Chapter 17 – Ataraxy

Mk23 -IRJ Droplet – Class 7 – Carpe Victoria (Wrecked)

Sector - Unknown

Planet - Unknown

17rth May 2341 (BSST)

Almost in shock, I stay, locked in place, staring at the cliff over which my hunt has disappeared. I can hardly believe all the effort I put in was for nothing. The darkening eaves and branches from trees hanging over the cliff cloud my vision and I can almost see the residual picture in my mind.

I suppose I’m lucky to still be alive. Having fought - although briefly – the humanoids, it is startling how dangerous they are. Sharp, tough spines meant to puncture prey, unquestionable strength and viciousness tempered with an intelligent fighting style. Only the animal instincts saved me as it fled once hurt.

With a sigh, I stand fully, and trudge over to collect my spears. The ends of them are coated in a thick viscous blood. Cracked, and broken the wood will need a fix, or even to be replaced entirely. The tips though are relatively intact. Perhaps a brush up with a rough stone is in order.

Marching over to the water’s edge I put the disappointment out of mind and try my best to get over it. It’s a fact of life here and I might as well get on with things. No amount of moaning will change anything.

Crouching down, I wash the spears in the water letting the blood filter off. It leaves a musky red cloud of slowly disappearing blood flakes. Small strands connect the globules and as they break apart, the traces separate and blend into the environment. Drifting off to feed the ecosystem for another day.

Once clean, I swing them around to push the water off as best I can and bundle them up under one arm.

As I’m about to set off back to the camp, I have a thought. What was it the creature was rooting around for. Pigs on earth are well known to root for truffles and are so good at it that they are used by farmers for that purpose. So, what were these things doing?

I rush over and take a look at one of the holes I can remember. I just see the mud on an initial examination. Kneeling down, I push my hand down the hole and dig around for a bit. Eventually I feel something. Not very large around, maybe the size of a lime, a small one. I yank it out and look at it. Perhaps some sort of starchy tuberous root. Like some kind of root vegetable. It looks kind of like a yam or cassava.

“Enigma, what do you think?” I ask him.

“Perhaps it is edible. You do need food fairly urgently after all. Your postulation that it is some kind of cross between a yam or cassava plant I would tentatively agree to. Yams have very little toxicity except in the cases of immature yellow or white varieties that produce bitter tasting compounds like polyphenols or tannins. So, I would conclude it to be safe if it was more yam like.” He tells me.

Tannins are prevalent in most plant species to some extent. Animals have active defences to prevent being eaten. Like claws, teeth, speed and general toughness. Having those qualities for a plant wouldn’t be very useful so they develop chemical deterrents to protect themselves. Nettles have stings as an example. Tannins are ubiquitous polyphenol compounds that can bind to and precipitate proteins, amino acids and alkaloids. Though tannin plays an important role in defence against predation it is not a huge concern.

“Cassava on the other hand…” he starts, interrupting my thoughts. “…is a much more toxic plant. It is the third largest source of natural carbohydrate and was a staple food source for over one third of the population before food vats were introduced in quantity. Cassava has two major sources of cyanide in its flesh. Linamarin and lotaustralin are both cyanogenic glucosides acting as part of the plants defences. Both of these are decomposed by action of the enzyme linamarase. This enzyme driven decomposition liberates hydrogen cyanide. Without proper preparation cassava can quite easily deliver a fatal dose of the residual cyanide. In fact, just 25mg of pure cassava is enough to kill a rat. Whilst this can be cured relatively easily in modern society with a dose of thiosulfate I would remind you we do not have such a dosage available. To be sure I would recommend using the method of wetting over several hours or days to let the cyanogenic glucosides break down and the hydrogen cyanide escape into the atmosphere. That is, if it is like a cassava. It is an alien plant though, so, it could be completely different.”

With no more information forthcoming I thank him for the information and proceed to harvest as many of the tubers as I can manage to carry back to camp. It takes me the better part of the remaining light and as I stumble back into camp, weary and tired it is all I can do to keep my eyes open and alert enough.

