CHAPTER 23
The next morning the sky was still clear, the satellite indicated no major fronts moving into the area and it looked good for a long ride.
Looked good.
Jason added a stasis case to his load this time. It had a packed lunch as well as some emergency supplies. He also included all three guns again.
He started by flying to the south set of hills and stepping out on one of the exposed promontories, well above the surf line.
“I dub thee . . . Cape Despair,” Jason said, looking down at the massive waves below. At that latitude they weren’t just coming from Beringia. The bay was in the region where the Beringia Sea met the Pallas Ocean and with most of the planet to build up size, the Pallas waves were enormous.
“Does it also count for Doom Hills?” Jason asked, lifting the bike into the air.
“It does,” Jewel said. “Speaking of which, what’s the county name?”
“Wilson County,” Jason said.
“Taken,” Jewel replied. “On America Nova.”
“Gah,” Jason snorted. “Ferrell County.”
“Taken,” Jewel said.
“God,” Jason said. “This is the problem with naming things!” He thought about it for a few seconds longer. “Olzon County.”
“Not taken,” Jewel said.
“Fine,” Jason said, spinning the bike around and heading for the Ferrell River. “Now that we’ve got that settled . . . ”
* * *
He avoided the waterfowl-crowded delta by flying to the south of it. The ground was still flat and tree covered with occasional small hills as he headed inland. He cut back to the north to the river as he approached the range of low hills to the east. There the Ferrell River entered a gorge and the fens ended. He dropped down to water level and briefly touched the water.
“I dub thee the Ferrell River,” Jason said.
“Now it’s official,” Jewel said.
The river wound through the hills in a serpentine. The water was full of rapids and would be difficult to impossible to traverse by boat. People had done crazier things. He saw a distant future for it as a white-water rafting destination.
There were waterfalls and streams dumping more water into the river throughout the hills. With all the rainfall in the region, crops would grow like weeds in the soil. Assuming the soil was any good.
The far side of the region was low, rolling, tree-covered hills with extensive flatland. There was a rise to the north, though. More of an escarpment than hills. It looked as if the land was higher over there, possibly a shallow plateau.
He continued up the river, staying below treetop level, until he found what he was looking for. At some point the south side of the river had built up a silt levee that extended back for some distance. There were bluffs of what looked to be a mix of sand and loess lining the river. Beyond the bluffs, the forest was lonely, dark and deep.
It would do.
He wandered up and down the river checking out the bluffs then stopped at what seemed to be the midpoint of the terrain feature.
“Check out that area for threats,” Jason said, pointing. It had been a while since he’d seen bears though he’d seen one tiger drinking from the river on the journey. Numerous deer as well as bison. Those were new.
Six drones were embedded in the flexmet. They slid out, deployed, and headed into the woods.
He picked the bike up, trying to get a feel for what the river’s bottom profile looked like. It was functionally impossible to see anything between the silt and the tannin. A few ripples on the surface, though, indicated underwater obstructions. Probably tree snags.
He dropped back down to just above water level, pulled a heavy lead weight out of the flexmet and lowered a line into the water.
“How long is it, Jewel?” Jason said, bouncing the weight on the bottom.
“That’s a rather personal question, Governor,” Jewel replied. “Thirty feet.”
Jason dragged the line through the water, making soundings and occasionally hitting sunken tree obstacles.
“There are no immediate threats,” Jewel said a few minutes later. “Nearby but not in the immediate area. Are you landing here?”
“Yes,” Jason said, retrieving the weight and turning the bike towards the bluff.
He landed on the bluff, got off the bike and stood looking out over the river. The ripples had indeed indicated underwater obstructions. Those could be cleared if necessary. They might not even be there when he came back.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Jewel said.
“Worth a bit more than a penny,” Jason replied. “We’re going to need to keep a sentry group on Olzon Island at the very least. The salmon are going to swim up the streams on the island at first. Probably. The sentry team will keep an eye out for that.
