Through the LEaves

  

Through the LEaves

by Chris Morton

The storm ends on the seventh day and the ship pulls in close enough for our shuttle to make the final run in to the island.

I have all my equipment, suffice to say. Telescopes and spare lenses. Two tripods. The main telescope and one other of smaller size, easier to carry and that would stand up to better conditions. I will not tire the recipient with the details (astronomers will know I am using the John Hope models. For non-astronomers this name will mean nothing).

I have food, water, and the means to replenish my rations. I have the opportunity to fish, and the practice. Apparently there are bOar on the island. And mOnkeys.

The shuttle took us in through waves.

And I pulled my crate along the beach, looking at where to set up camp.

I have spare clothes, dried meat, a pillow (the one luxury I allowed myself); torch, knives and fire-sparks. I have a saw, a hammer and nails. No books, no holo-novels; no music.

But I have my knowledge of survival and my sanity remains, despite what they say.

Up above the asteroid is invisible to the naked eye as I drag my crate along the beach of pure white sand. There is a cool breeze while the twin Solaris bear down. Solaris-4 and -5. I must be careful not to get burnt.

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This story appears in the collection Adventures in Sci-fi. To continue reading, click here.