Chapter 2 part 8

Horn of The Unicorn

Horn of The Unicorn

The Bragi Expanse sprawls like a shattered necklace of rock and ice, drifting in the void just beyond the Baldr Sector. For the people of Baldr, this asteroid belt isn’t just a distant cluster of debris—it’s their lifeline. Their homeworld, barren and resource-starved, depends entirely on the Expanse for the gleaming, crystalline ore that fuels their starships and keeps their cities alive. Without it, the long winters—brought on by their sun’s unpredictable temper—would freeze them into oblivion.

But the Expanse isn’t just a treasure trove. It’s a lawless stretch of space where danger lurks in every shadow. Xeno-beasts, drifters, outlaws, and pirates all stake their claim here, turning what should be a simple mining operation into a constant struggle. Yet Baldr can’t afford to retreat. The ore is too precious.

Dotted throughout the belt are maintenance outposts—small, skeletal stations with just enough room for a few weary miners to rest, repair their gear, or patch up their ships. Officially, these outposts are reserved for authorized personnel: guild members, patrol officers, or licensed prospectors. But there’s no real security keeping the wrong people out.

Unsurprisingly, the outposts have become waystations for anyone looking for shelter. Scavengers, rogue traders, even fugitives squat in them, treating the stations like temporary hideouts. That’s why guild patrols like ours exist—to sweep through and keep things in order. But the system’s a mess. Too many overlapping permissions, too many desperate people crammed into too little space. Sooner or later, something’s going to break.

The outpost hung in the darkness ahead, its docking bay a dim, skeletal mouth lined with debris. One by one, our ships settled onto the platform, engines sighing into silence as we stepped out onto the groaning metal.

I was the first to set foot on the deck, my boots thudding against the rust-streaked plating. The air carried the sharp, metallic bite of recycled atmosphere, thin and stale. The others followed, their movements cautious as they scanned the area. Nearby, a dismantling site lay in disarray—half-stripped mining drones, chunks of raw ore, and the grisly remains of something caught in a trap.

A severed limb dangled from a mess of twisted metal—probably a space narwhal, one of the lesser predators that prowled the Expanse. The limb was tangled in a crude snare, the kind rigged with jagged hooks meant to dig deep and hold fast. The creature must have fought hard, thrashing until it tore free, leaving only this gruesome trophy behind.

“Life signs inside the outpost,” one of the team murmured. “And out here… looks like someone’s been busy.”

“How many inside?”

“Hard to tell. Voices, but they’re muffled.”

“Miners? Or squatters?”

“Only one way to find out.”

I crouched beside the snare, running a gloved finger along its rough construction. No factory markings, no guild approval seals. Just scavenged parts lashed together into something brutal and effective.

“Ah, hell.”

It matched the trap we’d seized earlier. No question—whoever was inside had set this.

“We’ve got trouble,” I muttered.

“No kidding,” came the dry reply. “We could’ve ignored it, but…”

I exchanged a glance with Lunar, Diana’s leader. Her expression mirrored my own reluctance.

Minor violations were one thing. But stumbling onto outright illegality during an investigation? That wasn’t something we could just walk away from. The real problem was the timing. Night was closing in, and we’d have to bunk here—sharing space with a bunch of trap-setting scavengers. The thought alone was exhausting.

“Let’s move before it gets too late. Lunar, how do you want to handle the squatters?”

We gathered near the airlock, boots scuffing against the worn metal. The station’s aging systems hummed faintly in the background, a reminder of how flimsy our shelter really was. Lunar keyed open the airlock, her voice steady.

“Actually, I’d like you to take the lead, Narwhal.”

“Me?” I blinked. “You’re the one with the rank. The authority.”

“I want to see how you handle people. Especially the criminal kind. We’ll back you up if things go bad, but I’d like you to take point.”

Fantastic. She was dumping the messy work on me. Fine—but if things went sideways, I hoped nobody shot me by accident.

“Alright. I’ll try to keep it peaceful. But just so we’re clear—we’re not sharing the outpost with them, right?”

“Absolutely not.” Her tone left no room for argument. “Give scavengers an inch, and they’ll take the whole station. Restraining them is the bare minimum. Who knows what else they’ve got planned?”

