Castaway: Von's Haven
Chapter 3

Copyright© 2014 by Feral Lady

Sci-Fi Time-Travel Sex Story: Chapter 3 - Von finds himself dropped into a medieval world alone. A head injury steals his memory and the meager supply from an escape pod won't take him far. He must find civilization and survive until rescued. His training has not prepared him for what is coming. Yet, the A.I. survived in the crippled ship in orbit and it's working to keep him alive.

Caution: This Sci-Fi Time-Travel Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Science Fiction   Harem   Polygamy/Polyamory   Black Female   White Male   Hispanic Female   Pregnancy   Slow   Sci-Fi time travel story, Man Travels Back in Time sex story, Man Travels in time to a medieval world sex story

The scene is a bird's eye view of a brackish marsh with an early morning sun to the east: a small group of tall but dead Cypress trees, gray with stark empty limbs surrounded a brown, mud-covered, white capsule. This is an upland edge of a protected bog with dead stems thick above the hydrated soil surface. On the other side of a long ridge embankment a white tailed deer runs, splashing white foamy water among salt-meadow cord-grass. Nearly hidden blue patches of running water peek out of the action as the grass bends in the wind, creating the appearance of a field of tufts. This long field of bright green cord-grass is bounded by numerous clumps of short trees and fern bushes with broad meandering streams full of narrow-leaved cattail. Almost as far as can be seen little islands of trees populate bits of flatland, embraced by the cord-grass fields and shallow, open-flowing streams. Birds of all types dash through the scene.

Much further south, sandbars along the coastline enclose bodies of water and form a lagoon-type estuary with tiny islands covered with reed homes. To the west, steep hills are covered with Juniper bushes and evergreen groves of Cinchona trees. A blue-eyed lone wolf, sitting on a rock ends, my dream.


The morning sun yanked me to the present as it sifted through the oval observation window, a stream of light-filled dust particles. I stretched my legs along the floor, looking up at the ceiling from my back to a previously unnoticed service hatch. Not giving myself time to recognize a new odor in the cabin, I rolled to my knees and one foot at a time stood up. I glanced at the dual monitors, recognizing the displayed external data. I put a hand to the seat and spun it for no particular reason, except that a bit of nervous energy drained out of me.

I did not want to look at Stephen, knowing what awaited me. With a quick hop I landed on the narrow white computer table and reached for a rung to the side of the monitors—and climbed. My eyes remained fixed on the round service hatch, having only to climb a short distance, perhaps six rungs total about three hand spans between each. I stopped to regain my composure as thoughts of my dream assured me what was outside. With an arm stuffed in a rung for security, I undogged the latches and let the thick metal service hatch swing open. There was a small, service compartment up there with various electronics hidden behind labeled drawers, and more importantly to me, another service hatch at the top with "External Exit" on it. A fat man was not going to fit in the confines of this area but the one person alive in this capsule would. After climbing another six or eight rungs, not wanting any random thoughts to hinder me, the last hatched opened to a cloudless blue sky. Near the capsule, moss was hanging from washed-gray cypress trees,.

The Great Marsh was bustling with activity as the animals scattered at the steel bell sound that resonated around the courier's escape pod when the the external hatch thumped the hull. Colorful birds shifted to more distant evergreen trees. A few white-tails caught my eye as they sank from view in the tall, green cord-grass beyond the ridge embankment. I scanned the horizon south for a particular patch of dark green fir trees which marked the location of a wide open stream that eventually led to the main channel that connected to the lagoon village. The certainty of the knowledge really didn't bother me. The oddness that I saw this picture unfold before me did.

"Is this some natural ability my people are accustomed to? This sort of knowledge feels comfortable, but with no long-term memory to put it into context, it is honestly offensive to my sanity."

I breathed a sigh of relief at the marsh and sincerely declared, "Uncle, I will do my very best to honor you and stay alive." Perhaps that was a bit dramatic but when you need purpose, honoring a man clears a confused mind.

To focus on something more immediate, I noted the white, egg-shaped capsule had partly sunk in this brackish marsh. Uncle Stephen deserved a safe resting spot and inside a sealed, metal capsule seemed right. There were no available dry spots to actually bury him. Should our rescue beacon attract help, he would be found and given suitable burial. As for me it looked like a self-rescue was appropriate. To be honest, if this planet had modern technology, beams of bright light would have filled the marsh last night as search and rescue responded to our emergency broadcast beacon. The image of reed homes flashed with a quick thought regarding the local state of development. My plan would be to meet the locals.

I left the exit hatch open and returned to the main cabin to gather supplies; it was time to get out of here, since it was still early morning. The capsule cabin felt restrictive compared to the expansive marsh that had filled the horizon. It was quick work to find survival gear since one was secured under each crew seat. In no time at all, the G.O. Survival Bag was pulled out with its hydration pack, filled with water. The craft's designer had engineered a water spigot attached to my fancy water bottle that just needed activating to fill and detach it. The water reservoir was a small, black pack with non-padded straps that spread the load evenly across my back, making it balanced and comfortable to move. A small black tube for sucking water pulled easily to reach my mouth. The purifier in the reservoir was nice, but I wasn't sure if it would clean everything found in this alien planet's water. An embossed "Wolfenstein" was printed on the back of the pack above a gray wolf head symbol. A manufacture disclaimer tag stated the closed cell insulation and nanofreeze tube cover would keep the water cool for days. The hot marsh would be a good test.

