Tales from the Rimworld is a steemit exclusive story writing experiment where I co-author a story with the help of the game's storytelling AI.
Zodiac
A tale from the RimWorld, as told by Phoebe Chillax, and
Day 1
As the door to his cryptosleep sarcophagus closed, Bill tried to not let it remind him too much of a vault door. He was not in the shelter anymore. He was on a freight ship, off to start work as an agriculturalist on Ceres 9, a farm world in the outer system. Thanks to the sacrifice his parents made, he would soon breathe uncirculated, unfiltered air for the first time in his life. He held on to that thought, imagining how fresh air would smell, how the sun would feel on his skin as he slowly drifted off to sleep.
The sounds of sirens and ripping metal jerked Bill from his sleep. Groggy from the effects of the sarcophagus, he stepped out of the open chamber and was confronted with the chaos of a ship about to be torn apart. The screams of other passengers filled his ears as they rushed by to get to the escape pods, which seemed like a good idea. Osamu! Bill’s pet fox had been asleep between his legs but was now obviously awake as he scratched at his shin as if to say “pick me up and let’s go!” And so he did.
Luckily, the gravity generators hadn’t given out yet, so Bill ran towards the escape pods, boarded the last one, strapped in, held Osamu tight and hit the eject button. A jolt ran through his body as the pod disengaged and started its descent towards a nearby planet.
Somewhere between watching the Zodiac explode and entering the atmosphere, Bill lost consciousness. Now, he awoke to a coarse tongue licking his face, and the rest of his body aching. As soon as he woke up, Osamu yelped happily. “I’m glad you’re okay too, old friend”. He had landed on the planet’s surface. Among the smoldering wreckage and scattered cargo, two other escape pods appeared to have landed more or less intact, but they were empty.
“Found one!”
Bill turned his head to see an extraordinarily handsome man approach. He got out of the pod and started to introduce himself, but the strange fellow had already begun examining him, shining a flashlight in his eyes, feeling his pulse, and poking various parts of his body.
“He seems fine.”
A second, more rugged and friendly looking middle aged man had made his way through the rubble now and extended his hand:
“Hi, the name’s Max Alterman, but people just call me ‘M’. I’m the pilot of the Zodiac – or rather I was the pilot of the Zodiac. You’ll have to forgive Roady here, but he’s got zero social skill. He’s a medical doctor, or at least he claims to be one, and greeted me about the same way as you. At least we know we seem fine now.”
“My name’s William Gilbert, but please call me Bill. What happened? Why did we crash? Where are the rest of the crew? And where are we?”
“Well, Bill…” M sighed, “To be frank, I’m not quite sure what happened. The ship was flying on autopilot and I was in stasis as well, as is usual for such long hauls. As for why we crashed: one of the engines suddenly exploded, as if hit by a missile, but there were no other ships in the vicinity. I tried my best to keep us from crashing, but it was hopeless. Once I saw all the other pods had disengaged, I climbed in mine behind the cockpit, and said my farewells to the ship. The other crew should have landed near here, but I don’t see their pods. I don’t know what happened to them. As for where we are.. we’re on an unnamed rimworld at the farthest edges of civilization. Nothing here but beasts and pirates, so we best prepare for the worst. No rescue ships will come here. I’m sorry.”
That was a lot to swallow, so Bill sat down and absent mindedly petted Osamu while he contemplated his situation.
“Okay, listen up folks!” M broke the silence, “This situation sucks and it’s going to get worse before it gets better, but if we want to survive we have to get off our asses and deal with it before it’s too late. So get up and search the crash site for anything we can use, and pile it up over there by the remainders of the cockpit. I’m talking survival rations, any food, med kits, seeds, tools, anything that looks like we could use it down the line. Go, go go!”
Roady was rubbing his chin and nodding a few seconds more as if he hadn’t noticed M stopped talking, then the three fanned out and searched the site. Not much looked in working condition and the smoke didn’t smell exactly healthy, but there had to be something they could still use. Bill sifted through the scattered pieces of the Zodiac, rummaged through metal scraps, and finally found a bolt action rifle, some survival rations and rice seeds.
They continued searching and hauling everything useful to their impromptu stockpile, and after an hour M called them to gather and they reevaluated their situation. They had collected about 50 survival rations, a box of potatoes, 30 med kits, some rice seeds, a pistol, a plasteel knife, the rifle hanging from Bills shoulder, and 800 ounces of silver. Just in case, they agreed to arm themselves. Bill already claimed the rifle, M chose the knife, which left Roady with the pistol. He seemed very at home with that choice.
