by HL TRUSLOVE
Wade through the water to the ship – Turn to 6.2.
* * *
Use the hidden raft – Turn to 6.2a, Needs Knowledge of Hidden Raft.
* * *
Wait at the riverbanks – Turn to 6.4.
6.2
You decide to approach.
Just treat it like a neighbour’s house – you’re coming as a friend, not an enemy, making your intentions clear upfront. You tuck your trouser legs into your boots to try to save them from getting soaked, and begin to wade forward into the water.
It’s quite chilly and soon your journey has your teeth chattering. Little waves are stirred up by your walking and the wind that’s beginning to grow more insistent as the sun continues to rise; they lap around your legs with an icy bite to them. You begin to think that this was a mistake, but you’ve come this far. Plus, if you back out now, you’ll still be soaked. Might as well make sure your efforts aren’t for nothing.
As you get to the ship you make out that there’s a ladder built into the side, made of the same rusting metal as the rest of the vessel but showing significantly more wear. Hopefully this means that it’s been used by the residents and will hold your weight. You grab one of the steps and haul yourself up, the water resistance trying to keep you held in its grasp, but with enough effort you’re free and climbing towards the deck.
Your movements are loud and echo around the empty landscape, each movement of your foot a wet clang on the ladder rungs. You breach the deck and as soon as your head pops over the top you’re face to face with a spear.
There’re two natives in front of you, a girl and a boy, probably no more than eighteen. They both have fiery mops of hair and are wrapped in thick furs. The boy is the one pointing his weapon at you, a scowl on his face that seems a bit forced – like he’s making himself wear an angry expression to try and scare you away. His partner stands back, a knife in her hands, chewing her lip.
“Get up,” says the boy, and with little other choice you clamber on deck.
“Come with us, now,” he continues. You notice the tremble in his voice. It’s perhaps going to be possible to disarm him.
Add Instability to your character sheet.
* * *
Disarm the boy – Turn to 6.5, Needs Hand-to-Hand Combat.
* * *
Reason with the boy – Turn to 6.11.
* * *
Surrender – Turn to 6.6.
6.2a
You remember the raft that you saw from the last time that you observed this place, how easily it transported the villagers. It would seem like the smartest thing to do to borrow it and row it over to the ship. It would keep you dry, at the very least, and it’s not like you’re stealing it.
It takes some time to search through the brush and uncover where the raft has been stashed away, hidden with a cover of brambles and loose branches from surrounding trees. Given that there’s only one of you, rather than a small group, it takes you a while to manoeuvre it out and you do get splashed a little as it lands in the water, but you’re sure it’s better than if you had tried to wade over to the ship.
The steering pole is heavy and unwieldy in your hands as you attempt to navigate the raft over to the side of the ship. A couple of times you go off course and once it almost slips from your hands and sinks to the bed beneath you, but you maintain your control and with a lot of effort make it to the side of the ship.
As you get there, you make out that there’s a ladder built into the side, made of the same rusting metal as the rest of the vessel but showing significantly more wear. Hopefully this means that it’s been used by the residents and will hold your weight. You grab one of the steps and haul yourself up, leaving the raft to float where you’ve left it.
Your movements are loud and echo around the empty landscape, each movement of your foot a jarring clang on the ladder rungs. You breach the deck and as soon as your head pops over the top you’re face to face with a spear.
There are two natives in front of you, a girl and a boy, probably no more than eighteen. They both have fiery mops of hair and are wrapped in thick furs. The boy is the one pointing his weapon at you, a scowl on his face that seems a bit forced – like he’s making himself wear an angry expression to try and scare you away. His partner stands back, a knife in her hands, chewing her lip and watching the scene worriedly.
“Get up,” says the boy, and with little other choice you clamber on deck.
“Come with us, now,” he continues. You notice the tremble in his voice. It’s perhaps going to be possible to disarm him.
Disarm the boy – Turn to 6.5, Needs Hand-to-Hand Combat.
* * *
Reason with the boy – Turn to 6.11.
* * *
Surrender – Turn to 6.6.
6.3
“You need help? From us?” the boy scoffs.
“Yes,” you sigh, “I was separated from my group. I’m alone and I’m trying to find them. Have you seen anyone pass by lately? Or do you know anyone who would?”
He looks over his shoulder at his companion. She rolls her eyes and nods, as if giving him permission. He turns back to you and sniffs.
“We’ll take you to the chief. She’ll know what to do. But no funny business!”
You allow yourself to be handled roughly, the boy shoving your shoulder as the girl takes the lead. The boy’s fingers dig into you and though your coat takes the brunt of the force you still understand what the gesture means – don’t act out or you’ll regret it.
Turn to 6.7.
6.4
You don’t want to bother anyone prematurely. If you try to approach their home, the villagers may react poorly. The best thing to do, you decide, is to sit in plain sight and make yourself look as non-threatening as possible.
