In our previous episode, Logan had tracked another ship across the sector in an attempt to figure out who was behind the recent ring of thefts that was targeting the merchants on his home planet.
Eventually, the chase led down to the surface a marshy ocean planet, and onto a settlement that’s basically an enormous single level platform, onto which a crowded array of primitive and ramshackle structures have been constructed entirely from repurposed, discarded and scavenged parts and materials.
Everything from entire ship hulls, engine housings and hunks of sheet metal, to ramps, walkways, airlock doors, bridge struts, escape pods, and just about every other type of industrial garbage has been cobbled together and bolted or strapped down to the platform, creating a home for thousands of people.
Logan quickly learns that this place is called Wayward Landing.
We thank the man again for helping us, and begin moving in the direction where he pointed. As we look forward though, our hopes are somewhat dashed when I seen a massive encampment that stretches out for hundreds of yards directly ahead of us.
An enormous maze of tents, tarps, and small makeshift structures scatter about the platform in all directions, every single one strapped, anchored, tied and bolted down to the platform. Usually 3 to 4 times as many people mill about the area.
“This won’t be easy,“ I say in a despondent tone.
“Like finding the one bad fuse in a star cruiser power grid,“ Cole replies.
Pressing forward, the two of us enter the camp, and are immediately swallowed up by the swirling mass of people, most of whom completely ignore us as they go about their business. it seems like nearly everyone process of fixing, repairing, modifying, building, or otherwise piecing together some assortment of scraps or spare parts of an unlimited nature.
At first, I regard these people as more than grubs and scavengers, The more I watch them, I begin to marvel at the sheer ingenuity and engineering sense, and the high level of craftsmanship and adaptation these people display. From every day mundane objects to all of the buildings here, there isn’t a single thing that I see with my eyes which hasn’t been made from something else, or modified in some significant way.
Now that I’m close, I get a closer look at the structures, all made from recycled spaceship parts, from hollowed-out fuselages, empty cargo bays and engine ports, to virtual every other part you can possibly pull from a ship and reinforce with, or attach to some other part that would normally never go together in any other situation. The level of engineering and makeshift construction skills is astounding, even though, more or less, it all pretty much looks like junk.
Starting at the outer edge of the camp, Cole and I circle the entire perimeter and then work our way inwards on the circle as we search for the man. It’s a tedious process that takes the better part of the afternoon, but at this point we are both intent on relishing the challenge as we conduct a long and possibly fruitless search. At least the monotony is broken up by all the times we marvel at some crazy contraption or structure as we investigate how it’s assembled, and these times are many.
Are we able to locate the thief? [Ask the Oracle: Yes]
Finally, after a few long hours of hoofing it around this huge camp, or village, or tent town, or whatever you wanna call it, our feet aching from pounding our boots on a ground made of unforgiving sheet metal, we lay eyes on the thief. He’s rummaging through his large pack, no doubt full of stolen contraband, next to a small shelter made from repurposed sheet metal from the hull of a ship that’s been bolted onto a makeshift metal frame.
Cole and I close on on him, but not so close as to completely spook him.
Then I say, “Those don’t belong to you. We followed you all the way from Kosha, where we watched you steal that stuff from traders who we know.”
We’re prepared for a confrontation, but catches us completely off guard with his friendly response.
“Yea… snagged sone good shit back there, mate. One of the better hauls I’ve brought in lately. I’ll trade you for some of it If you see something that catches your eye.”
He finishes emptying his bag and proceeds to show us his take.
Cole and I look at each other, bewildered. I reply,
“”Uh… no… I don’t want to trade. Maybe you misunderstood. It’s not yours to trade. Again, that stuff doesn’t belong to you. We watched you steal it.”
He shakes his head in apparent confusion and changes the subject. “You say you two came all the way here? From Kosha? We’ll, that’s a first.”
I can now see beneath his cowl that he has two color eyes, red and blue, and an extra finger, more of a long nub next to his pinky on each hand; both clearly some kind of mutations.
Cole and I exchange another pair of confused glances.
“Yes,” I say, my frustration starting to grow. “We came all the way here from Kosha to take back what you stole, and to warn you not to go back there.”
The man looks at me with an incredulous expression, that actually makes me feel a bit foolish. He says,
“Look around, mate. You gonna go hut to hut, tent to tent, and try to take it all back? Then you’re gonna need a much bigger bag.”
