It was becoming clear to him that Jackson felt the need to place the self-direction of the colonists above all other considerations, even if that meant allowing them to do something that he felt was not in their best interest.
Rosemary looked at Jackson, then at Anna, her green eyes registering confusion. “Who’s side are you on?” She asked.
“Our side,” the large man answered firmly. His thick finger jabbed in the direction of the moss-like floor beneath their feet.
Lamont, standing near Anna, hesitated. It was becoming clear to him that Jackson felt the need to place the self-direction of the colonists above all other considerations, even if that meant allowing them to do something that he felt was not in their best interest. He turned his eyes to Rosemary, who was looking at him imploringly, still blocking the entrance to the grove with her arms stretched to either side. The newspaper met her eyes and shook his head slightly. “Stand down, love,” he said, doubting that she could hear him over the restless din of the colonists.
The medic bit her lower lip, a sign that she was struggling with indecision. Finally, with visible consternation, she lowered her arms and stepped aside. “Fine,” she said, “Do what you like.”
Ames eagerly stepped toward the grove, his eyes bright with anticipation. He found himself stopped again, not by Rosemary, but by the strong arm of Clyde Jackson. He looked up at the larger man, puzzled. From what Lamont had observed, Jackson and Walter were cronies, Jackson being the clear alpha.
“Now, hold up, Walter,” Clyde said gruffly. “You’re supposed to be directing the construction of an enclosure for the livestock. How’s that project coming along?”
The veterinarian worked his jaw uncomfortably. “It…it ain’t done yet,” he admitted.
“And what of the men who’re supposed to be helping you with that? Where are they?” Jackson pressed.
Ames glanced around at the small crowd through his wire spectacles, which were slightly incongruous with his bony, chiseled features. “They’re here,” he muttered, waving a hand weakly toward the cluster of colonists.
“So are we to understand that our animals, the ones we depend upon for the establishment of our colony, are cooped up there, cold and untended, while they wait for you to commune with that piece of modern art?” Jackson pressed.
“Well, I…I guess I kinda forgot,” Walter admitted, casting his eyes downward.
“We all did,” agreed Constance Beckett, in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “Betty, Joan, don’t you think it’s time you checked on your youngsters?”
Betty Barnes, who moments ago had been babbling ecstatically, looked around as if someone had slapped her in the face.