sitting at the table. They are within earshot so they can generally hear everything but they have the kids far enough away not to bother anyone.

“Luke is a hawk,” Mike says before I even sit down. “He was not the right person to go on recon because he will not observe and record: he is going to engage.” He is looking squarely at me.

“So we’re sure Luke stole the reactor and went off on his own?” I ask.

“Don’t try and act dumb. It’s unbecoming,” Marybeth sneers at me.

“The point is that if we had sent a responsible party, they could have gathered intelligence. Information is what we need to deal with the natives. Now we are going to have to prepare for another visit. One that may be an assault,” Mike explains.

It turns out that my actions were poorly thought out and may have caused more harm than good. I never thought about the fact that several of these people have known Mike for a long time and still voted for him. They also know Luke and probably have a better read on his personality than I do. But an apology won’t help or change anything.

“What about relocating to the quarry?” Dad asks.

Mike surveys the group at the table. “We need to spread out a little. I think that one group should go establish some shelter at and around the quarry, with another group staying here. In the event that we receive visitors, the people in the village can fall back to the quarry.”

“I would like to stay here with the garden. It may also be that I am suited to make first contact,” Mom says.

This may be the toughest puzzle I have ever thought about. Who do you choose to make first contact with a new species? How do you engage an unknown life form that may be rash and violent? What if they kill your best person? On the other hand, it may take your best person to get through to them and arrange for a peaceful exchange.

If we leave a “dispensable” resource to make first contact, they might screw it up. Can you imagine meeting a new species and having a third- or fourth-in-command misinterpret an action?

Liam may be perfect. Meet-and-greet is practically his middle name. If he can’t make friends with someone, then I can accept that they are impossible to connect with. Meeting people is probably the only area where I would ever defer to my brother. But he is a father now, and is it fair to Cassandra or his children to ask him to take that risk?

While I’m thinking, I see Remmie get up and walk away from the girls. He’s getting so big and it is increasingly difficult for him to sit and wait for Grace or Sofie to finish with an infant so they can play with him.

He needs to be independent and there isn’t much around here that can hurt him. Still, when you are responsible for a young kid, having them leave your sight is frightening.

Remmie has passed the table and is walking down the path. The little guy is quick but I’m sure that Grace or Sofie will see him. Seconds before I call out, Grace’s head snaps up and searches for her mobile charge.

“Dad,” she calls, knowing that she doesn’t need to say any more.

My father looks around and sees Remmie walking down the path. He gets up off the bench and turns to follow.

Dad does his funny little quick step and disappears around the corner. I assume he will stay in the village if mom does. The person I need to think about is Sofie; will she stay here or go to the quarry?

Dad yells from further down the path. “Mike! David! You need to come see this.”

I sit tight. Every instinct in my body says to get up and follow Mike and David down the path. But my dad didn’t call for me.

Those of us left sitting at the table look at one another in silence.

Eventually Henry gets up and walks in the direction of my father and the other two men. Even now I don’t have the confidence to get up and follow him.

After several moments the four men come back into view. Dad is carrying Remmie and David is carrying some straps that look similar to the ones I used on the portable reactor.

As Dad puts Remmie down, he says, “Go back and help Gracie with the babies, okay? We’re going to talk about what you saw.” He pats Remmie on the bottom to hurry him along.

There is a collective gasp as the straps are placed on the table. In the spot where I had secured the core of the reactor is a hand—a human hand freshly severed from its arm.

“That has to be Luke’s hand. It’s too big to be Sonjia’s,” David says.

“This is what I’m talking about. He found them and instead of observing, he engaged and at best had only his hand cut off,“ Mike says and glares at me.

“He stole it,” I mumble lamely.

“Bullshit,” Mike snaps. “You gave it to him. If he’s dead, it’s on your shoulders. Sonjia too, for that matter. For such genius, you can be awful stupid. Keeping humans alive is our number one goal. You don’t seem to get that.”

Keeping humans alive is our number one goal. I know that. Why don’t they all see that there is no one best way to accomplish that goal?

Without me, humans wouldn’t be alive right now at all. “What have you done for me lately” is the order of the day.

