Camp Sunrise: Gathering
Posted on 18 Mar 2023 @ 3:38pm by Chief Petty Officer Ibis Xeri
Mission:
M3 - Into the Deep
Location: Korix, Camp Sunrise
Timeline: MD08 Morning on the island (following Camp Sunrise: The Bitter Pill)
1360 words - 2.7 OF Standard Post Measure
Waiting for the water to filter was always boring and unproductive. Once Ibis climbed the peg ladder and Olivia handed her a pail, Ibis poured the water into the top funnel then dismounted and replaced the D pail on its side of the tree, getting a C pail to set up beneath the spigot below. Waiting long enough to see two drips, Ibis nodded and stood up, brushing her hands on her sides.
“Let’s try a walk to the south today,” she suggested, expecting the bucket would be ready when they returned and they could filter the second one before nightfall. Maybe going south would yield something. The other direction on the beach hadn’t been as rewarding lately. They started back at the shack where they kept a few woven reed baskets. They would never fill one, let alone three, so only Oliva took a basket.
Always interested in blazing the trail, Olivia set out ahead of them. Ikemba enjoyed trying to keep up with her, playing at his version of follow-the-leader, imitating her gait and making his path mimic hers: hiking himself up over tide-cut rock as she did, kicking up sand where she did —that was a deeply rebellious statement on par with swearing in Korinn, Ibis knew, though she hadn’t ventured to correct Olivia for doing it so idly. Wallace swearing in front of Ikemba and now Olivia teaching him disrespect! Likely all of Olivia’s friends were kicking sand on each other from the floor of their tide pool residences just to act tough. None of them were likely to behave like that with the adults. Small fry and their antics, the same everywhere in the universe, it seemed.
As they came close enough to the shore now, she could hear the hiss and sigh of waves beating. The wind was whipping hard, doing its best to take out the braid she’d tied back earlier. She checked the sky overhead, the usual plumes of noxious smoke trailing from the smelting facilities stack. The sky always felt so barren, without anything like seagulls. In nine years, she’d never seen a single bird, although her instinct was still to check for them. Inland on the island, there was no bird song, although there were still loud choruses of singing insects making a racket, many which were over-populating and destroying the plant life. In her estimation, there were not enough bug-consuming predators to keep them in check. The remaining lizards being the only ones interested. She’d observed the die off of what she took to be the last species of newt-like creature, at least as far as she could find on foot. And while she suspected there had once been an abundance of Korix sea turtles— judging by some of the language and symbols and a few empty shells she’d seen among the Irix— she’d never actually observed any on their part of the island. If she had, it would have been tempting not to eat the last ones herself.
She couldn’t guess what plant life had been lost in the insect spike and the concern about bug-borne diseases was one of the common vectors they had to ward against when there wasn’t wind or smoke to dissuade them. She’d seen broken down bird nests in the bushes and in the fallen small trees further inland. But only old ones. Once, Laura had collected a small dried out bird skull. That was the most evidence they had for them having once been part of the island’s eco system.
As they walked along, Ibis began to gather kelp. It was one of the few abundant resources they had. They could always count on metal things cast off from the mine, short clay from the creek, an abundance of rock and sand, some plastic trash, reeds, and the kelp. As she gathered the opportunistic plant, it was wet and heavy, and although inedible, the fibrous species that littered the shore would dry out and be handy for the sickly-green colored cloth-like substitute, and in the water filter layer system, and most of all, for fuel to burn. Likely it had never before existed in this kind of abundance, but was a hardy species that happened to be able to fill in the gaps when others died back and it won out, while there was still any winning to be had on the planet. Ibis had lost her distaste for the wet stench of it long ago and accepted it as normal. She started to form what she found into bundles, tying a strap of it to go around her forehead and support all of the weight on her back behind her.
Everywhere along the beach, tangled in with the kelp, were trash and dead things. Rotting fish bones, hollowed out mollusks, sickly pooled jelly-fish remains. Ibis had been on seaside vacations and oceanic away teams often enough to know that the sea wasn’t meant to be the gross foaming brown color it was, and that the sand shouldn’t bear so much rotting death at once that it piled on itself with every tide before the last round could break down. Around everything that came to rest on the shore was an oily rainbow shine, a halo of chemical death.
As she gathered fuel, the kids split their own ways, Olivia checking the bushes around the dunes for her favorite berries, and Ikemba pushing over the biggest stones his skinny arms could lift, checking the low tide pools. Ibis kept closer to Ikemba, letting Olivia out of her sight and telling her heart to trust the girl to eat only what they knew to be safe and know her way back. It always took some effort to beat back her anxiety about Olivia being out of view; she had to start trusting her more, she told herself, and allow Olivia to learn to be responsible for herself.
She crouched to push over some plastic film, checking for anything interesting, but it was just brown and slimy underneath. She contemplated the plastic. If the Camp had managed to continue strong, without all the illness and losses, by now they would have had a process for reclaiming a lot of these things. It was unlikely they could have made a subspace receiver out of all the garbage and the mine castoffs. But maybe the lenses for a small telescope and with some doing, a shortwave radio capable of making themselves known with a steady SOS signal. Maybe it was for the best to have gone unnoticed though. If the Pyrryx picked up on them squawking to the night sky, they’d probably have done a single walkthrough of the camp to quiet it down. Permanently.
She felt a tug on her arm and snapped back to awareness, “Hm?”
Beside her stood Ikemba proudly hefting a crab! The pale shell was coated in oil sheen colors, and its body was scant in thickness but broad. Its legs scrabbled helplessly at the air.
“Ikemba! Mighty hunter is he! Look at this catch!” She raved and lifted it from him, all the while Ikemba basked in the praise of his success, puffing his little bony chest out, his fists on the back of his hips, his crooked little baby teeth on display in a full grin. “What a good provider you are!”
Setting it upside down on a rock, Ibis quickly lifted a handy stone and crushed the head so it went still. Years ago she would have upset her delicate sensibilities, killing her own meal. But the thought didn’t even occur to her now. All she could think of was the nearest thing she could make to a pot of shredded crab meat bisque with all that meat, a portion of ground sea oats to thicken it, and some herbs she’d been reserving for a special occasion. Wallace was going to be so proud of Ikemba.
Ibis ruffled the boy’s black curls. “This is a good day,” she told him, pulling him into a hug.