You go about setting up a fire from the bracken and snapped tinder scattered about. Though you have to fight against the wind to get the fledgling flame to grow, soon you’re sitting comfortably in the heat, warming your hands and face.
A time passes as you enjoy the feeling coming back to your cold, numb extremities, and then you begin to hear shouts from onboard the ship. A couple of what you can only assume to be guards have spotted you and are pointing at you from their position, their gesticulations making you guess that they’re discussing if you’re a threat or not. You hold your hands up above your head to try to communicate that you mean peace, and then beckon for them to come over.
The closer they get, the more you realise these guards can’t be that old. They awkwardly navigate a raft they drop into the water from the side of the ship over to the bank and it strikes you how young they actually are – fresh faced and wide eyed, they can’t be any older than eighteen.
The boy tethers the raft to dry land before springing into action, pointing a spear at you with narrowed eyes. His companion grips a knife in her hands but doesn’t really look as enthusiastic to use it.
“Who are you, stranger?” asks the boy, waving his spear at you. You carefully step back so you’re not in range to be hit, and once again raise your hands to show you aren’t armed.
“Just a traveller looking for my people. I was hoping someone in your village could give me advice on where to go?”
The boy turns his head to look at his companion. She gives you a once over and shrugs, clearly not feeling threatened. Confidence renewed, he nods and shoves his spear point back towards your chest.
“Fine, we’ll take you to the ship, but I want your hands where I can see them!”
“Can I put out the fire first?”
“Erm… yes.”
The question had thrown him, but he watches you extinguish it with the spear still trained on you. You’re then marched back over to the raft and can only observe as the girl pushes off from shore and back into the shallow water, attempting to guide the little craft back to the ship, clearly irritated her companion isn’t offering to help because the entire time the boy watches you like a hawk. You try to look as non-threatening as p
ossible – you really don’t want them to attack you. The most you do is sneeze, and he almost skewers you for it. You get the impression that this may be one of the first times these two have been on guard duty and the boy, at least, is taking it incredibly seriously.
When the raft gently bumps against the side of the ship you both jump, and the girl gestures to where there’s a ladder built into the side of the vessel itself. The girl goes up first and then you’re guided at spearpoint to follow her. The boy brings up the rear, but his journey is awkward as he attempts to keep his weapon trained on you at all times.
Eventually you’re on deck. It’s busier than when you were watching it from afar. There’s a group of villagers bringing the raft back onboard, but none of them seem particularly bothered by you, instead more focused on the task at hand.
“So why are you here exactly? Apart from that whole ‘being lost’ thing.”
“I need help.” – Turn to 6.3.
* * *
“I’m a doctor.” – Turn to 6.8, Needs Medicine.
* * *
“I’m a soldier.” – Turn to 6.9, Needs Sharpshooter.
* * *
“I’m an engineer.” – Turn to 6.15, Needs Engineering.
* * *
“I’m a trader.” – Turn to 6.10.
6.5
Quick as a flash, you reach out and wrap a firm-knuckled hand round his spear, tugging it out of his grip. The boy gasps, but you don’t give him time to react before you spin the blunt end of it round on his legs, tripping him. He lands heavily, face first on the metal floor of the ship – there’s a significant crack as he falls. You jump on his back, snapping the spear’s handle as you go, making it far easier to hold the point to the back of his neck when you straddle him. He groans in pain but doesn’t move when he feels the warning of something sharp pressed to his skin.
You look over to the girl he was with. She grasps her dagger in her hands, wild eyed but unsure what to do. Though she doesn’t pose a threat, you can hear approaching footsteps, coming fast.
Throw down the spear and surrender – Turn to 6.12.
* * *
Throw the spear at the girl with the knife – Turn to 6.13.
* * *
Kill the boy on the ground – Turn to 6.14.
6.6
You let the girl walk round behind you and pull your pack off your back, then hold your wrists in her surprisingly strong grasp. The boy lowers his spear for the first time and begins to rummage through your provisions. He looks incredibly intrigued at all the things you’ve brought with you, turning over items in his hands, scrutinising them one by one. It feels incredibly invasive, having someone go through your personal belongings. It reminds you of being a child in the Seed Vault and finding a girl going through the boxes under your bed to search for toys. You’d jumped on her and slapped her silly and when you were eventually separated, kicking and screaming, you were left with the punishment of no toys for a week and a bitter taste of anger in your mouth.
“Look, just let me do it,” you sigh, wriggling your hands. The girl doesn’t seem to perceive you as a threat and willingly lets you go. You get to your knees by the boy and take over digging in your bag until you find what you’re looking for.
Show him your tools – Turn to 6.15, Needs Engineering.
* * *
Show him your first aid kit – Turn to 6.8, Needs Medicine.
* * *
Show him your rations – Turn to 6.23.
* * *
Show him your map – Turn to 6.22.