Lunar’s sense of duty was unshakable. Leading an all-female team like Diana, she’d probably dealt with more than her share of untrustworthy types.

“Be careful, Mr. Narwhal,” Aioi, our sharpshooter, said as she adjusted the grip on her plasma bow.

“I will.”

I knocked on the outpost door. The chatter inside cut off abruptly. After a beat, footsteps approached.

“Who’s there?”

“Guild patrol. Mind if we come in?”

A pause. Then, grudgingly: “...Sure.”

Inside, three young men hunched over a makeshift table, sorting through chunks of ore and what looked like strips of dried narwhal meat. Their gear marked them as scavengers—not guild-sanctioned, just desperate rookies trying to scrape by.

I didn’t recognize them. Probably newcomers. At least they didn’t have the look of hardened bandits—more like kids in over their heads. Still, the illegal traps were hard to ignore.

“Three of you, huh?” I nodded toward the door. “That space narwhal limb outside—yours?”

One of them shrugged. “Yeah. Small one, but it put up a fight.”

No attempt to hide it. That made things simpler—and more complicated.

“Hey. You.”

The one who’d spoken stiffened. “Oh, crap…”

Too late for denials now.

Well, that settled it. Damn. What to do with these idiots?

“You’ve been setting illegal traps,” I said flatly. “We pulled one just like it earlier.”

A flicker of panic crossed their faces.

“No point lying. I recognize your handiwork. You’re new at this, right? Should’ve known better.”

They exchanged uneasy glances. Each was armed—plasma cutters, oversized vibroblades. Dangerous tools in tight quarters.

“Listen, old man—”

“Not that old. Call me Narwhal.”

“Seriously? Narwhal? Your parents hate you or something?”

“Nah. Just had a thing for sea creatures. Could’ve been worse—almost went with Manatee.”

“...Manatee.” A snort. “Heh.”

“See? ‘Narwhal’ doesn’t sound so bad now, does it? Now let’s——”

“Narwhal, we’re just trying to survive. Times are rough. Yeah, we screwed up with the traps, but it’s not like we’re hurting anyone, right? Let it slide this once. We won’t do it again.”

The oldest excuse in the book. Desperate people always had reasons.

“Sorry, but we’re here on guild business. Letting this slide undermines the whole system. The Expanse is Baldr territory. We’ve got laws for a reason.”

“Can’t you just pretend you didn’t see anything?”

“And let you think rules don’t apply? Not happening.”

I wasn’t about to cut deals with people who couldn’t follow basic regulations. Too risky, too pointless. Promises to quit were as solid as vacuum. We’d found one trap today—who knew how many more were hidden out there?

“...Notch. Jest.”

“Yeah.”

“We’ve got no choice.”

The three reached for their weapons, advancing. Wonderful. I hated unnecessary bloodshed.

“Let’s take this outside,” I said, stepping back toward the corridor. “Too cramped in here.” I gestured at the cluttered space—mining gear, spare parts, nowhere to maneuver. “Unless you want to wreck the place.”

“…You came alone, Narwhal?”

“Hardly. I’ve got five allies right outside.”

“What?”

“No joke. They're fully equipped—Silver and gold ranks. . We've got long-range experts, close-quarters bruisers, and everything in between. You’re seriously outgunned.”

They exchanged glances, uncertain. One of them let out a sharp laugh.

“Yeah, right. You’re bluffing.”

“You’re damn right I am—”

“—but why not peek outside and confirm it for yourself?”

“…There might be others lurking nearby, but that rank nonsense is bogus. This guy’s clearly low-tier. Bronze class at best. There’s no way top-grade agents would team with someone like him.”

Now that’s what I call a beautifully flawed deduction! Completely wrong—but totally understandable. My rank is garbage. Spot on!

“Let’s off the geezer first, then clean up whoever else is out there.”

“Yeah, crush him!”

Well, there go negotiations. Should’ve just let Lunar handle this from the beginning...

“Sorry, everyone! Looks like we’re past talking!”

With that, I spun on my heel and bolted outside. Predictably, the three attackers charged after me, weapons ready and blood in their eyes.

“Don’t fire! I’ve got this!”

The moment their boots hit the threshold, their bravado vanished. They froze. 

