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Chapter 15 - Throwing Weight
🕑 Added 2023-09-07 07:10:44 +0000 UTCMalcolm Specter paced back and forth in front of the remains of their campfire. The camp was awake and they were all groggy and tired. Logan couldn’t blame them. Sleeping on the cool ground as a buffet for insects didn’t make for the best rest.
If Malcolm Specter was tired, he hid it well. His face was stern, his falcon eyes darting from one listener to another to demand for attention. Hands behind his back he addressed the group of sitting people like a general his soldiers. Not a single time did his eyes go to Logan.
It’s like looking at me is beneath him or something.
That was fine by Logan. He was used to having a go with his dear father. Well, usually that meant Logan just booked a flight to wherever to forget his joke of a father figure.
This time it unfortunately wasn’t possible. It was slowly dawning on Logan that he was stuck with this old ox of a man glaring at his subjects. Now Logan was standing apart from the group sitting down. It was a cool morning, but his awesome magic socks kept his feet warm. That was good. Logan watched his father with warm feet, arms crossed, listening carefully.
There was something new in Malcolm Specter as he talked and gesticulated. Something capturing and magnetic. It was in the cadence of his voice and the way he carried himself. Malcolm Specter had always been a charismatic man, but now there was another layer of gravitas to him.
Did he get a class?
“My son is found. We have been fed. We are done scrambling. I have decided we need to settle. Logan told me of these ruins left by some people. We will go there and build a base.”
“Bad idea, father.”
A flicker of anger passed Malcolm’s face. With cool eyes he turned to Logan. “Why?”
“I only know two locations. Neither of them are close enough to a water source.”
“We will carry the water as people have done for thousands of years.”
“Great idea, father. Carry them with what? A great truck with a jacuzzi on its back? We don’t even have cups.”
“You can make containers,” Malcolm said dryly. “It is what you should have done with those crystals. It is safer in those ruins.”
“Maybe,” Logan said. “There’s monsters in there too. Nasty ones. And there’s monsters out here. You want to send a small army to escort everyone bringing a cup of water back?”
Simmons, who loomed over the other members of the group even in a hunched sitting position spoke in a deep base. “We agents can take care of supplying the group with water, sir. It’s good exercise.”
Malcolm nodded. “It is decided then.”
“The hell it is,” Logan said. Simmons gave him an unfriendly glance. “Sure that takes care of the water, but what about food?”
“What do you mean?” Malcolm asked.
“Fishing and fetching water is also going to just take up unnecessary time and energy if you add a two mile walk on it every time.”
“Shut up, little prince,” One of the agents shouted. “Let your old man talk.”
“You shut up, you dumb goon,” Logan hissed. “I’m not finished.”
The goon was about to say something, but Malcolm held a hand. “You try my patience son. Make it quick, make it good.”
“If we want to sustain ourselves, we are going to need to grow crops. For that we need a lot of water. We can’t prosper without irrigation. Also, we want a mill next to the river. Or else you knucklehead goons are going to squeeze flour for us with your bare hands.”
The goons piped down. Malcolm Specter gave his son an appraising look. “How do you know all of this?”
Logan smirked. “I’m irresponsible, remember? Wasted a lot of time on useless YouTube videos. Funny how things work.”
Another weighty silence. Malcolm rubbed at his chin, looking at his son. “Should we settle down by this pond or upriver?”
Logan caught Freya’s eye. They were both equally shocked.
“Did you… Just ask for my opinion?”
“Spare your snark,” Malcolm said. “Share your insight and be done with it.”
“Let me just savor this for a moment,” Logan said, closing his eyes and smiling.
The group went back and forth on the merits between settling here at the pond, or going up the hill to settle by the river. Mostly it was Malcolm, Logan, Kat and another agent alongside Simmons who dared voice their opinions.
There was a handful of doctors, half a dozen of agents, Janice, the barmaid, and six other civilians in the group, who were completely silent and apparently content to listen.
I guess most people are like that in the end.
Eventually the prospect of a water wheel and a mill attached to it won the argument. And so they collected what little they had and made their way through the forest and up the hill to the riverbanks.
The group spent some time until they found a reasonable forest opening near the riverbanks.
“Very good,” Malcolm said. “You have all been holding your classes, like I told you to?”
Wait, what?
Logan looked at Freya, who gave a quick glance at Logan before bowing her head in guilt. Kat snorted and crossed her arms.
“I will allocate them now,” Malcolm said. “Those agents that did not pick up a warrior-related class shall pick up a hunting related class. We will also need labor-related classes from the men, and gathering and crafting related classes from the women. I’ll go over you one by one. Those of you who already—”
“Wait a goddamn minute,” Logan interjected. “You’re assigning people their classes?”
“What of it,” Malcolm grumbled. “I am the leader.”
“So you keep reminding me,” Logan said and smiled softly. “Look. Simmons. What do you want to do?”
Agent Simmons gave Logan an unreadable glance. “Whatever is necessary.”
“That’s what adults do, Logan,” Malcolm said coldly.
“Sorry Simmons,” Logan said, ignoring his father. “I forgot you had no soul.”
Logan turned to the timid boy that had been on the exploration trip. “You. What would—”
“Enough,” Malcolm Specter growled. “Sit down, Logan.”
“You need to let people decide, you idiot,” Logan snapped. “You can’t just dictate what they should do.”
“That is exactly what a leader does.”
“That is exactly what a CEO does, who can fire and replace unproductive people,” Logan said.
This time Malcolm paused, which Logan used immediately. “You’re stuck with these people. God, I hope we find more, so you can yell at someone else. But if we don't, what are you going to do, when you can’t dispose of people whose performance displeases you?”
Even Simmons looked curious to hear what his former boss had to say. Logan saw Freya throw a smile at him.
“I see it only took the end of the world to make you come alive,” Malcolm said, a slight smile on his lips. “I will make you my advisor, Logan. Your out of the box thinking might be useful here.”
“No,” Logan said immediately. “Also I already have a class. Also. No.”
“No,” Malcolm said simply. “You will consult me from now on before I give out orders. This is the last time I allow you to water down my authority.”
Logan was about to open his mouth to launch another argument. He thought better of it. A single glance at his father’s hands made it clear that he had really pushed the limits here. “Yes, father.”
Malcolm Specter, so used to battling with his son, was almost about to launch into a counter of what he thought Logan would say. Both his eyebrows shot up. “Seems like fending for yourself for once taught you something.”
Freya shot a smirk at her.
Logan sighed. “I really don’t like hearing that.”
