Chapter 12: A Day in the Life of the Asteroid Field Part 2

Over nine hours would pass. The field of floating rocks almost seemed endless, blanketed by the infinite sea of darkness and spotted starlight. The Oracip asteroid field portion was lifeless but unending. In the far distance was the Lifen, traveling along a parallel course and staying completely out of the field. Near the edge of the belt was a tiny flying black rectangle. It was almost entirely flat but carried two little wings on the sides. Occasionally, the small thruster packs would activate so the odd craft would avoid any sizeable rocks that came its way.

Inside this stealth shuttle was Mizu. He was lying down and strapped in as he kept a firm grip on his controls. The compartment inside could easily inspire a person to claustrophobia. The shuttle was designed for stealth first and foremost, with little care for comfort. Any profile given off would only increase the likelihood of detection.

For Mizu, it was raw tedium combined with the fact that his sensor display board would have to continually advise him of an incoming asteroid. Some areas were fine, as the rocks would harmlessly bounce off the hull. However, not every rock completely cooperated with the orbital pattern of the debris field. Some were sent off course or were the size of tables. Occasionally, the field would get horrifically dense that it could shower Mizu’s ship with multiple tiny pebbles. Despite moving slowly, it was obviously dangerous. Thankfully, on this portion of the trip, the shuttle was moving with the field and not against it.

The internal compartment had multiple displays showing the status of the ship and surrounding areas. In front of the shuttle was an enormous rock, the hearty remains of planet Oracip. However, at the current course and speed, it would still take another hour to reach it.

“Ugh...,” Mizu grunted as he reached over and tapped a button on his display. The sensor screen changed. Thankfully, most of the craft was automated and taking care of the task for him. However, it was evident that he had to take some care not to venture too deep as the shower of rocks would likely increase. At the same time, if he ventured too far from the field, the sensor data would start to decline, and he would get a complaint call from Lifen.

“Even with eight hours, it still feels like twelve,” Mizu complained.

There were a few small “dink” sounds as a couple of tiny rocks bounced off the hull. By this time, it had become background noise. But, it was the one thing that kept Mizu from falling asleep, as the sounds were random and never followed any particular pattern.

“Lifen to Stealth-Bro,” Patterson’s voice called out on the internal comms.

Mizu reached over and tapped the open comms button. “Stealth-Bro here,” he replied.

“Have you been relieved of your recon watch?”

“Negative, sir,” Mizu grunted. “I haven’t seen Dean anywhere. Did he already launch?”

“Affirmative. Ten minutes ago.”

“Great ... I guess we can’t track him. Did you try to hail him?”

“We are, but he hasn’t responded.”

“Damn,” Mizu said. He pulled on his flight control as he gently flew over a house-sized rock. “Any signs of trouble?”

“We aren’t tracking any distress beacons or signs of an explosion in your area.”

“Ah ... I’ll try to ... AHHH!”

Mizu pulled on his flight control to the left as he looked over and saw a giant black wall to his side. It completely covered his ability to see the asteroids.

“Mizu! Mizu!” Patterson called out. “Report!”

“Oh, shit! Sir, the Silent-Bro shuttle is right next to me. Dean!”

There was a short pause before Dean’s voice filled Mizu’s cabin.

“Whoa ... oh, sorry, Mizu-Bro,” the other pilot called out. “I think I accidentally turned off my comms when I, like ... took off.”

“Damn it, Dean. You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Yeah, that’s totally on me, man. I’m sorry.”

“Lifen to both shuttles,” Patterson’s voice seemed to show anger. “Dean, we can’t track your shuttles effectively. You are to maintain a comms link with the Lifen at all times. Is that clear?”

“Don’t worry, sir,” Dean said. “I’ll make sure Silent-Bro is always with you, you know?”

“Ugh ... Mizu return to the hangar bay.”

“Aye, sir,” Mizu replied. “Back in the box.”

Inside the other shuttle was Dean. The cockpit layout was completely similar to Mizu’s spacecraft. With Dean, however, he seemed completely relaxed. He watched as Mizu’s ship banked and did a slow 45-degree turn to the left, heading on a return trip to the Lifen.

“Take care Mizu-Bro, Silent-Bro has your back,” Dean said.

