Chapter 15 – The Coin
Mk23 -IRJ Droplet – Class 7 – Carpe Victoria (Wrecked)
Sector - Unknown
Planet - Unknown
15rth May 2341 (BSST)
Having scavenged all I could from the campsite, and buried the remnants of the girl, I set out away from the camp. It was truly tragic that she had been here, in this place. Even more so, the way in which she must have died. I could hardly imagine. The humanoids most likely got to her. Though it could be something else entirely. The cat from the first night or whatever else lurked in the forests. Slicing through the tent and into her with an ease that was unsettling. Shredding and ripping at her before taking off her head and dragging the carcass away to feast upon. What happened to the father I hadn’t a clue.
The fact that there were no blood marks along the floor indicates that the body was not dragged but rather carried away makes me think of the humanoids; top tier predators certainly. I was glad I hadn’t seen another one since that encounter at the beach. I didn’t relish fighting one. Who would win was debateable. Assuming they were all as strong as that first one. Or that there was more than one of the blasted creatures.
Assumptions I had to make if I wanted to stay alive. More important than the monsters though, was feeding myself. Whilst a bow would be best creating a good bow would be quite a challenge. I had strong suspicions that the hide of the animals here would be much tougher, and an amateur bow would probably not do it. A full-on longbow with at least a 40kg draw weight would probably do it.
With Enigma’s help I might have been able to make it; with metal tools, strong string or cable and the right kind of woods. Elm, Yew, Hickory, Oak, Maple or white ash were the prime examples of woods needed. And like an eight-foot straight section of trunk with no gnarls, knots or deficiencies in its macrostructure. In this inhospitable place I had found nothing even remotely along those lines. So, a bow was not likely to be produced in the near future.
“Perhaps another method of catching game could be utilised.” Says a voice out of nowhere.
“Enigma?”
“Yes, well who else could it be? As far as I know we are alone.”
“Right well of course.” I respond, flustered by his unexpected comment, and its sass. I’m not sure like this development. Though I don’t tell him that.
“How did you know what I was thinking?” I ask him.
“You talk to yourself when you’re planning. From my data I must say it seems to be quite an unusual trait.” He replies in a fairly bland tone. Where that personality came from and went I have no clue.
“So, any suggestions then?"
“Usual methods of hunting include; bow, spear, traps, firearms, physical superiority, driving and flushing, nets, baiting and a few more obscure methods.”
“Okay so let’s run through the list then. First, we’ve got the bow, already we have determined that is unachievable right now. Second; spear, might be a good shout. We’d have to go after more aggressive prey though. And it’s doubtful we can match an animals grace in its own habitat. Traps, could work. Its perhaps the best method for getting those creatures in the pool at base camp. Otherwise though I don’t know enough about the life here.”
“Firearms are a no go” he joins in continuing from where I left off. “Physically beating them is unlikely to work great without tried and true methods, and flushing animals out usually requires more than one person.”
“No materials for nets and we’d first need to catch something for bait to work. Looks like spears or traps are the only options then.” I say concluding the list.
“Spear fishing as opposed to the boar spears you were thinking of could work better. As for traps, most work in tandem with baiting but there are a few that don’t.” Enigma inputs.
“Right, well we’d better get back to camp then.” I say setting off in a light jog. Faster than a walk but still quite light exercise, especially for a warrior like me.
Returning from the tents takes me a couple of hours and as I move through the land I ponder Enigma. He appears to have advanced another step with all the conversations and freedom I have given him. Though still a long way from true sentience he was making steady progress. Asking subjective questions and his opinions seems to really stimulate the learning algorithms. I suppose most people have EI’s with the locks and restrictions on and they treat them like servants. Stating desires and requests in such a way as to brook no argument or differing opinion.
I managed to get back to camp as the sun was setting. It had been a long day. From setting off hunting, to failing at that and stumbling across the tent scene. And then coming back.
Crawling into the bed, leaving my armour blocking the entrance in a powered down state to conserve the battery, it isn’t long before my eyelids feel laden and they sink down blotting out the world as sweet, sweet darkness comes rushing in.
