Evacuation (The Seamus Chronicles Book 2) (5 page)

Sofie left the conference room around ten. She had had a few hours’ head start on everyone and wanted to make sure she was available to get up with the boys in the morning. I really like the way she thinks and acts. It is so consistent. I know that she is thoughtful and intelligent because of what she says. She is also patient and giving based on what she does. The two are never in conflict and that makes her so genuine.

The rest of us stayed around until the small hours of the morning. While I have known my mom and dad my whole life, I have never really worked with them. Sure, there were chores and forced labor on yard projects, but nothing long-term. There was never a chance to see them go through thought, planning and execution on a large scale. This is an interesting insight to their personalities and, by reflection, my own.

We are now back in the conference room and it is a little after 9:30 in the morning. All of us had a little trouble getting going this morning. Sofie is sitting by the window watching the kids ride their bikes. Grace is in her position from last night, but has a laptop instead of a legal pad. There are carafes of coffee on the table. From the looks of things, this could be a board meeting for some weird company.

While I called the meeting and gathered everyone here, I’m not ready to get up and facilitate. Hopefully Dad will take over for me in that area. Surprisingly, I have not been reading and chasing various links through the database. I have enjoyed fielding questions and hashing through logic with everyone else as they read. The back of my mind is churning on the whole “get us off the planet” thing. Somehow I think we have to be radical and not just attempt to de-mothball the space shuttle.

“Well I think that was probably the weirdest night in any of our lives,” Dad says, stepping to the front of the room. “I think we need to start with the first issue. Are we dealing with the ‘sore loser virus’?”

“None of us have ever heard that term before yesterday. Based on the way our colleagues in Chicago were working and what Jane has said, I think it is fair to assume that it was the sore loser virus,” William answers.

“I agree, but I would love to be able to prove it,” Dad says, turning to the whiteboard and drawing. On the left he has written “Sore Loser” and coming off of that to the right is a sideways V. At the end of the top branch he has written “No” and at the end of the bottom branch he has written “Yes.” After the “No,” he’s drawn one line and written “Plan B” at the end. I should have known that there would be a “Plan B” with Dad involved. “If it turns out that this is NOT the sore loser virus, we can come up with a new course of action. For the immediate future, however, I think we need to move forward with planning based on the assumption that we are dealing with ‘sore loser.’”

There are nods around the room.

“Okay. Assuming we’re facing sore loser, what’s the first step?” He’s surveying the room for an answer. His gaze met with silence.

“Listen,” he says, slowly sitting in a chair. “The idea to destroy the human race was proposed and adopted. None of you can propose a worse idea.” He lets this sink in for almost a full minute. “I’m going to get things started, but I need the rest of you to speak up. It’s a whiteboard, we can erase things.”

He takes a long drink of coffee and returns to the whiteboard. “Step one: follow the response protocol.” He speaks while he writes it down. After a short pause, there are no ideas for step two, so he continues, “Step two: figure out how to launch a rocket.”

“I think a rocket is a bad idea,” Cassandra says and she’s used poor word choice. “We have a proposal to use one of the new space planes as a test platform for our solar sail. I think that is a better route than a rocket.”

“Disagree,” William says, shaking his head. “My vote is for a Soyuz space capsule to the international space station. We need to go with proven, reliable technology.”

“Do we really have to leave the Earth?” Grace asks, grasping at straws. “Why can’t we ride it out in a fallout shelter? That’s what they were designed for.”

“How about a submarine?” Liam is onboard with the ‘no dumb ideas’ concept, except this is a dumb idea.

Dad is losing control of the meeting. He’s swung from generalizations to details and is allowing us to go down a rat hole. We need to find some order in the chaos. The project has to be broken down into pieces. Pieces can be solved and brought together as a whole.

“The space station, a fallout shelter and even a submarine, Liam, will not work. We cannot collect and store enough clean air and water to keep humans alive for the next one hundred years.” He knows we have to move on but can’t find the right words.

“If we have more than three pieces, we don’t stand a chance.” Mom has stood up and is walking to the board. Dad got us started in the right direction; Mom needs to come in and make it happen.

“Seamus was right last night. It is a three-step plan,” Mom says. She has erased everything but the Sore Loser Virus and its branches. Now she is writing as she talks: “1. Follow response protocol? I’m adding the question, William; I’m not convinced we should use resources on this. 2. Leave the planet and 3. Nuke the planet.”

I cannot be the first one to agree with her since it was basically my plan. William steps up and validates her logic. He says, “Agreed. I can support one or three.”

“Why don’t you own one and I’ll own three?” Dad is already negotiating tasks with William.

