“Do you hear that?”

“Are you really losing it on me, man-thing?”

“No. I swear I heard a violin,” I told him, but looking around, it was just an empty sea. “I’m not crazy.”

“Riiight.”

“Jim? Tell me honestly, what’re my chances of survival?”

Jim snaked out of my shoulder, and his eye orb thing stared at me.

“Unless an unexpected variable comes into play… it’s not good.”

“What does that mean? Thirty percent?”

“Closer to ten.”

“What’ll improve those chances?”

“Food. The printer. An island?”

“At best, we might find a shoal. The preliminary scans I did before crashing show no land masses. A tiny island might be possible, but this planet is huge. The chances of finding one are low.”

“Establish your food source first.”

“Can only worry about shit I can fix for now, eh?”

Taking the hook from the printer, I asked Jim to print another one. Using the rough outer surface of the pod, I rubbed the hook against it to smooth out any burrs. I found a ceramic bead earlier, so my fishing line was fed through the hole first. I secured the hook to the line using a clinch knot and tested the weight.

Overall, it wasn’t bad for makeshift work. The only sad part was my lack of bait, but my parents took me deep sea fishing a long time ago. It was one of those tourist traps where the shithead captain laughs with his buddies at the bar afterward. They brag about how they tricked some dumb ass people into paying him to do all the fishing and labor work for their crew. The same crew turned around and made even more money selling the haul the tourist chumps fished out to local restaurants.

It was a shady operation where they chummed the water, and no bait was needed. We just dropped our hook in, and the fish bit. Pretty sure the entire process was illegal, but whatever. My parents laughed and had a good time, so maybe it was money well spent.

Unwinding about twenty feet of line, I took the hook end with about a meter lead and swung it a few times before launching out into the water. The throw was good, so I unwound more line until the hook hit the water. The slack was rewound, and I sat down on my chair and relaxed.

While dozing, I dreamed up easier ways of fishing. A gill net would be ideal, but I feared using too much of my paracord. The next option was trolling lines. I had those weird handhold things in the frame, so it wouldn’t be hard to tie off a few lines. The only issue was that it was best if I had some kind of pole to see if something was on the line.

“Not to dampen your mood further, but what do you plan on doing with the fish when you catch one? We don’t have a stove. You don’t even have shit to make a fire.”

“Sashimi. It won’t keep, but I can use the pieces I don’t eat as bait.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. This water looks polluted, and there is no telling if the fish is edible.”

“What can I do? Not like I have choices.”

“Heh, Blackeye will be so pissed off when he realizes you do not know where your ship sank.”

“Him? I’m fucking pissed.”

While talking, my fishing line jerked hard, and I pulled it back and started winding the string. The sucker fought hard, but patience and give-and-take tactics drew the thing to the raft. Without a net, this was the trickiest part, and rather than sweat it, I yanked hard and brought it onto the decking. Before it could flop around, I knelt on it and punched it in the head.

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“That looks like a tuna,” Jim said. It was a rich blue color, but unlike a tuna from Earth, its length was smaller and its height greater. “Where are you going?”

I entered the pod and scrambled around in my tools for a pair of pliers and a cheap pocket knife. The utility knife was helpful, but not for gutting a fish. Plus, I needed a container for the guts and other stuff I could use as bait or chum.

“How much junk do you have, and what exactly are you still scrounging for?”

I pulled out a fork. “You want thingamabobs? I got twenty.”

“That’s not even funny.”

“Ah, you are the ‘seaweed is always greener in somebody else’s lake’ guy, aren’t you?”

“Please stop quoting children’s movies. And the Little Mermaid? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Jim shouted.

“I thought it was appropriate, considering I’m on a water planet. How the fuck do you know there aren’t mermaids here?”

“Go eat your fucking fish.”

The only container I had was for water filtration, so I wasn’t about to use it. There were some plastic bags from a fueling depot a lot of pirates visited. Without a better option, I used those, but the next time I found one of those floating jugs, I’d grab it.

I’m not a raw fish person, and I wouldn’t say I’m an expert fisherman, but stripping a fish down wasn’t a problem. I enjoyed fishing and actually had some decent equipment on my ship. It was the one guilty pleasure I had, and I would find planets with higher water composition just to go fishing.

All that aside, the slices of sashimi were uneven and badly cut, but not much else I could do with an old pocket knife. Using the line I tied to the pod, I hung the pieces over it and only ate a small portion. Even if I was left with little choice for food, it didn’t mean I would load myself up with poisoned meat—provided it poisoned me. This was just a taste test.

While I waited to digest the food and see if anything untoward happened, I used a finger to push aside the guts and viscera to find something for bait. I’d basically butchered its insides and couldn’t identify what I was using, but it was bloody and meaty, so it’d be fine. After tossing the line in, I washed my hands in the ocean water.

I’d just stood up when the ‘bracelet’ jerked my arm. Pulling on the line, I hooked another fish. This one wasn’t as hard to bring in, and the sun was setting by the time I got it on the platform.

“Heh, you got a red fish. One fish, two fish—”

“You make fun of me for a kid’s movie and then turn around and quote a Dr. Seuss book?”

“Books are for sophisticated minds, while cartoons are for idiots lacking culture,” Jim said imperiously, and I rolled my eyes. “What are you doing?”

The fish’s stomach was cut open by me. “Just checking to see what it normally eats. Not sure what this is, but the white meat looks crustacean. There might be crabs or shrimp in the water—or some variant of them.”

“Yeah… I’m inorganic, so I don’t give a shit.”

“Do a bio scan on me.”

“Not my job.”

“The fuck it isn’t. Other than hacking, the other main reason I got that particular implant is that it can monitor my vitals. So don’t give me that shit. I need to know if the food is creating any issues.”

“Fine, whatever.”

Nodding in response, I continued to strip down the second fish and followed the same procedure. When I was done, I splashed water on the decking to clean off the blood and viscera.

“Your blood pressure is high with some elevated vitals but probably all due to stress. There aren’t any spikes in antibodies or other indicators that your body is reacting negatively to the fish.”

“Great!” I pumped a fist in the air, ran to the line, and shoved slices of raw fish into my mouth. While doing that, I put my fishing gear away and tied off the bag with the guts and other fish parts. Taking a second bag, I put away the slices of meat.

Laying down to sleep, my mind processed the next steps. While I caught fish today, that could be a fluke. It wasn’t reliable enough as a food source, at least not yet. What worried me more than that was predators. If there were fish, then why not sharks? Or whales? Beasts like that would ruin my day and scare all my fish away.

“Sails or paddles?”

“Hmm?” Jim asked.

“Nothing, just thinking of ways to control our floating direction. Anyway, add sails, food preservation, spear—

“Hold on. Spear? Why don’t you just ask for a trident King Triton?”

“As long as you live under my ocean—ehn, whatever. Spear is important, I think. Knowing there are fish, I think there are sharks.”

“Hmm, I suppose that’s a valid point. Don’t forget to add a net to your list. Or an underwater cage so you can just store live fish.”

“How long will it take to complete the printer?”

“A month? Remember, we can’t run it non-stop, and not because of maintenance. It uses the same juice your water purifier does. The solar panels only produce so much electricity.”

“A fucking month? Shit…” I exhaled in frustration. “Hey, do you have any music in that vacuous brain of yours?”

“I have all of Eminem’s songs. He’s an old-world rapper.”

“What the fuck? Why the hell would you have that?”

“Because he rapped using the word spaghetti and did it with a straight face. That’s both brilliant and ballsy.”

I knew my mouth was hanging wide open, but no words were forthcoming.