Chapter 5: The Imprisoned

“The Itreans brought their war to us!” yelled a man that stood on a raised platform by the barracks hotel. His voice was loud, and it echoed throughout the streets.

Mizu momentarily stopped to listen to this person. He was near his assigned room and had just finished up eating. The building was nothing more impressive than the other buildings around it in New Sydney. The only thing of renowned interest was the man that was on the pedestal of some chair.

He knew the men were often called “chroniclers.” They were individuals who tried to publicly spread the word of the politicians. In the past, they were typically called political activists. Most of the time, politicians hired them, but a few would volunteer if they were politically motivated enough. Nowadays, it is usually both. They were incredibly profound, nearing the days of elections, but they were getting more and more common on the streets of Batrice. Fort Batrice was no exception, but it usually required a permit to engage in such actions. When they did, they would go to extreme lengths to spill out their political rhetoric or ideas. The more loud and vocal you were, the more likely people were going to listen.

This individual was dressed in solid blue and brown attire. This was a standard color favored by those who backed the Chanvatey administration if they were not wearing society’s familiar yellow and black fad colors. He had an augmented hand, much like Mizu had. This hand, however, was designed to maximize the projections to the highest clarity and resolutions so that people at great distances could see and hear them. For a chronicler, this older man was attuned to ensure that Chanvatey’s words and political idealism were pushed out to society to the best of his abilities. A crowd of individuals was already there. Mizu already knew that the bombing had riled the people up.

“People of Batrice, listen!” the man said in a Vietnamese accent. Projected from the man’s hand was that of Batrice’s flag. “Under the last three years, Prime Minister Chanvatey has been encouraging new reforms in your government. The goal is to strengthen Batrice greater and greater upon each day! Much like his ancestors who ruled in the parliament, he carries the great tradition of seeing Fort Batrice completed and operational. We stand on the testament of the might and construction of your past generations...”

There had to be at least forty individuals there. Most seemed a little bit bored. These were everyday events, and generally, some just walked on by, but now, it was becoming more pronounced. The bombing seemed to have caused a shift in the attitudes and personalities of the general people. They were more entranced by the chronicler’s words.

“Upon the great experiment of Gabatrix, we established this world!” the activist yelled. “We dig and got so good at digging that we expand our influence. We, the people of Batrice and Gillan, have asserted ourselves as the next step of UWA’s society. Without us, the people will not have the material wealth to continue! Without us, they won’t have the ability to make their own ships! Without us, they would bankrupt themselves! This was all made possible by all of you!”

Mizu continued to watch the crowds. More from the streets were beginning to approach to listen to this man. Mizu knew that he had to be politically neutral, especially since he was in his military uniform. The projection on the man’s hand changed. It began to show pictures and political cartoons that depicted a lizard woman with a spear. She was trying to impale the flag of the UWA.

“In the last year, we see the arrival of the Itreans!” the activist continued. “There, they bring their war down upon us! Each clan fights to destroy one another. They come to threaten us! Only two colonies have the full firepower to resist the Itrean might! You know what that is?”

“Us...” A few people said.

“You hear that?!” the man gestured to the crowd. “Say it again with more pride!”

“Us!” the crowd began to say again.

“Us!” the man continued. “We’re the only hope for the people of the UWA. Batrice and Gillan stand in the background of the glorious history of the Khmer. From there, we have learned to stand against the hostile invaders. Meanwhile, the great worlds of Mars and Cebravis lay weak! The UWA stands in defeat! Their only hope is to ally with an Itrean clan! The same ones that didn’t hesitate to have a spy vessel in our space!”

Mizu felt inclined to agree with the words. He remembered the destruction of the “Syn,” the T’rintar clan vessel that was near Trappist-1. It was shortly before the alliance was made between the humans and the T’rintar clan. Some of the people were beginning to nod their heads more and more in agreement.

“The Itreans fear us!” the activist continued to explain. “They ally with Mars and Cebravis, but did they listen to Batrice?”

“No!” the crowd replied.

“Did they listen to Gillan?”

“No!” the crowd replied again.