“After that . . . I’m thinking the same thing as the shrimp,” Jason said. “But on a bigger scale.”
“Quite big,” Jewel said. “We’ll have to have at least six containers of just flexmet depending on how large you want to make it.”
“Not all the way across the river, that’s for sure,” Jason said. “This will be the biggest loss the salmon have sustained. We can’t catch all of them. But based on what the run is probably like . . . We’re going to need a hundred pack for the initial drop.”
“That’s going to be a lot of fish,” Jewel said. “Are you going to sell them whole or processed?”
“There’s no processing facility that I know of on the station,” Jason said.
“There’s an entire food-processing factory,” Jewel said. “Three of them.”
“Of course there are,” Jason said, sighing. “And are these food processing factories . . . ”
“Still locked up in unit battles?” Jewel said. “Yes.”
“Jiminy Crickets,” Jason said, shaking his head. “Aaaargh! We’ve got to do something about the damned units!”
“I’m still trading where possible,” Jewel said. “Do you want me to try to trade for a food processor?”
“Any idea of the politics?” Jason asked.
“Alpha has a lot of sharks swarming,” Jewel said. “Several former finance people who have accrued unit positions in it. Bravo looks clearest but that just means it’s a basket case. Charlie, though, is interesting. Your records indicate that you liked a particular supermarket based in Florida.”
“I do,” Jason said. “Did.”
“There’s a group of former executives and employees from that supermarket chain who have taken almost enough of a controlling interest in Charlie that they could force a vote. Their problem is they have to find twelve percent and they’re at nine. Should I try to trade for some of those units? Possibly combine forces?”
“We’re having a hard time getting any traction with the major items,” Jason said musingly. “Put that on a to-do list if there’s ever a way to gain some traction.”
Jason unwound his phone from his arm and stretched it to the maximum. The drones had built up a fair survey of the area and he used an app to pull away the tree and ground clutter to reveal the shape of the ground in the area.
The hills extended for at least a kilometer in every direction though they were irregular. None of it was in the hundred-year floodplain, though, and there was a small knoll two hundred meters to the southwest that was about ten feet higher than the levee.
“We clear a large area beforehand,” Jason said. “Probably in the near future; runs can start midsummer.”
“Right,” Jewel said.
“Set up a sawmill, or two, right at the beginning,” Jason said. “Lay down planks from the cut trees to give a solid foundation. It won’t be perfect but it will be better than the swamp that Olzon became. And this is loess. In rain, without tree roots holding it together, it will turn to mud in an instant.”
“Agreed,” Jewel said.
“At least a hundred containers,” Jason said, looking out over the river. “We’ll need to find all the midriver obstructions and remove the major ones. Then set up a funnel trap to this point or near this point. At that point it’s just a matter of lifting tons of salmon up to the bluff. Issues? Are there any engineering difficulties you can foresee?”
“Yes,” Jewel said. “This bluff is not solid. I’d suggest the loading be done down at the river level and then bring the filled conexes up here.”
“And we do that how?” Jason said. “You’re talking about a dock?”
“A large dock,” Jewel said. “Based on the work we’ve done at Olzon, a Herman and . . . two Alfreds will take about three days to build a large dock. That will be the center of the catch. We’ll need another sawmill here. But now that it’s been figured out, we can build one of those in a day.”
“Set up a sawmill,” Jason muttered. “Mine some gold . . . And what was the green stuff?”
“What?” Jewel said, confused.
“It was an old video game,” Jason said. “Or maybe I’m mixing a couple of them up.”
“You’re probably mixing Warcraft, the original or possibly version two or three, with Starcraft,” Jewel said. “Green stuff was a gas.”
“I think I’m thinking of Warcraft III,” Jason said. “That was the one I played the most. Cut down trees, take them to the sawmill, mine gold. We’re essentially doing the same thing.”
“And fishing for food,” Jewel said.