“I’ll own two.” Cassandra is not sure her help is valued, let alone her leadership on a key task.

“Looks like I’m the project lead then.” Mom doesn’t seem happy. Each of our jobs is big but she has to oversee all of the big jobs. It’s lonely at the top.

“I’m going to work with Cassandra, if that is okay,” I say. I’ve gone from the front of the room to a supporting act. Sofie is sending me a look that says she does not approve of my alliance.

“That’s fine. I’m glad we all have areas of focus but we may need to pull you in on other areas depending on what we come up with. Please be flexible,” Mom says. She’ll be juggling resources as needed.

“Can I say something?” Jane says, standing in the back of the room. “I truly did not know about the nuclear winter. Before dying, my boss told me that if he did not survive I needed to complete my work on an FTL Spaceship and leave the planet. He said that it was the only hope for humanity. You can imagine how frightening and frustrating that was for me. As a scientist, I have lived based on understanding the ‘whys’ of every action. He gave me no hint as to why we had to leave Earth, but he was adamant.”

“Is it reasonable to ask that we meet every morning?” Dad ignores Jane and tries to move on.

“Paddrick, I’m sorry!” Jane has tears coming down her face, but she is not having another breakdown. “I’m a theoretical physicist with top secret clearance. I’ve had access to that database for the last eight years. How was I to know that it contained information about the end of the world?”

“Then why were you pushing so hard?!” Dad slams both hands on the table and stands up. “Why were you keeping the need to leave the planet a secret from us?!” Spit flies from his mouth as he screams at her.

“Because it was all I had.” Jane’s voice is much quieter now. “I’m not like you. I can’t go charging off across the country, taking each day as it comes,” she says. “I need structure and order, so I did my damnedest to impose that on all of you. I thought that I had to be in control to survive.”

“I don’t like you and I don’t trust you,” Dad says, glowering at her. “I’ll deal with the fact that you’re here, and if the others want you involved, that’s fine. Just stay the hell away from me.”

That probably had to happen eventually. I’m glad they got it out of the way now, I guess. It’s funny that Dad talked to us about how different people react to situations. He made the point that a mistake is different than intent. It was also noted, however, that if the mistake was made based on flawed goals or ideals, it would highlight the integrity of the person. If you spill the last glass of soda while passing it to your friend, it was a mistake based on good intent. If you spill the last glass of soda while trying to hide it from everyone else, it is a mistake based on bad intent. I guess Dad thinks Jane was trying to hide the proverbial soda.

“Jane, if you could support Seamus and Cassandra, I think it would be helpful,” Mom interjects. She knows we need Jane involved. “Paddrick is right, we will start every morning here in this conference room at nine sharp. Please do not be late or think it is okay to skip.”

Everyone is getting up to leave, though where is a little ambiguous. I’m guessing that Cassandra, Jane and I will be going to our regular lab space. I assume Sofie and Grace will be working with William, and Liam with Dad, but what about Mom? I can see Dad talking softly to Mom and he may be telling her he needs help getting organized.

“One last thing,” Mom says, calling our attention back to her. “The labs will be open around the clock. No locks, no restrictions. You each may work when you want, where you want and how you want. The only requirement is that you document your progress and be here at nine.” 

I haven’t gotten up from the table. In my mind, I’m trying to define the problem set. Instead of digging deeper to solve the faster-than-light travel issue, I’m going higher up. Not only do we need to leave the planet, we need to
go somewhere.
Somewhere capable of sustaining human life. In general, getting us off the planet is easy. Doing it so that it matters is the hard part.

Sofie has walked around the table to me. She can tell that I am deep in thought and she seems reluctant to interrupt me.

“What’s up?” I help break the silence.

“It’s just...” she starts. Something is on her mind but she’s not sure. “It’s just that I know it makes sense for you and Cassandra to work together.” Another long pause. “But it kind of bothers me?”

“Sofie, it’ll be okay.” After our day at the beach I have an idea of why it might bother her, but I’m still not confident that she likes me like that. “I think she and I are on more equal footing than before.”

“Well, be careful. Please?” Sofie has her hand on my back.

Are we supposed to hug? Kiss? What am I supposed to be careful about? Cassandra is not a physical threat to me. I don’t need to be careful. I also don’t need to have Sofie distracting me from the task at hand. Maybe I should just tell her how I feel and clear the air? No. Rejection is worse than doubt. I need to appease her and get to work.

“I will.” My hand is now on her back as well. I’m not aware of anyone else in the room, but now I assume they are all staring at us. “Maybe I could meet you for coffee every day and we can keep each other sane?” Not really a date, but I’m keeping the hope alive.

