Across the Sea, Somewhere

It had been smooth sailing, for a while there.

But the smoothness was actually stressing her out. They were on course to reach the second node with eight days left on their voyage, and with a return trip that could be comfortably completed in 24 hours of sailing, even under the Captain’s cautious reckoning. There hadn’t been a storm or a big reef or some sort of sentient whirlpool or anything else, which was good news, but it meant that they probably could have gotten another node in.

She knew that wasn’t how you were supposed to think about precautions, it didn’t make sense to resent paying for health insurance just because you happened to stay healthy, but that unrealized third Node rankled. This would still be a productive trip with two, but that third Node would have been — well, a 50% increase in productivity would have meant a lot.

She’d even gone to Percy, to see if they could squeeze a third Node in at this point, but he’d explained that the window to do so had passed. He hadn’t said anything critical of her earlier caution, but she felt a certain smugness from him anyway. Unless she was imagining that.

The upshot of this, however, was that they were now faced with some extra time, and, as they had sailed towards the second Node, it had become clear how to spend it. They were approaching a true landmass, something big enough that they couldn’t see its edges as they approached. Without taking the time for reconnaissance, there was no way to know if it was a decent-sized island or a massive continent, but it didn’t really matter. It was clearly bigger than they’d have time to fully explore.

Using the Captain’s rangefinding tools, Adelaide confirmed what she'd already suspected — the Node was not on the coast, but instead a few dozen miles inland. That meant that there would be no expedition to go out and back within a few hours: there would be a landing party. And not a small one — other than the Captain and one of his crew left behind to look after the Strider, the entire team would be camping for about a week.

Frankly, it probably wouldn't have mattered if the Node were right on the coast. As the land had been sighted and grown on the horizon, the mood on board had shifted. The Strider started to seem like a commercial airliner making its final descent — everyone was doing the nautical equivalent of gathering their belongings and returning their tray tables to their locked upright positions. What that meant was a little different for everyone: she was struck by how Emma seemed to be taking actual glee in packing away the armory of hunting gear she had brought aboard. But almost everyone seemed to be sharpening a knife or filling some canteen whenever Adelaide saw them.

The exception, unsurprisingly, was Percy. Faced with the prospect of setting foot on truly virgin territory upon which no man had ever tread, he'd announced that he would be just fine in his Chest on the Strider. When people had been surprised, he'd just referenced the effect of sand and water on electronics and walked away.

That was the sort of situation that Adelaide found herself expecting someone else to sort out before remembering that she was nominally in charge. And she had been tempted to just let him spend the week alone in his room — it wasn’t like she was his social coordinator or anything. It was actually Ray who had changed her mind, probably inadvertently. He’d said that, even if Percy didn’t come this time, there would be “plenty more field trips.” But Adelaide realized that was actually the issue: if she let him stay behind now, it would be even more difficult to get him out the next time.

Ultimately, she’d convinced him with a two-pronged approach: she told him she was worried that he’d be needed for maintenance on the Deresonance Detector, and she promised him that if he hated it, she wouldn’t bug him about it again in the future. He’d rolled his eyes, but he’d agreed to go with them.

Frankly, Adelaide wasn’t thrilled about the prospect herself, although she was hoping no one noticed. She couldn’t have told anyone why; she didn’t know herself. Part of it was practical: she was likely facing a long hike in entirely unfamiliar territory, with limited comforts. But she also felt worried about her role ashore: on the Strider, she set the course but left the actual operations to Captain Mattson. This was going to be much more hands-on. It felt like she was suddenly signing up to be a camp counselor or a Girl Scout troop leader, but she’d barely stepped into the woods growing up.

And, she had to admit, she was probably still a bit shook up. The last Node had been a success, but it still didn’t feel like one, even now that they had sailed away. There was no reason to think there would be anything like that Bird Mother again but…

As Adelaide watched the island draw nearer, she nearly convinced herself that she could’t still hear those cries.

***

“Wow, this is beautiful!”

It wasn’t exactly “One small step for man.” but it wasn’t horrible as first words went. Adelaide hadn’t really expected that she would be the first one off of the first boat, but Ray had privately insisted. Adelaide thought it was odd how much he pushed her into roles like that — he was the Guide, and she would have assumed that the Guide would be the visible leader.

