Here Be Dragons: Book 1 of the Emergence Series

Chapter 2, Day 19 - 20: Landfall



The Mainland was the continent of humanity's birthplace, but even in the modern day it was still the sole region of the planet inhabited by humans. There were many expeditions launched throughout history, of course, even with the church condemning these ventures as heretical, but none of them had ever succeeded – or at least, none of them had ever returned.

That all changed when the Horizon made landfall upon the yet-unnamed continent, driving the great seafaring vessel up onto the beach. Normally it would be dangerous to beach a ship the size of the Horizon, but the uniquely designed hull made it an exception; one that allowed crew to disembark directly from the ship without need of either port or ferryboat.

As it was, the bow of the ship currently sat on a pristine, picturesque beach, located next to the mouth of a large estuary. Beyond the shoreline sat a dense forest, with flora unlike any he had ever seen – the leaves, branches, and trunks were all completely unique, with oversized vines hanging between the trees. Behind the forest stood a sizable mountain a short distance away, though it was dwarfed by the snow-capped giants that comprised the spine of the continent further inland. The ship had likely scared away most of the fauna, and the only animals that lingered within its presence were a number of relatively unremarkable crabs. A glance up at the sky revealed the occasional colorful bird, but they were too distant for him to make out any details.

The land wasn't exactly alien; the trees were still trees, and the birds were like birds, but it was all just slightly different in an unsettling manner.

Pryce let out a tired sigh as he shut down the engines. It was an achievement for a lone man to get a 50-meter ship to its destination, but he couldn't manage to feel any sense of accomplishment. This was supposed to be a triumphant moment, celebrated by the entire crew.

He wasn't supposed to bury them.

As the sole crewman present, Pryce had to do everything himself. This included tasks from cooking to maintenance, and right now he had to check the ship for leaks. The steel hull of the ship had made a few moderately concerning noises as it made landfall, and his first priority was to check for holes. The engineers of the ship had been trained in hull repairs, of course, but Pryce was not one of them. As such, he had no idea how to repair a punctured hull, aside from the fact that the process might have involved rappelling over the side of the ship.

Fortunately a thorough inspection showed that any damage sustained by the exterior of the hull had no visible effect on the interior of the ship. It was well designed in many respects, which made the carbon monoxide disaster all the more confusing.

The mystery had occupied Pryce's mind in all his waking hours, but it just didn't make any sense, no matter how much he thought about it. Of course, this time was no different, and the doctor forced himself to focus on something else. There was an endless amount of work to be done, but first he needed to determine his exact coordinates.

Pryce stepped out onto the deck shortly after nightfall, and he had just raised the sextant when something caught his eye: an earthen-hued sphere drifting lazily through the air, floating towards the ship. The doctor swiftly rushed forward, leaning over the railing to catch the object. Of course, in most situations it was foolish to touch a foreign object, but this was something that he recognized – a spore pod. These bizarre hydrogen-filled 'fruits' had been occasionally discovered throughout human history, and were often viewed as ill-omens. It wasn't until modern times when the pods were successfully germinated in a greenhouse, whereupon the bizarre fungus grew into something resembling a short, stout tree. Despite this breakthrough, none of the specimens could produce floating pods of their own, likely due to lacking the proper hydrogen-producing bacteria that their progenitors were presumed to have.

Pryce looked up at the sky, where a multitude of pods could be seen drifting with the wind. He wasn't sure why this particular pod wasn't floating as high as the others; perhaps it was older, or defective somehow. A ghost of a smile touched his lips as he released the spore pod, letting it float towards the beach. Finding the apparent source of these mysterious objects reminded him that there was much to learn here, and it was only right for him to carry on that duty in place of his fallen comrades.

The doctor stood there for some time, taking in the view. After a few minutes he shook his head, clearing his thoughts as he raised the sextant to read his latitude: 15.15 degrees north, plus or minus 0.05 degrees.

Pryce considered going straight for the ship's original destination now that the engines had tentatively proven themselves to be safe, but there was no rush. The soonest the second ship would arrive would be day 80, giving him plenty of time to work his way up along the coast of the continent. He'd spend his time here exploring as much of this land as he could, without needlessly risking himself. Pryce would need to set up the antenna eventually to listen for messages and updates from the Mainland, but that wouldn't be for some time yet.

Pryce nodded to himself, feeling a little better now that he had the concept of a plan. Then he remembered that he still had to bury his crewmates.

But that would have to come tomorrow; first he needed to sleep.

The doctor cranked open the wheelhouse windows as wide as they would go, then settled into his makeshift hammock. It should be impossible for the ship to poison him now that the engines were off, but the disaster didn't make any sense in the first place, so the doctor had resolved to sleep in the wheelhouse until he understood exactly what had happened.

Pryce tiredly climbed into the hammock and tried to sleep, without much success. Faint noises could be heard emanating from the forest, keeping him awake while he tossed and turned throughout the night.

Pryce woke up to find the sun had long since risen. He must have slept for quite some time, though he didn't feel rested at all. Breakfast was a somber affair – even more so than usual. Cooking and eating alone in a normally-bustling galley was a uniquely isolating experience, made significantly worse by the fact that he would soon be burying his crewmates.

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It was noon by the time Pryce finished eating, so he waited a little while longer to determine his longitude. While he could not use either of the ship's built-in antennas he could still use his chronometer, just as he had on out on the open ocean.

Soon his readings were complete:

15.15 ± 0.05°N
94.88 ± 0.04°W

It was nice to see some progress being made, but he could not bring himself to feel any satisfaction, especially now that he had nothing stopping him from the task that he'd been dreading for the past week.

Digging through loose sand was harder than one might expect. Excavating a small hole was easy, of course, but a proper grave required a deep hole, and it wasn't long before the sand grew wet and heavy.