Someone had marked up the G.O. Survival Bag and written "Game Over Bag"; I wondered if it was Stephen—that was his type of dry humor. The bag was a fanny pack with padded waist belt and adjustable shoulder harness. It was not heavy and was a camo color. The belt had two side pockets and a front pocket for easy access. The webbing loops for lashing on extra gear really tripped my fancy. One of the loops already had a small square pouch labeled Podballs attached; inside, four lightweight devices stared at me, like eye balls. A flashlight lens covered the top of these silver metal balls that were the size of large walnuts. The back of the pouch flap stated that Podballs were used to distract unwanted animals and to attract nearby rescue and recover crews. It warned not to operate inside the escape capsule (Rolling Illuminated Distraction Disorientation Device). The rest of the label read like a marketing ad, they are waterproof and shockproof concentric balls, designed to wobble and spin when tossed and then land light up. I immediately decide to call them Wobblers. It did not look like they floated. The disorientation part had me wondering how far to throw them.

Inside the small bag was a combination of items: individual energy bars in sealed packages, fire starter, carabiner clip light, basic first aid kit, a paper thin reflective survival blanket, braided NanoLine cordage on a spool, duct tape in hi-visibility yellow, chemical water-purification kit and straw. The back outside compartment zipped open to reveal a black Hullarmor Trench Axe (Mohawk axe head and pick on the back).

It is funny how your stomach rumbles when you are hungry and you see food. Fine—energy bars are not real food, whereas the hunger was real. A few minutes rifling through drawers at the water tub station produced a reasonable collection of rather tasteless granola bars. It felt awkward eating in front of Uncle Stephen so I looked around the cabin's lockers and found a couple of simple brown wool blankets. It was not hard to cover him carefully with a blanket. The other blanket got thrown on the game over bag for the moment. The same locker had a few plastic garbage bags in a cardboard box that looked promising for the bag pile too.

Looking over the dead body took my appetite away, and the last few chews of the chocolate chip granola bar had me standing at the narrow closet by the blast door. Inside the narrow and shallow metal closet were a few interesting items for my journey. The labels and instructions affixed inside the closet door itemized what was there. The first was an item with no immediate use for me, a bright red flare gun next to a sealed clear cylinder with three different colored flares stacked up and one night illumination flare. The second thing worth keeping were four plastic poncho raincoats, each yellow waterproof garment folded tightly into a small square. The third item was a long wooden pole, about the width of my two smallest fingers, with a silver tip of composite material on one end and black switch prominently featured near the other end. The laughter bounced off all the pod walls before I realized it and ended with my nervous chuckle. Here was a shock staff used for crowd control or in this case intended for repelling unwanted animal attacks which came too near the pod's campsite. The instructions on the door said not to stand in water during usage. I am man enough to say inadvertent electrocution was not appealing. "How serious are they about the water?" The last item in the closet was a small black aluminum pot with a lid.

"Perhaps I can catch some fish for the pot," I mused.

The paranoid thoughts of needing protection from wild animals and dangerous humans had occurred to me and were slightly alleviated by obtaining a staff, in addition to the nice clan blade strapped to my leg. A rifle or a personal side arm would be better protection, but a standard four-person escape pod for a family ship did not seem to rate real weapons.

A few more minutes of ransacking the capsule and I was sure that I had packed the plain, tan rucksack with all the practical items from the cabinet above Stephen. It made sense to make a last log entry and power down everything but the electronic beacon. The solar panel's trickle charge will keep my rescue hopes going indefinitely. "If they can find me."

I stared at the marsh. Then, unable to dog the last hull hatch by feel, I shifted my eyes to the latch and kicked it forcefully from my sitting position. The last lever snapped into place, sealing the little ship. A wispy cloud passed over the egg-shaped capsule, putting it into shadow. My hands tightened, a short throb over my left eye distracted me while sliding down the smooth metal to land on what was left of a horizontal and quite decayed cypress tree limb. After running the length of the massive branch, an expeditious jump landed my rubber-soled footwear into mud almost up to my ankles. It took both hands to pull one shoe at a time out of the sucking mud. I made a labored trek to the nearby weed-covered embankment. The small rise of land spanned three arm lengths and was sculpted by a gentle stream on the other side that had not fully eroded it.

"If the day is going to take this much energy for every step already taken..." I ended the thought before it could be finished.

"Overcome, Adapt, Improvise!" A committed voice rang out of me. "I will strive to live with honor and valor, and I give myself to others, like Uncle Stephen."

On the embankment I stood in place, adjusted the tan rucksack on my back, and with both hands reached over my back to ensure the staff was secure across the left and right shoulder. Tall green reeds greeted me in the clear-water stream. The stream was shallow but expansive with many small, subdivided channels that formed a pattern resembling the strands of a braid. Salt-meadow cord-grasses dominated the view to the east. This section of the stream contained a wide variety of sea lavender, fleshy arrow-shaped orach, and elder with lance-shaped toothed leaves on terrain that was a bit sandy and slightly more elevated. I felt very small, looking to the horizon with the landscape repeating the same random pattern of foliage and water. My goal was the distant patch of deep green evergreen trees.

