Several weeks had passed since the occupants of the starship Maelstrom awoke from stasis to the piercing sound of the evacuation alarm. A day later, the remaining three survivors had found themselves stranded on an alien world as the burned remains of the vessel crashed down around them. They were stranded thousands of light years from home on the very fringes of the galaxy on a world untouched by civilisation, a so-called rimworld. There was no hope of rescue.
The first survivor, Amos, was a wiry, dark-haired man who seldom talked, especially when it came to questions about himself. This was understandable, given his vocation as a professional hitman. While he wouldn't likely be fulfilling any more contracts given his current predicament, he was more preoccupied with other matters, namely the quality of his new companions, or lack of. Flais and Engie were father and daughter, and though they appeared to have little in common, Amos found them equally obnoxious. Flais was short, fat and bald, which wasn't normally a problem for Amos. However, when he discovered Flais was also an avowed nudist with more body hair than a mountain gorilla, these traits took on a whole new significance. An irritatingly cheerful personality and a loud, slightly nasal, voice only helped seal the deal.
Engie had been an engineer aboard the Maelstrom, hence the unimaginative nickname Flais insisted on giving her. She was not a nudist and for that Amos was eternally grateful. The girl had a face that left him genuinely surprised she had never been involved in any kind of serious accident, and left him wondering whether Flais had ever gotten overly familiar with a close relative. When Amos looked at Engie's face, ideally when he wasn't eating, he saw a sculpture, a sculpture of a bulldog moulded in plasticine by a three-year-old child in a darkened room. She was, at least, a lot more tolerable to be around than her father. She had a sharp brain, though she was modest about it and preferred to keep herself to herself, which suited Amos just fine. But oh my lord, that face.
It was an understatement to say Flais and Engie weren't Amos' preferred choice of who he'd like to be stranded on a desert island with. But here they were, and here he was, living together deep in an uncharted jungle. Engie did not stay idle, overseeing construction of the shack they now called home, built from the wood of foul-smelling alien trees and scrap metal salvaged from the remains of the Maelstrom. Their beds were the modified husks of the escape pods that had first brought them crashing onto this god-forsaken world. A second shack was built to hold all the most important equipment, the packaged emergency rations, flares, survival knives, first aid kits and other bits of equipment that no one was qualified enough to use. A weapon locker, salvaged from the ship, held a modest selection of firearms and ammunition, perfect for hunting and, as Amos put it, keeping away any 'undesirables'.
'What undesirables are you talking about?' Flais had asked, almost mockingly.
Amos had merely sniffed. 'I've got a bad feeling about this place.'
Among the many jobs Flais had failed to hold down, he had worked several seasonal jobs picking crops on farms across the inner galaxy. His experience was put to good use and his efforts bore a scattering of modest plots growing rice, potatoes, squash and corn, although Flais' chronic aversion to clothing meant he usually worked alone. 'Not in this damn heat!' was his only excuse, though he was persuaded by one morbidly embarrassed daughter to at least consider a g-string.
It was already obvious from the beginning that this strange new world was teeming with wildlife judging by the various hoots and squawks that stopped anyone getting a good night's sleep. Amos, armed with his trusty Schwarzkopf 128 semi-automatic, supplemented the crops with game meat, taking down parrots, toucans, squirrels, lizards, monkeys, goats, crocodiles and even the occasional elephant. It helped perpetuate the lie that an illustrious career as a professional hunter was the reason behind his deadly aim.
It also told another story, that humans had almost certainly been here before. Almost all the animals they had encountered were native to Earth, and it was clear some kind of colonisation effort had taken place in the past. It gave the castaways newfound hope that they might not be alone on this world after all.
As for Amos, the way he saw things, Flais and Engie were proving useful, regardless of how much they bothered him. There would be no need for them to meet with any...unfortunate accidents, at least for now.
The first survivor, Amos, was a wiry, dark-haired man who seldom talked, especially when it came to questions about himself. This was understandable, given his vocation as a professional hitman. While he wouldn't likely be fulfilling any more contracts given his current predicament, he was more preoccupied with other matters, namely the quality of his new companions, or lack of. Flais and Engie were father and daughter, and though they appeared to have little in common, Amos found them equally obnoxious. Flais was short, fat and bald, which wasn't normally a problem for Amos. However, when he discovered Flais was also an avowed nudist with more body hair than a mountain gorilla, these traits took on a whole new significance. An irritatingly cheerful personality and a loud, slightly nasal, voice only helped seal the deal.
Engie had been an engineer aboard the Maelstrom, hence the unimaginative nickname Flais insisted on giving her. She was not a nudist and for that Amos was eternally grateful. The girl had a face that left him genuinely surprised she had never been involved in any kind of serious accident, and left him wondering whether Flais had ever gotten overly familiar with a close relative. When Amos looked at Engie's face, ideally when he wasn't eating, he saw a sculpture, a sculpture of a bulldog moulded in plasticine by a three-year-old child in a darkened room. She was, at least, a lot more tolerable to be around than her father. She had a sharp brain, though she was modest about it and preferred to keep herself to herself, which suited Amos just fine. But oh my lord, that face.
It was an understatement to say Flais and Engie weren't Amos' preferred choice of who he'd like to be stranded on a desert island with. But here they were, and here he was, living together deep in an uncharted jungle. Engie did not stay idle, overseeing construction of the shack they now called home, built from the wood of foul-smelling alien trees and scrap metal salvaged from the remains of the Maelstrom. Their beds were the modified husks of the escape pods that had first brought them crashing onto this god-forsaken world. A second shack was built to hold all the most important equipment, the packaged emergency rations, flares, survival knives, first aid kits and other bits of equipment that no one was qualified enough to use. A weapon locker, salvaged from the ship, held a modest selection of firearms and ammunition, perfect for hunting and, as Amos put it, keeping away any 'undesirables'.
'What undesirables are you talking about?' Flais had asked, almost mockingly.
Amos had merely sniffed. 'I've got a bad feeling about this place.'
Among the many jobs Flais had failed to hold down, he had worked several seasonal jobs picking crops on farms across the inner galaxy. His experience was put to good use and his efforts bore a scattering of modest plots growing rice, potatoes, squash and corn, although Flais' chronic aversion to clothing meant he usually worked alone. 'Not in this damn heat!' was his only excuse, though he was persuaded by one morbidly embarrassed daughter to at least consider a g-string.
It was already obvious from the beginning that this strange new world was teeming with wildlife judging by the various hoots and squawks that stopped anyone getting a good night's sleep. Amos, armed with his trusty Schwarzkopf 128 semi-automatic, supplemented the crops with game meat, taking down parrots, toucans, squirrels, lizards, monkeys, goats, crocodiles and even the occasional elephant. It helped perpetuate the lie that an illustrious career as a professional hunter was the reason behind his deadly aim.
It also told another story, that humans had almost certainly been here before. Almost all the animals they had encountered were native to Earth, and it was clear some kind of colonisation effort had taken place in the past. It gave the castaways newfound hope that they might not be alone on this world after all.
As for Amos, the way he saw things, Flais and Engie were proving useful, regardless of how much they bothered him. There would be no need for them to meet with any...unfortunate accidents, at least for now.