“So, build a dock,” Jason said. “After we’ve built the sawmill. Upgrade to the colony. Clear this area and install a solid platform for the incoming containers. Tim’s going to love spending the credit . . . ”
* * *
“We don’t know the run is coming in,” Tim said.
Jason was sitting on his bike over the river for the conversation. He thought it might take time and, drones or no, he didn’t want to be surprised.
“These are salmon,” Jason said calmly. “They’re evolved from trout. There’s no way that they breed in salt water. They’re in the bay preparing for the run, getting a last feed. Means the run is starting in less than a month. We need to get prepared. And to get prepared I need some gear.”
“What about the gear on the island?” Tim asked.
“Which I’m either using to move around or is harvesting?” Jason asked. “How much seafood have we already lofted from Wilson Bay?”
“Wilson Bay?” Tim asked, shaking his head. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”
“I named it that ’cause it was round like a volleyball,” Jason said. “Okay, okay, I’m lying. Yes, I named it after you. ’Cause we are going to make so much bank off of this. Have we gotten an ichthyologist yet?”
“Yes,” Tim said.
“And how much food are we lofting from this area?” Jason asked.
“We just lifted another twenty-five pack,” Tim replied. “And shipping is killing us.”
“Send a thousand pack, then,” Jason said. “Efficiency of scale. We’ll use a thousand packs. No guarantee there are multiple runs but bets. And if we don’t loft a thousand containers on a run, we’ll fill them in time. There are still colonist deadheads going back, right?”
“Can you land a thousand packs?” Tim asked.
“Can I either reduce the harvest in the bay or get another survey set?” Jason asked.
Tim thought about it for a few seconds, frowning.
“Use the survey set you had in the bay,” Tim said. “If you can do a platform for a thousand pack . . . I’ll get with Larry and see if any are available and how much they cost. You’re going to loft a thousand?”
“If we don’t do it with the run, we’ll do it by fall,” Jason said. “This is close enough we can move them over to the bay if it comes to that.”
“Containers do have a cost,” Tim prevaricated.
“Oh, for the love of Pete,” Jason said, then started laughing. “Do you want to make bank or not? We don’t drop the thousand pack until the run is going. We’ll fill at least several hundred containers. Enough, easily, to pay for the round trip and a good profit. We’ll do it, Tim.”
“Despite being a log guy, you’re barely paying attention to shipping costs,” Tim pointed out. “We’re making money. Lots. We’re making profit. Good profit. Shipping costs are going up and up and they don’t seem to want to come down. So, the fewer sorties we have to pay for, the better. If we just sortie after sortie, we’ll end up in the red forever. Then the company goes away, Jason.
“And if we drop a thousand containers, we’re going to have to pay lease on them until they’re back on the station. That’s a thousand credits a month. Plus, another two thousand seven hundred for the cases. Two hundred seventy cases per conex is two credits seventy per month. Times a thousand. Case costs are adding up fast with all the teams we’ve got on the planet. And because of shipping costs, we’re not able to cycle them as fast as I’d like.”
“Lemme think on that,” Jason said, nodding. “I said the business side was up to you and I’ll take your word. I’ll use my on-hand equipment to set up for the run. But when it comes . . . ”
“If we get a salmon run, I’ll get Larry to find the shipping,” Tim said. “But I’m not dropping a hundred conexes, much less a thousand, unless I’m sure they can be filled and not just sit on the ground. Are you going to outvote me?”
“God no, Tim,” Jason said, shaking his head. “It’s the right call for one thing. I get enthusiastic, you know that. But we’re going to make bank on salmon on this river. Big bank. Just have the thousand pack available when it starts. And with it I’m going to need tons of flexmet, six containers of it, two Hermans and a half dozen Alfreds. Set the lease on this spot now, though. I need to get to work.”
“I’ll file the lease,” Tim said. “Leases are cheap for what you get from even a bad one. We good?”
“All good, partner,” Jason said. “Out here.”