6.7
You’re marched below deck rather inelegantly by your two gaolers. The boy seems insistent on keeping you heavily guarded. When you slip awkwardly on the narrow staircase, you feel the blade pushed into your back uncomfortably.
“You don’t need to keep that spear on me all the time, you know,” you say over your shoulder to him. He scowls.
“Yes I do.”
Unable to argue with his flawless logic, you allow the rest of the journey to continue in silence. The girl takes you through what can only be described as a strange labyrinth in the ship – metal chambers lead to metal chambers, some empty and rusted through, some with old bits of machinery sitting against the walls, their use long forgotten.
Eventually you come into the largest room you’ve seen so far – given the width, it must be in the bottom of the ship, and run the length of the whole thing, too. It’s quite huge. And there are the people to fill it.
Looking at the small town built in front of you, there must be a few dozen people down here. They’ve set up little homes out of tents that appear to be made from both animal fur and repurposed material from the old world – one of the structures near to you has some sort of plastic sheet as a doorway that has a pattern of cartoon ducks on it.
Tents are gathered around large fireplaces that have been built with wood and stone to keep them contained. Smoke rises up from the burning logs to the ceiling, and you notice the ship has rusted out up there, which allows for ventilation.
“What happens when it rains?” you ask, your amazement meaning you’ve stopped dead. The girl at your front turns round and follows your eyesight, speaking for the first time.
“There’s a tarpaulin we pull over them to keep the worst of it out.”
“Yes, but then we can’t get as many fires going because of the smoke,” sighs the boy, “so we’re stuck between a rock and a hard place.”
Stuck between a rock and a hard place. Hm. You’ve never heard that phrase before. You jot it down in your mind.
As you continue your journey, you observe these villagers. People sit either in their tent mouths or at the communal fire pits doing… well, everything. You see a woman spinning yarn from what you believe to be sheep’s wool, a man teaching his young daughter how to fire a bow to the side of the room, a few children running round and shrieking with joy. One of them stumbles into you, not watching where he’s going, and for a moment you swear you recognise him before he runs off again.
You thought people would be more bothered by your existence. But they’re too caught up in their own world. Perhaps it was selfish of you to think that way, to think that because you were here you’d have such a large impact. But you suppose, to them, you’re just another person, not worth the time.
The girl begins to slow down as you come to the largest building in the village – if ‘building’ was quite the right word. It, in comparison to the tents around you, is more of a yurt. It has a solid structure made from logs tied together as well as old pieces of metal probably found from around the ship. Inside are a group of people talking seriously, headed by an older, red-haired woman. You think you recognise her from somewhere – perhaps from the travellers you saw last time with the orange beast? It’s difficult for you to remember. When she spots you and the two guards her eyebrows raise and she finishes what she’s saying, dismissing the villagers she’d been addressing and walking over to you.
“Well,” she says, her voice laced with a thick accent, “what have you two scallywags brought this time?”
“A prisoner, Morag!” says the boy, helpfully, and you look around at him worried – you didn’t think that it was that serious. The girl to his side rolls her eyes again and the leader – Morag, as the boy called her – laughs heartily.
“Not to worry, you’re no prisoner. We aren’t that sort of folk. I am curious as to why you’re here, though.”
“I’m looking for those I travelled with. My camp was scattered during the storm. I was hoping you’d have seen them…?”
Morag shakes her head sadly and you feel something drop heavily beneath your sternum. It’s likely you would have seen signs of them now if they’d been here, but that still didn’t stop you from holding onto hope.
“Sorry, love. You’re the first outsider we’ve seen for… well, a while now, at least.”
You feel your whole body sag. Morag rubs her chin, thinking, and then says, “Look, we’ve got a caravan
going out tomorrow. Heading over to the bridge and to the city. That’s where we do most of our trading because that’s where the people are – you can accompany it if you want, but when we’ve got you there we probably can’t help you any further.”
Your face lights up. Yes, of course! Your group knows this place far better than you. They’d definitely be somewhere with people – safety in numbers.
“Thank you!” you cry, and Morag laughs at your enthusiasm.
“First time I’ve ever seen an outsider look so happy to go to the city. But you’re welcome all the same. Come, have a seat round the fire and talk to me – it’s been too long since I had someone to chat to outside the village.”
The pair of guards who brought you are dismissed and you spend the rest of the day with Morag. She really is an incredible woman. You’re close enough now to really be able to take her in. Her hair is a crop of fire but in her age, silver has started to lace through, making her sparkle. Her eyes are a bright green that you’ve never seen before, and the wrinkles around her eyes crinkle when she laughs – something which she’s prone to do a lot. She speaks freely about her life – she’s been chief for over twenty years, ever since her father passed. However, she didn’t inherit the right; all the folk in the village held an election and she was chosen to lead. Fascinated, you find yourself scribbling her story down in your notebook, pages and pages being taken up as you try to keep up with her.
