Chapter 2: The First Mission
"Hey... newcomer, with a rosy face and full of vitality!"
The officer at the mission site squinted his eyes and stared at my sweaty face, letting out bursts of laughter with a teasing tone.
"Mi... mission number... UZ0359... requesting... requesting a ship rental!"
I really didn't have the time to care whether his expression was pleasing or not, or whether his tone was agreeable. I had been running all the way here, and both of my lungs were about to burst. I couldn't afford to worry about these things.
Extraordinary Affairs Investigation Bureau, Logistics Department, Interstellar Spaceship Rental Hangar.
I stood in front of a single-engine ion survey ship, my legs trembling uncontrollably. It wasn't just because of the exhaustive morning run, but mostly because of how shabby this ship in front of me was – it was beyond belief!
How shabby was it? On the entire spacecraft, you couldn't find a single intact paint surface; it was covered in dents, patches, and rivets.
This didn't look like an interstellar survey ship at all; it resembled more of a space junk scavenger ship!
Oh! And they even spray-painted the ship's name below the cabin – "Pork Leg"!
Accurate, the name was too accurate! This spaceship's appearance really resembled a smoked ham that had been preserved for hundreds of years! The larger end was the cockpit with a round and simple wing, and the smaller end was the ion thruster, with a nozzle so small it looked like a cup...
"This is truly a pork leg that's about to rot..."
"Hey? Friend!" I grabbed the logistics vice officer next to me who was holding a registration book for me to sign, and I forced out the brightest smile on my face, eagerly saying, "Buddy, no, sir! Can you... change it for a newer... newer one... this one is just too..."
"What's wrong? You think it's too shabby?" The logistics vice officer asked impatiently. Then he pinched his somewhat loose eye socket to make the synthetic eyeball inside move more smoothly.
This small movement was indeed effective. The gaze he gave me was very lifelike.
"No, no, this spaceship has been retired for decades, right? I'm flying to Swallow and Capture Star today, with only one thruster, an ion one at that, ancient technology from years ago... Won't it take a week to fly there? Please help me, can you change it for another one? This time... it's really running out of time."
"Blame me? If you think it's shabby, why didn't you come earlier? Just look at the time now?! We have many missions today, one ship per mission, and they're all taken. Do you want it or not? If not, I'll assign it to someone else, okay?"
As soon as the logistics vice officer raised his hand, several people outside the railing immediately stood up and shouted, jostling each other. "Sir! Is there a ship available?" "Sir! Is there still a ship? I'll pay extra to rent it! Please give me the ship!"
Seeing this situation, without waiting for the vice officer to speak, I quickly snatched the registration book and signed my name swiftly and smoothly.
"Hey! Yes, I want it! Pork Leg! Such a down-to-earth and affordable name! Sir, rest assured, I promise to love it, just like how I'll always love you!"
Coordinate control system, gravity orbit automatic selection system, normal.
Passive command communication responder, normal.
Oxygen supply and regeneration system, normal.
Weapon control system, well... nonexistent?! Okay... it's just a corpse investigation mission, there won't be any thrilling scenes like chasing or fighting enemies.
Multi-quadrant radar scanning system, broken... it's broken...
Mission automatic route navigation system, mission automatic route navigation system! Also broken! Do I have to manually navigate using the star map coordinates throughout the journey?!
Emergency escape capsule ejection system, loading failed!
I... so this means if I can't succeed, I'll die...
Oh my god! Pork Leg, oh Pork Leg, is your maintenance technician called a pig's head?
"..."
Boosted reaction monitoring, normal... why is the pointer floating up and down?
Main engine preheating... hmm... normal... it's just the noise...
Forget it! Ignition!
I fucking set off!!!!!!
Ignition successful, spacecraft in orbit.
"WARNING! WARNING! Entering zero-gravity state, artificial gravity loading failed, please drive with caution."
Weightless, tears floated inside my helmet, and my heart floated within my body, no matter how much I pressed, it wouldn't fall down...
