Chapter 2 part 9

Under the Lunar's Gaze

Under the Lunar’s Gaze

The mission had its complications, but in the end, we wrapped things up without disaster. After a short break at the outpost, we set course back for Baldr Sector as the next shift began.

The three outlaws we’d captured made the trip more tedious, but they moved without protest through the station’s winding halls. Maybe they’d accepted their fate, or maybe it was the sheer bulk of Goressa’s mechanized exosuit—a sight that unnerved even me—that kept them in line. Whatever the reason, they stayed silent.

During the return flight, Lunar proved yet again why she was the best marksman in the sector, picking off a stellar fowl mid-transit. Her weapon of choice, the Final Shot, was no ordinary tool—a sleek, plasma bow that fired superheated bolts with terrifying accuracy. One shot was all it took to sever the creature’s guidance node and thought center. A feat like that demanded years of discipline. Me? I’d rather chew glass than spend decades mastering anything. Even getting my basic flight license felt like an eternity.

"Narwhal," Lunar said, tossing me the still-warm alien meat. "Call it a peace offering. Take it."

Stellar fowl wasn’t exactly gourmet, but it beat standard rations—and it was a bonus on top of the Spacer’s Guild payout. Never one to refuse free protein, I accepted with my usual effortless charm.

"Lunar, you ever need backup again, you know where to find me."

A faint smirk tugged at her lips. "...I’d warn you not to let it go to your head, but your rates are too low to refuse."

There was no bite to her words, and I realized I didn’t mind her company. Lunar’s deadly aim was matched only by her knack for keeping life-support systems running smoothly. And Moona’s work on the air filters? Nothing compared to breathing air this crisp, as fresh as the first gust from a newborn star.

"Hey, Mr. Narwhal!" Aioi chirped. "Why not sign up with Diana Crew? We’re the best!"

"Pass," I said, grinning.

"What?! That was way too fast! Rude!"

"Nothing beats flying solo."

"Ugh, what’s that supposed to mean?"

It wasn’t that I disliked Aioi’s energy. But between hunting down rare ores for Commander Havoc and drifting through uncharted zones, the freelance life had its perks. No way I was giving that up.

Besides, I’d taken her lunar shrimp fishing once. That had to count for something.

Handing over the prisoners to station security was quick and painless. With their confessions logged and evidence secured, the process wrapped up without a hitch. I’d half-expected them to spin some wild excuse—"We never touched that freighter!"—but they spared us the theatrics. Whether they regretted their crimes or just wanted an easier sentence, they seemed eager to work off their debt in the labor corps. Fine by me. Just stay out of my sector.

We docked at Baldr Sector Station Guild during the night cycle. After debriefing, we all went our separate ways. Two straight days cooped up in a patrol vessel had left me drained—not that I’d ever admit it. I made a beeline for the Cosmic Bounty Cantina, ready to celebrate.

"Ahh, nothing like fake ale," I muttered, savoring the fizzy brew. "Recycled water keeps you alive, but for real enjoyment? Ale wins every time."

The cantina’s auto-kitchen whipped up meals with actual flavor—a far cry from the bland hydroponic slop on the ship. Punch in your order, sit back, and let the machine do the rest. Beautiful. Sure, a hand-cooked meal had its charm, but sometimes convenience was king.

Lunar’s Perspective

I studied him carefully, this man Aioi spoke of so often. Narwhal—officially ranked Bronze-3, just another spacer in the Guild’s records. On paper, he was unremarkable.

This mission was meant to be simple: observe his skills, gauge his character. Nothing more.

It should’ve been a routine supply run to an outpost, with maybe a skirmish or two against low-level xeno critters. But the outlaws squatting in the station had forced us into a real fight. Annoying, yes—but it gave me a clearer look at Narwhal’s abilities. Against live opponents, no less. Maybe fate had intervened.