I find myself lost for words as I follow his prompt and make a long, lingering survey of this enormous encampment. Thousands of people living in extreme poverty, inside makeshift dwellings made from junk that are all bolted down to a hard, metal platform.
PeteAshford
There’s no apparent government or law enforcement here, at least none that I can see, no industry, no major technology, no formal roads, just common byways, and no resources, although it appears that they fish off the edge of the platform for their food.
I’m back to original observation: this place called Wayward Landing is basically a tribe of poor grubs who scrape and scrap out a meager existence on top of a hard metal deck on a tiny planet that’s not even listed on the charts.
And then it occurs to me, nobody is telling them what to do or how to live, and nobody is forcing them to do anything. As simple as it sounds, they just live.
Despite the fact that I‘m having a hard time wrapping my head around this whole thing, I suddenly fine myself feeling a sense of empathy for these people. The universe is a strange place indeed, as I’m learning, it’s made up of all kinds of people, traditions and ways of life.
Is their’s any more right or wrong than anyone else’s? Sure, they seem to acquire some, or a perhaps a lot of their stuff by pilfering it from other planets, but given their reality, can I say that I wouldn’t do the same if I lived this like of existence?
In the few hours that Cole and I walked through the camp, We didn’t see any displays of violence of any kind. Other than a couple of benign scuffles and heated arguments about who had the better method to fix or modify some contraption or piece of gear in a particular way, we didn’t see any fights. Overall it seems like a pretty peaceful community. I’m sure they even have a code that they live by.
My attitude has completely flipped since we first arrived on this planet. Here I came to confront this alleged thief who stole from people I know, and who probably clips stuff from other planets as well, while bringing my soldier friend Cole along as additional muscle.
And now, I almost feel silly placing such a demand on this man, who has greeted us with a sense of goodwill. Sure, I don’t want the people I know to suffer, so perhaps there’s an agreement that can be made.
I look back and address him once again, this time in a much more respectful and diplomatic tone.
“I’d like to discuss some kind of proposal. I imagine that you wouldn’t want me to come plunder items from your community here, so tell me, would it take for you to steer clear of Kosha?”
“I’d really appreciate if you and your compatriots didn’t make things more complicated for the people in my community. We already have it hard enough, living under a very oppressive regime. It’s a constant fight for us, and having to worry about people raiding from our traders makes it more difficult.”
[Compel]
[Weak Hit: 1 + 1 + 0 = 2 vs 1 | 7]
The man listens and considers my proposal, and after mulling it over in his head for a short while, he says, “if you followed me here, then you saw that old derelict starship at one of the anchorages .”
I nod to confirm.
“Well, I want what’s in there,” he says.
“That ship looked very old,” I point out. “Don’t you think it’s already been picked clean inside?”
“No. I think it’s been hiding in deep space for for a very long time. I’ve traveled that passage before, and this is the first time I’ve ever seen it.”
The chaotic energies of The Forge make for constantly changing Drift passages. This often creates new waypoints and reveals stellar objects that were previously hidden to space travelers.
It’s entirely possible that the ship we saw has been sitting in a pocket of space that has seen no travelers for hundreds, or even thousands of years. It didn’t look like any modern ship I’ve ever seen.
“You know how to get there,” I say, “So I’m not sure where you’re going with this.”
“I need you you to go in first and make sure it’s safe for us. Make sure there are no automated defense systems onboard, or any pirates lurking about… or… worse things,” he says with a slight shutter in his voice.”
“You two do a full recon, neutralize any potential dangers on the ship, and I’ll give you my word; we’ll never scavenge on Kosha again. We may never need to scavenge anywhere for a while; that ship could prove to be a huge source of supplies for us.”
“What say you, friend?“ he asks? “You do this?”
“That sounds like a fair trade, friend, providing that we get to pull our own share supplies out of there. Whatever we can carry. There should be plenty to spare.”
“Agreed.”
“Then I swear on the iron forged by my ancestors that I will help secure the safety of that derelict, so that you and your people can salvage whatever parts, supplies and resources you need.”
[Swear an Iron Vow] – Dangerous
[Weak Hit: 3 + 1 + 0 = 4 vs 3 | 6]
STARFORGED ADVENTURES 
Leave a comment