Exotic bird calls rang through the forest as he worked, and Pryce was sure to glance around for any potential threats. The organizers of the expedition had anticipated the possibility of dangerous wildlife, so the Horizon had brought with it a small arsenal of hunting rifles. The high caliber rifle made shovelling a little more difficult, but he wasn't about to take any unnecessary risks now.

Shovel by shovel, he gradually excavated a good portion of sand. Eventually he had to take a break, and he was in the process of climbing out of the pit when he lost his footing. He wheeled his arms as he tumbled back down the freshly-dug pit, landing on his rear with a muffled thud. The doctor groaned – more surprised than in pain, but his fall had destabilized the surrounding area, causing the wall of the pit to collapse upon him in a cascade of sand.

Pryce barely managed to keep his head uncovered, but the pile of sand on top of his chest meant each breath was an increasingly difficult struggle. The flow of sand gradually slowed to a trickle as he struggled to escape, and he knew it was only a matter of time until he suffocated. It was difficult not to panic while buried beneath a pile of sand, but he managed to take a moment to stop and think. Each breath caused minute shifts in the sand that threatened to fully bury him, but it was also something that he could use.

He filled his lungs with as much air as he could manage, then exhaled as he pushed himself up with all his might. The sand shifted – just a little, but it was progress. The doctor repeated the process a few more times, with each attempt generating a little more movement than the last. Finally, he managed to push himself free, and staggered out of what was nearly his own grave.

There he panted for several minutes, his hands resting on his knees as he gradually recovered. As the tension drained away, embarrassment took its place. He'd almost died just now, and in such a mortifying manner…he needed to be more careful.

The unpleasant truth of the matter was that he couldn't stop now. He still had to bury his comrades, so after a few more minutes of recovery he returned to his task of digging a grave. He was far more careful this time, of course, and eventually his grueling labor produced a small grave fit for several bodies.

It was obvious that he couldn't dig a grave for everyone – not with the wind threatening to fill it back in – so Pryce climbed the stairs back up the ship to retrieve his comrades. He faintly wondered if he should have given them a burial at sea after all, but it just felt wrong to discard their bodies into the ocean. The doctor knew that it was logically no different from a traditional burial, but bringing the crew to their intended destination seemed like the least he could do, even if it had to be in death.

He began with the closest body – a once-friendly engineer by the name of Emile. The man had always been ready and willing to answer Pryce's many questions.

Slowly, carefully, the doctor dragged Emile's body through the hallway, trying not to recall the memories of their acquaintance. A minute later he laid the body down into the sand pit.

Next was Siebert, his fellow doctor. She was one of two individuals he'd tried to resuscitate; her and the captain. Pryce often wondered if he could have saved her, if only he'd noticed things a little sooner.

Siebert's slight frame was easier to carry, and it didn't take long for Pryce to carry her back to the beach, but something caused the doctor to freeze just before the burial pit.

It was empty.

Pryce stared at the empty grave, baffled by the sight before him. It was almost as if Emile had risen from the grave, but of course that was impossible. There were no footprints or animal tracks around the pit, so no creature could be responsible for this…unless it was capable of flight? That seemed to be the likeliest explanation, especially considering that rocs once existed on the Mainland.

Pryce whipped his head around, ready to flee from an airborne predator – but there were no birds to be seen, and…no bird calls either.

Only now did Pryce realize that the forest had fallen silent.

Pryce was the furthest thing from an outdoorsman, but even he knew that was an ill omen. He scanned the forest as he retreated towards the ship, but there was nothing to be seen…and that was exactly the problem.

On the beach, just before the pit laid a patch of flat sand. It seemed almost normal, save for the fact that it was devoid of debris, ripples, or shadows.

Pryce continued backing away, dragging Siebert with him. Slowly, carefully, he picked up the rifle he'd placed nearby, then continued towards the stairs. When the doctor felt that he was safe, he raised his rifle to the sky and fired.

A flurry of motion accompanied the crack of the rifle – something bolted into the forest, kicking up sand as it fled with incredible speed. Pryce felt his heart in his throat as he cycled the rifle, ready for whatever happened next.

Five seconds passed. Then twenty. Nothing moved, and the forest remained silent.

…It seemed that he was safe, for now. Taking another look around, Pryce was shocked to see a baffling sight; near the grave lay Emile's body, right beneath where the creature had been sitting.

What the hell was that?

[JOURNAL ENTRY EXCERPTS]

Day 20,

I've been too preoccupied to keep a record of things. I'll do a better job of it now that I have the time.

I still don't know what I encountered on the beach, but I'll summarize my findings here:

An examination of Emile's corpse revealed shallow bite and talon marks. These wounds were minor, and clearly not meant to rend. It is likely the creature has been watching me for some time, and it took the opportunity to inspect the cadaver. These facts, combined with how it prioritized an investigation over a meal, implies some degree of intelligence, though I cannot say to what extent.

Inspecting the trail the creature left behind revealed a very odd set of tracks. Each footprint was larger than my own, though it seemed to only possess two digits. Perhaps a third was held off the ground, like the extinct raptors?

More importantly, I swear I saw the 'raptor' change colors as it fled through the forest. I've never heard of a land animal with adaptive camouflage before, but I see no reason for the trait to be solely reserved for marine life.

The existence of these raptors has forced me to postpone the burial for now. I cannot risk venturing out onto the beach when they might be hiding in plain sight. I've also pulled up the stairs in case the raptors decide to explore the ship.

I spent the rest of the day setting out bait for the raptor, but the creature did not return – at least, if it did then I did not see it. I'm not sure what to do, but I'll continue observations tomorrow. Hopefully I'll learn something helpful.


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