Anyway, there was no denying that she was right — they had found somewhere truly beautiful to land. The sand was a pale shade of orange, contrasting beautifully with the water. The beach extended back to a rocky outcrop. Palm trees would have fit the stereotype, but the vegetation visible was something Adelaide didn’t think existed on Earth: hard trunks with large fern-like leaves growing along their sides, with flowers on the top. Adelaide couldn’t figure out what would make them grow like that — it seemed like growing something that didn’t face up would be ridiculously inefficient for photosynthesis — but it created a very lovely visual as they flapped in the wind. The rocks themselves, meanwhile, were covered with a flowering moss. Adelaide wasn’t sure if moss ever flowered in the real world, but she didn’t know of any reason it couldn’t. Regardless, the red and white bulbs were strikingly pretty.

And, for a moment, the vista was hers alone. No one else had seen this little beach, ever. She felt so lucky in that moment, so blessed to have been alive in the era of the Triangle, to have had the intelligence needed to investigate its physics, to have been randomly paired with Trish in a tiny college dorm room, leading to the funding for this trip.

But then everyone else landed, and the vista was not only shared but rapidly cluttered. Not that Adelaide had any right to complain - it was all being done for her eventual convenience, as part of her voyage.

The biggest and loudest project was the assembly of the Shelter. Tents were simple, and there were still voyages that used them, when they planned to move frequently; Adelaide had a packed tent with her in case the Node proved to be multiple days away. But it hadn’t taken long for people to realize the importance of setting up a temporary base of operations that was protected from the rain, off the ground, and reasonably sturdy. Shelters were the market’s solution to this problem: they were sets of modular, light-weight walls, floors, and roofs that could be assembled or disassembled within a few hours with practice and without the need for tools beyond a hammer.

So that was what was happening now — a few of the crew members and Jim were swinging away. By sunset, it would be up, and that’s where everyone would sleep. It wouldn’t exactly be a luxurious experience, but Adelaide’s understanding was that there would be multiple “rooms” in which to sleep. They’d set up a chemical toilet once they were done: Ray had described that as a relatively-clean port-a-potty.

Ray, meanwhile, was getting a fire lit. Here, again, they were hardly roughing it. Ray had insisted they pick up a “portable fire pit” at the Top Drawer. Adelaide had suggested that a Guide should be able to start a fire alone, and Ray had told her that if she wanted to sit in cold dirt rubbing sticks that was her business, but professionals used tools. So they’d grabbed the device Ray had just unfolded: a dish about a meter in diameter that was apparently made of something fireproof, onto which you piled whatever seemed flammable when you landed, plus a few charcoal briquettes that came with it. Once you’d stacked enough on, you pressed a little button and a little current ignited some fluid in the base of the pit, starting the fire. It was really quite simple, but it would have seemed like magic to anyone doing it the hard way.

Adelaide kept herself busy helping collect materials for the fire. The big fern-leaves went up too quickly, like flash paper; they’d have been useful for getting a fire started if they didn’t have so many conveniences, but they wouldn’t keep burning in the way they needed. So Adelaide’s job was to look for other sources of fuel. The frond-trees’ wood looked perfect, but the lack of branches seemed like it would make that approach impossible. But, after Adelaide climbed up on the ridge, she found that lots of the trunks had cuts made in them, almost like someone had gone at them with a crude stone ax. Sometimes, those cuts had scraped off chunks of wood that were now just sitting beside the trees. Or, when cuts were deep enough or close enough together, Adelaide found she could use her pocket-knife to free a chunk big enough to be worth burning.

Beyond that, the moss proved to burn steadily, with a sort of peppery aroma that was odd but not unpleasant. Pulling up the flowering moss was hugely laborious, as it seemed to grow out of cracks in the stone and held in with re\markable tenacity. But there were sections where the flowers were missing — Adelaide wasn’t sure if they had never grown, had died or had been eaten by something — and in those places the flowerles moss was strangely loose, like it had lost the will to hold on.

As Adelaide gathered, she decided that this was a perfect illustration of the Triangle’s version of survivalism. In light of the costs of the Days needed to initiate a voyage, it was worth it to invest in specialized technology to make every task as close to trivial as possible. But space remained at a premium on all but the most industrialized vessels, so raw materials were brought only in volumes designed to ward against emergency. That led to this: a scientist gathering moss and chipped wood like a neolithic gatherer only to feed it into a convenient fire pit that made the ignition effortless.