“I also took Osamu and circled the crash site along the edges of the forest” Bill revealed, “I saw some rats, rabbits, squirrels, raccoons, and some alpacas in the distance, plus what looked like boar tracks. And there are some old walls and ruins near here in the south, but they look unstable.” Under happier circumstances, he would have been overjoyed at seeing these animals for the first time in real life and not just in books.
“Oh good, at least we won’t starve immediately. That is if.. do either of you know how to hunt?”, Roady remarked.
M and Bill shook their heads. “I’m not bad with a rifle, and have been really getting into knife fighting, but hunting…” M started, when they heard beeping from the cockpit and a synthetic “Hello. It appears you could use some help”. M went to investigate, forgetting he was about to tell them he had never hunted before but he would give it a shot.
“It appears the ship’s cockpit remained borderline intact and the board computer survived the crash. It has loaded the emergency assistant program, analyzed our situation and will guide us through the optimal steps to ensure survival. At least until the battery gives out.”
Since none of them had any survival training, they agreed to follow the computer’s instructions, though Roady was adamant he could find more logical solutions.
First off, they had to secure shelter and start producing food as soon as possible. M was the only one with any experience in construction, so he would build them a small shack. Roady and Bill would clear an area for a field. The trees Bill cut down would provide the wood for the shack’s walls, while scraps from the ship’s hull would have to suffice for a makeshift roof.
Around noon, M got finished with the shack and, wait, that can’t be right. It felt like he had been at it for at least a day, though he wasn’t tired yet. He went to the cockpit to check something.
According to the board computer, it was 9 AM when they started, now 12PM, and the current quadrum was Aprimay (spring). It appeared they had landed on a planet whose days lasted three times as long as a standard earth day, the computer’s clock auto-adjusted for a 24 hour day, and their bioregulatory buffer implants made sure they could stay awake during the day and sleep longer to compensate.
During a surprisingly pleasing lunch of survival rations, he informed Roady and Bill of their situation and they discussed their progress and options. It seems they were all doing a good job of coping by focusing on survival and the work ahead. None of them had mentioned the missing crew or whatever they left behind.
Bill and Roady had found some more pieces of the ship and apparently random pieces of ancient walls around their new camp site. Maybe they could salvage some useful materials from them. Roady had also examined some of the rocks in the area. “I believe we have some rich sources of limestone, iron and even gold and silver here.”
The computer beeped. “I have analyzed your progress and this new data and suggest the following course of action: Max Alterman, you will furnish the new domicile with beds, a stove, and a research table. William Gilbert, you will continue clearing the field and plant rice. Thomans Schlehan, you will start mining iron, and as soon as the research table is finished, start researching ways to create advanced technologies from your primitive surroundings. Bleep bloop, battery deplete-” There was a humming noise as the cockpit powered down.
“Who the hell is Thomas Schlehan?”, M muttered, while he tapped the screen as if he could bring their guiding computer back to life.
“That would be me. But I prefer Roady.”
They finished their lunch and set out to complete the tasks the computer had given them. They realized they would have to make their own plans soon. A prospect with which Roady was quite comfortable.
Osamu watched as Bill plowed the fields and started planting rice. By the evening he had finished about a third of the field the computer calculated as sufficient to feed the three of them.
As soon as M finished the wood fueled stove, if you could call it that, Roady started cooking a simple dinner from the potatoes that survived the crash, while he waited for the research table to be finished. He didn’t have any experience cooking, but neither did the others, and it was after all just basic chemistry.
As the sun set, Roady called the little group to dinner. Exhausted, they sat on the floor and started chewing on the joyless and bland potatoes.
“Roady, did you cook these properly? My potato is crunchy. I think it’s not supposed to be crunchy.” Bill lamented. But they chewed on. They should spare the survival meals as much as possible, seeing as they won’t spoil, and this was not the time to waste food.
They still had to finish the field, and make plans for what to do next, but that would have to wait until tomorrow.
They crawled into their new beds, too tired to talk, and fell asleep almost immediately. At least Bill and M did. With the research table finished, Roady’s mind was racing, trying to figure out what to research first. He decided on smithing. In his mind, what they needed first was a way to make tools and components, with which they could progress to more advanced constructions. “Yes, smithing”, he mumbled, drooling on his shirt-stuffed-with-leaves-pillow.