Evacuation (The Seamus Chronicles Book 2) (14 page)

It’s hard to say if the activity level has increased. I feel like it has, but that may be because I expect it to. The truth is, we were all running around a little crazy even before we learned that the Earth would be uninhabitable in little more than three days.

The morning meeting ended with Dad requesting that the McMurdo team be removed from quarantine. If we all die here on Earth, exposure to the sore loser virus will be irrelevant.

Part of me wonders about our desperation. First we clawed and scratched for months using the vaccine. After that it was weeks and days. Now we are down to hours. At some point, will we have to fight for one extra minute? Will any of us have the energy to do that?

Sofie has not left the twins’ room. I went over to see her, but she wouldn’t open the door. We talked on the phone for about three minutes, the two of us separated by no more than an inch and a half of wood but unable to see one another or feel a touch.

On the one hand, her focus and commitment amaze me. It is not unlike my own while I was pursuing the reactor. On the other hand, it scares me. She has complete disregard for her own comfort and well-being. Those are sacrifices far more than I was willing to make for my passion.

Perhaps her ability to make sacrifices is similar to my ability to turn off emotions. I care deeply for Sofie and my family, yet I am able to bury myself in work and not feel scared or nervous that I might lose them.

I have chosen the direction to orient the mass of my beach ball and am working on getting the measurements for the warp. In the past, I would have spent days refining my calculations so that the first simulation would yield an almost perfect result. Now I am just finishing up a ballpark estimate that I kind of think might work. If the result is too much or too little, I can adjust it and refine the estimate. It should only take two or three simulations to get close.

“Are you Seamus?” The impressive man in the doorway doesn’t startle me as much as he annoys me.

“Hold on.” Three more lines of code and I can start the simulation. It will need some time to run so I’d like to get it going.

The code takes me about four and a half minutes to key in. I am surprised at how patiently the man waits in my doorway.

“What’s up?” I say before I turn from the monitor to face him.

“So, you are Seamus?” he says. He is standing ramrod straight and looks like confidence personified.

“Yes,” I say without getting out of my chair.

“Before you worry about a navigation problem, you need to know if you have figured out steering,” the nameless man says to me.

“I’m sorry, you are?” His comment intrigues me but for some reason I can’t get past not knowing his name.

“I’m Henry,” he says quickly. “If you can’t go out and turn around and then come back to where you started from, you have a steering problem, not a navigation problem.”

I have not thought long on steering. There was one time when I was about ten that I had a discussion with my dad about steering. He was building a go-kart with Liam and they were struggling with the geometry of the steering mechanism. My assumption was that it was a simple problem that I could solve quickly. After all, Henry Ford solved it over a hundred years ago. The problem wasn’t so simple and the solution didn’t come quickly. I gave up and went back to my lab. Dad and Liam spent weeks trying to get the steering right.

But that is not what this man, Henry, is talking about. Airplanes and space ships do not have steering wheels like cars.

“I think I get what you’re saying, but maybe a little more detail would help,” I answer him.

He walks across the lab and sits in a chair. I am jealous of the confidence he exhibits with even his simplest actions.

“Think about ancient sea travelers.” Henry may have been a professor, maybe at a military school. “The first journeys were out into the bay. Then they went out to some rock they could see.”

I think he wants me to get to the end by myself, but I’m still not sure where he is going. But rather than be frustrated with me, he simply grabs a legal pad off the desk and quickly sketches a few lines.

“You don’t need navigation to get to something you can see,” he says. He points to the pad where the lines are labeled: shore, bay, rock and ocean.

“But the rock is stationary,” I say, pointing to his paper. “We are on a spinning planet, orbiting a sun that is in a galaxy which is actually moving through space. That’s three dimensions of movement before we even head out into the bay. So to speak.”

“Exactly.” Henry does not get excited; this is simply the next point in our discussion. “With this level of complication, why are you trying to cross the Atlantic Ocean when you don’t even know if you can sail out into the bay and come back safely?”

Cassandra and I wanted to do a test warp, but we thought that there wasn’t enough time. Also we didn’t want to risk anyone’s life to test our theory. With the extra resources form McMurdo, we have the time and apparently the people willing to take the risk.

“Do you have a suggestion for how we test the steering?” I hope he offers to be the test pilot.

