The asteroid shuttle Imbumbulu drifted gracefully among the drifting stones of the Icin Belt, its hull glowing faintly with blue plasma veins. At 50 meters long, the ferry was never built for speed, but for endurance. Its mission was simple yet vital: ferry workers, scientists, and supplies between the scattered colonies of the belt.

On this day in 2127, the Imbumbulu carried a mixed crew of miners, researchers, and technicians—nearly eighty Rebans in total—bound for the small research hub of Ukusa.

At the helm sat Kael’dorr-Ka, the shuttle’s commander, his steady paws wrapped around the controls. Beside him, Veyla’ska-Rin, navigator, traced glowing vectors across the display. In the aft section, Rinn’vorr-Be checked the shuttle’s power couplings while Amara’lan-Tho monitored the biological cargo: plant samples harvested from a hydroponic dome on asteroid Faylen.

The voyage began like countless others—quiet, routine, the hum of plasma drives and the soft murmur of passengers exchanging stories. But the belt never allowed complacency.

 
“Commander,” Veyla’ska-Rin said suddenly, ears twitching. “Sensors show debris ahead. Large fragment—two hundred meters across, tumbling fast.”

Kael’s eyes narrowed. “Plot avoidance.”

The Imbumbulu adjusted course, thrusters firing gently. But a moment later, alarms shrieked.

Warning: secondary fragments detected. Trajectory intercept.

On the display, smaller shards fanned outward from the massive rock, their paths unpredictable. The Imbumbulu was directly in their scatter pattern.

“Brace!” Kael barked.

The shuttle shuddered as a fragment scraped along its flank, tearing through a stabilizer fin. Lights flickered, and the hum of the plasma engines wavered.

In engineering, Rinn’vorr-Be cursed under his breath. “Port stabilizer is gone. If another hit knocks us, we’ll spin.”

Amara clutched her data tablet, voice steady despite her racing heart. “If we lose orientation, we crash into the belt.”

 
Kael forced calm into his voice. “Veyla, bring us toward that shadow,” he said, pointing to the lee of a large asteroid nearby. “If we can ride close to its mass, the fragments will miss us.”

The navigator’s paws moved fast, firing the maneuvering jets. The shuttle wobbled, sparks hissing from its wounded flank. Behind them, shards flashed past like a storm of knives.

Rinn patched into comms. “Engines are holding, but I need to vent plasma from the damaged conduits. It’ll leave us underpowered.”

“Do it,” Kael said firmly. “Better slow than dead.”

For long, tense minutes, the Imbumbulu crept alongside the asteroid’s surface, using the rock’s bulk as a shield. Fragments pinged against the far side in muffled booms, harmless now. Inside the cabin, passengers held their breath.

Finally, the last warning vanished from the screens. The debris storm had passed.

 
A collective exhale filled the shuttle. Veyla slumped in her chair, relief washing across her features. Rinn’s voice came over comms, ragged but triumphant. “Engines stable. She’ll fly.”

Kael leaned back, a faint smile breaking his stern mask. “The Imbumbulu lives up to her name—endurance through the void.”

Amara’s eyes softened as she looked back at the passengers, many clutching one another, some whispering quiet thanks. “Today, they’ll remember that it was not luck,” she said quietly. “It was Reban hands, Reban courage.”

Outside, the battered shuttle glided free of its sheltering rock, her lights shining once more against the endless dark. The voyage continued, Ukusa drawing nearer—a reminder that even in the silence of the Belt, the Rebans endured.