“You are all correct! The two ambassadors that made those treaties lie in our hospitals! They never bothered to ask what Batrice or Gillan wanted. We were forced to mine precious materials for the T’rintar clan. Our money! Our profits go into their wallets! The women are stealing from you. People of Batrice! Wake up!”

Mizu felt invigorated a little bit. Much like the crowds, he felt inclined to agree with this activist. The chronicler used his augmented hand to project another political cartoon. This one was showing a male politician with the word “Cebravis” written on his tuxedo. He had heart-filled eyes and was looking at a lizard woman in a bikini. In the man’s hands were gems and emeralds, tossing them to the alien woman. On the gems were written “Batrice and Gillan.” Meanwhile, the lizard woman carried a gun hidden behind her back.

“The Itreans promise protection!” the chronicler continued. “They promise fornication, but who’s paying for it!”

“Us!” yelled the crowd.

“Again!”

“Us!” the crowd yelled out.

“That’s right ... us ... the T’rintar clan women are here to steal from you. They bring their fornication among us. They plague our websites with pornography! They use our men as examples of their disgusting deeds! Meanwhile, we trade Earth to them! Batrice and Gillan’s gold is given to the people of the T’rintar. As our people toil and sweat in the mines, the people of Cebravis and Mars live in luxury! Wake up, Batrice!”

The crowds were getting more and more invigorated. By now, it had grown to sixty people. A couple of people were beginning to raise their fists in cheer.

“All of this today...” the activist continued. “The ambassadors come to this station. A treacherous man of Cebravis and his supposed Itrean whore come to here! What are they met with? A bomb! Brought by one of their own. The T’rintar clan has made an attack on this station. We are the hope of Batrice and the UWA. They cannot agree with themselves, and they only bring their wars upon us in return.”

“Yeah!” some of the people began to say. A couple of individuals, however, began to walk away. Despite seeing a vast, growing crowd, there were a couple of them that seemed to disagree. Perhaps they had heard enough or were busy. Even with this, the groups were still growing. The activist changed his hand to show the portrait of Heng Chanvatey. On it was a divine picture of him holding his deceased daughter over a year ago. An aura was shown around him. Mizu could easily recognize that this was an altered picture that showed the prime minister almost as the tragic father and divine prophet. Others around the prime minister showed remorse. Others were acting like they were slightly horrified.

“Chanvatey wants to create a safer and better world for Batrice,” the chronicler explained. “He devotes every day to ensuring a stronger and more powerful military that can repel the Itrean invaders. New policies are made to ensure that your children can sleep comfortably, knowing that they can attend school, knowing that death will not rain down upon them. The administration promises that your government will provide the proper security to you. You will be safe!”

The crowds nodded their heads, and a couple of them applauded the man standing on the chair.

“We must continue to support our Prime Minister! We will not let these bombings done by terrorists stop our way of living. We do not need the Itreans to be on this station! We do not need to give them our wealth! We do not need their ships in our space! We do not need to have them take our way of life from us!”

“Yeah...” Mizu said to himself as the rest of the crowd cheered.

Mizu began to think about the words more and more. He knew that he didn’t need to be a part of this. He already supported most of the ideas and gave his own support. Regardless, he couldn’t be a part of this. He had duty to take on for the day. He decided that it was best to head back. He started to head away as the speaker saw him leave.

“We want to make sure, however, that we honor the UHN personnel that serve with us!” the activist called out. He gestured to Mizu and a couple of other uniformed individuals in the crowd. “Everyone applaud and thank the people that defend our station from the tyranny of the Itreans!”

Mizu had no choice but to turn around and look at the crowd of people who divided their attention towards the uniformed personnel. A little girl came up and did a salute towards Mizu. She reminded him very much of Keiko. He smiled as he gave the traditional UHN salute to the people in return. Despite the vulgarity of the activist, he remained with a sense of pride. He noted that this was the second demonstration he had happened upon in one day.

Mizu arrived back at his home. He kept his composure as the door slid closed behind him. The moment that he was alone, he closed his eyes and put his hands to his face. It was as if he had run for kilometers upon kilometers. The entire explosion went through his head over and over again. He did what he could to keep it out of him.