* * *
“Penny for your thoughts?” Jewel repeated after Jason had been sitting for almost five minutes.
“It’s irrational but I don’t want to leave this spot,” Jason said. “As if my possession of it depends upon being here. Which it does not in any way. We’re taking the lease, for one thing. And there are probably other places on the river that would work as well. So . . . we’ll head back to Olzon. Plan. Not my strong suit but I can hum the tune.”
“Disassemble and bring the sawmill?” Jewel said.
“No,” Jason replied. “Build a new one. Better, stronger, faster. We’ll leave the two Alfreds that are trapping in the area and let them run. Leave a few drones and the batteries. The Hermans with the other harvest teams can recharge as necessary.
“We’ll start by sending Herman, two Alfreds and some drones to clear and prep,” Jason said. “Clear the trees, clear the underbrush, level the site. We need a forecast of clear skies for that last. They’ll take the pieces to a redesigned sawmill with them. Just the bits they need to get started. Should fit in a conex.”
He brought up the ground plan and pointed to the high spot away from the river.
“The sawmill will not be forward,” Jason said. “We need the space by the river for the harvest. So, we’ll set it well back. The initial clear is just the area around the sawmill. Then we use the sawmill to cut timber to lay down on the soil, like railroad ties, crosspieces to keep the conexes from subsiding. Work out from the sawmill. Have Herman run the sawmill and the Alfreds clear and prep the ground then lay down the ties. Bring that over to the river on a broad avenue then build the dock. Floating dock attached to pilings: The river’s level is going to rise and fall with the rains.
“After that’s done, continue to clear, prep and cover the rest of the area,” Jason said, drawing in a large zone. “Enough room for up to a thousand conexes, single stack. Starting from riverside and moving back.”
“Two Alfreds harvesting and testing,” Jewel said. “Two here. That doesn’t leave you with a bike.”
“I can forego the bike,” Jason said. “When I need one, I’ll use one. But in the meantime, they need to be working. I can wander on foot or catch one of the ones on the bay if I need it.”
“That’s . . . an outline of a plan,” Jewel said.
“It’ll do for now,” Jason said. “Bring in the drones.”
“They’ve picked some mushrooms,” Jewel noted.
“That’ll do for an appetizer,” Jason replied.
* * *
“When we drop a tree, two drones can cut off a plank,” Jewel said, doing a rough CGI of the plan on the tablet. “Curved back, flat side. Those can be collected by an Alfred and laid down flat side down to set an initial base. Then timbers laid over it and pegged. Not side to side across the entire area. With gaps to, among other things, let the water through. The bottom planks will be more-or-less side to side and interlocked. The wide base will spread the ground pressure.”
Dinner was the ubiquitous fried mushrooms followed by steamed crab with margarine for dipping. Jason had made a wooden hammer for crab cracking. Brown crab was as good as it was reputed to be, buttery and slightly sweet, similar to Dungeness but if anything, more solid. Wild potatoes and some sauteed spring greens completed the simple meal.
“Makes sense,” Jason said. “Walking over that will be torturous.”
“We’ll make a walkway that’s solid,” Jewel said. “The problem is size, weather and timing. We’re going to need at least ten acres cleared and prepped in the few brief clear days. Some of this can be done in the rain but some of it should not. Not to mention the cutting, sawmill time, et cetera.”
“You want to use more bots,” Jason said.
“I recommend discontinuing the crab and perch harvest and using those Alfreds,” Jewel said. “Also, I recommend moving the sawmill. It’s not going to get flooded in one of the lower areas; they’re still well above flood levels and that hill is well away from the primary work area.”
“Makes sense,” Jason repeated. “Both.”
“We put the sawmill here,” Jewel said, sketching it in on a spot about a hundred yards from the river. “Then we clear a long area along the river and set in the containers there,” she added, sketching it in. “The dock goes in first but that’s the area to clear.”