“Yeah ... you too,” Mizu replied. The comms line to him was broken as Dean looked forward at the rocks ahead of him. Then, the man hit the mute button on his comms.

“Yep, yep,” Dean said to himself. “Life is good, isn’t it, Silent-Bro? Like ... you are so stealthy that he didn’t even see you. Maybe we need to put some more white paint on you, you know? Make you easier to see?” He paused. “Yeah, but you lost your paint from all the debris hitting you. I’m sorry, Silent-Bro. You deserve better.”

The pilot said nothing for several seconds. The broken core of Oracip was enough to fill a lot of the forward starboard screen. The violent collision between both planets was absolutely catastrophic. The only difference was that Oracip was less intact than the other planet, Picaro. At least three chunks were the size of a small moon. It still hovered close to the shattered core, but it was unknown if the next thousands of years if the debris would continue to separate or not. Whatever core activity existed in the world was long extinguished. Because of the absolute density of rocks, these areas were deemed off-limits to even the toughest of ships. The risk of getting crushed by wandering debris was too much. However, some daredevils may still see the desire to find the rarest of metals in this area.

Thunk! A large rock smacked the bottom nose of the shuttle.

“Oh, Silent-Bro, I’m sorry,” Dean said. “I know they like ... had to cut down on your flights. Don’t worry. I got your back.”

There was another pause as Dean seemed bored. There was no doubt that having to fly through the edge of a debris field was dangerous. But the ever-constant tedium was taxing even the best of pilots. The blond-haired man was tapping his finger next to the console.

“Hey, Silent-Bro? You mind if I smoke?” Dean asked it. He paused for a little bit. “I know ... I know, I shouldn’t be smoking, but I wouldn’t mind just a little bit of weed, you know?” He pinched his fingers. “Just a little bit. I mean ... I’ve been good. I’m healthy and in good shape.” He paused for a few seconds. “Izzy won’t be happy? Well ... you got a good point, Silent-Bro. Izzy wouldn’t be happy, but she would understand. Like ... I don’t want to fall asleep on you and get us hurt ... What’s that?...” He seemed like he was thinking. “Yeah, you got a point. But, that’s like ... not fair. I’m Dean ... Duper Dean ... one of the best UHN pilots out there. And, like, I got the best bros out there, including you, Silent-Bro. You can understand if I just ... get a little bit.”

Despite lying down in the shuttle, the zero gravity had little impact on the man’s body. Only the acceleration of the craft brought the sheer weight onto his frame. But, at a constant speed, he was weightless. He reached into his pocket and hesitated for a short bit. He had to do it. Even if the hours were cut short, it was just ... boring.

Finally, Dean’s right hand fished into his uniform chest pocket. He pulled out the pride of his somewhat prior stoned life. It was the same crushed sea kelp given to him. It still carried the label on it: “Oshunkelp-Bro, like ... only use me in emergencies!”

“Yeah ... like ... there you are,” Dean said as he looked at it. “My best stuff. I wish I had a score of Hlen’weed with me. I would take a hit of that, but ... hmm.”

The bag was showing signs of degradation. The crushed kelp had been aging. Instead of the brownish green, it looked more like brownish black. He opened the bag and took a whiff.

“Oh, no!” Dean remarked. “Oshunkelp-Bro, speak to me. Like ... you’re fermenting. Oh ... bummer.”

The pilot closed up his bag and looked ahead of the asteroid belt. He flipped on the switch for music tracks that were stored in it. He found one. “Livin on a Mountain High,” Written in 2112. He pressed the play button as the cabin began to play a form of laid-back country music. Sometimes, it was known as mountain-country music on former Earth. The guitar was calm and peaceful as the long-dead singer sang the melody lyrics.

“Well ... I should still try it...,” Dean said to himself. “I have to make sure that it still works.” He paused as he looked at the display screen. “What’s that, Silent-Bro? Eh ... I shouldn’t try it? It could hurt me? Like ... I’ll be fine, my friend. Oshunkelp-Bro has never failed me in the past. Plus ... I get weird dreams every time I use it.”