Lunar’s squad was already waiting in formation, weapons aimed and fingers near triggers. Silent, precise, and ready to drop them if they so much as flinched.

As for me—I yanked my shalf-spec blaster. The barrel met the leader’s oversized vibro blade in a harsh clash that vibrated through my bones. But the moment the blades met, I pulled the trigger. The core fired off a pulsing round—raw energy compressed into a short-range burst. The shockwave overwhelmed the contact point, knocking his weapon sideways and staggering him. That gun? It’s more than a tool. It’s practically wired to my instincts. Not unlike the fabled ‘Force’ I used to dream about as a kid—except this was real. Custom rigged to sync with my reflexes and output burst-fire tuned for my weird combat rhythm. Against that kind of shot, he didn’t stand a chance.

I followed with a kick that landed square in his gut. The impact folded him forward, and I slammed the muzzle against his throat before he could recover.

“Drop your weapons and give up. I won’t humiliate you beyond this.”

“…Don’t kill him.”

“I won’t—if the two of you drop your gear. Now. Diana, if they so much as blink funny—fire.”

“Gladly,” 

The two remaining goons didn’t need further encouragement. They slowly unclipped their gear and let it clatter to the ground. We used their own high-torque magnetic restraints to tie them up—a little ironic touch, since they’d tried to trap us with the same earlier. Poetic, really.

“For such a short engagement, that was impressive.”

The three captives sat off to the side, bound and sullen, muttering under their breath. Whatever they were saying, it didn’t seem like escape plotting—more like whining. Not worth listening in.

Lunar stood beside me, arms crossed. “Nice work,” she said.

“Just parried and fired. Simple stuff.”

“You let them off light, considering they tried to kill you.”

“Yeah.”

“You had a clean opening. Could’ve taken them out permanently. Instead, you gave them a choice.”

“I know. No excuses.”

By regulation? I should’ve pulled the trigger the second they went hostile. A quick dodge, let Diana finish them with precision shots. That would’ve been cleaner. Safer. Definitely more “by the book.” But I couldn’t bring myself to go that route. Even in this cutthroat galaxy, I’m not wired for casual executions. “They weren’t worth saving—not in the eyes of this world, anyway.”

She studied me for a moment, then said, “Still… I’d rather work with someone who doesn’t shoot first by default.”

“…Was that a compliment?”

“You can take it that way.”

While Aioi and Yunikon grilled cuts of space narwhal over a portable burner—real gourmet stuff by our standards—Lunar pulled me aside.

“You proved yourself today, Narwhal.”

“Good to know.”

“If you're ever open to it, we could use someone like you full-time. Diana’s crew always needs sharp instincts and field experience.”

“I appreciate that. But honestly? I’d probably screw up the group dynamic. All-female unit and all.”

Lunar laughed—like really laughed, full-bodied.

“That’s cute. If you joined, you’d be the second guy on the team, not the first.”

“…Wait. Yunikon’s a guy?!”

“Yep.”

“Surprised?”

“...Very.”

Author's Note:

Ah, welcome back, dear reader! I see you've survived another round of cosmic chaos and scavenger shenanigans. Let's dive right into the latest escapades of our beloved Galaxia Narwhal—aka the man who can turn a simple outpost patrol into a full-blown battle for survival and a test of spacer diplomacy.

First off, let me just say, if you thought facing off against a Void Titan was easy, try dealing with a bunch of scavengers and their illegal traps. It's a test of skill, patience, and the ability to endure the increasingly sharp tongues of your crewmates. But hey, all's well that ends with a successful mission and a few laughs, right?

And let's talk about our starry-eyed recruits—fresh from the Guild’s Training Camps, ready to take on the void with nothing but excessive confidence and substandard equipment. They're like space foam, folks. Barely formed, still drifting, and entirely unprepared for the harshness that lies beyond regulated space. But amidst all the chaos and competition, there's a sobering truth. Life out here in the void isn't easy. It's a constant battle against chaos, noise, and the cold, unfeeling expanse of space. Yet, these folks keep going, day after day, with a resilience that would put a black hole to shame.

So here's to the scavengers, the space narwhals, the kebabs, the ale, and the kebabs. May your missions be ever successful, your victories ever in your favor, and your optimism ever unfiltered.