“All good,” Jason said. “Get started on it in the morning,” he added thoughtfully. “The sawmill components, then the clear and prep.”
* * *
It was weird at the camp with the Alfreds and Herman gone. There were exactly no sounds except his playlist, the wood sounds and the occasional buzz of a patrolling drone. It was nice in a way—the sawmill had been getting on his nerves—but it reinforced how totally alone he was on the planet. With the bots moving around it gave a semblance of busyness. Without them he found himself unsettled.
He walked out of the kraal and contemplated the water. There were seabirds diving on bait fish at numerous points.
“Jewel,” Jason said, pointing.
“Anchovies, apparently,” Jewel said. “They seem to be running into the bay. There’s salmon feeding on them as well as other fish. Bluefin tuna are in the mix.”
“Bluefin!” Jason said, his eyes widening in excitement. He thought about what the bots had left behind at the camp. He could build a boat to go after the bluefin. But the problem was landing them. There were more bots around, they could be diverted for bluefin. That wasn’t even problem one. Without diverting a bot there was no motive power for a boat.
He thought about it for another second and grinned. Time to go new old school.
He went to the conex that was holding the spare flexmet, sectioned off about half of it then brought it down to the shore. Then it was a matter of gathering rocks. Several of the ballast rocks were still in the area and he tossed them one by one into the flexmet.
“Are you building a boat?” Jewel asked.
“I am indeed,” Jason said.
He shaped the boat into a longboat form then got in and had the flexmet hump itself into the water, with a deck under his feet and the ballast midships. As it was moving into the water, he thought of more stuff he should probably bring along and went back to the containers, running a line of flex back to the kraal as a land anchor.
He grabbed containers of fresh water, the case with precooked food, spare wet-weather clothing, a case of fishing gear and one of the Cyber batteries. He didn’t want the flex running out of power.
He loaded all the gear into the boat, got it arranged to his satisfaction and pushed off again.
The problem at that point was motive power. He made a couple of oars and those got him part way offshore. The tide was running in and it kept pushing him back into the shore.
He directed the flexmet to bring the ballast down into a keel then quickly lifted a mast and sail. With a touch of the oars to get the right heading and directing the sails he started moving across the bay. Which required a tiller to steer.
All done with his mind. Super cool.
“That’s . . . again inventive,” Jewel said.
“Thanks,” Jason said, leaning back on the stern. He shaped it to be more comfortable and adjusted the keel mentally to have a set of leeboards. He kept shaping the boat and the sails until he had a tidy little fast sailer which skipped over the light waves of the bay. The ballasted keel kept it neatly upright.
He sailed around the bay in the lee of the island getting used to the craft. He also shaped it in various ways. Similar to an older longboat fishing boat; then a long, fast racing sailboat; he even built a covered-deck version. He played with sail types and settled on a finned multisail design that gave the most speed for the least sail area.
Flexmet was incredible stuff. So many industries were going to get slaughtered by it.
Finally, he sailed over to one of the groups of anchovies that were being pursued by, well, everything in the bay. There were sea lions and tuna, salmon, porpoises, and seabirds. The surface action was complete chaos.
After retracting the sails to slow his progress, he extended a long dip net into the mass of anchovies and pulled out about two dozen. The anchovies, by themselves, would be worth harvesting.
In the meantime, his boat was being pummeled from below by every kind of sea creature.
He took six of the anchovies and formed a large hook from flexmet then strung them on it. Then he added a one-ounce lead weight to the line.
“I need to try to get the bluefin with this,” Jason said. “Whereabouts?”
“I’d suggest trying out from the school,” Jewel said. “Drone video shows most of the bluefin outwards.”
He got his sails into action again and moved out from the mass of anchovies that probably covered four acres. As he got into open water there were some seabirds diving but not many.
He coasted to a stop, tossed the line over the side and let it drop.
Seconds later the line tautened and started to run.
He waited to a count of three then had it stop running.
FISH ON!