Confrontation (The Seamus Chronicles Book 4) by K. D. McAdams

a visual inspection that the devices are safe and ready to go through a verification check.
    Exhaustion is setting in. I have been up for an entire rest cycle poring over these units. Some food and water will help, and since I need to bring the reactors to the central cabin to start them, I will stop and get something to eat.
    As I walk to the central cabin carrying one unit, I can’t help but wonder where I will get straps. The backpacks we brought with us have been converted for use in hauling produce from the garden.
    We salvaged seat belts from all the planes, but I don’t know where they are stored. I’ll need to wait for Dad to wake up so I can ask him. Just like at home, he has stuff stashed all around the village with no semblance of order. He won’t be able to tell me where they are, but once I ask he will miraculously appear with more than I need.
    Once the two new portable units are ready, I will go back to being of little value to our survival efforts. It feels really nice to be needed. I’m supposed to go find Luke and Sonjia, but that’s not because they need it to be me. In fact, most everyone is probably annoyed that I’m part of that effort.
    The rescue mission, if that’s what we can call it, is going to change, too. The plan had been to send two people off with one portable reactor. But that was the plan before a creature walked into our village and perforated Jake’s skull.
    Now I’m hearing what amount to battle cries. Search-and-rescue has become seek-and-destroy based on the assumption that we were attacked. The military minds want to engage and flank the natives. The naiveté is fitting for North America in the early 1800s, but this is a different planet and a different time. Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it, my father used to say. He didn’t remember the original source.
    Would North America have turned out differently if we had sent strong women in to engage with the Native Americans? Instead of men bearing arms, maybe a woman with bare arms could have communicated and worked toward mutual understanding.
    Grace would tell me that I’m using sexist thinking. It’s not about men and women; it’s about attitude. The goal is to encounter new people or species with an open mind and an awareness of emotion. Understanding the other side of your encounter allows both sides to benefit from the meeting.
    My sister would be right with her assessment. It’s likely that I am in the minority on this thinking. I’ll need to take the push for changing the charter of the mission and flip it to my advantage. To do that, I need to determine my end goal. What would I consider the ideal away team to be for this mission?
    Lost in thought, I stumble on something that was left in the path. Instinctively I want to lash out at Liam for leaving stuff around. This isn’t a pair of sneakers or a lacrosse stick, though. On the ground is a bowl or a platter of some sort.
      The platter is made of a material I cannot identify. Its blue-green color emits a faint glow. As I move around it, the glow appears to ebb and flow like water, though it may be just my changing perspective.
    On the platter is an array of items I have never seen. Some are round, others are oblong, and all look to be natural. The colors on the platter are brilliant: oranges, reds, blues and pinks. My initial impression is that they are food items. I’m not sure if they were grown or made, and for some reason I am afraid to touch them.
    I hesitate, unsure whether I should stop and assess this discovery or continue to the central cabin with my reactor. If this is a trap, the others will lose not only me, but the reactor as well. Determining that my invention is more important than I am, I push my curiosity aside and continue to the central cabin.
    At the cabin I take my reactor inside and down to the cold storage cave. I feel like this is the safest place we have. Suddenly I feel like having a keep makes sense. We