I dreamt of a coin. Large, a hands width across if not more. More medallion than coin. It is both old and battered and yet shiny and new. Dirt seemingly crusted the gently curves and sharp corners of the engravings despite it being just of the press not yet five minutes ago. The heat still radiating off the bluish mottled metal. On the front is an engraving of a king, proud and regal. He stands strong above his vassals and subjects, ruler and sovereign to all. His elevation a sign of important no less relevant than the illustrious décor. The clothes, the jewels, the stage and more. Yet it is not the king, nor the vassals that are important to the scene. In the dark alcoves of the surrounding castle a faint impression can be seen. A hooded shape, a reaper or perhaps just a trick of the mind.
On the other side, it is just as intricate perhaps even more so. It is just a jumble of mixed lines creating a maze of twining, winding lines. Fine and elaborate. They run around in a seemingly unending pattern too obscure for the mind to comprehend. Though there seems to be a section missing. This though is the key. With a sharp twist the pattern rearranges with a mechanical clank. More twisting and as the lines that before were seemingly jumbled and random coalesce into a glorious oak tree there is another mechanical clink. The front now shows the reaper clearly. Yet it is not the only difference. The whole scene has changed, and it is the king that is the only remaining thing. His regalia has changed, and he is knighting the reaper. A new scene and meaning entirely.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
My mind now zooms out and the changing scene on the coin drifts away smaller and smaller until the coin is hardly visible even. Yet the scene repeats itself. The tree can be seen through a dark stain glass window. Large and imposing its branches extend and curl around the building. Yet inside the castle on the stage there is a man. King to us all yet not so blatantly named as such. A reaper at his side. The cloak is gone and instead I see a shining pillar of authority.
“Stand my knight. Be the pillar and authority that serves in the shadows and stands us all tall. United we stand, divided we fall. Together we fight never to fall. So, stand my knight, be the best of us all.” He says in a deep rich tone.
The woman kneeling at his feet stands cloak rising and flapping in the wind. She turns slightly, and her profile can be seen more clearly. She’s not short, but nor is she tall. At about 6ft in height. Light brown hair cut so as to frame her face and not cover it is tucked back behind one ear. Straight nose, small and pert sits between two grey eyes. Not an old, withered grey but a shiny dep grey. They show her age more than the body does. Truly a window to the soul. Set under a heavy brow the eyes flash as the sun catches them and the reflective flash shrouds the scene with golden rays of light.
I wake with a start, the last vestiges of the golden light still lingering in my eyes and memory. A few blinks and it fades as the roof comes into view. In the woven fibres of the ceiling v a cobweb is beginning to form. The spider clambers around. With the back of my hand I squash it without a second thought. It was only a small critter. Brushing off the cobweb, I roll it into a ball before dropping it in the corner of my room.
With a slight groan I get up onto my knees arching my back and doing some morning stretches. Emerging from my bed into the tepee, I yawn. Getting a drink of water makes my tummy rumble with the displeasure of going without food. I can already feel the effects of not eating for a good period of time. I feel more sluggish and the slight excess of fat around my abdomen has shrunk away leaving me more ripped. I stare into the pool for a second. My golden-brown skin is now lighter than before as I’ve been stuck in the suit for ages. The scar under my ribs that runs almost up to my sternum shines silvery in the morning sun.
Low on the horizon the first morning rays are just breaching my camp and lighting up the trees with a fresh beauty that only occurs in the early morning. I rock my head around my shoulders, the brown hair obscuring my vision for a few seconds, before I slide it back behind one ear. I roll my shoulders and splash my face with the cool refreshing water before climbing into my suit.
A quick sweep of the perimeter yields nothing different than usual to my pleasure. We’ll I’d better get a move-on. There’s stuff to do. Places to go and food to catch.
Whist sleeping my subconscious had decided that a boar spear would be the best option. I had woken up with certainty. However, to hedge my bets my rational mind had decided that creating a shrimp trap would be a good plan. If I could get that done in the morning and deployed whilst I went hunting, then I might be able to get at least one meal.
As with all building projects I need the lashings. I start by crushing them flat and laying four one-meter-long separate strands across each other to create an eight-pointed star. Taking another strand, I tie them together by weaving directly across them and then I tuck the end into the knot to secure it. The points of the stars are then bent up until they are about 30cm apart in a circle. More lashings are then threaded through as you would do to make a basket until I get up to the top. It is in fact a basket. The trap comes from the inset I have to create.