I have to realize that my reactor may be important to our survival, but in this case it’s just a tool. Much like a hammer doesn’t actually build the house. More accurately, a hat doesn’t plow the field—it just keeps the farmer from getting sunburned.

The inventor of the hat does not dictate how crops are sold at the market. Making it safer or easier to work does not mean you are the best one to do the work. I keep coming back to the question of whether I can shift my thinking and leverage my intellect to deal with social and political problems. So far, it seems the answer is no.

My personal growth has been significant since the apocalypse. I engage people in conversation. Patience is not a concept for me to work on; it’s something I practice. Hard work is done with my body as well as my mind. So much has changed, but still I obsess over “my way.”

Dad is big on goals and positive thinking. If we were discussing this, he would tell me that if I want to change something, I need to set a goal and believe I can achieve it. Once I’ve done those two things, the hard work is over and all I need to do is act as if the goal is a reality.

Setting goals can be tricky. I feel like “stay alive” is a pretty reasonable one at this point. Sadly that’s a little broad, and not actionable. I guess my first goal should be to get Luke and Sonjia back. It must be okay to share goals with other people, but would any of them care about my personal development right now?

Sofie didn’t come back to the cabin last night. I probably need a goal related to her, but that will be more difficult than inventing warp drive.

Being a stickler for routines, I get out of bed and head off to the central cabin for breakfast. It’s days like this that I really miss coffee.

David, Mike and Jake are having a heated discussion at the table when I arrive.

“No,” David says. “We wait until one of them goes off alone. I like our odds two-on-one and then we’ll know what it takes to kill them.” He slams his fist into his open palm.

“They take a hand and we take a life? We can’t escalate like that. What if Luke had an accident and they thought we could help him repair his hand?” Jake says, acting as the voice of reason.

“Or what if they can regenerate limbs easily and don’t consider losing a hand that big of a deal? For them it may be like trimming fingernails,” I say, throwing my two cents into the discussion.

“Knowing what these things are made of is a key. If we can get one to examine, that would be great. If it dies on the table, I’m good with that,” Mike says. He uses more measured tones, but he is almost as aggressive as David.

“I’m not sure how you are going to search for them, though. There’s no way my reactor is leaving the village and the garden,” I say. But I chose my words poorly; it’s
our
reactor.

“Good morning,” Mom interrupts.

It’s been a while since she has asserted her authority. I hope that she is here to step up her involvement and show them the right way to deal with this situation.

“Paddrick is taking some detailed measurements. We are going to move the containment field reactor as close to the space plane location as possible,” she explains; it is definitely not a question.

“I am not going to run back into space. We need to make a stand here and fight for our right to live,” David says, and he doesn’t mask his anger.

“We are not fleeing into the stars. But we’re not fighting, either. The space plane is the only ship we haven’t salvaged completely,” my mother explains.

“Liam did not even inspect the reactors outside of the space plane. They may be mostly intact,” I offer, optimistically.

“While you go swimming, Mike and I are going to do recon the right way,” David says.

“No, you’re not.” Mom is not offering a negotiation.

“In case you forgot, Mike is in charge,” David retorts firmly.

Mom is equally firm. “Mike is a tie-breaker and the final say. Seamus’s actions, as foolish as they were, prove that no single person is ‘in charge.’ I don’t believe that any of us would do something with the intent of putting the others at risk. If someone has an idea that can benefit us all, then we shouldn’t need approval from anyone to do it.”

“As long as it doesn’t take away from the others’ quality of life, I agree. Things like the reactor are community property, though, and no one should be able to move it on a whim,” Mike says, trying to balance the two factions of the camp. 

“Seamus, how do you feel about floating the reactor?” Dad arrives and inspects some notes on his tablet.

“Doesn’t seem like a great idea, but I suppose it can be done,” I reply.

For a few moments I lose myself wondering if I can configure the containment field to filter the oxygen out of water: imagining a bubble underwater that keeps us dry, but allows breathable air to seep in while permitting waste to seep out.

Seep is just another word for filter. This is not at all how my containment field works, either. The technology is based on wavelengths of energy, not based on the molecular structure of compounds. Still, I love to dream and imagine what-ifs.