“Get out of my head ... get out of my head,” he said to himself. “Where are you? Where are you, brother?”

He took a deep breath as he began to undo his uniform. He needed to see his family now more than ever. What had become routine was suddenly more important now than ever. The events of everything that had happened were looming over him. While the crowds that gave honor to him felt fulfilling, this didn’t make up for the fact that his grandmother was near death and there was a terrorist bombing happening almost at the same time. He needed to see the recordings of his family.

He successfully took off his uniform, keeping his shirt on. The boots and uniform were tossed aside on the ground. It wouldn’t have mattered where it was at. In at least five hours, his watch would begin. He knew that this was going to be one of the few times that he was going to get any sleep. Night watches added to the shifts meant that he was going to be awake most of the night. Staggered sleep was going to become the main course for him this week. A part of him was doing his best to prepare for it mentally, but it was easier said than done.

Mizu would channel his inner spirituality, but it wasn’t working. He felt a sense of evil all around him, but he had no idea what it was. He thought that everything was a giant lie, but the moment that he opened his eyes, he would just see an apartment room. The only thing that appeared truthful was the fact that he saw the wounded or dying at the hospital. It made no sense to him why he felt this way.

“Where are you, brother? Where are you when I need you the most?” he asked again. There seemed to be no answer to his question.

Instead, he activated his augmented hand. Holding it outward, he saw the projection screen menu appear. His other free hand navigated the selection screen. He looked at his messages and could see that there was only one message available. Even with the delay in the communication recordings, his family must have worried sick about him. The news would be channeled all over the UWA of the terrorist bombings. After the attack on Aphadus and the other UWA space battles, the Itreans were stepping up on their attacks. A calm era of peaceful months before had turned into a month of bloodshed. So many casualties...

“One message,” Mizu remarked as he tapped the message. He read a simple text message.

“Due to the recent attack on Fort Batrice,” he said. “All messages are currently being screened to evaluate any signs of terrorist activity. Any communications are being redirected towards the Chief of security’s teams. Your messages are being evaluated before they will be sent to you. We will record and maintain the messages to be sent on outgoing traffic. Due to the delay caused by the aforementioned attack, you have one package that will be on hold as the station handles an influx delay of shipments. The package will instead be available for pickup tomorrow.” He stopped reading as he said to himself. “Wow ... and here I am actually surprised that anything got through after this whole fucking mess.”

Mizu couldn’t say anything else as he tapped to close out the message screen. Just before he was about to close the palm of his hand, he instead put his finger on the past received messages. His hand shook a little bit as he began to go down more and more. He had not cleared anything in the last two months. He knew that one message was there ... the one that he didn’t want to see again. He began to breathe harder and harder as he tried to keep himself composed.

Finally, it showed up. It was “that” message. The recorded message was delivered to him from Eutera, the small colony cohabitated by both the T’rintar clan and the UWA. The T’rintar clan gave what was conquered back to the UWA as a gesture of goodwill. However, the legacy didn’t seem to sit well with the people of Batrice.

Mizu clicked the message icon to review the message that he had only seen once already. It loaded up and was displayed in front of his eyes. The screen showed that of an Aksren woman, or at least what he could tell. It was only showing everything from her shoulders to her head. This Aksren was one of the subgroups of the T’rintar clan. As far as he knew, families that supposedly grew up in this Itrean clan were treated as equals. They looked different than the Yutilians. They were described as oviraptors and very likely evolved from them on ancient Earth. She had a distinctive head crest over her nose, snout, and forehead. Her scales were red and partially green. This one, in general, left a personal message for the man.

“Hello, Mizu,” the Itrean woman said in a faint Japanese and French accent. “My name is Bekra. I wanted to send a message to you regarding your brother. I am sure that you were notified of what happened. I wanted to take the privilege to honor Chuang by telling you how he is a hero to me and my mate Zalika. He would die on a mission fighting against the Emphra on the UHN Columbus. He sacrificed himself so that Zalika and I could make our escape. I have met many Itreans during my time. We are trained to give our lives if necessary for the greater events. Your brother volunteered to give his life. When the time came, he treated everyone as a soldier or marine of the UHN.”