By the time Adelaide returned with her fourth armful, the rest of the passengers were stepping out of the dinghy and onto the orange sands. Alessio had apparently decided to go with a POV approach, wearing some sort of headband that allowed his phone-and-accessories Megazord to operate like a Go-Pro. He looked ridiculous, but Adelaide supposed that the video didn’t pick that up. Emma, meanwhile, looked like Legolas and Rambo had a baby who inexplicably turned out to be a 5’ 2” woman: she had some elaborate compound bow over one shoulder, a rifle on the other, and she was wearing something that combined a quiver, a bandolier, and a backpack.

And then there was Trish. Adelaide was embarrassed to realize she’d had an image in her head since before they left of Adelaide landing on a desert island with a big poofy dresses and oversized sunglasses. She hadn’t consciously considered it, but as soon as she did, she realized she was pretty much expecting something between Ginger and Lovey Howell on Gilligan’s Island (the show had enjoyed an obvious-in-retrospect revival on streaming services when the Triangle became a public fascination).

It was nothing like that. Trish looked good, for sure, as she always seemed to. But it was a simple good: her perpetually lustrous hair was in a tight ponytail, and she was wearing a chocolate-brown long sleeved top with a complimentary green pants. The day was still warm, but she was carrying a black jacket over her shoulder. And, while she was wearing sunglasses, they were beneath a sensible hat and were even attached using one of those strappy things. Even her backpack was large, canvas, and sensible, although Trish had apparently sewn this purple smiley face patch onto the side.

Trish saw Adelaide descending and ran over to give her a hug, which she sort of awkwardly managed around the wood and moss Adelaide was holding. “Hi! Isn’t this incredible?”

Adelaide smiled. “It definitely is. You have any plans for the week we’re here?”

“Exploring, of course! All I’ve done so far is lay around that boat — not that I’ve been having a bad time, but I need to stretch my legs!”

Adelaide paused. “I get that. Just, you know, be careful. It can be dangerous out here. Maybe we should use a buddy system or something.”

“I mean, sure! But I’ll be fine, really! You always worry so much. Anyway, let me get out of your way so you can bring that wherever you’re taking it!” And with that, Trish bounded off towards the nearly-assembled shelter.

Adelaide reached the fire pit shortly afterwards, and dropped this latest collection in the pile Ray had directed her to. Ray, apparently content to have a small fire steadily burning, had pulled his hat over his eyes and laid his head down on a small rock. He lifted his head at the clattering sound of Trish’s harvest hitting the pile.

“Don’t let me disturb you from whatever kind of sleep you get using a rock as a pillow,” Adelaide said.

“If you can’t sleep on a rock yet, you’re only one long night away from learning the trick. And once you’ve got it down, you’re never without a bed again.”

Adelaide rolled her eyes. “Anyway, it looks like we’re nearly set up. When do you want to head out for the Node?”

“I mean, it’s up to you, but I’d strongly advise that we spend the first night in camp.”

“Why?”

“For one, we don’t know what nights are like here yet. Not that we’ll ever totally know, but a first night might give us some sense of at least the loud or obvious problems. And you want to face anything like that at camp. And, second, you want to manage the mood for a night. People get different on land, sharing a space. You take off right away, they’ll have put a pig’s head on a stick when you get back.”

“I doubt they have pigs here.”

“They’ll find something. And, anyway, why rush? We’ll give ourselves time, but don’t forget that the crew is here to try to make some money, and if you can organize them, everyone will end up richer for it. It’s not like we’re going to leave here early if we hike out tonight.”

Adelaide nodded. “I suppose.”

Ray looked at her. “You still spooked, huh?”

Adelaide turned to face him. “I mean, I guess I’m-”

Adelaide was spared from answering by what she, at first, thought was a scream. Her head was already turned and Ray had jumped to standing before Adelaide realized it was actually a squeal, and a squeal she knew well: Trish was excited. And, sure enough, Trish was pointing up at a higher outcrop, where Adelaide saw what had undeniably excited Trish so much, what everyone was now looking at.

She whispered under her breath, but she knew that Ray would hear her. “Christ, it’s a fucking unicorn.”