My mom has not sat down, so she has the position of authority. “Our goals are simple. Recover and prepare, that’s it.”

“Seamus, you need to teach us how you manufacture the pipes. We can change your method to make weapons. Even if we just make simple spears or arrows to start with, I’ll feel better,” David insists, continuing his war-like thinking.

“Defending ourselves is unpleasant but prudent,” Henry says as he approaches the table.

I hadn’t seen him before this. He must have been listening from somewhere close by. He and Dad are close enough for me to think that this may be staged.

“I don’t disagree. My concern is that defense can easily turn to offense under the wrong leadership. Would you be willing to manage the defensive preparations?” Mom asks Henry.

They have effectively cut David and Mike out of the process. Now I see how politics are done. Sneaking around behind the others’ backs and giving away my reactor was a poor strategy. There are ways other than reverse psychology to get people to make the choices you want.

“I would like to lead the rescue effort,” I say before I have thought it all the way through.

From my mother’s face I can tell this was not her plan. I may have screwed up her politics, but I wanted to jump in before Mike or David had the chance to claim this goal.

Mom looks at me. “Your father was going to take that one, along with Liam.”

They are not the right ones for the job.

“Well, Liam isn’t going,” I say. “He’s a new father and it’s not fair to ask that of him or Cassandra.” I can at least try to swap places with my brother.

My mother’s stare bores a hole into my heart. I’ve screwed up her strategy, but I have to go.

“I want David to go, representing McMurdo,” Mike says.

“There is no ‘McMurdo and Ames.’ We are one group; whoever goes represents us all,” Mom says sharply.

“Fine, then you can agree that David and Seamus represent us all,” Mike says, pleased with himself.

Mom shakes her head. “I don’t think Seamus is right for this.”

“I’m perfect for this. What if they have technology? Is there someone better suited to figure it out? Plus I don’t want to fight them, I want to learn about them.” I’m beginning to feel better about my choice.

What I hadn’t yet thought about is handling David. He is physically more skilled than I am. I would also be willing to bet that he can manipulate me more than I can him. Juggling variables comes naturally to me, as long as they are measurable numbers. Emotions and ulterior motives are not measureable, which will make it tough to juggle David.

“We’re going to leave the rescue team up in the air right now. The first thing we need to do is salvage the space plane. If we don’t get another portable containment field together, there won’t even be a rescue team,” Mom states firmly.

“I agree. If you need any help driving the salvage team, let me know. I support this completely. Perhaps we can talk offline about the rescue team?” Mike says, trying to salvage some leadership power.

Mom’s wheels are almost visibly turning. She’s trying to figure out a way to box out the McMurdo guys from the rescue team. With Dad and Liam on rescue and Henry on defense, she could have used McMurdo and Ames to her advantage. When I made the rescue team negotiable, it opened the door for Mike to inject himself and leverage the McMurdo–Ames conflict.

We are here because of our inability to resolve conflict. The sore loser virus was released in retaliation to a biological attack. One human ideology was so frustrated with another that they decided killing was the best solution. The response was complete and total annihilation.

It wasn’t a war like any that humans had seen, but it was most definitely a war. Now we are bringing that war-like thinking to a new planet.

Consuming resources and leaving only waste is not the only pollution we have introduced to this plant. We’ve brought hatred and vengeance with us. Even in the face of discovering a new species, we have conflict amongst ourselves.

Perhaps humans are not evolved enough to be exploring the stars. Maybe technology was never the limiting factor for us to discover life beyond Earth. If an alien race did observe humans, they may have been shocked to see us killing our own species over differences of opinion.

Figuring out how to resolve our internal conflict peacefully is as important as learning how to engage with the natives of this planet. If the new generation of children grows up around conflict that turns violent, we have done nothing but delay the extinction of our species.

What I need to do is work with mom to figure out a bigger picture. I don’t just need a goal for myself, I need to find a goal for humanity. World peace comes to mind quickly, but only because it has been the butt of so many jokes. Peace is actually the result of something else.

I’m amazed that we could live here ignorantly for so long. The goal for humanity should have been an ongoing discussion. Can you imagine how we would be dealing with this if we had spent just ten minutes of each meal discussing how we make this world better than the last one?