Defiant: Quantic Dreams Book 2 by Elizabeth McLaughlin (reading list txt) 📗

the mess hall and brought to her. Oscar and I proceeded to disassemble the chairs into their base components, leaving us with two wide, flat pieces to work with as anvils and small columns that could be fashioned into strips. I rounded up some of the stronger folks in camp to help with the effort, my own upper body strength long since sapped. They helped to set the metal stool tops into sturdy mounts of grass and dirt that wouldn’t budge when hammered upon. Inbetween the ‘anvils’ there was a large fire built, aided largely by the appearance of a few handheld blow torches.

Along with the scavenged chairs, hammers were brought up to us as well. They were a far cry from the traditional blacksmithing tools that we really needed, but they were a start. The hollow legs of the stools were hammered out into flat pieces with minimal heating. At the end of each strip of metal the smiths crafted a curved piece by bracing one foot on the opposite side of the ‘anvil” and hammering the heated strip around the curve of the stool itself. When all was said and done, we were left with a functional, if simple, pair of tongs. We didn’t have time to design a hinge so in its place I wrapped a coil of copper wiring between the two halves. It provided a little flex and it would keep the tongs bound together long enough to cast the metal. Long enough was all we needed.

I did a little more research and found that we were missing a crucial piece of equipment. A bellows. The more complicated we made this however, the more time it was going to take to get plants up to the surface. A team was sent to retrieve every scrap of wood and burnable material they could find. That night we were going to have a bonfire.

While we waited for the wood to be gathered, we tested the crucibles in a regular campfire. The flames wouldn’t be hot enough to melt a significant quantity of metal but we could at least figure out if the clay vessels were going to crack at the slightest lick of heat. Just our luck, crucibles one and two did exactly that. The first crucible racked almost as soon as we had placed it in the middle of the fire and the second lasted long enough for the piece of metal we placed it to start melting.

Crucible three fared much better, this time taking a full capacity of metal and only cracking when we tried to pick it up with the tongs. That left us with lucky number four, which had to last through at least as many castings. None of the crucibles had been large enough to pour half of the plow in one trip; Eliza’s best guess was that it would take at least four times the crucible’s volume to fill the whole thing. The person who was to lift and pour the melted metal would have to possess a steady hand and enough upper body strength not to drop it as each trip was completed.

“I’ll do it.” The small group that had gathered to observe the primitive manufacturing process turned and Fiona stepped forward from the gathering. “I can pour it.”

“Mom-“ Marcus spoke up and quickly shrank back as his mother whirled on him.

“What I think your son means to say, Ms. Alvaro, is that you have recovered from the virus not three weeks ago. Under normal circumstances I don’t think anyone here would question your fitness for the task, but you have suffered unimaginable physical consequences as a result of your illness.” Alexander Fang cleared a path to speak to Fiona directly.

For a moment I had to remind myself that my daughter was a full grown woman and that punching the man who had granted me my—albeit limited—freedom was a bad idea. I should have known that Fiona had it well in hand as she turned to Alexander.

“Mr. Fang, if you’d like to take over the responsibility as chief botanist for the settlement, you are certainly welcome to have the job.” She paused, waiting for a figurative answer that would never come. “Until such time, I’d ask you to kindly leave me to my area of expertise. As I’m sure my son also understands I will of course be taking precautions and backup should any issues arise. I invite you to personally hold my hand through the whole process-if you think it’ll make you feel better.” The group burst out laughing. Marcus gulped heavily. It was his own fault. He should know better than to mess with either of his mothers, even at his age.

Watching the metal congeal was a mesmerizing process. Fiona gingerly gripped the crucible and lifted it from the fire. She gave a brief nod to Marcus who zipped from where he had been standing to take a position behind her, ready to help but knowing that insisting on doing so wasn’t welcome. The pours went as perfectly as we could have hoped, red and orange metal flowing into the molds flawlessly, the dirt hissing and jumping as the intense heat vaporized any air and water present underneath. It took almost two hours, but we were left with two cooling halves of a plow. There would be a single guard assigned to make sure nothing interfered with the delicate process throughout the night and the halves would be sealed together in the morning.

We had a farm.

Chapter Thirty-One

Colony life started early. By the time the sun fully rose each morning there was already a flurry of activity begun among the people. The acknowledgment that these were the first steps into shutting the shelter for good had become something of a death and rebirth process for everyone. We blended into the environment slowly but surely as humans had for eons before. Gradually the animals started to view us as fixtures, not predators. There were a few dust-ups with the