“Yes,” he replies. “My assumption is that NASA has done enough research and modeling for us to consider Mars the ‘rock in the bay.’ I will take the space plane and warp into orbit around Mars and then return to Earth.”

All told, this test could last fewer than 15 minutes and consume about zero physical resources. It makes sense to do; it should be easy. Why is it so frightening?

“Would you be willing to stay on station in orbit around Mars and test some of our planetary scanners?” I’m kind of stalling while I weigh my willingness to let him take this risk.

“Of course.” Henry looks down at this paper.

My internal debate shifts to whether it matters or not. How do we react if Henry and the space plane go out and don’t come back? Can we assume that it was pilot error and we’ll be fine?

I don’t know his story. Actually, I don’t know anything about him. This seems like an incredibly brave and selfless thing to do. Depending on his history though, it may be something different. Sore loser was fast acting and indiscriminant, but it was not instantaneous. Goodbyes and I love you’s were said, unless you were stranded in Antarctica. Henry may be acting out of grief and a desire to join those he lost.

Whatever his motivation, I guess I’m okay with it. I’m certainly not one to judge others’ rationale for their choices.

“Will you need a co-pilot?” I’m not sure how to wrap this up, but it seems like a logical question.

“It’s your ship, you tell me,” he says with a slight smile.  

He knows it will be me. It’s not necessary, but it makes sense and I’ve earned it.

“Honestly, if you don’t think it’s safe enough for you to join me, then I may have to rescind my offer,” he says, staring at me intently. “When I was growing up, we always said that if the driver puts on his seat belt, then the passenger sure better wear theirs. I would say the same logic is true for a test flight. If the inventor isn’t willing to go, the pilot can’t have much confidence.”

“We’ll leave tomorrow morning at ten,” I say. I can’t look at him for some reason. “Should be home by ten-thirty.”

Against all logic, I was able to fall asleep quickly. I feel a certain serenity from the knowledge that most of my questions will be answered tomorrow. A commotion in the hallway woke me and the light I see out my window is not meshing with the clock that reads two-eleven in the morning. Someone says the word ‘fire’ and slowly my brain begins to register where the light outside is coming from.

The fire we survived in Ohio seems like it was a lifetime ago. We all carry the mental scars from that event, but I know that surviving it helped us develop the mindset that has gotten us this far. I swing my legs out of the bed and scan the floor for a hoodie to throw over my t-shirt.

By the time I get out of my room, the hall is empty and my only option to find out what is happening is to go outside. I take the stairs one at a time and at each turn I can see the glow outside that indicates the fire is not small. At the ground floor, I push out through the door and can see that there is a whole building on fire. My first thought is gratitude that the fire is not consuming our spacecraft. The sound of such a large fire is distinct and the smell is strong; a shudder travels down my spine as I recall how worried I had been about my brother and my dad in the wildfire.

Now that I have my bearings about me, I realize that the building on fire is where Sofie and the twins had been staying. My heart jumps into my throat and I break out into a run. Why is everyone standing around watching it burn? We can save them; we have to try!

As I approach the crowd watching the fire, I can see Sofie sitting cross-legged on the lawn watching the building burn. The heat is intense but we are far enough back that it’s just bearable. None of them arrived that much sooner than me—how can they not be talking and trying to figure out what to do next? My dad takes a few steps forward and kneels next to Sofie before whispering in her ear.

When he stands and comes back to the group, I make my way to him.

“What did you say to her?” I want to know how everyone can be so calm.

“I told her that I was sorry about the twins and I understood her choice,” he answers.

“What choice?” I am scared that she is going to try and stay here on Earth.

“When the twins passed, she set fire to the building. She didn’t want any of us to have to deal with the infected corpses, which was smart. But she also thought that Ames needed to show some of the scars afflicting each of us. She hates that this place gives the impression that everything was fine before we left.” He doesn’t look at me as he relates the story.

“How did you find all this out?” I ask. “It doesn’t seem like she’s real talkative.” Sometimes I obsess about stupid details.

“Grace,” is all he gives as an answer.

My instincts tell me to go sit next to Sofie and watch the fire. But I need sleep; I’m going to Mars in the morning. For one of the few times in my life, I trust an instinct based on emotion and walk to Sofie and sit next to her. I don’t say a word and I resist putting my arm around her, but I sit close enough that our legs touch. She knows I’m there and she can take anything she needs from me.