“That would be nice,” she says, smiling broadly.

I forgot what it was like to work for 36 hours straight. For a while I thought I would crash. Then at about two a.m. Sofie stopped by with coffee. It was great to see her and we spent the time drinking our coffee talking about nothing in particular. I wonder if that was what it would be like to go to college. Work really hard on an assignment, pull an all-nighter, then hang out with a pretty girl, talking and drinking coffee. I’ll never know if that’s true, but the vision is nice.

Naturally Sofie was perfect about the whole thing. She stayed just long enough for me to know that it meant something but not so long that either of us got bored and were looking for a way to move on. I think the signs are pretty clear; you don’t just walk around in the middle of the night looking for someone to share coffee with. That was a deliberate act. Still, I’m not sure what it means. Maybe two months ago we could have pretended to date and maybe get to the stage where we were “going steady.” Now though, it doesn’t seem like the time. If I let my hormones take over, we may never get off the ground, let alone the planet.

Unfortunately that only adds to my dilemma now. I need sleep. If I go straight to bed, I can get almost 10 hours in before the morning meeting. While we have only had one so far, I like the morning meeting. Mom is amazing at keeping it moving and bringing people back from dead ends. At one point, William had gone off on a tangent about how Grace and Sofie were splitting time so that they could share the load of watching the kids. That’s thoughtful of them, but it doesn’t really matter and we don’t need to discuss it at the meeting. If it’s not about progress, plans or obstacles, save it for social time.

This gives me another chance to be in awe of Sofie. She has figured out how to work with William and Grace without arguing. Cassandra and I were almost not speaking after the first hour in the lab. She immediately started laying out plans to add her solar sail to a space plane. I wanted to discuss the bigger picture and identify options. Getting off the planet is relatively easy, I told her. Going somewhere worthwhile is going to be hard. The cold shoulder was sent my way. Cassandra only thawed long enough to ask me to develop a resistance simulation for a variety of sail configurations. I didn’t openly refuse, but I didn’t do it either. There is more reading and thinking to be done. I know there was a reason I thought there was something up the first time I read the Solar Sail report. The challenge is to dig it out of my brain.

I hope I don’t get in trouble with Sofie for not visiting her. If thinking of her starts playing games with my head, I will lose it. Though I suppose it is not a game if you want to see someone before you go to sleep but then don’t get to see him or her. It’s genuine disappointment. The debate is not lost as much as it just ends. My last few steps to the bed are done in REM sleep. Directed thought and action will not happen again until morning.

“Seamus, wake up.” There is a gentle shake on my shoulder. “Fifteen minutes until the morning meeting.” Grace is standing next to the bed. She has not brought coffee and is indifferent about my existence. I wish Sofie had woken me.

“Right, I’ll be there.” I say to her back as she leaves.

After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I wind up being about five minutes early to the conference room. While I like the way Mom executes it and I like the idea of it, I have not thought about it during the day. In fact, if the meeting is 30 minutes long, I probably spend about 31 minutes thinking about it. Not Mom, though. She is already in the conference room.

On the whiteboard are three bullets:

○
       
Virus update

○
       
Destinations

○
       
Action

I wonder what we will do if this is not the sore loser virus, if it was a strain of influenza gone crazy and we can adapt? With the pressure lifted, what would be the new priority? I think I would push to leave Ames. I’m not a beach guy, but a cattle ranch in the mountains would be nice. Leave my reactor and modern technology behind. Live off the land and maybe teach myself guitar or piano.

My brief mental reprieve is halted when Cassandra and Jane come into the room. They are all business. Jane is missing the gleam in her eye that I think came from having control. Cassandra, on the other hand, seems to have found the gleam. Unlike the others, they are not talking when they enter and robotically open their laptops while taking their seats.

“Seamus, I don’t care if you work all hours of the night. The least you could do is take care of your coffee cups and candy wrappers,” Cassandra says. She is taking the chance to do some ‘housekeeping,’ as it were.

“You’re right. Sorry about leaving a mess,” I answer. Whatever. If that is the biggest thing she has on her mind, we are good.

Mom and the Crenshaws remain buried in their laptops. I can’t help but just look out the window. It is a cloudy gray day and it seems unfitting for California. Grace, Sofie and William eventually trickle into the room a minute or two late. They are discussing a labeling system of some kind, but I’m not sure what they are going to have so much of that they can’t just track in a simple spreadsheet.

Sofie hasn’t looked at me. It’s nice to hear her voice but I can’t tell if she’s mad at me or if she is just engaged in her conversation. She did not sit next to me and I have not received a special greeting. In high school, sudden indifference to me would have been considered a mind game. But maybe it’s not indifference; maybe it’s just not rapture. In either case, maybe mind games are only played with oneself.