There was another slap on the front portion of the armor as a rock dinged the hull. Dean carefully took a very tiny portion and pulled out his smoke pipe. He was carefully using the tiniest portion, unlike the previous times that he used it, just in case it was potentially lethal. The stench was present but not horrible. He brought the pipe to his mouth and turned it on. The fine lasers burned the kelp, producing a white, puffy smoke. From there, Dean took a hit.

He waited ... and waited. He blew out the smoke as he grabbed the flight control stick and adjusted the heading to dodge a boulder-sized asteroid. So far ... nothing.

“Huh...,” Dean remarked. “Like ... I feel nothing this time. Maybe I’m not using enough.” He took another hit, but the feeling generated was nonexistent. He blew the smoke from his nostrils.

Nothing ... it was like the weed had lost all its potency. Dean always remembered that this stuff was powerful, if not outright problematic. He used it twice to great effect.

“Silent-Bro,” Dean addressed his ship. “I don’t think this stuff works anymore, you know? Like ... it just doesn’t work.” He took another drag and coughed a little bit. “Nah ... it’s no good.”

“Deeeaaaan...,” a female voice echoed in the cabin.

“Ah...” Dean began to look around in the cabin. “Was that you, Silent-Bro?”

“Dean?” the same voice echoed.

“Who is that voice?”

The pilot couldn’t figure out what was going on. Who was talking to him? His comms weren’t unmuted. He gave a confounded look.

“DEAN!” the voice startled him.

“WHOA!” Dean yelled out.

Suddenly, Dean was standing in the hangar bay of the Lifen. It was like he was instantly teleported from one place to another. In his hand was his smoking pipe. It was a complete shock. He could feel his boots magnetized to the deck. Right in front of him was Petty Officer Amelia. The woman had her hands on Dean’s shoulder, almost as if she were trying to stir him awake.

“Like ... what happened, Emy?” Dean asked in his stoned voice.

“You tell me, Dean,” Amelia replied. “We were worried there for a second. You finished up your recon flight and landed on the Lifen.”

“But ... I was just in there,” Dean said with a dumbfounded look.

“I ... know that. You flew for eight hours and returned. Are you ok?”

Dean looked at his smoking pipe. He took a small whiff and knew the burnt ashes were there. He had used it, but he was left completely clueless as to how he magically transported back to the Lifen without any sense of memory.

“I don’t remember landing...,” Dean said, putting his pipe away.

“Well, apparently, you were coherent enough that you were requesting landing orders. You landed without any issue. I have to say...,” Amelia looked at the flat shuttle. “The damage is pretty light. Mizu’s is more banged up than yours.”

“Well ... I do care about Silent-Bro? I don’t want any harm to come to him, you know?”

“That wasn’t the case for the last couple of flights you made. But, this time, my engineers have little to worry about.”

Dean couldn’t believe it. His memory of the last eight hours was utterly nonexistent. He had somehow entirely operated the ship through the edge of the asteroid field. Then, he managed to land it without as much as a scratch. He was left rubbing his head.

“Like ... was I doing anything wrong?” Dean asked.

“You act like you don’t remember anything,” Amelia said. “I know that Officer Patterson was expressing a little bit of concern for you. Apparently, a few hours ago, you were in the comms singing some sort of song. He was telling you to knock it off, but you just kept singing ... and singing ... and singing. It was the same song over and over again.”

“I was?” His eyes squinted as he tried his hardest to remember.

“Yep...,” Amelia put her hands on her hips. “I don’t know what it was that you’re smoking, but I promise not to tell Patterson if you keep doing the flying that you were doing before. My engineers will thank you.”

“Magic weed...,” Dean said, shaking his head. He turned to look at the stealth shuttle. It was true. The damage was marginal at best.

“Did I use the shuttle’s bathroom?” he asked. “I don’t even need to pee. I feel a little hungry. Besides that. Like ... I feel nothing. That’s...,” he nodded his head. “This stuff is amazing!” He held his hands up in cheer. A big smile appeared on his face.

“Right...,” Amelia said. “Well, you can have fun, but it’s my turn to get to work.” She waved her fingers at him. “Go get yourself checked out or relax. I don’t care...”

Dean felt happy, but after he lowered his hands, he felt something poking from his lower right pocket. As he walked away, he pulled out the paper-thin item.

