“Hey, if you think it will work, I’m sure it’s just fine.”
“Still, I’d rather you sign off on it first.” He pointed to the closest camera mounted near the gate. “Since there is another on the front entry that can be angled this direction, I felt it a decent risk to mount the first one here. We can always try to use the other as backup.”
Hatcher stepped closer and peered at the contraption. “What is that?”
“It’s a vinyl downspout. I cut it slightly longer than the camera and sealed the end cap using silicone. Since the camera is at a downward angle, nothing short of gale force winds will reach the unit itself.”
Hatcher gave him a crooked grin. “That’s pretty ingenious, Will.”
“Thank you.” He pointed to the far end of the wall. “We did the same with the other one. Regardless, they should be operational.”
Hatcher shrugged. “I see nothing wrong with this.” He turned and gave the man a curious glance. “You wanted me to sign off on this?”
Will refused to meet his gaze. “Not exactly.” He pointed behind him. “We ran into a slight problem with the watchtower.”
Hatcher’s curiosity was piqued. “What happened?”
Will led him to the courtyard and stifled a smile. Kids were climbing all over the “fort” while the men continued to build the supports that the structure would sit on. “Since there really isn’t much in the way of playground equipment for the kids at a retirement home…”
“Like ants to a picnic.” Hatcher chuckled and gave Will a shrug. “Any chance you can correct this obvious lack of planning on my part?”
Will nodded. “It may be crude…” He snorted, “Heck, by modern standards it might even be dangerous. But I’m sure we can come up with something to occupy youngsters.”
Hatcher allowed himself a heartfelt smile as the children squealed and chased each other through the wooden fort. He patted Will’s arm. “Maybe we can raid a park. Steal some real equipment for them.”
“In the meantime, I have work to oversee.” Hatcher watched him jump back into the fold and directing the men. Although there was activity all around the facility, it was the sound of children’s laughter that he carried with him the rest of the day. It was a sound that he hadn’t heard in a very long time.
Carol paused at the workstation, her attention turned to the man who stepped through the door of the new lab. She watched as the yeoman stepped in and pulled his trusty clipboard from under his arm.
“You asked about your fellow researchers…” His voice trailed as he glanced between Carol and Broussard. “I have what you want.”
Carol set down the films she had been studying and stripped her gloves. “Good news I hope.”
“Oh yes.” The yeoman pulled out a stool and straddled it. He pulled the papers from his clipboard and slid them across to her. “Your people were broken into teams, based entirely on what they were working on before you abandoned the Kauffman.”
Carol glanced at the sheet then handed it to Broussard. “Why would you do that?”
“It wasn’t me. Our ship’s doctor spoke with the first arrivals and determined which groups should go where.” He seemed to stiffen on his seat. “The brass didn’t want to risk all of humanity’s hope in the event of another outbreak.”
Carol’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t suppose there is any chance we could speak with them?”
The yeoman shrugged. “Calls could be arranged but all things considered, a request like that would have to be approved via the chain of command first. You’d have to prove a need to—”
“Prove a need to collaborate with our coworkers?” Her eyes narrowed as she stepped closer. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
The yeoman held his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t make the rules. I only live by them.” He leaned back in his seat, away from her. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”
Broussard placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and pulled her back. When she looked at him he gave her a barely perceptible shake of the head. “This is not the time.”
Carol’s voice rose as she argued. “Then when is the time?” She spun on the yeoman again. “I understand the desire to keep us separated. I understand breaking us into groups based on our work. What I don’t understand is why we need special permission to speak with them.”
The yeoman sighed and stood from the stool. “I don’t pretend to know the specifics, but I can tell you that we have limited resources and we’re doing the best we can. Ship-to-ship calls aren’t like pulling your cell phone and dialing. It takes a lot of effort from a lot of people to make it happen.” He reached for his papers and tucked them back into the pile on his clipboard. “If you have a legitimate need to collaborate with them, let us know and we’ll make it happen. Just realize that it takes time to set up.”
Carol lowered her eyes and nodded. “Fine.” She turned and threw her hands in the air. “Maybe somebody over there will think to bother to tell us if they brainstorm something important.”
Broussard watched her storm back to her workstation then walked the yeoman to the door. “She is under a lot of stress. We appreciate your efforts in letting us know about the others.”
The yeoman nodded and pulled the door open. “Try to explain to her that we are all doing the best we can under the circumstances.”
“Of course.” Broussard held the door as the yeoman disappeared down the hallway. He turned to Carol. “Losing your composure does no good.”
She braced her hands on the counter and blew a long breath out. “I know.”
Broussard patted her back as he walked past her. “Our work is our work. Their work is theirs. If the