I don’t know how long the group watches in silence, but eventually some of them wander off. My legs are getting stiff and my back is sore, but I refuse to even twitch. If Sofie isn’t moving, then neither am I.

“Seamus, do think any of this will ever make sense?” She used my name, but she is talking to the fire.

“It makes me doubt that there is a God, but strangely gives me hope for humanity. Thousands of years from now, our ancestors will be living on another planet. There will be crazy people speculating that they came from ancient aliens, but they won’t be far from the truth. Hopefully this will never make sense to us, but it will somehow make sense to our descendants.” It’s convoluted and weird, but it’s what I think.

“You should go to bed. Aren’t you heading to Mars tomorrow?” Sofie has looked at me for the first time since I came out of the dorms.

My guess is it was just the thought of sleep entering her brain that made her eyes heavy. I know she hasn’t been sleeping much the last couple of days, so I put my arm around her and pull her close to me. Seconds after her head hits my shoulder she is out, sleep providing her with a brief respite from the pain in her heart.

“Let me help you,” Grace says. She is in front of me before I even noticed her moving.

Together, Grace and I get Sofie into the dorms and a comfortable bed. We pile her in blankets and pillows so that she feels warm and safe. Grace leaves to get a glass of water for the table next to the bed and I consider climbing in beside her, just to hold her. But that’s not where we are in our relationship and I know it might freak her out even more. Absentmindedly, I slump to the floor while staring at her beautiful face. It scares me that she can give so freely of herself to others that it affects her health. She is a much better person than I am and I don’t know how to rationalize being with her.

When I wake up, there is a blanket draped over my legs. My whole body is sore and I’m not looking forward to standing up. Sofie is still asleep in her cocoon, so I try and rise without making a noise. When I get to the hallway, all is quiet and I check my watch: 8:42 in the morning. I haven’t missed my flight, so I head to the space plane.

On the tarmac, there is chaos. Liam is hobbling about way too fast for a person on crutches. Dad is having a conversation with Henry and Roger and they all look exasperated. With all this going on, I’m most trouble by something else. The provisions Liam had worked so hard to pack up are being unloaded and spread all across the runway. He had worked so hard to get everything in there that I can’t imagine why he’s unloading everything now.

“Why is Liam unloading the planes?” I ask the three adults standing around talking while my brother works his ass off.

“These airplanes need to be flight-worthy if we are going to get them safely back to the ground somewhere,” Roger says, emphatic as if there were a debate against this rationale.

“But I’m not sure why we have to unload everything. Liam did use some logic in his packing. The heaviest things are on the bottom so we know where the weight is,” Dad says, defending his youngest son.

“Knowing doesn’t help us and the important distribution is front to rear. There is a small level over the wheels that shows we are currently rear heavy to the extent that a rear stall is unavoidable,” Henry says, using pilot-speak I don’t really understand.

“A stall means the wings don’t have enough airflow over them to generate lift. No lift from the wings means we are crashing a plane, not flying it. First plane crash on some new planet is not a record I want to hold,” Roger explains so that I can follow.

“So why are you still arguing about it?” I ask. “Let’s help Liam so we can fix this.” My disgust at them is clear and they all realize they have been talking while a man with a broken leg has been working.

Together we work at unloading the first C5, and while it feels like we are working fast, the progress is minimal. We lose track of time while we work and the mindless manual labor feels good and helps to clear my head. Just as I realize that we are missing the morning meeting, the group of others appears on the tarmac walking towards us. Mom is in the lead and I am not sure if we are about to be lectured.

“Seamus, I believe you and Henry have a field trip planned? We’ll help out here while you two are gone,” Mom says as she approaches the growing pile of supplies.

“Sorry we missed the morning meeting,” I tell her.

“It’s fine. Your father let me know what you all were doing and it was more important,” Mom says. She’s not standing around to chat; she is walking into the plane to work.

When my mom gets into the belly of the plane, I can see her put an arm around Liam and pull him tight. I’m not sure what she says to him but they spend a few minutes talking. I honestly don’t know if they have been talking often or what they might be talking about, but they look comfortable. She’s definitely here as mom and not as a project manager.

“Let’s go, genius,” Henry says as he walks past me towards the space plane.