“You’re tagged as convicts now,” Narwhal told the subdued outlaws trapped in their containment fields. “Busting out of holding cells won’t be easy. But it’s not hopeless. Stick to the rehab program, and you might walk free before the deep-void madness takes hold.”

It was night cycle on the ship, the galley quiet after our standard-issue nutrient packs. His words probably cut deep—a lecture from the man who’d beaten them. Narwhal’s tone was firm, almost encouraging, as if he truly believed they had a shot at redemption.

Aioi had told me plenty about Narwhal. We’d exchanged brief greetings at the station before, but nothing substantial. He’d trained her back when she was a rookie, before she joined Diana Crew, though they’d never worked a mission together. Even Aioi, who idolized him, seemed unsure of his real skill level, often brushing it off with, “Who knows?”

Recently, I’d heard he’d been with her on a lunar patrol when they ran into a Void Titan—a monstrous deep-space predator. I wouldn’t stop her from seeing him—he’d clearly helped her when it counted. But as her commander, Diana Crew’s safety was my responsibility.

If Narwhal was reckless, or if he couldn’t protect Aioi when it mattered, I’d cut ties without hesitation. So I tested him. Skill wasn’t enough—his morals mattered just as much. The galaxy was full of rough spacers, many hiding ugly intentions behind their swagger. If Narwhal was a bad influence, I’d bar him from Aioi’s life entirely.

After a full cycle of observation, I had my answers. His combat skills exceeded anything I’d expect from a Bronze-3. His use of gravity snares and zero-G maneuvering showed precision and adaptability. His initial shots at the scavengers were sloppy, but his close-quarters blaster work? A different story—fast, efficient, lethal. He made it look effortless, like a performer playing to the crowd, but I could tell it came from real experience.

At the outpost, his tactics were just as sharp. Armed with a half-spec blaster—barely better than standard issue—he struck with surgical precision, exploiting weak points in the outlaws’ armor to disable them in seconds. His reflexes had to be augmented; the way he parried a massive vibro-blade was almost laughable, like flicking away a stray insect.

Yet he avoided unnecessary kills. Taking prisoners added risk, especially for those providing cover. But Narwhal’s ability to turn a bad situation around made his choice admirable. He wasn’t just softhearted—he was calculated.

“Yes, he’s odd,” I admitted when Yunikon asked my thoughts. “But not a bad sort. Wouldn’t you agree, Yunikon?”

“Heh… Yeah, sure. I mean, if anything did happen to Aioi, obviously I’d be upset.”

“But you’re the most relieved, aren’t you, Yunikon?” I teased. “Don’t overdo it.”

“W-what? No way! I was subtle, wasn’t I?”

Yunikon adored Aioi—her junior officer and closest friend—more than most. Maybe Narwhal’s mentorship stirred a hint of rivalry. But after today, even Yunikon seemed to warm to him. Yunikon wasn’t the type to hold grudges against decent people.

“Mr. Narwhal, fresh synth-protein for you,” Aioi said, handing him a tray.

“Oh, going all out, huh? Thanks, Aioi.”

“T-that’s our premium rations!”

“Hm? Want some? Might be your last decent meal before deep-space duty. Reflect on today’s mistakes, and I’ll share.”

“D-damn it! Just let me eat! I’ll reflect! I swear!”

“Hmmm... not very convincing. You don’t sound remorseful.”

“I am! Void take me if I’m lying!”

…That was Narwhal in a nutshell. Walking the line between likable and infuriating. Despite all our conversations, he remained a puzzle. Hard to define. A man of contradictions.

“There’s a ionic shower in the crew quarters,” Moona said flatly. “Good time to clean up before next shift.”

“How considerate, Moona.”

“Didn’t do much in the fight,” she admitted with a shrug. “Least I could do was handle maintenance.”

Moona. A quantum technician—someone who could bend energy fields with rare precision. She’d been with me since Diana Crew’s earliest days, back when I was still fleeing the Core Systems. A trusted ally, one I’d rely on without question. Today, she had another role: assessing Narwhal. For Aioi’s sake.