She was calm and polite as she placed her four-digit scaled hand on her neck and chest. Mizu did his best to keep himself calm.

“I have never had a chance to meet you, Mizu,” Bekra explained. “The day that I knew Chuang, he was brave. He didn’t think. He was ready to face against whatever threat was onboard the Columbus. We never knew that the Emphra had taken refuge in that ship. Our past wars with them were ... horrible ... horrific,” she remarked as she struggled to find the right word to say. “We took more losses than even the last hundreds of years of Itrean civil war conflicts combined. We were all scared. I ... was scared, but your brother was strong. He knew what he was doing when he gave his life. He was thinking of you. He even told us that he wanted to let you know that he was ready to fight against something more powerful than any of us. The result was that I was able to give you his message. I have taken this time to honor your brother. You should be proud of him, Mizu. I would be willing to communicate with...”

Mizu didn’t say anything else as he closed up his hand. The message ended abruptly as he shook in place. His brother, the bombing, and now his grandmother passing away ... it was too much for his brain to process.

“Ah ... ahhhh ... ahhhhh...” Mizu quietly screamed to himself as he tried to hold back a tear. “Fucking ... son ... of a bitch...”

“Here’s your body armor,” the armorer told Mizu as he handed it to him. “Know how to put it on?”

“Hey, it’s like using toilet paper the first time,” Mizu replied as he took it. “Sure, we don’t remember when we first used it, but we know how to wipe our asses afterwards.”

The armorer seemed unimpressed and simply shrugged his shoulders. He instead watched as Mizu wrapped the Meclevar body armor vest around himself. When he slapped the Velcro on over the front, he did give a look of approval.

“I’ve seen the older body armor and this one,” Mizu commented. “This one matches more with the uniform colors.”

“Yeah, it does...,” The armorer replied with a mild, calm annoyance. “The UHN is trying to get them closer with the UHN jumpsuits for... ‘uniformity reasons’ ... but ... these suits are a little more thinner than the other body armor vests.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re lighter but have slightly less stopping power for bullets. It’s an unpopular brand of the Genisen series vests.”

“So, in other words, you gave me shitty body armor?”

The armorer nodded his head. “ ... Yep.”

Mizu peered in the armory. He could see all kinds of different armaments. There was one set of body armor, but it was way too big for him to wear.

“I guess I can’t use that one, right?” Mizu asked as he gestured to the wall.

The armorer looked at the body vest. “Ah ... the new yellow and black one? Nah ... you’re too short. Damn shame ... that suit is so good.”

“Yeah, but yellow and black?”

“You know that they want to give us the new uniform colors for Fort Batrice in a year. These body armor vests are made strictly from Gillan. It’s lighter but thicker.”

“Ah ... yeah, that’s right. Same with the new way of saluting, too.”

“Yeah ... I don’t know...” The armorer said. “Anything new is better than the old, right? Anyways...”

The armorer went and cataloged that Mizu was about to take up the watch. Mizu remarked on the surroundings. This was just one of the many armories that were around the space station. Thankfully, the brig had its own adjacent small armory. It was not a very big room. In many ways, it was more of a checkpoint area for roving guards on the space station. Because of the sheer size of Fort Batrice, the armories and checkpoints had to ensure that Batrice’s roads were safe at all times. While there were military police in place, the military staff took up most of the guard watches. For Mizu, much of this was brand new to him. Usually, it was the Master of arms who took up the guard watches.

And here is your PDW-20,” the armorer said as he looked at his tablet. He began to scroll down on it as he handed the assault rifle to him. “One of the new, improved models.”

“Improved model?” Mizu replied, picking up the rifle. He looked at the gun, noting it was surprisingly light for its size. The weapon had a long barrel past its stock. Below the barrel was another smaller barrel. He could see no sights on it, but there were a number of buttons next to the trigger and handgrip.