Hour after hour of carefully walking the shallow sandy stream, my footwear swishing water with each step, the flat terrain around me became narrower and more ponds and stagnant pools became evident. More brackish smelling water to my left concerned the paranoid me about quicksand. "Let's not step in quicksand." In this isolated, quiet region the chance of help in the wild is zero. A bit of anxiety welled up and sweat rolled down my cheek, a picture formed of a slow death in the grip of water and unforgiving sand, burning lungs with a breathless death. "On second thought, I think a precautionary tool is in order." I paused at the next ash tree, picked out the right length for a spear with my eyes, and then hacked at the hardwood branches with my long clan knife. The crude spear formed effortlessly after a reasonable number of strokes from the slick, hi-tech weapon.

My black-finished knife was longer than my forearm. It was a

hefty, drop-point blade shape with a generous, recurved edge to maximize cutting efficiencies across its full length. A recurve is basically when the blade has something of an "S" shape in it, usually creating a big belly that helps the knife excel at both slicing and chopping. The recurve also creates a bit of a forward angle on the edge allowing a regular drop point with a recurve to excel at draw-cuts. My bare hand on the grip activates the angry nanites the knife edge carries, and it glints like oil. "It can cut anything but the toughest Battlehull armor," my thoughts mused. "Nanites are an electromechanical device whose dimensions are measured in nanometers," my brain spat out the cataloged fact. Random factoids were just not shaking my emotions anymore. I knew what the knife was and what it did, even if I lacked any memories associated with it.

OK, the ash spear was more or less a walking stick to probe the depth of murky water. Also, I used it to make noise, thus giving creatures like snakes time to move away rather than be surprised and attempt unpleasant bites. As much as possible I avoided old fallen logs, which make great basking spots for snakes. More than a few muskrats seemed to avoid me, too, as I broke through more clumps of reeds to find more bleak and dark water holes. It took time to work around deep ponds. Some areas apparently looked unappealing even to wading birds like white cranes with their long, thin legs and agile toes. I used wading birds and water-loving shrubs as a guide post, altering my direction slightly to angle towards them, which successfully limited me to waist deep water thus far. The deep water slowed my progress and drained away my earlier cheery feelings about the Great Marsh's beauty.

As time pushed past late afternoon, I was drinking the cool tube water more and more, and the muck continued to accumulate on my black station clothes and fanny pack. My sensations below the waist ached everywhere. Casual station clothes have a certain flair and practical durability. I was happy to have them in this hot climate but if it cooled off towards evening, a troubled night of shivering would be coming up.

Hunger pains were a problem as the orange sun started going down and I reached the dense evergreen island. The water reservoir was a lot lighter on my back, but not yet critical. A fire was my first priority, to boil some water and clean off my hands and face before eating energy bars. After working my way across a thin but long island, I found a crescent shaped clearing facing a fast moving stream with a high gradient and giant conifers standing guard. My mind was a little cloudy with my temple throbbing from the physical exertion of the day. Stepping into the circle of my woodland hall, I dropped all my burdens except my knife.

I looked around the trees back in the woods, and without carrying a load anymore, the stiff muscles in my lower back strained awkwardly. I appreciated the number of dead limbs sticking out of pine trees like twisted dead fingers. "These are going in my fire pit," I thought with a broad smile. I had no real reference point for how fast the sun would go down, so with haste I chopped the dead foliage and made numerous trips back to the clearing with arm loads of wood. Dead grass and dried up bark were easy to find and mix with my other kindling materials for a tinder bundle. Taking the aluminum pot and fire starter out of some plastic bags from the packs, I had the fire blazing rather quickly. My brain went into a bit of a fog as the stress of the day bled out and I roamed around the fire, drying my clothes and boiling the water. I came to my senses and stripped off my clothes, quickly jumping into the clear stream water and then ran back to the fire. A little digging in the rucksack brought out the wool blanket, kept dry during my journey, for my bedroll.

A personal inspection found various irritating bug bites and leeches on both legs, which did not please me. It did not take long to identify the anterior sucker found at the small end of each leech. I gently but firmly slid a finger toward the wound where the leech fed, using a fingernail, I pushed the sucker sideways away from the skin. By flicking the leech the rear sucker quickly detached, too. "These bits are going to itch later. Hope they do not get infected." The leach on my ass was beyond my reach, so I burned it off with a stick from the fire. Fortunately more personal parts were not affected.

A brisk wash of my hands and face in the clear stream helped to refresh me before eating my ration bars. A bit of food in my stomach and with my dirty clothes back on, I poured the purified water from the aluminum pot into my water reservoir. The sun was a glorious ball of fire on the horizon as it did a last dip beyond the landscape of evergreen trees. A great sense of serenity surrounded me as I quickly fell asleep with a symphony of crickets and frogs, my clan knife and stun staff close at hand.

Chapter 4 »

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