It was a small postcard of some sort. On it was a scantily clad pregnant woman. She was amazingly beautiful. Her facial features were similar to that of an Egyptian from former Earth. She had long black hair and bronze smooth skin. She rested on a couch, giving a wink at the camera. For her clothing, she had a gold bikini that covered her chest and crotch. She made no attempt to hide her bulging belly. If anything, she perfectly wanted the cameraman to see it. On her head was some sort of Egyptian headband that Dean didn’t recognize.

“Whoa...,” Dean said to himself. “I don’t remember seeing her before.” He flipped the card over, which had a single paragraph written in pen.

“I had a good time with you, Dean. If you ever come to New Olympia, come and stop by my place. Bring your wife so we can all have a ‘really’ good time together. Love, Taweret.”

“Ha ... She must be pretty nice,” Dean remarked with a dumbfounded smile. He put the card into his pocket. “But ... how do I tell Izzy what happened? Hmmm...” He maintained his walk down the loading bay. If only he could remember what happened...

It had been the following morning. Shira, Stone, and Ioren were walking down the passageway. They were closing in on the sealed brig. The captain’s hands were neatly wrapped behind her back. She walked as if she had contemplated everything that was about to happen. Meanwhile, the master sergeant still maintained his stalwart walk, hands enclosed into fists. The mean look persisted on his face.

Two marines, Gavrill and Enlai, were standing guard by the door. They stiffened their stance as they saw the master sergeant and captain approach them, their rifles kept close to their Mclevar vests.

“Stone,” Shira calmly addressed him as she came to a stop not far from the entrance. The master sergeant and Ioren both came to a halt. Stone barely glanced at the Shal’rein woman.

“Yes?” Stone replied.

“There is something that I need to know. Something that you might not be telling me.”

“And what is that?”

“Torrin stated that there was a person interested in taking your life. Do you happen to know who this individual is?”

Stone seemed to think about it while he kept an angered look. Ioren was thinking about it as well, but even she remained clueless.

“No...,” Stone replied. “I have too many that want me dead.”

“Yes ... I would imagine that would be your response. However, upon analysis of the bullet that was used in an attempt to kill you, it was concluded that it was the same type of round used in the UHN anti-material rifles.”

“That wasn’t what hit me in the shoulder.”

“That isn’t what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the one who was waiting in ambush. The one that Doctor English kicked you in the back so you wouldn’t be hit by it.”

“What is it that you’re trying to get at? Spit it out.”

Shira had fully turned to look at him as she kept her same demeanor. “I find it curious that it was the same type of bullet used against you back in Oshun. The one that Ioren was struck by when she saw the shooter at the last second, saving your life at the near expense of hers.”

“The M136 rifle has found itself in the hands of many, Captain,” Stone explained. “I have the civilian variant back at my home. With the competency of the UHN, I’m not surprised that some amateur picked it as their first rifle in hopes of killing me.”

“And the fact that there is a pieced remains of a reptilian’s eye etched into the bullet fragments?”

There was a pause as Stone seemed to think about it. He looked around for a moment. Ioren’s feathers seemed to rise a little bit as she stiffened at the concept.

“No...,” Stone said. “It would be impossible.”

“I have read your reports, Stone,” Shira told him. “The M136 bullet fragment recovered from Oshun also suggested a possible symbol, although they were in far less favorable conditions to conclude anything. I admit, the idea of a shooter leaving a ‘calling card’ is nothing the Shal’rein don’t do differently as well. Especially if they have a blood feud or seek the right of vengeance.”

“Then you also know that man is dead. Straight through his own scope. We recovered his corpse later on.”

“Yes ... yet, the same strategy was used again. Care to explain?”

Stone shook his head. “I see no point in this.”

“Hmmm ... it’s obvious that the truth will become clear quite soon. The next matter is extracting the information needed from Torrin. What do you believe would be the best choice of action?”

“Since we’re not restricted, the first course of action would be pain. Our medical can keep him alive. Chinese water torture might work, but with the ship having to make course corrections, it would lead to unsteady drips. We can try using Hycropentothal, although UHN truth serums don’t always work. We can try Triciatrophine. It’s a little ... off the book when it comes to interrogations, but...” Stone gave an affirmative nod. “I see no harm in doing it.”