I look into the plane and I am torn. This experiment I am about to undertake could end badly, like with me dying. There should probably be some goodbyes said or at least a ‘good luck,’ but Dad, Liam and Mom are all working and Grace is off somewhere with Sofie. How many times did they all go out and leave me in my basement lair without saying anything? When they invited me to join them, I was always so annoyed that they would interrupt my important work to say ‘see you later.’ Now I want to interrupt their important work so I can say ‘goodbye’ or ‘see you later.’

“Hey kid, we’re over here,” Henry says. “Putting it off won’t change the outcome, so let’s get going.” He has stopped several paces away.

Together we walk the rest of the way to the space plane. Henry probably thinks I’m nervous and isn’t talking with me. It’s not the trip that I’m nervous about; it’s leaving my family without saying anything. Will they think I don’t care about them?

We climb into the cockpit and start running through the systems. There should be more pomp and circumstance than this; we are about to make the first warp jump in history. Henry is very calm and controlled. If he has reservations about taking this huge risk, it doesn’t show. He has a few questions about the timing of certain tasks, but we have automated everything important.

“I want to make one more visual inspection of the vehicle’s exterior. Why don’t you go get a tug so we can pull this bird to the other end of the runway? No need to kill all of them too, if things go sideways,” Henry says. He’s out of his seat and exiting the plane.

I follow behind him and scan the area for the nearest tug. There is one not too far and I trot over to it. If I stop moving and think too long, I may lose the courage I need to do this. The tug starts up easily and I can see that everyone working on unloading the C-5 looked over when I started the engine. None of them stop working, but I can feel the expectation in the air.

By the time I have the plane hooked up to the tug, it appears that Henry is satisfied with his visual inspection. He climbs onto the tug, pats me on the shoulder and points toward the end of the runway.

“Not sure what I would have done if I noticed a problem,” he says and smiles at me after making what may be the first joke of his life.

We motor down the runway in more silence. If he’s playing a game of chicken with me, he won’t win. There is no way I am going to opt out of this test flight. In fact, if there is one benefit of having the world go crazy, it’s that I get to test radical concepts myself. If we had invented this in the real world, some official would have insisted that a test pilot go on the first flight.

At the end of the runway near Liam’s stricken vehicle, I slow the tug to a stop. Henry climbs off and shakes his head while looking at the ruined vehicle left to decay.

“I’ll disconnect the craft,” he says. “Why don’t you say goodbye to your family?” He’s bending over to pull the cotter pin.

I look behind us and one of the vans pulls to a stop. Out climbs everyone. Grace and Sofie are there with Mom, Dad and Liam. They stand around the front of the vehicle and wait for me.

“Were you seriously going to go to Mars without saying goodbye?” Grace has folded her arms across her chest and frustration fills her voice.

I walk over and we all embrace in an awkward group hug. It’s one of those family moments that I always dread but that I know will hold a place in my memory forever. Even if none of us know the right things to say, we know that being close is a way to show support.

“I’ll be back in 15 minutes or less. Goodbye is inappropriate,” I say. I was trying to get Grace worked up, but she was ready for my barb.

“There should be cameras or something, Seamus, this is a big deal. It’s going to be very cool,” Liam says, and he seems almost as proud as if he had invented warp jumps himself.

“Not goodbye, but good luck. And try and enjoy the experience,” Dad says. He pats me on the shoulder and then steps away.

“Let’s go kid.” Henry is standing in the doorway of the space plane.

“You should watch from the other end of the runway. I’ll be fine. See you in a bit!” I wave at them all as I turn and head into the space plane.

“Any ideas what type of physical sensation we can expect?” Henry asks me.

“None. But if it hurts, you’ll be the first to know.” It’s one of my best jokes ever and Henry laughs in appreciation.

In the cockpit, we strap ourselves in and put on flight helmets with blast shields. It is my opinion that making a warp jump at light speed will result in pure darkness. Cassandra believes that it will be the opposite; a white light will be caused by the presence of so many wavelengths of light in my field of vision at the same time.

Cassandra—I realize I didn’t say goodbye to her. I hope she’s watching. Before the whole unloading project took over, I had planned to have a discussion with Cassandra about what to look for as I warped away. Having a trained eye to watch the warp jump is crucial to gathering data. How could I have forgotten to tell her?

“Ready?” Henry asks as he presses the sequence initiation button.