“Lunar, did he pass inspection?”

“Eccentric, but not a threat. At least he’s no villain. What about you, Moona?”

A faint smile curled her lips, her sharp eyes glinting. “He’s… interesting.”

“…Interesting?”

Moona was usually reserved, even cold. This was unexpected. “How so?”

“Earlier, Narwhal used his half-spec blaster to help Goressa patch hull breaches.”

“True. Helpful, but…”

“I got a closer look at his weapon. Something… off. What do you think?”

Moona’s gaze sharpened, gleaming with the thrill of discovery. Something about that blaster had hooked her—something unusual.

“It’s not illegal tech, is it?”

“No. On the surface, it’s a standard-issue model. Mass-produced. Probably defective. But the curious part is elsewhere.”

Not what I’d expected. Yet even that would intrigue her…

“Narwhal deflected a giant vibro-blade with a single weak shot.”

“Exactly.”

“I checked that blade afterward. It had a deep fracture—several fingers’ width into the metal.”

“…That’s…”

Impossible force for such a weak shot. Unreal precision. Deflecting a weapon like that in one strike… that alone was extraordinary.

“And Narwhal’s blaster?” Moona pressed, her voice laced with fascination. “The one that clashed with the vibro-blade at point-blank range—not a single scorch mark. Not even a scratch.”

"!"

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” Moona tilted her head, grinning. “A cheap, mass-produced blaster standing up to reinforced alloy without a mark… His reflexes must be enhanced. But his energy manipulation? Exceptional. Lunar, what’s his rank again?”

“…Bronze-3. Hard to believe, right?”

“Even the Core’s strictest academies would promote someone like that to Elite.”

I’d always suspected Narwhal was stronger than he let on. His ease in handling missions others struggled with—there had to be a reason. Was this it?

“Maybe he’s augmented,” Moona murmured. “A genetic tweak, perhaps. Different from us… but similar in a way.”

“…!”

Genetic modifications. Like reflex boosters, relics of outlawed science—or something older, something lost. Most combat augments were drafted by the Empire. Those who escaped became elite mercenaries, dominating the freelance scene.

Was Narwhal hiding his power? Staying low to avoid attention? It’d explain why he clung to Bronze-3. The higher your rank, the deadlier the missions—and the more eyes watching.

“I’m satisfied,” Moona declared, her curiosity sated for now. “What to do about Narwhal, Lunar… that’s your call. Handle it as you see fit.”

“…A dilemma,” I muttered. “He already turned us down once, but… maybe he’s worth recruiting.”

“For what it’s worth,” Moona added, shrugging, “I see no issue. We’ve already got specialists. And if Aioi trusts him, why not? Stick to your own judgment, Lunar.”

With that, Moona strode off toward Goressa, likely to fine-tune her energy manipulator—or dive into another experiment.

Narwhal. The name stuck in my mind. A genetic augment user… Better he’s here, with us, than pressed into the Empire’s wars.

Elsewhere, the crew’s chatter buzzed with energy:

“Check this out, Aioi, Yunikon: process space-boar protein like this, add synth-nutrients, let it crystallize… and you get disgusting emergency rations!”

“Eww! Haha, nasty!”

“Why would you make that? Just synth real food!”

“A hunter’s philosophy,” Moona quipped. “Use what’s on hand—protein is protein.”

“Space-boar extract’s better for fuel cells than rations,” Goressa added. “Make some yourself—sells well.”

“…Right…”

“Weirdo! Standard rations are fine!”

The lively mood was refreshing. A good energy, even in the void’s cold embrace. Maybe Narwhal would refuse again. But with time, persistence, and the right approach… maybe he’d say yes.

…Yes, an odd man. But maybe worth keeping around. If nothing else, Diana Crew felt brighter with him here.

**Author's Note:**

Ah, welcome back, dear reader! I see you've survived another round of cosmic chaos and outlaw 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.

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