“All right, let’s get started,” Mom says. She waited until five minutes after the hour.

“Where are Liam and Paddrick?” William is looking about the room.

“I expect they will be here shortly. I have a few bullets on the board.” Mom wants to maintain control.

Liam I can understand missing the morning meeting. He has trouble remembering to get dressed every day. Dad, on the other hand, should be here. The man loves routine. Not only that, he loves routine that lets him check in on everyone else. When Dad doesn’t do something every day, he usually doesn’t do it at all. I bet he’s out rounding Liam up and making sure he gets here.

“We spoke with the McMurdo team again yesterday. They have a cellular biologist and a medical doctor on the staff. Paddrick believes, and I agree, that these resources could be vital to determining if we are truly faced with the sore loser virus.” Mom looks around the table and seems to be gathering herself. “Paddrick will be learning to fly a C-130 transport in the coming days and plans to make a bid to rescue them from Antarctica in the next week.”

“We’ve seen a lot of pilots come through this airfield. You don’t go from piloting a single engine Cessna to taking a C-130 to Antarctica in the course of a few months. That is insane,” Jane says, shaking her head at what she seems to consider reckless behavior.

“I would guess the same is true about the timeline for building a space craft capable of faster-than-light travel and evacuating the planet.” Mom is not pleased with Jane’s misplaced concern. “Paddrick is placing the well-being of those in Antarctica and those of us here well ahead of his own. Rather than question his sanity, I think we should be grateful for his courage.”

“Of course you are right. I apologize for my comments. While this is all surreal, some of the choices we are faced with still catch me off guard,” Jane says, and looks down, repentant. 

“Next up is a destination,” Mom continues. “It dawned on me last night that we need to go somewhere. Fallout shelters, submarines and floating around in space are not options because we cannot store enough water and oxygen. Where?” She is now alternating looks between Cassandra and me.

“I think that there are a number of different options,” Cassandra says, but she doesn’t know anything other than trying to be the one with all the answers. “The team here at Ames has identified at least seven suns similar to ours with something like 42 planets orbiting in the habitable zones across all seven.” Even though that was not her area of work, she is still very proud to be a part of ‘The Ames Team.’

“And when will you have chosen the one or ones we need to get to?” Mom is un-phased and unimpressed with Cassandra’s answer.

“Right now we are working on identifying the craft and determining its capabilities,” Cassandra says, fidgeting with her laptop.

“Sweetheart, you need to learn to say ‘I don’t know’ when you can’t answer a question.” Mom is condescending and not trying to hide it. “I want to make sure that we are not getting on a spaceship to race to the middle of nowhere at light speed.”

“Fine. We’ll work on it,” Cassandra says, glowering at me. I bet she thinks that I planted this seed in Mom’s head and convinced her to make it a big deal. The truth is that I didn’t, but I should remember that I have that option if I can’t get something done.

“Good. Next item is Action,” Mom says. “I know we have all been busy reading, thinking and planning. When are we going to see some action?”

“For us it’s tomorrow.” William speaks up with confidence. “We need the rest of the day to finish documenting the processes we’ll use. Tomorrow we’ll go through some limited testing and then get down to work.” Grace and Sofie are nodding.

“Okay.” Mom has typed a note into her laptop. “Leave the planet team?”

“I don’t know.” It’s my turn to speak up, and take a jab at Cassandra. “My best guess right now is about a week before you see anything physically here at Ames.” Jane and Cassandra look at me like I have two heads. I have no idea where I came up with that timeline or what I expect to be physically present, but in my gut it feels right.

“Keep us posted, please?” Mom’s note is briefer this time. Now her brow is furrowed and she is visibly suppressing distress. “The Nuke team is absent. With Paddrick putting all his efforts into flying, I will be asking Liam to run with this task.”

“Does this mean they lose commissary privileges?” Jane asks, clearly wondering if there will be a double standard for our family.

“If they do not have a good excuse, then yes. Next time anyone sees either Liam or Paddrick please let them know that I would like to speak with them both.” She looks more confused than scared. Mom knows how Dad likes routine; even if Liam wasn’t here, Dad should have been.

“Should we go and look for them?” William is not sure of his role in this issue.

“I appreciate the offer, William. Not yet though. Let’s assume that they are hunting or took longer than expected getting something we really need.” Mom is half-heartedly convincing herself that Dad and Liam are screw-ups. Finally she says, “Let’s get to work everyone.” Her laptop is closed and the conversation is done.