“Yeah. This is the PDW-20b ... the Batrice model. We purchased the rights to manufacture and improve the PDW-20 rifle. This incorporates a shotgun on the top and an assault rifle on the bottom. The button here,” he said as he pointed his finger by the trigger, “is the switch. The top one is armed with stun rounds, just in case the prisoners ever somehow escape. Less lethality and all that, right? The bottom barrel is the main assault rifle. You have fourteen rounds for the shotgun and sixty rounds in the magazine.”

“Still amazed at how light this thing is,” Mizu commented. “I remember firing an SS-15.”

“Ah ... so did I. They keep introducing newer and newer polymers. Caseless and RPSS rounds are lighter than shit anyways too. Of course, it doesn’t matter when there’s no gravity, but this does have a sling on it. Safety is on. Switch one, the button is right by the trigger. It’s all set and ready to go.”

“Thank you,” Mizu said, hoisting the rifle. The long black and gray, blocky-looking gun was at the ready as he left the armory and proceeded to the nearest large sliding doors.

As he arrived at the door, it slid open. He walked in to see a large rectangular room. A control console was on one side of the room, with the other having an enlarged enclosed heavy-duty elevated box. It was a room that contained a room in itself. He could see a tiny camera on the far top corner of the location. Besides that, he couldn’t see into the box structure. It was a very plain gray-colored room with nothing else or anything spectacular about it.

Two individuals were inside the room. One was Hamiza. She was already dressed and had assumed the watch. The other one was a man that was dressed like him. He seemed ready and eager to leave the room.

“Ah, there he is,” Hamiza remarked. “Slow as always.”

“And here I thought you celebrated me not being here,” Mizu told her. He looked at the other man. “I’m ready to assume the watch.”

“Do you mind telling him everything that needs to be done?” the man asked Hamiza with a thick Chinese accent. “I’m ready to get some sleep.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Hamiza replied. “I’m used to babysitting him anyway.”

“Yeah, and she changes the diapers too.”

Hamiza said nothing. The man gave the nod to him as he stepped past Mizu. He was eager to leave when Mizu waved his hand at him, watching him leave the room.

“Well, it looks like we get to take the watch together,” Hamiza told Mizu.

“Well, at least we won’t get bored.”

“No, I just get to listen to you more and more,” Hamiza remarked, shaking her head.

“Heh...” Mizu chuckled a little bit. He watched as her tone changed and got more serious.

“Anyways, I’ll go and brief you with the watch,” She said, keeping her rifle hoisted. She stepped forward and looked at the box. “The terrorists are currently locked in there. It has a flip-open display system. The control panel has the controls. You can set it up so that you can have it one way where you can see them, but they can’t see you. The two-way allows them to see you.”

“Can they hear us right now?” Mizu asked.

“You have to scream pretty loud before they can hear you. Banging can be heard if you try. Thankfully, the prisons are bulletproof, so we don’t have to worry about an angry mob trying to bring harm to our ... guests.”

“Yeah ... you can say that again. They already have those chroniclers getting the people all riled up. It’s making the past demonstrations look like peaceful picnics in the park. That bombing didn’t help any.”

“Don’t hesitate to use lethal force on the crowds if they try to break in,” Hamiza said. “The orders are vital. These terrorists must face justice for their actions. We may also have to worry about the remote possibility that the T’rintar may try to break the two out.”

“You think that they might do it?”

“Yes.”

“It would still take a large amount of effort on their part.”

“That’s true,” Hamiza commented. “They only have the one battleship that’s here, but we don’t know all the military resources and assets that the clan can pull on us. I even heard rumors that the T’rintar have mechs that can cloak and infiltrate installations.”

“Damn. I don’t imagine that they would try to stir the nest, though. This station can repel it.”

“It’s only a remote possibility. We also have a camera that’s monitoring us. It records everything.”

“Yeah, I can hear it,” Mizu replied.

Hamiza turned her head as she tried to listen to the camera. She shook her head. “You can hear it?”

“Yeah, it is producing a quiet hum that my augmented ear is receiving. I wouldn’t be surprised that you didn’t hear it. Even this ear is having a hard time picking it up.”