"What kind of damn ship is this!!!!!!"
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Beep beep beep - beep beep beep -
"Mission number [UZ0359], target location: Planet Tuna, Gathris Trench East Zone 6, Hut 3352. Investigator BG2245 is requested to enter the target site for inspection within 48 hours."
The wrist communicator's yellow light flashed rapidly, vibrating incessantly.
"I got it, I got it! My thrusters are almost overheating!"
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After 47 hours, 28 minutes, and 41 seconds since receiving the mission, I finally entered the gravitational field of Planet Tuna.
At this point, things finally took a turn for the better. With my eyes closed, I blindly landed at the designated spot on the console (after I pressed the button, accompanied by sparks and thick smoke, the screen went black, so I had to rely on guesswork). It happened to be in Gathris Trench East Zone 6.
"But...which hut is at point 3353?"
Looking at the dilapidated huts floating on the vast ocean in front of me, I fell into another round of despair.
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Do you remember what I said before? The Tuna people, with their big heads and long tentacles, are a pitiful race locked on a single planet due to their physical condition, which makes them extremely adhesive to dust and unable to stray far from a water source.
97% of the planet's surface is covered by seawater, and the majority of Tuna people live below the poverty line of the Shambak star system.
Clusters of interconnected floating huts are their most common form of settlement.
As I stared at the countdown clock and rushed all the way, I finally arrived at point 3352, 9 minutes before the "inspection deadline."
Breathing heavily, relieved that I had "clocked in successfully," I looked up and was surprised to find that this particular hut at point 3352 was extraordinary.
Most of the huts I encountered along the way were mud huts built on natural sponges. The construction was extremely simple, with walls made of underwater mud and a large bundle of seaweed tied to the roof, without even doors or windows, only a round hole for people to crawl in and out. Fortunately, Planet Tuna doesn't have distinct seasons, so there's no need to worry about keeping warm.
But this hut at point 3352, in front of me, was constructed with wooden boards, with sharp corners and clean cuts, and several layers of metal sheets were laid on the roof, shining brightly!
Wood, on a planet with only 3% land area like Planet Tuna, is an extremely luxurious and rare material. After all, only a few small patches of forests can be found on the islands of the top Tuna families.
To cut down trees and make wooden boards here is almost as absurd as building a house with pure gold on Earth, like a fairy tale. Not to mention the metal sheets on the roof, according to my database query results, Planet Tuna doesn't even have a single iron mine, the iron production is absolutely "zero"!
The owner of this place is definitely not ordinary!
I opened the mission communicator and double-checked the coordinates and the information about the deceased. The victim was indeed here.
After the genetic age lock, all residents of the Shambak star system are connected to the system. Interstellar life monitoring is a complex program that runs automatically. If there is an unnatural death, it will automatically alert the investigation bureau without the need for third-party intervention, ensuring the system's involvement in the first death. Given the precision of the genetic code, the possibility of false alarms is almost non-existent.
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I have a habit of walking around the perimeter before entering the scene of the autopsy and investigation.
Although I am only a forensic examiner and not responsible for tracking possible suspects, I only need to examine the body's condition and the death environment, upload the speculative basis and the results of the investigation of unnatural death to the communicator terminal, and there won't be too much danger.
Doing so is to make myself as calm as possible so that even if I see a corpse with a bizarre and disgusting cause of death later, I can remain unruffled.
This is a habit I developed under the sadistic training of my internship instructor, and it unexpectedly works well in practice.
Walking around the scene perimeter also allows me to observe the edge of the deceased's habitual living area, obtaining information such as neighborly relations and public attitudes, which are inevitable intersections for an individual's survival. Additionally, it may provide the path information of the investigation target's last entry into the scene before death, as well as the path information of the assailant's exit from the scene.
As mentioned above, this is still not the responsibility of a forensic examiner, but it's my habit.
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There was something about today's perimeter walk that made me uncomfortable as well.
I always had the feeling that someone was staring at me, with a malevolent and icy gaze. It sent shivers down my spine.