Taking one of the larger pots I had created a while back I take my knife and start peeling the tubers. At first, I start off with my fighting knives seeing as they are far sharper. However, their awkward shape takes me too long and I move onto the flint knife with far better results. Once they are all peeled I chop them up into smaller cubes and drop them in water in the pot to steep overnight. Cassava has traditionally been left in water for over five hours if the cassava is ground into a flour to over three days for whole cassava. I decide to go with about twelve hours in water after cutting into small cubes. I place the pot in the tepee section before crawling into bed.

Morning comes softly, and I get up easily. As normal I run around the perimeters of the camp. This time however I climb out of the suit and set it to charge. In the clearing I find the brightest patch of sunlight and let the suit fall to its front. The back panels unhook, and a large solar mesh extends out to catch as many of the rays as possible. Based off of the tech of the space station at the start of the twenty first century earth time the solar mesh follows the sun around using thermal shape-memory alloys to track the suns path and gain maximum solar energy.

Taking the tubers in their pot out to the lovely sunshine I sit at the side of the pool and stretch out. I can relax for the first time in days whilst also doing a useful task. With the plant I run through the universal edibility test.

Step one is already done, to divide the plant into its constituent parts. Though on instinct I didn’t keep the shoots and leaves. Step two is to smell for an unpleasant odour.

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Reaching in to grab a cube I notice the colour of the water is a cloudy yellowish colour. This is reminiscent of the starch leaking out of the plant and into the water. A good sign. I smell it. Certainly, there is no bad smell. To me it just smells green and fresh. Though the whitish yellow flesh isn’t green it certainly has that lush natural smell that is present all around me.

Step three is to check for contact poisoning by placing the plant on the skin of the arm for a few minutes to feel for anything different. Tingling, rashes, numbness or burns are a sure sign not to eat the plant.

Step four is to prep the plant in the way you plan to eat it. Getting a fire going doesn’t take very long after so much practice and it isn’t long before I get a small section of the plant in boiling water. A good twenty minutes boiling and twenty to cool enough to reach in and grasp it lets me have more relaxation. I touch the plant to my lips for a few minutes and wait a quarter hour to test for burning or itching.

With that passed the next step allows me to take a small bite. I have to keep the food in my mouth for a while to check. It tastes very much like potatoes, starchy and heart-warming. It is neither very bitter or soapy which is a good sign and after fifteen minutes I have no adverse effects, well except for a rumbling tummy. I swallow the bite and then get up. If after several hours there is no further effect I can assume the plant is in fact edible.

So, what to do for a few hours? I ponder to myself. First, I go and take a bath in the cold stream. Washing the suit stench and general grubbiness from my skin feels glorious. It has been about eighteen to twenty days since I crash landed on this planet although it feels much much longer.

I replace the bindings and add more sap to the spears after regrinding a point on the metal. That takes me a while. And at about eleven AM I finish all the extraneous tasks I can think of. It has been a few hours and I feel fine, so the tubers are probably safe to eat in that way. I put it off long enough. It’s time to check the traps.

Excited and anxious, I approach the pool before slipping into the water. The sharp pebbles dig into the soft soles of my feet. A life in the suit has softened up the skin a great deal and I wince as I walk across the water letting it flow around my lower legs with the calming trickling sound of water.

Lifting up the traps I am happily surprised by their contents. Whilst I wouldn’t categorise it as bustling, there is life inside the traps. Moving away from the water I untie the top section and remove it. Looking inside I can see about ten of the small prawns flopping around inside. As well as the prawns is a small fish. A bit shorter than a foot long, it has a dark green colouration fading towards a more golden colour on its lower flanks and a whitish belly. Dark bands lie horizontally along its body. Mottled green crossed with black the bands help the ambush predator hide in the shadows. It is very reminiscent of a perch. With spines in the dorsal fin but none in the gill covers. The main difference from the perch I know is the teeth. Perch have tiny teeth and a big wide gullet to swallow their prey whereas this fish has small sharp teeth. Back facing they remind me of a bramble branch with the spines. A tail split more into the upper and lower halves than a perch also differentiates it.