“Needless to say, we’re being recorded. I would probably advise that you keep some of your ... antics down on this one.”

“Hmm...” Mizu acknowledged.

“Since we’re going to be on watch together, it’s the same ol shit as always. One at a time when we need to go to the restroom. One person...”

“I get it. I get it,” Mizu interrupted her. “Don’t worry.”

Hamiza took a deep breath. “Well ... here we are.”

“Yeah. It’s been the first time that I talked to you since the bombing. Are you doing alright?”

“I didn’t see the explosion,” she remarked. “I just remember the debris crashing into our shuttle. It happened so fast ... all those people ... dead.”

Despite how tough she looked, Mizu could see that Hamiza still felt a sense of unease with the events.

“I know...” Mizu said. “They don’t know if the Ambassadors are going to make it or not.”

“A part of me just wonders what’s going to happen next,” Hamiza replied. “On the one hand, I shouldn’t care, but I’m just hearing a lot of rumors right now.”

“What type of rumors?”

“Just ... I don’t know. I’m hearing the idea that the prime minister wants our station to open up its UWAN with Batrice during this event. It would allow the personnel to communicate directly without having to record and send messages like we always do.”

“Didn’t they do that before? They would experiment with the space station’s direct UWAN uplink for hours to ensure that it worked?”

“Yes, but that was for maintenance purposes. This time, the station would be able to connect to Batrice.”

“You don’t seem too happy with that idea, don’t you?” Mizu asked her.

“Well ... it just seems to be politicians that are showboating as always. I would imagine that Fleet Admiral Baxton would be against it. Direct linkups with the UWAN can put Fort Batrice in danger of a massive cyber attack.”

“True ... but I doubt we’ll see anything like Minerva in a very long time. Even the previous chairman made sure of that. What other rumors did you hear?”

“Hmmm...” Hamiza thought. “I heard rumors that the bombing has really rattled the top chain of command. There have been talks of limiting media broadcasts on the events going on in Batrice. Anything that represents a threat to national security may start to get censored. This bombing may be the direct cause of it.”

“If it means protecting us from the bad guys, I don’t see anything wrong with it.”

“It doesn’t bother me too much either. Again, we’re part of the system to protect the colony. If the people and the government want to do that to themselves, then so be it ... but I do imagine that some may be against the idea, too.”

“They would think differently the day the railgun rounds came pouring down from the sky,” Mizu remarked as he gestured to his ear. “Regardless...” He said as he looked at the box. “Sometimes, I wonder what’s going through their minds to commit such an action as today.”

“I don’t know, but I know that we shouldn’t care about it either.”

“What were the other rumors?”

“Ah ... the T’rintar clan ship that’s here will remain here for some time. I heard things that the investigation may go on for like five days.”

“It takes them that long to gather all the debris?” Mizu asked.

“No ... I don’t think that’s the whole reason. They may have everything opened up in the next couple of days, but the investigations may still continue after that. They have to get everybody to come and check it to verify it.”

“Heh ... knowing the UWA, they’ll send their own private investigators and come up with false statements.”

“That or just be inept. The T’rintar may want to launch their own, and that would ... well ... you would imagine that would only piss everyone off more.”

“Ugh ... what a fucking mess,” Mizu said as he shook his head.

With that, they both walked up to the box. The two continued their idol conversations together. It was the only way to make the night go quicker. Mizu did wonder though in how he was going to get the opportunity to see these two terrorists. Perhaps only time would tell...

“Ugh...” Hamiza said. “Another hour later...”

“I have plenty more jokes or riddles that I can give you,” Mizu told her.

Hamiza gave an annoyed look at Mizu. It had been over three hours of guard duty. Much like the long shuttle rides, it always seemed that Mizu had ways to help kill time.

“Ugh ... fine ... I’ll bite,” Hamiza answered.

“I’ll start with the classics. What has four legs in the morning, two legs in the afternoon, and three legs in the evening?”

“That one? I already know that one. It is a person who sells augmentation limbs to customers. He had four legs in the morning. He sold two of them off, but the customer came back and asked to return one of them because it was faulty.”