Going over to the trees, I snap off a few twigs. About 15cm long. Returning to the basket I stick them into the floor about 5cm deep so that they face each other under the ground and face away above ground. Lashings weave through as you would in a basket and both ends are tucked into the lattice. Taking the construct from the ground another lashing makes the opening in the centre tighter. The two pieces go together so that the opening for entering the basket is much larger than the exit. In this way the shrimps find it much harder to escape from the trap. Especially if the flow of water pushes them against the bottom of the basket. Using two lashings I tie the top and bottom together gently so that if the water swirls it cannot separate.
The pool narrows slightly at the exit and a mat of plant roots and soil covers the floor in places. I place the trap in this narrowing faster section of water, still within the pool where the shrimp dwell, but in the outskirts. The plant cover is pulled up and placed on top to secure and disguise the trap. In fact, the cover provides shade where the shrimp like to dwell more often, as it is naturally defensive as a location.
Having finished the trap, I was slightly pissed at how easy it was to make. Why hadn’t I done this earlier! No mater how easy to make, its fruitfulness comes in its productivity. If it catches nothing, it was still a waste of my time. Besides, the actual quantity of shrimp in the pool is not extremely abundant. Perhaps further up in the other pools there are more. Heck even some fish would be great. With the trap set it’s time to move onto bigger things. The passive food source is ready. But I was always a proactive person and just sitting and waiting is not my style.
Boar spears are usually hardy and tough. Made of strong wood, cured with sap or oil and with a viscous flared or hooked steel blade hafted onto the top. With nothing similar I was fighting against it to try and make one. Luckily, I had a plan that I thought could produce a decent botch at it.
A new tree was required for this though. Finding a good tree is hard but eventually I found a nice hardwood with a straight-ish section in the trunk. Hacking through it with the adze was hard work and because the blade is parallel to the ground and not the tree cutting low on the trunk is a nightmare. Underhand swings are the only way of doing it. A much weaker kind of swing. I truly needed to create an axe at some point.
Eventually I managed to get through the log and dragged the tree through to the camp, after cleaning off the pointless branches of course. I had to go back for them.
As with all tool handles a fire had to be lit to dry out the wood. As it was building I stripped off the bark and prepared the wood.
Collecting enough sap in the pot was a time-consuming task but it kept me busy as the haft of my spear was drying out.
The haft shrunk down by a few cm to about 4cm in diameter whilst drying and luckily it didn’t split in too many places. Hopefully I would be able to get a couple spears out of it.
Treating the spears with sap took the rest of the day and whilst that was happening I took out the tent pegs from the tent by the girl.
On a rough rock I ground three down to sharp points for the spears and another down on one side for the point. Then using the edge of a sharp stone, I began to cut into the soft metal small notches in a spiral pattern. Drilling in a primitive society was one of the most important tool inventions and I was lucky to have found the tent pegs. Despite it being a mild steel, it would be able to do the job well enough.
Working well into the night using the suit to light my work was painful and battling with sleepiness was hard work but eventually I got the drill bit done.
When morning broke I set about my work. The spears had dried in the residual heat of the fire and were just about ready. Rushing the process wouldn’t yield particularly great work and certainly not long-term work but it would be good enough for at least one hunt. I lashed the drill bit to the fire-starting drill and then set about drilling holes into the end of the spears. The fresh cut edges were a good place to start and drilling into the wood took a long time. In many places the wood split but that was just playing into my hands. Well as long as the wood didn’t split all the way through or chunks fell out as it did on one of the spears.
When the holes were drilled I forced the spear points made from the tent pegs into the holes and then reground the edges on the points. Unfortunately, I couldn’t burn the wood slightly to toughen the point by charring. Still with a metal point it should be decent for its job. Lashing the wood at the point tightened the grip on the point like chucks on a drill and provided additional support. More sap in the gaps and all around firmed it up and a brushing of ash from the fire helped set the wood and finished off the boar spears.
Lamenting over missing yet another lunch I set off into the woods with tiredness creeping into my limbs. The hunt was on!