Setting the trap down I go and stoke the fire. Getting it really roaring takes a minute but it will be worth it. I place a few smooth stones at the edges of the fire. Going back to the trap I gather another pot. In total I have about 6 pots. From the small one I had made at the start which contains the sap I am using to the large one in which I have the ash from the fires for more clay making. The one I grab is a smallish pot that I can use for cooking.

Taking the prawns from pot I take my flint blade and stab through the head to kill them. Then along the belly of the abdomen where the shell sections split I run the knife down before peeling back the shells. With a small twist and a gentle tug, the flesh comes out of the shells. I cut off the head and any guts which I don’t need and chuck them in the stream to wash away. Dropping the muscle remaining into the pot. Once I am done with the prawns I take the trap and place the top back on. Tying it so the top is back on top and that the trap is secured to the bank I leave the fish alive and caged for tonight’s dinner.

The tubers go into the pot and then using two green branches I grasp the stones that have been heating up in the fire and drop them into the water. A plume of steam and a violent sizzle indicate how hot they are. In very little time the water is bubbling and the smells that come billowing off the pot make me hungrier than ever.

Eventually it is done, and I tuck into the best food I’ve ever had. Perhaps huger does in fact make food taste better.

It tastes fishy and salty. Despite being fresh water creatures, it still has a salty taste to it. The prawns are lightly flavoured and the tubers rich and starchy. Though I would normally avoid starchy foods on an alien planet you can’t pick and choose.

Whilst the suit is charging, and I am relaxing I do only basic maintenance tasks. Collecting more water with the distillatory, collecting more sap and wood. Sharpening the flint knife, the adze and chisel stone. Rechecking the fire drill.

And then I just sit by the water procrastinating and letting all the stress of the last few days wash away with my thoughts. Pure silence and peace for the first time. I feel full and content. I have made my survival not sure, but better than average with the shelter, water and food.

When evening comes around I retrieve the fish. Being careful to avoid its teeth I place my thumb at the point where the head connects to the body. My forefinger and middle finger slide down its throat. With a jerk of my wrist – driving my thumb down and my finger’s pulling up - I snap the fishes neck.

Lying it on the banks of the pool, I take the flint knife and at the base of the anal fin insert the tip. With little flicking motions keeping the blade no more than one centimetre into the fish I cut along the belly. Scales rip off along the knife and cover my hands. As I near the pelvic fins I slow my progress down. Above the pelvic fins sits the stomach and liver. Within the liver systems is the gall bladder. Puncturing either of these systems can ruin the taste of the fish, let alone introducing potential toxins into the flesh.

The pectoral fins have a tougher section between hem and I turn the fish upright and press down in a chopping motion to get through the flesh. I keep cutting until I hit the jawbone.

With the knife I cut the organs off at the tail end and then using my fingers I push the organs out of the animal. Up at the top I use the knife to cut them again before chucking the entrails out into the stream to wash away. Still left inside the animal is the heart which takes a bit of work to get out and the swim bladder and membrane. The heart and swim bladder are easy to remove with the hands.

I move over to the water and crouch down. Placing the fish in the water I use my fingernails to scrape away the silver membrane and the blood from the fish making sure to clean it well. When the nice clean muscle glistens I finish washing the fish.

As the blood cloud begins to settle the shrimp/prawn things come out and with their fan like claws capture the blood from the water and begin their own feast on the remains of my fish. As I stare through the water, not disturbing it I seen the sheer quantity of the things in there. With a few pools like this and the tubers I might be able to survive indefinitely.

I roast the fish in the fire by spearing it on a branch and turning it in the flames like a marshmallow. When the skin crisps up and flakes away I know it is done. The eyes have shrivelled up and turned milk white. Cutting off the head I slowly eat the fish with my fingers picking the bones scales out of my mouth. It tastes watery but nice. The flesh falls apart in flakes and is succulent beyond belief. Delicious.

When I’ve finished I toss the bones on the fire to burn up. Whilst not perfect as a way of disposal it is better than many. I just want to avoid any predators coming around. Washing the slab where I gutted the fish again in a bought of paranoia is the last task I manage before going off to a peaceful night’s sleep.