“Hmmm ... indeed. However, he will be expecting this. He does carry augmented kidneys. They would help reduce the potency of the drugs put into him.”

“And the Itreans?” Stone asked. “Surely, you have ways of extracting information from your own prisoners.”

“With our bodies, we have been made almost immune to all but the deadliest of contagions and chemical agents. Truth serums and drugs would only be so effective against us. Physical harm is usually the preferred method, along with the threat of losing other loved ones. However, even then, we rarely take prisoners alive as it ultimately proves unfruitful in extracting information. Intelligence gathering is done by other means.”

“Ghaj’Tri’Vela, might work on him,” Ioren’s tilon stated. “Never tried it on humans.”

“The other issue is that any Itrean products that we use might be too much for Torrin’s body to handle,” Shira remarked. “For now, I recommend we remain with human ideas.”

“We can try to disable the safety features of his kidneys,” Stone said. “That, and it still wouldn’t hurt to try the drugs.”

“It seems that Torrin was anticipating the possibility of being captured. Chief Caeytano has already confirmed a fail-safe feature placed into the artificial kidneys. If they are tampered with in any way, it will send an energy surge into his brain, killing him.”

Stone sighed. “First his tooth and now this. He’s more afraid of talking than anything else ... hmph...”

“For now, we will try brute force, but we have all the time needed regardless. Torrin doesn’t know this. We will adjust our tactics appropriately.”

“You want me to cut him into tiny little pieces, I’ll do it. I just want to make sure it is what you want.”

“Hmmm...,” Shira stated. “I will leave most of the interrogation in your hands for now. We proceed as we originally planned yesterday. Let us proceed.”

“Alright,” Stone said. The three walked over to Gavrill standing by the door panel. Ioren closed up her talon and put it into her pocket.

“Open the door,” the towering man said to the marine.

“You got it, Master Sergeant,” Gavrill replied. He turned around and put in the key codes.

“And for the both of you. If you hear any screaming coming from within, disregard it. Am I clear?”

“Aye, Master Sergeant,” Enlai said.

Gavrill nodded as he finished up with the final lock. “Aye...”

The door slid open as Stone, Shira, and Ioren stepped inside. When they did, they saw Torrin sitting in the corner. His eyes were somewhat closed, almost as if the opening doors stirred him awake. The three began to resume their typical positions in the room as before once the doors slid closed. Stone would be the lead interrogator. Ioren remained on watch. Shira was already in the process of pressing her back against the bulkhead near the panel, her tail slipping to the side. She pulled out her tin box, getting ready to pluck out one of her long cigarettes.

Torrin looked up to see Stone standing in the center of the room. “Well...,” Torrin remarked. “Am I going to finally get some breakfast this morning, or am I going to be kept starving?”

Stone walked over to the man. The growing anger could be seen in his eyes. With a hard kick, he struck Torrin’s arm.

“Get the fuck up!” Stone yelled at him.

“Heh ... I’m Bautista,” he said.

“I said...,” Stone reached down and grabbed the man. The master sergeant’s strength was more than enough to pick him up and toss him to the seat next to the table.

“Have a seat, Torrin!” he finished his sentence.

“Umph...” The prisoner grunted. His butt slammed against the seat so hard that he almost flew off of it and back onto the floor. The chair legs handled just enough that Torrin gained his footing. The glowing chained handcuffs kept him from flailing his arms. Dazed, the prisoner looked at the three, where Stone walked to the center of the room.

“And how long are we going to proceed with these false allegations against me that I’m another man?” Torrin said. “Am I going to have that lawyer that I requested?”

Shira was lighting her cigarette with her laser lighter.

“Your physical examination told us everything,” Stone told him. “Hello, Torrin.”

Any last attempt for the prisoner to worm out of the old argument was mute at that point. He gave a slight hint of a smile at Stone, almost as an act of defiance.

“I want names,” the master sergeant said. “The people you worked with in the last several years. Tell us everything we need to know.”

“Why would I? It would accomplish nothing.”

Stone walked to the table and backhanded him. Torrin’s face recoiled a little bit from the pain inflicted upon him. He placed his hands against the table.

“Names, Torrin!” Stone asked again.

“You didn’t answer my question, Stone,” Torrin reiterated. “I tell you names and what would it result? You can’t stop them!”