OCEAN

Year 2788.

Humanity left Earth centuries ago—not because they wanted to, but because there was simply no room left. Mother Earth, exhausted and gasping, could only sustain a chosen few. The rest? Scattered across the cosmos like seeds in a cosmic wind.

Generations passed. Nations dissolved. Ethnicities blurred into stardust. The descendants of Earth’s refugees forgot where they came from, forgot the taste of rain, forgot the word “ocean.”

But they remembered one thing: survival.

And in the vast, cold expanse of space, survival had a price.

Water.

The Dolphin crept toward the ice asteroid like a beat-up pickup truck approaching a jewelry store.

She wasn’t pretty. Forty meters long, twenty-five wide—roughly dolphin-shaped if you squinted and had never actually seen a dolphin. Her hull was a patchwork of scars and makeshift repairs, outer plating so corroded that sparks occasionally leapt between exposed panels like tiny fireworks.

The DOLPHIN logo on her bow—a cheerful cartoon dolphin that had probably looked optimistic once—was now faded and pockmarked with micrometeorite impacts.

Inside the cramped cockpit, three figures hunched over glowing displays.

“Target distance: 150 meters. 140. 130.” Jin’s voice was steady. His fingers moved across the controls with practiced precision. “Reverse thrust to thirty percent.”

“Reverse thrust, thirty percent!” Dan echoed from the co-pilot seat, his voice cracking slightly.

The old man sat behind them, arms crossed, watching the countdown with a slight smile playing at his lips.

“Countdown,” Jin announced. “Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven...”

The Dolphin shuddered as her thrusters fired.

“...Three. Two. One. Touchdown.”

The landing was soft—almost gentle. Four anchor cables shot out from the Dolphin’s belly, punching into the ice and locking them in place. A moment later, the crusher-extractor descended with a mechanical whirr, its drill bit chewing into the frozen surface. Ice chips fountained into space.

Jin’s display flickered. A 3D model of the asteroid rotated slowly, showing their position on one side and... something else on the other.

A timer appeared in red: 25:16

“Alright, let’s move!” Jin barked. “We’ve got twenty-five minutes before company arrives!”

The old man and Dan were already out of their seats, sprinting toward the pool room.

Dan yanked a hose assembly from the wall—looked like a fire hose, only thicker, with articulated segments. The old man grabbed the motor assembly from the opposite wall, his weathered hands moving with practiced speed.

Click. Twist. Lock.

The old man hauled the hose forward, running toward the crusher-extractor. Dan slammed the rear coupling into the pool intake.

Outside, the drill motor descended through the extractor shaft, its cutting head spinning. Superheated plasma jets melted the ice on contact, and the motor’s vacuum intake sucked the resulting slush upward before it could refreeze.

Inside the pool room, muddy water began gushing from the hose.

Dan gripped it tight, bracing against the pressure. The old man monitored the gauges, keeping the motor’s RPM in the green zone—barely.

Jin’s eyes never left his display.

12:34 remaining.

Then:

ATTENTION! DANGER!

“Warning! Warning! Obstacle accelerating toward your position! Estimated contact time—”

The countdown jumped.

5:23

“Shit!” Jin twisted in his seat. “They made us! Five minutes until they’re on top of us!”

Dan’s eyes went wide. “Five minutes?!”

The old man checked the pool level. “How much more do we need?”

“Sixty liters!” Dan’s voice was approaching panic.

3:47

“Abort!” Jin shouted. “Pull out! We’re leaving!”

“Sixty liters!” Dan repeated desperately.

2:15

The old man’s jaw set. His hand moved to the RPM control.

“One more push,” he muttered. “Just one more...”

“Don’t you dare—” Dan started.

The old man cranked the dial to MAX.

The motor screamed. The RPM gauge flashed red. Smoke began curling from the coupling.

“One more... one more...” The old man’s knuckles were white on the control panel.

“You’re gonna blow the motor!” Dan yelled.

The water gushed faster, filling the pool in a roaring torrent.

0:45

0:30

The pool hit maximum capacity. Green light.

“Got it!” The old man ripped the hose free from the extractor. “We’re done! GO!”

He and Dan were already running back to the cockpit.

Jin didn’t wait. His hands flew across the controls. Outside, the extractor retracted. The anchor cables released.

The Dolphin lifted off in a shower of ice crystals.

0:05

Dan and the old man threw themselves into their seats, fumbling with harnesses.

0:00

“Turbo on standby,” Jin said, voice cool as vacuum. “Four. Three. Two...”

A shape crested the asteroid’s horizon—sleek, official, with flashing blue lights and POLICE stenciled across its hull.

Jin’s finger hovered over the ignition.

“One. Ignition!”

The Dolphin’s main engine roared to life.

The three crew members were slammed back into their seats as the ship shot forward like a railgun slug. Behind them, the police cruiser staggered in the Dolphin’s superheated exhaust plume, spinning helplessly in a cloud of vaporized ice.

By the time the cruiser stabilized, the Dolphin was gone.

Inside the cockpit, Jin eased the throttle back to normal burn. He let out a long, shaky breath.

The old man reached over and ruffled Dan’s hair, grinning. “See? Told you we’d make it.”

Dan laughed—high-pitched, almost hysterical. “You’re insane!”

Jin looked at both of them, then cracked a smile.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, adrenaline still singing in their veins.

Then someone started laughing.

Then they were all laughing.

The old man reached into a storage compartment and pulled out three beer cans. He tossed them around. They shook them up, popped the tabs, and sprayed foam everywhere like champagne.

Music kicked in—something bouncy and ridiculous.

They danced in their seats, yelling over each other.

“WE DID IT!”

“Never been caught! Not once!”

“We’re RICH!”

“What?!”

“RIIIIICH!”